Grape Expectations Read online

  Grape Expectations

  Lorraine Bartlett

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2018, Lorraine Bartlett. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means (including photocopying, recording, or information storage and retrieval) without permission in writing from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  * * *

  For more information on Lorraine’s books, check out her website: http://www.LorraineBartlett.com

  Other Books By Lorraine Bartlett

  The Lotus Bay Mysteries

  Panty Raid: A Tori Cannon-Kathy Grant Mini Mystery

  With Baited Breath

  Christmas At Swans Nest

  A Reel Catch

  The Victoria Square Mysteries

  A Crafty Killing

  The Walled Flower

  One Hot Murder

  Dead, Bath and Beyond

  Yule Be Dead

  Recipes To Die For

  * * *

  Life On Victoria Square

  Carving Out A Path

  A Basket Full of Bargains

  The Broken Teacup

  It’s Tutu Much

  Tales From Blythe Cove Manor

  A Dream Weekend

  A Final Gift

  An Unexpected Visitor

  Grape Expectations

  * * *

  Tales of Telenia

  Threshold

  Journey

  Treachery

  Short Stories

  Blue Christmas

  Prisoner of Love

  Love Heals

  We’re So Sorry, Uncle Albert

  An Unconditional Love

  Contents

  Grape Expectations

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Recipes

  About the Author

  Also by Lorraine Bartlett

  Grape Expectations

  by

  Lorraine Bartlett

  A Tale From Blythe Cove Manor

  * * *

  Young heiress Dolly Madison arrives on Martha’s Vineyard with an agenda to discover and taste the great wines of this picturesque island off the coast of Massachusetts … only to learn there are none. What she will find, however, is far more compelling—and could just change her life.

  Chapter 1

  Blythe Calvert looked up from the counter where she was assembling ingredients to bake a batch of cookies in Blythe Cove Manor’s well-appointed kitchen when the sound of tires on gravel captured her attention. Time to greet her newest guest.

  Blythe stepped behind the small reception desk. Through the glass of the double doors of her bed and breakfast’s entrance, she could see Ed Thomas’s taxi pull up in front. He got out and walked to the back, where he retrieved a suitcase and a large canvas tote from the trunk. His passenger, a young woman clad in a blue-and-white floral sundress that was perhaps a size too small, a large floppy straw hat, and sunglasses, stepped out of the back seat and strode toward the inn without a backward glance, leaving the door open and Ed to trail behind her with the luggage. It wasn’t part of the services he offered when delivering people from the Oaks Bluff ferry to Blythe Cove Manor.

  The woman entered the inn, letting the door swing shut behind her—right in Ed’s face.

  Oh dear, was she going to be one of those kinds of guests?

  “Good morning,” Blythe called cheerfully. “You must be Dolly Madison. That’s a very interesting name.” She pushed the registration book and a pen toward the woman.

  Dolly’s expression hardened. Obviously, Blythe was not the first to mention her moniker.

  “My mother thought it was hilarious. But I’ve been teased about it my whole life. ‘Gonna throw a party, Dolly? Know anybody at the White House, Dolly?’” Her lips flattened into a tense line. “Yeah, I’ve heard it all. And then she didn’t even spell it the same as the original Dolley Madison.”

  Blythe smiled and tried again. “What brings you to the island?”

  Dolly looked around, as though to make sure no one was nearby to eavesdrop. “I’m running away from home,” she whispered quite seriously.

  Blythe merely blinked at that statement.

  Again, Dolly looked around her. “I inherited a million bucks from a great aunt I didn’t even know existed and everybody I know wants a piece of the action.” She brushed an imaginary piece of lint from her shoulder strap, flaunting the diamond tennis bracelet on her left wrist.

  Blythe blinked again.

  Ed strolled up to the reception desk, plopping the long-handled canvas bag at Dolly’s feet, then gave her the bad news about the fare. She opened her purse, peeled off the exact amount, and handed it to him.

  “Thank you for bringing in Ms. Madison’s luggage,” Blythe said. “It was kind of you to accommodate her.”

  Dolly took no hint that a tip was warranted.

  “I’d like to go to my room, please,” Dolly said, sounding bored.

  Blythe handed over the old-fashioned skeleton key. “It’s the Cove Room, on the second floor to the left as you top the landing.”

  Dolly scrutinized the key. “Don’t you have electronic locks for security?”

  “They’d be pretty useless if the power goes off.”

  “Does that happen a lot?”

  “No, and we do have a generator, but you never know.”

  Dolly frowned, then looked around. “Where’s the bellboy?”

  “We don’t have one. Guests are responsible for their own luggage,” Blythe explained.

  Dolly’s frown deepened. “If I’d known that, I’d have demanded a ground-floor room.”

  “I’m sorry, but they’re all taken.”

  “What about the cottages?”

  “Fully booked, I’m afraid. As I mentioned when we spoke on the phone, we had a cancelation, which is why your room was available.”

