Summer in Napa - By Marina Adair Page 0,29

parents, God rest their souls”—and there she went with the sign of the cross again—“had their wedding there. Along with a few dozen other people over the years, who are all looking forward to reliving those moments, remembering those who have passed.”

ChiChi broke off with a sad shake of the head.

“If the junior league gets their way,” Pricilla stepped in when it appeared that ChiChi couldn’t finish, “there will be deconstructed this and imported that. The Showdown will turn into one of those celebrity events you see on TV. It won’t be about the people of this town and celebrating their appreciation for food and wine and agriculture; it will be about how far up the exclusive places to live list we can move.”

“Are you asking me not to hire Natasha?”

“No, we are asking you to let us pick. Let the Daughters of the Prohibition hold a tasting where we invite local culinary artists to showcase their appreciation of local cuisine and culture. You get to focus on the rest of the event, and we can make sure that the people of this town are represented in the food chosen.”

Meaning his brothers couldn’t blame him for thinking with the wrong head, no matter who got chosen. It also meant one in a long list of problems disappeared. Normally he wouldn’t even consider entertaining any brainchild of the granny brigade, especially if it meant bringing them into the middle of something that could potentially sink his entire career, but he was rapidly running out of solutions.

“Deal,” Marc said, wondering if he’d just made a huge mistake. He figured that everyone had to have at least one brilliant idea in their lifetime, right? Maybe this was theirs.

Lexi stared up at Jeffery with his bedroom eyes, easygoing smile, and adorable dimple marking his right cheek, and then she sucked in a deep breath and blew. A wad of tissue paper splatted with force across his left nostril, particles breaking off and speckling his upper lip.

Lexi smiled, tore off another piece of tissue, and rolled it around in her mouth, letting it soak up the spit.

“You shouldn’t have chosen a head shot. Then you can’t do this,” said Abigail DeLuca, resident spit-wad champion and fellow woman scorned, putting the straw to her lips and aligning it with lethal accuracy before hitting her estranged husband, Richard, in the goodie bag.

Abby, with her olive skin, big brown eyes, and perfect white teeth, was a miniature version of her brother—only with a bunch of curves and a cute, pert nose. Although compact, she had the body of Ginger, the face of Mary Ann, and, when riled, the same capacity for total destruction as Scarface. She was also Lexi’s oldest and dearest friend.

Abby tucked a stray auburn curl behind her ear and smiled. Picking up another perfectly rounded ball of tissue from her arsenal, she dropped it in her mouth for a second before aiming and—

“Nailed him! God, that feels good.” She pointed her chin toward the two blown-up pictures of their cheating spouses, each hanging from the bakery rack like shooting targets. “If you want I can print off another picture for you. Full body.”

“Nah.” Maybe it was the fact that for the past few years she and Jeffery hadn’t been on the same page, sexually speaking, but nothing about Jeffery’s full body screamed feel-good to her.

“I talked to Tanner yesterday.”

“Hard-Hammer Tanner,” as he had been aptly named, was successful and sexy and very single, which made his company the number-one choice for the women of wine country when it came to additions and remodels. Something Lexi had discovered after Pricilla hired him. When he’d walked in, all muscles and impressive tool belt, Lexi hadn’t known if he was a stripper or the real deal.

“I called him to see if he got the new blueprints. I had them sent over a week ago and never heard back.”

After winning an award for designing Ryo Wines, a boutique winery that Abby and her grandmother had opened last year, Abby started talking about branching out, working on other kinds of projects. When she heard Lexi was moving home, she offered to design Lexi her dream eatery—and Lexi jumped at the chance.

Abby was also a classically trained pianist and one of the most sought-out piano teachers in the town. Okay, in a town this small, she was the only piano teacher. So when she began angrily tapping out “Flight of the Bumblebee” on the bakery table, Lexi knew her friend was

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