Chapter 11

11

T he others moved passed their host, and Holden and Finley stepped toward him.

"I'm Braden Clark," he said, offering his hand. "Happy to have a friend of Dax's join us for dinner." He paused, noting Finley's hand tucked through Holden's arm. "Or should I say a friend of Finley's?" he asked, interest lighting his eyes.

"Thanks for inviting me this evening," Holden said.

"Happy to have you," Braden replied, closing the door.

The group left the foyer and entered a large den, what Madison had always called a great room when they had visited her parents. A woman who resembled Ivy, thought she had auburn hair and was a bit taller, came toward them.

"You must be Holden Scott," she said, smiling warmly at him. "I'm Harper Clark. Welcome to our new home."

He handed the flowers wrapped in tissue paper to her. "These are for you. Happy housewarming."

Accepting them, she inhaled the roses. "How thoughtful. Let me put them in some water and place them on the table. Then we need to give everyone a tour of the house."

Harper disappeared into the kitchen as Braden looked to Holden. "We just moved in on Sunday. We'd been renting a house a few doors down from Emerson and Finley, but we got married last fall and had been looking for a place ever since then. When this one went on the market, we knew it was the one for us."

Harper rejoined them. "Finley is familiar with the house since she helped us furnish it. Let's go ahead and show everyone around, though."

They toured the house, which Holden estimated to be about twenty-five hundred square feet. It was roomy and even though the Clarks had only recently moved in, it already had a homey feel about it. The tour ended outside, where Braden showed off the covered outdoor kitchen.

"This may have been what sold me on the place," Braden shared. "I do all the cooking, and it's nice to have some outdoor living space. There's also a fire pit to gather around after dinner if we'd like."

"Since we've added Holden to our group, I think we should hold all our weekly dinners here," Harper suggested. "That is, if Finley doesn't mind cooking here. There's just so many of us now. We've got a large dining room, which will be more comfortable than eating on the couch, balancing plates in our laps, and on the floor."

"I'm happy to do that," Finley said. "I'm already in love with your kitchen, especially those double ovens and that large island."

"Things are pretty much ready for us to eat," Braden told them. "Give me two minutes to get all the garnishes for the fajitas out, and then you can assemble them to your liking."

The group followed him into the kitchen. Braden apologized, saying, "I didn't have time to make anything more elaborate this week. Not after the big move and settling in. I thought a fajita bar would be easy."

"I hope you used that fabulous marinade on the beef strips," Ivy said.

"I did," Braden assured her. Looking to Dax, he asked, "Want to open the wines for us?"

"I also have iced tea if anyone wants that," Harper said.

By the time the drinks were poured, it was time to form a line. They headed clockwise around the large island, taking warmed tortillas and filling them with beef fajita meat and the toppings they wanted. Holden chose cheese, grilled onions and peppers, and sour cream for his, adding some refried beans and rice to his plate, as well.

"Queso and chips are over on that countertop," Braden told them. "Don't miss them."

They took their plates into the dining room, and the conversation was quick and witty. He hadn't realized how starved he was for good conversation— and friends. He had lived a quiet, solitary life these past few years in New York, but he could see how fun it might be, being around a large group such as this.

"What are you working on now?" Harper asked him. "I devoured your first book, but I haven't gotten to the second one yet. I've recently started my own business, and it doesn't leave much free time."

"I'm juggling several projects. Something I've never really done before," he explained. "Usually, I write something and then take a break before starting a new piece."

"I totally get that," Ivy chimed in. "I have to finish an entire painting before I can start something new. I deliberately avoid even thinking about anything new until I've completed what I started."

"I'm not like that at all with songs," Dax revealed. "While I have been inspired at times and written an entire song, I usually have three or four melodies going in my head at a time. I'll work on one. Skip to another. That's just my process."

"Just before I came to Texas, I finished the first draft of my third novel," Holden shared. "I always put aside a novel for a few weeks before I go back and do a hard edit on it. If I don't, I find I'm simply too close to the material and the characters, in particular. Once I have some distance and perspective, though, it's a little easier to edit."

"What's it about?" asked Emerson. "Your first two books are very different from one another."

"It's more of a psychological thriller," he explained. "I have a detective whose marriage is on the rocks. He follows his wife one night, trying to figure out if she's having an affair or into something she shouldn't be doing. He has trouble putting the pieces together, watching from afar as she meets certain people. The next day, he and his partner are called to a homicide scene, a place he'd been the night before. The victim is someone who spoke with his wife. A woman who resembles her quite a bit. He begins to wonder if the victim was the intended target— or if the killer meant for his wife to be the victim. It becomes a game of cat and mouse after that."

"That sounds exciting," Dax said. "And it has movie written all over it."

"I haven't even let my agent read it yet, but I have told him the premise. He would agree with you. I'll work on polishing it once I finish the project I've been hired to do now. It's a screenplay for Hill Country Homicide ."

"I think I remember reading in your bio that you were from Texas," Harper said.

