Sour Grapes

can, and sniffed it. Satisfied that it had held only soda, she tossed it into a wicker wastebasket.
    She looked around at the marble-topped vanity with its gilded mirror, the ornately carved armoire, and the damask bedspreads. “Such a pretty room,” she mused. “Yall enjoy it now, and Atlanta ... don’t be getting any of Ms. Matthews’s blood on the linens. You can just tell by lookin’, they’re expensive.”

Chapter

5

    S avannah found Ryan Stone standing near the door of the gallery, explaining the workings of the ancient press to a bevy of giggling beauties. When she beckoned him with a crooked finger, he excused himself to the girls and joined her beside the display case filled with awards.
    “Sorry to take you away from all of that adoration,” she said.
    “Ah, that’s quite all right.” He bent his dark head down to hers and whispered, ‘Tell me something, Savannah; I wasn’t raised with sisters. Do girls always giggle that much?”
    “Not that much. That sort of ridiculous tittering is usually done only in the presence of a gorgeous hunk.” He actually blushed. That was one thing Savannah loved most about Ryan Stone—his humility. A Greek god who was actually down-to-earth. Who could resist such an enticing combination?
    “Did you get Atlanta settled into her room okay?” he asked. “ Well, she’s settled. Only time will tell how ‘okay’ it is. She isn’t too crazy about her roommate, a little priss named Barbie Matthews. To be honest, I’m not exactly nuts about the kid myself.”
    Ryan raised one eyebrow. “Barbie Matthews? I just turned away one of her admirers at the doorway. He said he was her boyfriend and had to talk to her about some urgent matter. He didn’t want to take ‘no’ for an answer. I ah... escorted... him to the front gate, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he shows up again sometime this evening.”
    “What does he look like?”
    “About six feet tall, long brown hair, black heavy-metal T-shirt and jeans, tattoos on both forearms— skulls and crossbones.”
    “Hmm... what mother wouldn’t dream of a son-in-law like that? Is there anyone else we’re looking out for?”
    Ryan gave a discreet nod toward a group of people, who had congregated on the other side of the room beneath a plaque that bore Benjamin Franklin’s quote: “Wine is constant proof that God loves us and loves to see us happy.”
    “See the guy in the Brioni suit, fiftyish, salt-and-pepper hair?” he said.
    “Yeah, nice threads.” “ True, but in his case, clothes can’t turn a pig into a gentleman. I don’t like the way he’s looking at some of the girls. A definite Dirty Old Man Alert.”
    Savannah watched for a moment, and just as Ryan had said, the guy’s eyes were following each girl who passed with less than wholesome interest.
    “Who is he?”
    “Name’s Frank Addison, a neighboring vintner and one of the pageant’s judges, if you can believe that.”
    “Oh, yeah, I’ll believe about anything if it supports my supposition that human beings are mostly turkey butts... no disrespect to the turkeys.”
    A tall, elegant woman, wearing a black-silk evening sheath and a strand of lavender-jade beads left the group beneath the plaque and walked over to Savannah and Ryan. In one hand she held a glass of red wine, the other she used to tuck a wayward strand of fine, blond hair back into her perfect French twist.
    As she approached them she offered her hand to Savannah. “Good evening, I’m Catherine Whitestone-Villa. And I’m so glad you’re with us this evening.” Savannah glanced sideways at Ryan; he seemed as surprised as she was at this gracious greeting. Apparently Mrs. Whitestone-Villa thought they were honored guests.
    “I’m Savannah Reid,” she said, returning the firm handshake. The woman’s fingers were a bit cool and damp, and Savannah assumed it was from holding the wineglass. “This is Ryan Stone,” she added. “We’re working Security for you this weekend.”
    “Oh, yes, I know.” The lady smiled broadly, showing a mouthful of perfectly straight, dazzlingly white teeth. “I’m delighted that we have professionals like the two of you. We want everything to go well for the girls and all of our guests here at Villa Rosa. We’ve never hosted a beauty pageant before, you know. Some cross-country runs for breast-cancer research, canoe-racing on the lake for muscular dystrophy... that sort of thing. But never a beauty contest. This is so