Wine's Up? Read online

  Wine’s Up?

  Rosemary Harbor Mystery #1

  Wendy Meadows

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Thanks for Reading

  About the Author

  Read more by Wendy

  1

  Living in a small town changed everything. After Matthew died, Hillary Sheridan left everything behind to start over. Sometimes a clean slate was the best medicine, and the sleepy town of Rosemary Harbor, Massachusetts, gave her that. Although she missed her husband every day, and she missed the bustling big-city vibes back in Miami, she felt fulfilled. Hillary kept busy with Something Special, a gift basket shop she’d dreamed of owning as long as she could remember.

  Something Special was the shop with something for everyone—gifts for young and old, loved ones and lovers, and even fun “Me Time” baskets for those who wanted to pamper themselves.

  The last five years of Matthew’s life was hard. There was little time and energy to spend on date nights the way they used to, what with the chemo and the rapid decline of his quality of life. Hillary now found pleasure in bringing people happiness while they still had time to find it. Life was short. Hillary learned to make the most of it and she thrived on helping others do the same. Something Special was the way to do it.

  Hillary and her daughter, Annabelle, debuted a new gift basket, and it looked like it was a hit. The “Date Night” baskets contained incense sticks, wine, a selection of cheeses and chocolates, and a gift voucher to a local restaurant. Customers could personalize their baskets by choosing among options on a list. It was the perfect date-in-a-box for anyone fresh out of ideas on how to keep the spark alive.

  Annabelle came up with the idea. Even toward the end when everything seemed like it was falling apart, her parents’ love and dedication to each other was something to admire. She hoped to have a love like that of her own one day, but until then, she tried to make everyone else’s relationship a little sweeter.

  Hillary unlocked Something Special just after eight on Monday morning and walked in, switching on the lights. The weather smelled of the ocean. The air was crisp on her tongue and she breathed in. She pulled the cover off the parrot cage and Spot, the green and red African Grey store mascot, ruffled his feathers.

  “Top of the morning,” he squawked.

  “Good morning to you, too,” Hillary said.

  The parrot belonged to Matthew. He bought it as a chick about twenty years ago and hand-reared it, which meant the bird had a good sixty years to go. He would outlive them all with the stress-free life he lived, and he added life and humor to the shop. Spot picked up phrases quickly. Sometimes he got Hillary in trouble with customers with his naughty language, but more often than not his on-the-spot observations resulted in a good laugh. Laughter was the medicine of life and, along with Annabelle, Spot was Hillary’s only tie to Matthew now.

  Hillary put her bag behind the counter below the cash register and walked to the storage room where the new baskets arrived yesterday. When she emerged with two baskets in her hands, Rose walked in through the front door.

  The older woman’s gray hair was tied in a bun at her neck and she wore a dress that looked like it dated from the '50s. She liked to dress up and despite her vintage style, she always looked put together and approachable.

  Rose Humbert was in her late sixties and had no reason to be working as a shop assistant, which was what she was at Something Special. She owned most of the buildings along Market Road, including the one Hillary rented for her shop, and had more money than she needed in a place like Rosemary Harbor. But she liked keeping busy, and working at the store always gave her insight into what was happening around town. Rose was a terrible gossip. If anyone wanted to know anything, Rose was the one to go to.

  “Morning, dear,” Rose said to Hillary.

  “Would a rose by any other name smell as sweet?” Spot squawked and Rose laughed.

  “You charmer, you,” she said to the parrot. “Quoting Shakespeare, where did he pick that up?”

  “Matthew used to read in the evenings, Shakespeare, Dickinson, Poe.”

  “Sounds beautiful,” Rose said. “Gives the parrot an arsenal of charm.”

  “He knows just what to say,” Hillary said, smiling at Rose. “Looks like it will be a beautiful day.” Spring was in the air with clear skies and budding new leaves everywhere. Valentine’s Day was over, but Hillary knew there was plenty of love still doing the rounds.

  Rose heaved a sigh and shook her head. “Not for Reggie.”

  “Reginald Danvers? I heard. It’s a terrible thing to have happened.”

  Reginald Danvers was murdered a few days ago. The police kept it quiet for a short while, but nothing stayed secret for long in Rosemary Harbor.

  “Do they know who did it yet?”

  Rose lowered her chin and moved in close. “My money’s on Jessica, his wife,” she said.

  Hillary gasped. “But she’s such a sweet woman. She was in here to buy a gift basket for him recently and we got along so well. I don’t believe it.”

  Rose shrugged. “People can be all kinds of mean behind closed doors.”

  Hillary refused to believe it. With her husband dead, she wished every day they’d had more time together. She couldn’t imagine Jessica Danvers getting rid of her husband, and in such an awful way.

  Rose shrugged out of her coat and took her handbag to the back room. When she returned, she watched Hillary arrange the new baskets on the shelves. Hillary was deep in thought about the news.

  “I like your hair that way,” Rose said.