"I grew up in Austin," Holden confirmed. "I thought it would be a good place to set a murder." He grinned. "I didn't have to do nearly the research that I did for Capitol Crimes ."

"What is like, writing a screenplay?" Braden asked. "It's got to be different from writing a novel."

Holden chuckled. "It's way different."

He told them a little about his friendship with Wolf and how the director had started his own production company.

"Wolf asked me to take a stab at writing the script for Homicide . I'm not trained in screenwriting, so I did a crash course on my own, trying to figure it out. I also re-read Capitol Crimes and the screenplay for it, trying to see the difference between the two. I believe I've found my rhythm now, and things are starting to move faster. Wolf is reading scenes as I write, making suggestions. He'll help me polish the script so that it's a tight, filmable piece."

He glanced around the table. "Enough about me. I'd like to hear something about all of you."

Harper took the lead, and Holden saw she was comfortable in doing so.

"I worked for an event planning company in Austin for several years before I decided to return to Lost Creek and open my own event center at our family's winery. More and more brides are not going with traditional church weddings, and I wanted to capitalize on that. The winery makes for a wonderful location for a wedding, whether it's held indoors or outdoors."

"A friend of Harper's designed the center," Braded added. "One wall is entirely glass, looking out over the vineyards. It makes for a truly special setting for a wedding. She also has space designated for an outdoor wedding, as well. A covered area and benches for guests. Again, the grapevines are in the background, and they make for some spectacular memories."

Braden smiled at his wife, a tender look in his eyes.

Ivy spoke up. "Harper and Braden were the first couple married at the event center. She had a huge opening party to kick off the opening. People who showed up had no idea they were attending a wedding— and that included our parents."

"I didn't mind making our wedding the guinea pig to see how things might run," Harper continued. "I figured as long as we had all those family and friends present, we might as well truly celebrate with our marriage."

Braden said, "I'm from California. My family had a winery in Napa. Things didn't end well there. My dad embezzled a bunch of money and went to prison. I found myself with no job or home and a very particular set of skills which didn't transfer to many other jobs. I was radioactive in the wine community. No one in the industry wanted to touch me and have my name associated with their business. Bill Hart gave me a chance to be his viticulturist." He paused. "That's the person who specializes in the cultivation of grapes. Nowadays, I've since moved up and am the chief winemaker for Lost Creek Vineyards."

"I haven't been much of a wine drinker before now," Holden confessed, "but I've enjoyed Lost Creek wines at my friend Wolf's house and also here in Lost Creek itself. Finley has suggested that I do a wine tasting with Ivy to learn more about wines and discover what I'm drawn to. Wolf and Ana would also like to come."

"I'd love to walk you through a tasting, Holden," Ivy said. "The tasting room is open seven days a week. If you'd like, I can give you and your friends a private tasting. We close at five-thirty this time of year, so if you want to come after that, I'd be happy to let you sample both reds and whites. Would tomorrow or Friday be good for you? I'm working both days."

"I'd like to be there if I could," Finley said. "I need to go to the varsity basketball game at the high school Friday night, though. One of my former students who's a sophomore is getting his first start at center, and he asked me to come watch him play. If tomorrow works for Wolf and Ana, that would be terrific."

Holden pulled out his cell. "I'll text Ana. She's the keeper of the schedules. I know enough to always run something by her."

He finished the text and set down his phone as Ivy said, "If tomorrow isn't good, we can pick a day next week."

His phone buzzed, and Holden read the message, saying, "Tomorrow works for them. Ana says they could be at the winery by six."

"Perfect," Ivy said, smiling at him. "I'll have everything ready."

Talk turned to other things then. He learned a little about the town of Lost Creek as they shared with him what it had to offer. Dax suggested a few restaurants for him to try. Braden told him to stop by the winery for a tour of the vines, saying he'd be happy to walk Holden through the process of how the wines were made. Ivy encouraged Holden to drive around the area and soak up the beauty of the landscape.

"Wolf would really like to see your art, Ivy," he mentioned.

"After tomorrow's tasting, you're welcome to stop by my studio and see what I have going. I'm preparing for a showing in New York. It's my first exhibit."

"That would be great," Holden said. "I'd also like to see your art. What type of paints to you use?"

"Almost exclusively oils, but I'm experimenting some with watercolors recently. I'm not certain if any of those will be in my show, though."

Emerson looked around. "I think we're all ready for dessert. Be right back."

She rose and Harper joined her, saying she'd get the dessert plates. When they returned, Ivy had removed the cake she'd made from its box, and every eye was drawn to it.

"Oh, my gosh. That looks fantastic," Finley said. "What is it?"

Emerson cleared her throat. "Tonight, I've baked for you a coffee-chocolate layer cake with mocha-mascarpone frosting. I used an instant espresso powder in both the batter and the frosting. I doubt you'll have eaten anything like this."

Everyone groaned, and Dax said, "I'm full from the fajitas, so I'll limit myself to one slice."

