and shoved it into her bag. Obviously, Sommelier House was big on hospitality if the owner took the time to welcome each guest. Such a nice touch that added to the charm of the East Texas vineyard.
“Are you ready?”
Sounded like Debi’s question was about more than ordering breakfast. Was Daphne ready? After all, this weekend would demand the delicate balancing act she seemed to always have to do with Ellery, not to mention her ex-husband was coming to no doubt undermine her every word, and then there was Josh, who’d already delivered a text about how he could stay for only one night and wouldn’t be available for social niceties since he had a test in some kind of “ology” the following week. Irritation at the man her daughter was engaged to reared its head. “I suppose I should be.”
“No, you should take the time you need. Everything on the menu is delicious.”
Daphne smiled. “I’ll take the eggs Benedict with the homemade biscuits and local honey. I’ll probably need to run a few miles afterward.”
Debi laughed. “But it will be worth it.”
“I bet,” Daphne said. She pulled her napkin into her lap and tapped through her email messages on her phone. She had several from writing friends, which was always a comfort. Writing and illustrating was a solo endeavor, and she appreciated her online groups of other authors who gave her advice, support, and a kick in the pants when she needed it. Her new publicist had sent a few interviews. She forwarded those to Ellery for her to sort on Monday. Her agent had an offer from a foreign publisher for Turkish rights. Daphne smiled at the thought of children all over the world enjoying her high-strung, friendly poodle and her serious sidekick labradoodle cousin Mahalia. Some days she couldn’t believe she was an author. No, every day she was in awe of the blessings that had come her way.
“Here you go,” Debi said, setting down a chilled glass of juice, a plate of fluffy biscuits with a cute jar of honey, and the breakfast Daphne had ordered. “Oh, and Mr. McCallum thought you might appreciate these. I forgot to change them out earlier.”
Debi switched the daisies out with a vase of gorgeous ruffled lavender peonies.
“Oh my, how beautiful. Peonies are my favorite.” Daphne smiled at the waitress. “I wonder how he knew.”
“His daughter is a great fan of your books. I know because she totes them around and reads them to our chef. The child’s not supposed to go into the kitchens, but José gives her ice cream, so what are you going to do? We listen to Dixie’s adventures and laugh at Sir Ruffles trying to always be so tough. He’s a crazy dog.”
Daphne’s heart warmed at the thought of the owner’s daughter loving her books enough to read to the kitchen staff. “Thank you. I love writing about those silly dogs. I’ll have to meet his daughter. What’s her name?”
“Poppy. She’s pretty adorable. I know she’ll love meeting you.”
“How did you know who I was?” Daphne asked. Most people didn’t connect the simple Daphne Witt with the overly adorned, fussy Dee Dee O’Hara.
The waitress shrugged. “I’m not sure, but Mr. McCallum is the kind of person who always knows the details.”
Daphne smiled and then looked down at her breakfast. “Attention to details makes a difference.”
“Enjoy your breakfast.”
Daphne did. The eggs Benedict was well executed, the biscuits light and fluffy, and the grapefruit juice the perfect accompanying tang. She wiped her mouth and pushed back her chair, rising to find Clay Caldwell striding toward her.
What the . . . ?
Her immediate reaction was to hide. Her second one was concern. Had something happened to her house? There was no other explanation for Clay walking toward her, his face apprehensive. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
“What is it?” Daphne said, grabbing her clutch purse from the table, trying not to panic.
Clay stopped and looked confused. “What do you mean?”
“The house . . . is there a problem with the house?”
“Naw, nothing’s wrong with the house. The guys finished the demo of the kitchen, and cabinets are going in tomorrow morning.” He nodded in what looked to be satisfaction.
“So why are you here?”
“Oh,” he said, looking like he was finally clueing in. “Uh, Ellery’s birthday thing’s tomorrow night. Madison invited a lot of the old gang to come for the party. I was going to drive over and back tomorrow, but I thought a little getaway would be nice. I’ve