  “Thanks.” Hillary touched her shoulder-length bob. She’d had long hair all her life, but after Matthew, when she moved to start a new life somewhere else, she’d lopped it all off. Her husband—God bless his soul—had been dead for a few years now and it was time to pick herself up and move on. Hillary was graying at the roots, but she’d colored her hair a rich auburn, and with a healthy fitness regime, a good diet, and something like the shop to give her something to do, Hillary was in a good place in her life again. She hadn’t thought she would ever get to this point after Matthew passed.

  The front door opened again, the small bell announcing another presence.

  “Morning, Rose, Mom,” Annabelle said, walking in. “Beautiful day.”

  “My sweet Annabelle,” Spot squawked, and Annabelle smiled. It was what her dad used to say to her.

  Hillary smiled, tipping her head so Annabelle could kiss her cheek on her way to the back room.

  “Did you hear about Reginald Danvers?” Annabelle asked as she passed.

  Hillary and Rose both nodded. “Let’s not talk about it,” Hillary added. It brought the pain of losing Matthew back and Hillary hated focusing on the negative. Annabelle and Rose understood it and respected Hillary’s feelings. They weren’t just colleagues at the shop, they were friends.

  “I think these baskets are doing well,” Hillary said.

  “I agree,” Rose said. “Just the other day, Maggie Turner stopped me in the grocery aisle and asked me if we’re still doing the promotion. She wants to try it on Henry.”

  “Henry Yeager?” Hillary asked. “Isn’t he a bit old for her?”

  “What is age if it’s about love?” Rose asked.

&nbs
p; Hillary chuckled. “You’re very liberal for a woman your age.”

  Rose shrugged and smiled. “What is age?” she repeated. Hillary laughed, shaking her head.

  “Who’s too old for who?” Annabelle asked, coming out of the back room wearing her yellow Something Special shirt.

  “Henry Yeager. Maggie Turner is sweet on him,” Rose said.

  Annabelle shrugged. “I agree with Rose. True love doesn’t know age. If they can make it work, they should.”

  Hillary shook her head. Annabelle was a hopeless romantic. She believed in all of it—love at first sight, fate—and was sure that every man she fell in love with was The One. Her heart had been broken too many times. Sometimes Hillary wondered if that’s why Annabelle moved to Rosemary Harbor with her. At twenty-four, Annabelle was plenty old enough to have stayed in Miami, and while her daughter insisted she wanted to be where her mother was, Hillary suspected she was running away from yet another heartbreak.

  “How about you?” Rose asked Hillary.

  “What about me?” Hillary asked.

  Rose’s expression was innocent as she replied, “Do you have your eye on someone you can try the basket out on? The best way to deal with new merchandise is to take it for a personal test run, you know.”

  Hillary blushed.

  “Don’t be silly,” Annabelle said before Hillary could answer. “Mom still loves my dad.”

  “So? She should find love again. It’s been years now. A woman shouldn’t be alone.”

  “And she’s not. She has me.” Annabelle didn’t sound happy. She was a fierce protector of the love Hillary and Matthew shared. Once you found true love, she believed, you must hold on to it. No matter what. Not even death could break that kind of love.

  Hillary cleared her throat. “You know I’ll always love him, sweetheart,” she said. “No one will ever replace your father.”

  “Good,” Annabelle said.

  “But if I meet someone, I won’t hesitate to fall in love again. It was a good life with Matthew, but I have a lot of living still to do.”

  Annabelle looked shocked. “You’re kidding, right? How do you think that would make him feel?” Annabelle asked.

  Hillary shook her head. “I like to think he wanted me to be happy. And you. Both of us. And if love comes my way…”

  Annabelle shook her head. “You can’t do that,” she said.

  “And why not?” Rose chipped in. “I was in love, twice. I had two wonderful husbands. It was unfortunate they were both ripped away from me the way they were, but I loved Donald just as I loved Harry. They were both wonderful men. Fall in love again, Hillary. Life is too short to sit around being a spinster. Heck, I would fall in love again, too, if I met the right man.”

  Annabelle looked upset. She pursed her lips and walked behind the counter to roll out the ribbons.

  “Honey, there’s nothing wrong with finding happiness again,” Hillary said, trying to appease her daughter, but Annabelle wouldn’t hear it.

  “I can’t believe you’ll just forget about him like that.”

  “Nonsense,” Rose said. “In fact, I think it’s only right that Hillary finds love again. I will make it my mission to find you a man.”

  “That’s unnecessary,” Hillary said.

  “Shush. It’s my new goal. Humor an old woman.”

  Hillary sighed. Annabelle opened her mouth to argue but the little bell above the door announced a customer and she bit her tongue. Spot mimicked the sound of the bell. If they didn’t look, his mimicking often led them to believe that more than one customer had walked through the door. Or that there was a customer when there was none.

  Police Chief Preston Davis pushed in through the door. His hazel eyes were bright under very short steel-gray hair, and a smile played on his lips. He looked amused, which was a wonderful disposition for a police officer who had the wellbeing of his people in mind. “Morning, ladies,” he said. He looked at Hillary. “You look well today.”

  Hillary smiled. Rose watched them.

