“Not a bit,” Derek said. “In fact, they’ve all promised to come to the winery for the Pre-Harvest celebration next week.”
I had to laugh. Basically, wine-country people would dream up almost any excuse to get together and taste wines. The annual Pre-Harvest celebration was Dharma’s official kickoff to harvest season, and it was always a fun-filled day of wine tasting, along with loads of great appetizers and munchies brought in by the local chefs, including my sister Savannah.
“That should be interesting,” I said. “I wonder if Madame Cloutier could be talked into bringing some of those amazing beignets with her.”
“Let me just make a phone call,” Derek said with a determined grin.
I beamed at him. “That’s my hero.”
*
Monday morning, I arrived at the town hall to find a squadron of volunteers standing by to hang the posters and mount the quote cards that Mom had already designed. The day before, Robin had laid out a structure for the room itself that would give each photograph its own space and lighting. As a professional sculptor, she was used to mounting art exhibits, so within hours, she had all the posters hanging on the walls and on columns around the room.
Another volunteer with some creative ability had designed a program to hand out to visitors. A different group of commune volunteers agreed to work outside with the crowds, giving directions to visitors and handing out the programs. Mom and Robin and Trudy would act as docents, answering questions and telling their own stories of their brief adventures inside the caves.
And I tried really hard, but Derek still refused to play the docent.
I wondered a few times if we were crazy to devote this much time and energy to the town hall exhibit. But the result would show the Frenchmen that Guru Bob was being completely aboveboard, and it would give the visiting reporters something to look at instead of the actual treasures inside the cave. Those were our two main purposes, and I prayed we would be successful. But beyond that, the exhibit would be a wonderful new activity for visitors and locals to experience.
I glanced around and found Robin deeply involved with a few of the more artistic types as they put the final touches to the overall layout and positioning of the posters. I knew I wasn’t needed, so I let her know I was going and then rushed off to join Derek at the storage cave, where he was scheduled to meet Guru Bob and Noland Garrity, the appraiser.
While parking the car, I noticed a handsome older man talking to Guru Bob by the rounded doors leading to the storage cave. Derek was there, too, but he was more involved with studying the security box than with the conversation going on next to him. The stranger—I assumed it was Noland Garrity—was tall, just a few inches shorter than Derek and Guru Bob, who were both more than six feet tall. As I approached, I thought it was pretty great to see three tall, handsome men gathered together in one spot.
“Here is Brooklyn,” Guru Bob said, sounding relieved to see me. As soon as I was close enough, he introduced me to the appraiser. “Brooklyn Wainwright, this is Noland Garrity. I’ve hired him to assess the items we found in the cave.”
“Hello, Mr. Garrity.” The man didn’t smile as I shook his hand. In his white polo shirt, khaki trousers, and highly polished brown penny loafers, he was dressed for going to the country club rather than skulking through caves.
Guru Bob added, “Noland, I trust you will benefit from Brooklyn’s insight and positive energy.”
With that odd statement, Guru Bob bid us good-bye. That was when I noticed Mr. Garrity surreptitiously wiping his hand on his trousers—the hand he’d just used to shake mine.
I won’t take it personally, I thought, and turned to watch Guru Bob walking briskly across the parking lot. Where was he off to in such a hurry? On the other hand, it was a good sign that he trusted us with his appraiser, and I smiled at Noland Garrity. “Did Robson describe some of the treasures we found? You won’t believe how amazing it is.”
“Yeah, that’s great. Look, I don’t have all day,” he said, squinting up at the bright blue sky. “And why is it so damn hot up here?”
I exchanged a puzzled look with Derek. His eyebrow shot up in response. It couldn’t be more than seventy degrees outside on this gorgeous fall day. What was Garrity complaining about? Maybe he was just one of those people who always complained and were never really happy. If so, I really hoped his visit would be a short one.
And what was with his brusque attitude? Was he angry about something? Could he be angry at Guru Bob for leaving him here with us? I hoped he would mellow out once he was able to get a look at all the treasures.
Derek turned away from us to lift the cover of the security box and tap a series of numbers on the keypad. When a buzzer sounded, he used his key to unlock the dead bolt on the doors. “Right this way.”