Read Online Ultraviolet by Nancy Bush - Free Book Online Page B

Asian-influenced buffet, ornately carved, sat at the end of the walkway. On a warmer day, the benches inside the atrium looked like they’d be a nice place to settle in and read a book or just commune with the foliage.

    I wondered if Gigi meant for me to stay in the solarium, but as there was no place to sit, I decided she’d simply given me an invitation to look around.

    I returned to the kitchen where Gigi had pulled out a bottle of cheap white wine. I know this because it’s the kind I buy. She saw me glance at the label and said, “Daddy’s estate’s in probate. It’s not like we have any money. Want something better, ask Violet.”

    Had I made a judgment call? I shrugged. “That’s my brand.”

    “Poor you.”

    She scrounged around on a lower refrigerator shelf and found a plastic party tray with cubed cheese in varying flavors. It might have been opened for a while. Certain sections of the tray looked picked over. I checked my inner “yuk” meter and decided I didn’t care. Free food and drink? That’s an automatic yes. I have my priorities in line.

    Though slightly lactose-intolerant, today I was willing to take a chance on the cheese and go for broke.

    The crystal stemware was Waterford. When, and if, Gigi inherited, she would get some nice things.

    “That’s where Emmett found him,” she said, inclining her head toward the solarium. “I thought you’d want to see.”

    “In the solarium?”

    “Uh-huh. The tray was on the floor beside him. Violet didn’t bother to wrap it, just put a ribbon on it. The ribbon was still on it.”

    “Was anyone else there, when Emmett found your father?” I asked as Gigi handed me a glass.

    She eyed my hand, watching me like a hawk. Her expression revealed she was already regretting giving me the good stuff. “It’s crystal. Don’t break it. No, Emmett was alone.”

    “I’ll be careful. That must have been hard.”

    “It was terrible!” She tossed back a gulp of her drink. She had all the finesse of a stevedore. Apparently the worry over the stemware only applied to me. “The whole thing was terrible. And it started out so great!”

    “Tell me about it,” I encouraged.

    She gestured for me to sit down at the glass-topped kitchen table. I took a chair, which was molded white plastic and surprisingly comfortable.

    “We got to Castellina around ten. That’s where we were doing hair and makeup. It was just Deenie and me, and my hairdresser, of course—she did my makeup, too—but Melinda, my stepmother, stopped by and brought mimosas. It was so fabulous. Do you know Castellina?”

    “I’ve heard of it.”

    “It means ‘little castle’ and it’s just so pretty. It’s owned by the Buganzi family, too, like Cahill Winery. It’s kind of a package deal for weddings, if you want to go that way.”

    I nodded. Castellina was the Portland estate used as an entertainment venue by the Buganzi family who also owned Cahill Winery just outside the town of Dundee, in the center of Oregon’s wine country. Before the Buganzi family purchased it, it was a rambling, slightly tired, turn-of-the-century old maven of Portland’s West Hill’s architectural scene. Buganzi razed the old home much to a horrendous outcry and a ton of city fees, as he did it gleefully and without permits. Then he built Castellina with its fairy-tale castle design. I’d only seen it from the outside, but people either gush and rave or roll their eyes and wail about its design. Nevertheless, it’s become as popular a place for weddings and parties as Cahill Winery itself, which is about forty-five minutes from Castellina on a Saturday afternoon. Apparently Roland Hatchmere had reserved both venues for his daughter. I’ve heard Cahill produces a more than respectable Pinot Noir, but I’ve never put it to the taste test, its price being outside my budget.

    “The weather was just beautiful. We didn’t know how it would be, October and all, but it was just such a great