  “You look good, too,” Hillary said. Preston was dressed in his uniform, pressed and ready for action. He was an upright man, serious about his job as the law enforcer in town, and had a knack for crime fighting and a memory like nothing you’ve seen before. He’d been police chief for almost fifteen years, and people revered him around town. He knew everyone by name, asked about their children or parents or pets, and he was like a beloved uncle to all.

  “What can I help you with?” Hillary asked.

  “Oh, I need a gift for my mother,” Preston said. “I’m driving out to the Senior Home this weekend to see her.”

  “Right. I’ve got just the thing.” Hillary helped Preston choose a basket, fussing over the different options. They were busy for quite some time, and Rose considered the possibility that Preston was stalling on purpose. He seemed in no hurry once he had Hillary’s attention. He decided on a basket with a variety of small scented candles and two paperback romance novels, and Hillary rang it up for him.

  “Give Sophia my love,” Rose said when Preston paid.

  “I will,” Preston said. He turned to Hillary and smiled. “Thank you for helping me with this. Women are so difficult to buy gifts for.”

  “Candles and books will always do the trick,” Hillary said, smiling back.

  Preston nodded. “This is why I came to you for advice. Have a great day.”

  “You, too,” Hillary said.

  Preston inclined his head and turned toward the door.

  “What a hottie,” Spot squawked. Preston chuckled. “Is he here to make your customers feel better about themselves?”

  Hillary laughed. “He’s bored, I think. He knows too many people around town.”

  Rose watched the two for long enough to see that there was something more. She cleared her throat, coming closer.

  “You know, Chief, I have a reservation for tonight at Oregano. I would go with Leone, but she came down with a head cold and I haven’t canceled yet. Don’t you want to take it?”

  Hillary and Preston both looked at Rose.

  “Who would I take to Oregano?” he asked.

  Rose shrugged. “Hillary might be available.” She glanced at Hillary, who glared daggers at her. “She’s always so busy here at the shop, I can imagine a night out is just the thing she needs.”

  Preston grinned at Hillary, his hazel eyes soft, and Hillary looked down, feeling her face grow warm. It was like they were teenagers all over again.

  “What do you say?” he asked.

  “What?” Hillary stammered.

  “It’s promising to be a nice night—spring is in full swing. Let’s go out and enjoy ourselves, forget about work for a bit.”

  “I don’t think tonight will work, Preston,” Annabelle said. “My mom’s tired. Perhaps another time…”

  “Actually, Annabelle,” Hillary said, her mind made up now that Annabelle was trying to speak for her, “I think I’d like to get out a bit. Thank you, Preston.” She'd been cooped up for far too long, making life happen without living it. It was time for a change.

  Preston smiled. “It’s a date, then.”

  “The reservation is for seven,” Rose said.

  “But…” Annabelle tried but Rose put her hand on Annabelle’s arm to silence her. Annabelle’s face was thunderous. As if it wasn’t bad enough they’d moved to this godforsaken little town, now her mother would date?

  “I’ll pick you up just before seven,” Preston said to Hillary. Hillary agreed. “Why don’t you tell me about your date baskets?” he asked Hillary. “I’ve heard good things around town from a few people who’ve bought them.”

  Hillary smiled, relieved to have a distraction from her shyness, to have something she could speak about with confidence. Around Preston, she was flustered.

  “Oh, that’s great news,” she said. “I’m so glad to hear they’re saying good things. We launched them recently and sold quite a few, but I wasn’t sure how people liked them. It was Anna
belle’s idea, you know.”

  “Brilliant,” Preston said to Annabelle. She shrugged, looking unhappy. Her mom was going on a date and she couldn’t do anything about it. What would her dad say? If he were here, he would have lost it. But he wasn’t here. Which was why this was all happening. If Matthew were still alive, their lives would be different. They would still live in Miami. They would still be a family.

  Instead, they were stuck in tiny Rosemary Harbor, Massachusetts, and Hillary was going on a date. With Police Chief Davis.

  Annabelle couldn’t imagine anything worse. There was no reason for Hillary to go out. It wasn’t like she was being worked to death, and Annabelle and her mom went to the beach for a picnic most Sundays, so it wasn’t like she had no fun. Besides, if they knew the baskets were working so well, why did Hillary and Preston need to test it? And why did they have to take it to the restaurant if they were already doing a date? It was ridiculous.

  “Annabelle,” Preston said, and she looked at the police chief, trying not to appear too sullen. “What’s in your baskets?”

  She took a deep breath. “Wine, a selection of cheeses, incense sticks to set the mood, that kind of thing.”

  When she didn’t elaborate, Rose nudged her. “Tell him about the options.”

  She sighed. “We allow our customers to choose what they want from a list for each product.” She walked to the counter where Hillary was still staring at Preston. She rolled her eyes at her mom before she found the list and showed Preston.

  “So, you can build your own basket?” he asked.

  “That’s the idea,” Annabelle said, trying hard not to be hostile. It wasn’t Preston’s fault he was interested in her mother. Hillary was a catch, a wonderful older woman in great shape with a positive outlook on life. No, the police chief only had good taste. It was Hillary’s interest in Preston that irritated her. It convinced her it was wrong.