  Dolly looked from her luggage to Ed.

  He smiled. “Have a nice stay.”

  Blythe and Ed watched as Dolly picked up the tote and tossed it over her shoulder, then picked up her suitcase and marched toward the stairs. Neither spoke until Dolly disappeared from sight.

  “I’m sorry about the tip. It sounds like she could well afford to give one.”

  Ed merely shook his head. “Don’t bother calling me back when it comes time for the young lady to leave. I won’t be available,” he said and turned on his heel.

  Blythe frowned. “I’m sorry, Ed.”

  He turned back to face her. “Ms. Madison and I had a very interesting conversation during the ride from the ferry.”

  “And?” Blythe asked.

  Ed smirked. “She has some pretty wonky ideas about the island. I didn’t want to spoil her illusions. Have a great day, Blythe,” he called and sashayed out the door.

  What had he meant by that cryptic statement?

  Blythe soon found out some ten minutes later when Dolly reappeared in the large living room.

  “Hello! Anybody here?”

  Blythe set down the spatula she’d been using to mix raisins and walnuts into her oatmeal cookie dough, wiped her hands on a dish towel, and called, “Coming!”

  She found Dolly standing in the center of the room, looking impatient.

  “How can I help you?” Blythe asked.

  “I was wondering if there’s a company on the island that has tours of all t
he wineries. I wanted to come for the harvest, but I was told the island practically shuts down after Labor Day. But while I’m here, I’m anxious to taste every brand of wine you guys have got.”

  Anxious or eager? Brand or vintage?

  And was this the topic Ed had decided to let Blythe tackle?

  “I’m not sure I understand,” Blythe hedged.

  “I want to see all the vineyards on the island. I want to go to tastings and buy some of the great wines.”

  Blythe chose her words carefully. “I’m assuming you aren’t aware of the history of the island?”

  “What’s to know? It was named after somebody named Martha and she made wine.”

  “Folklore has it that the island was named by British explorer Bartholomew Gosnold after his infant daughter, Martha,” she conceded, “but the grapevines were wild.”

  “Wild, tame—what’s the difference?”

  “Wild grapes are aren’t suitable for winemaking,” Blythe explained.

  “Then why did some jackass name the place a vineyard?”

  Blythe forced a smile and shrugged. “Just one of those things.”

  Dolly glowered. “What am I supposed to do trapped on this island for a week with nothing to do and nowhere to go?”

  “There’re plenty of places to see—and lots of things to do,” Blythe assured her. “And if you just want to relax, this is the perfect place.” She gestured toward the patio and the gardens beyond.

  Dolly’s expression remained unhappy. “I’d be bored out of my mind.”

  Blythe reached behind the reception desk and pulled out a loose-leaf notebook. “You can flip through the pages and look at brochures for the restaurants and other attractions on the island.”

  “Attractions? You mean like water parks?”

  “Uh, no. We don’t have a water park. But we do have a Summer Film Festival.”

  “Art films are boring.”

  “The annual August fireworks display happens during your stay.”

  “I’d get a stiff neck looking up at the sky for a long time.”

  “We’ve got wonderful beaches,” Blythe tried again, “and if you don’t want to swim, you can borrow one of our stand-up paddle boards.”

  “There are sharks in the ocean. They could bite me—even kill me.”

  Blythe sighed. “Well, I’m sure you’ll find something to do when you look at all the tourist information in the book. If you’ll excuse me, I have some cookies to bake.”

  “Cookies?” Dolly asked, sounding more interested in that than Blythe’s other suggestions.

  “Yes. I keep a cookie jar filled with them so guests can snack on them during the day and evening.”

  “Can I help?”

  Blythe blinked, startled by the request. “Uh, I don’t usually allow guests in the kitchen.”

  “Maybe you should offer cooking classes to your guests.”

  “I’ve considered it,” Blythe admitted.

  “If you won’t let me help, can I at least watch?”

  “I suppose so.” Blythe turned and headed for the kitchen with Dolly practically at her heels.

  The Aga cooker was up to speed, all Blythe had to do was drop the dough onto the prepared baking sheets and tuck them into the oven.

  “Oatmeal raisin with walnuts?” Dolly asked.

  “Uh-huh.” Blythe set the timer.

  “I love them,” Dolly said, sounding less like the petulant kid she had been not five minutes before and more like a delighted child who wanted to please. She leaned against the counter, watching Blythe’s every move.

  “Do you know how to bake?”

  Dolly nodded. “I’m not very good at it, but I think I could be. After I got my inheritance, I immediately changed my phone number, quit my job, bought myself a new wardrobe, and have been in hiding. I live in a luxury condo, but I’ve got my eye on a house in a swanky neighborhood with a gourmet kitchen. I’m waiting for a call from a real estate agent.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got everything figured out.”