His remarks caused the group to laugh.

Emerson sliced cake for everyone, Finley passing the plates around the table. Holden placed the first bite into his mouth, and an explosion of chocolate erupted.

"Mmm," he said, not able to describe the richness in the cake and its frosting.

Emerson smiled. "I'll take that as a compliment, Holden."

He swallowed. "You do this every week?"

She nodded. "I try out all kinds of desserts. Puddings. Pies. Cakes. Cookies. I experiment with different flavors. Sometimes, I strike gold. Tonight seems to be one of those nights."

Braden and Dax gave her a thumbs up.

"Sometimes, it's good— but not great. Then again, that's what baking is all about. What I learn, I use in new cakes. Brides don't simply want a vanilla cake and vanilla icing these days for their wedding cakes. They want new, interesting flavors and decorations no one has seen before. Everyone wants their guests wowed."

"You can't imagine what Emerson can do with icing," Finley bragged. "Just her piping of delicate rosettes alone is a work of art. Oh, remember that vanilla almond rainbow petal cake you did a few weeks ago? The rainbow was all buttercream petals. Absolutely beautiful— and delicious."

Holden tasted another bite of the cake, savoring its richness. "I hate to ask this, but why are you still teaching when you can make creations such as this?"

"I like teaching," she told him. "School was always important to me. I grew up without much. School was my haven. My safe place. I loved learning and wanted to be a teacher my entire life."

"When did you start baking?" he asked.

"I worked in a bakery my last two years in college. That's when I really began learning. I'll be honest. If I hadn't already finished two years of college— and had my scholarship and grants paying for the remaining two years —I might have thought about going to culinary school and specializing in baking."

"Emerson worked at The Bake Shop here in town on weekends," Finley said. "Until Harper talked her into coming to work for Weddings with Hart."

Emerson nodded. "I was able to work on a lot of wedding cakes at the bakery. I would've been happy staying there, but Ethel, the owner, encouraged me to accept Harper's offer. She said I needed the creative challenge. I make good money on the side, baking wedding and groom's cakes, but it's not as much as my teaching salary brings in."

"What about opening your own bakery?" Holden asked, placing the last forkful of cake into his mouth.

"I would never want to compete with Ethel," Emerson said. "She's such a sweet lady. Besides, I'm good at teaching."

"The kids love her," Finley said.

"Maybe I could write a book about a baker," he mused. "He could put poison in a cake."

"I'd read that," Dax said. "Or how about winemaker? You've got a lot of resources at this table, Holden. We could keep you busy for years, helping you research and kill people."

The group all laughed, but Holden didn't think it was a bad idea. He would definitely take Braden Clark up regarding a tour around Lost Creek Vineyards. You never knew when a plot would hatch and what sparked it.

"Time for teachers to go home," Finley announced. "I know it's early for a New Yorker, but Emerson and I go to bed early because we're at school so early each morning."

"Not a problem," he said. "With so many here, cleanup will be a breeze."

"No, we'll handle that," Harper said. "It was just nice to see everyone. Is next Wednesday good for everybody? We've been letting the day bounce around. Maybe we should pick one and stick to it."

They all agreed Wednesdays worked. Holden was pleased he was included.

"Let me slice cake for everyone to take home," Emerson said, taking what was left of the dessert into the kitchen and divvying the cake up as everyone took their plates and wineglasses from the dining room to the kitchen.

Harper pulled him aside. "I'm glad you came tonight, Holden. I've known Finley over twenty years. She was a year behind me in school. At UT, I was her big sis in our sorority." She paused. "I can tell you're good for each other."

"Glad I got the Harper Clark stamp of approval," he said lightly. "Thank you again for having me tonight. I really enjoyed myself."

He accompanied Finley and Emerson to the truck and drove them to their house. Emerson leaned up, touching his shoulder.

"I'll let you two say your goodnights," she told him, getting out and going into the house.

"How was tonight for you?" Finley asked.

"Tonight was good. Very good," he told her. "You have a great group of friends. They made things comfortable for me."

"They all liked you." She brushed the back of her fingers against her cheek. "I like you," she said softly, leaning in and kissing him.

Holden tasted the chocolate cake and the wine and something else that was simply innately Finley.

He could have kissed her all night, but he broke the kiss. "I'll see you tomorrow at the tasting room. Can I pick you up?"

"I'll meet you there. I've got a faculty meeting after school and some projects coming in tomorrow that I'll need to grade."

He cupped her cheek. "Okay. Six at the tasting room then." Once more he kissed her and then pulled away, knowing he better let her go now.

As he watched Finley walk up the sidewalk, a peace settled over Holden. He was living in Texas again, making headway on the screenplay. He'd been introduced to a wonderful group of people close to his age, ones he hoped would become friends over the coming weeks and months. Contentment filled him, something he'd never experienced before.

And as Finley turned and waved goodbye to him, Holden realized that he had fallen in love for the very first time.