  “I still don’t know what I want to do with my life, but I figured I should try to come up with a plan. That’s why I came to the island. I thought I could learn about wine and become one of those snobs that advise other people on what wines to drink and buy.”

  “You mean a sommelier?”

  “I guess.”

  Blythe thought about it. “Perhaps I could help you in that area. I have a friend who runs a farm on the north end of the island. He actually does have grapevines and bottles wine for himself.”

  “But it’s not a real vineyard?” Dolly asked.

  “No. He supplies a number of the local restaurants with fresh produce during the summer.”

  “And what’s he do in the winter?”

  “He teaches third grade at the Oak Bluffs Elementary school.”

  “What’s his name?” Dolly asked.

  “Josh Frederick. I think you’d like him.”

  “When can I meet him?”

  “Maybe as soon as tomorrow. When the cookies come out of the oven, I’ll give him a call.”

  “How will I get to his farm?”

  “Sorry?” Blythe asked.

  “I heard that taxi driver say he wouldn’t drive me anymore. What am I supposed to do to get around the island?”

  Be nicer to people, Blythe wanted to say but bit her tongue. “I’m sure we can find a way. Let me think about it.”

  “Okay,” Dolly said quietly. “I’m not a bad person,” she defended herself, “but since I inherited all that money, people try to take advantage of me. I’m not going to let that happen,” she said fiercely.

  Blythe nodded. Despite her arrogance, she suspected that there might be a vulnerable person hiding behind Dolly’s bravado. Maybe Josh Frederick was just the person to persuade Dolly that kind and generous people abounded—if one only knew where to look.

  Chapter 2

  Dolly awoke early the next morning with the sun cascading through the window of her pretty room. She’d left the blinds up the night before because she’d been fascinated by the number of stars she could see far from the glare of city lights.

  The Sandpiper Restaurant had been within walking distance of Blythe Cove Manor, and she’d turned down the invitation of four of the other guests to join them for dinner the evening before. Had they heard about her windfall? Had they made the invitation just so that she would pick up the check? She wasn’t about to fall for that old ruse, but she had to admit that eating by herself at a table overlooking the ocean was rather lonely. She ate her very first lobster—what locals called “bugs”—and then she’d walked back to the inn, frequently looking over her shoulder in case there was a mugger nearby looking for prey.

  She got up, showered, and dressed in Capri pants, a sleeveless blouse, and sandals, and came down to Blythe Cove Manor’s dining room, which was devoid of other guests. It was then she remembered that breakfast wasn’t served until seven o’clock. She still had at least an hour to go until then. She peeked into the kitchen and found Blythe at work, chopping vegetables for the custom-made omelets guests could order. But she also inhaled the scent of cinnamon from something baking in that amazing Aga cooker. She’d never seen such a stove and had listened enraptured the afternoon before when Blythe had explained how it worked.

  Blythe had her back to the dining room as Dolly tiptoed closer to the kitchen. She cleared her throat and Blythe whirled.

  “Oh, my! You startled me.”

  “Sorry. Even though the dining room isn’t yet open, I was hoping I might be able to get a cup of coffee.”

  “I usually wait until six-thirty to make it but I guess I can start a little early today,” Blythe said.

  The back door opened and an older, rather matronly woman entered. “Morning, Blythe.”

  “Hi, Carol. Ready to start the day? I was just telling Ms. Madison here that I would get the coffee going.”

  “I can get it,” Carol said and started for the dining room. “Hel
lo.”

  “Hi,” Dolly said and watched the woman for a moment before she turned back to Blythe, who had resumed her chopping. “Um, were you able to find me a ride to that farm you were telling me about?”

  Knife in hand, Blythe looked over her shoulder. “Carol has to pass it on her way home. Perhaps she’d be willing to give you a lift.”

  “Good.”

  Blythe turned. “Uh, Dolly, if she’s willing, I hope you’ll remember to thank her.”

  Dolly rolled her eyes. “I’m not a jerk.”

  Blythe raised an eyebrow before returning to her work.

  Carol returned and filled the carafe with water before heading back to the dining room. Dolly followed her because there was nothing else to do. Coming to this bed and breakfast might have been a mistake. Perhaps she should have gone to a big city—like San Francisco—and then she could have disappeared and nobody would know who she was or how much money she had.

  And yet, as she thought about it, Blythe Cove Manor’s proprietress wouldn’t have had a clue she was worth big bucks if she hadn’t opened her big mouth and mentioned it. She could have just been Little Miss Anonymous. And what would she do in a big city, anyway, except be as lonely as she felt right then?

  Dolly sat at one of the tables and looked through the French doors out to the garden and then the cove beyond. It sure was pretty here, but it didn’t look like there was much to do—at least for someone traveling alone. And she wondered what time Carol worked until so that Dolly could go to the farm and talk to Josh Frederick about wine. Maybe he’d be willing to talk about other stuff, too.

  She sighed. It would be a long morning.