Chapter 13 – A Wine That’s to Die For

The portly man had not waited for Emerson’s arrival to dive into the spread laid out on the table.  His plate was practically overflowing with food & most certainly not his first.

Emerson cocked an eyebrow at the display before him.  “Hello Henry.” He said dryly”

“Mr. Emerson! Please won’t you join me! Ramon’s food could quell even the hungriest of men.”  He smiled and waved for the benefit of the hostess, who had shown his counterpart into the room 

“Ms. Isabel, would you be so kind as to procure us a bottle of wine?  I’m sure my friend here is as parched as I am. Vintage and varietal I entrust to you capable hands.  You have never disappointed.” He smiled as he bathed his accolades on the wait staff.

Isabel smiled at the barrage of compliments.  Then saw herself out to attend to her customer’s request.

“You’re in a rather plucky mood today Henry.”  Emerson had seen himself to the table during the interaction. His plate now held but the lightest of fare. Picking off his plate, he watched and waited for Mr. Aquitaine’s response.  

Henry continued to smile after the hostess until the door was firmly shut.  Once he was certain of their privacy. He turned his attention towards Emerson and the veneer of the portly grandfather was instantly sloughed away.  Replaced by the flint-lock gaze of a man intent on getting what he wanted.

“And where the hell were you last night?  As I recall we had an agreement in place. Yet for some reason my mail was a little bit lighter than expected this morning.”  The hardness in his eyes matched the tone in his voice.

Unfazed by the show being put on for his benefit. Emerson stared levelly at his employer. Continuing to nibble at the array of veggies he had selected for himself from the spread.  “I did not realize I had agreed to send you daily updates. As I recall I was to inform you when there was an update to be shared?”

He threw question back on Mr. Aquitaine.  Enjoying, just in the slightest, the aggravation it caused him.  

“And as I recall Mr. Emerson.  I had secured you a ticket to a rather exclusive event for a very specific purpose, at your request and with a guarantee, no less.” Mr. Aquitaine was not simply frustrated, but practically seething.

 Emerson was pulled up short.  He had not prepared for this line questioning.  Based on the phone conversation they had, had last night he had assumed this afternoon’s lunch would be focused primarily on his daughter, Avery.  Lucky for him the hostess had chosen that moment to return with the Mr’ Aquitaine’s wine. Buying him a few briefs moments to reshuffle his thoughts 

Isabel knocked twice before opening the door.  Hearing her entrance the facade was once again quickly constructed on Henry’s face for the benefit of the woman.  “Ah! Isabel! Impeccable timing. What have you for me this time?!”

Entering the room she walked up to the table side and held the bottle out for display to the two guests.  The dark liquid could be seen sloughing through the dark green glass. A black label etched with gold filigree proudly announced the contents of the bottle.

“Wonderful!”  Mr. Aquitaine laughed. “A splendid choice indeed. Emerson, you will enjoy this!  Isabel, if you’d be so kind as to do me the honors?”

The hostess acquiesced to his request.  Procuring a bottle opener from her vest. She made quick work of the cork, before splashing some of the velvety lush liquid into a glass for Mr. Aquitaine’s approval.  Nodding his gratitude towards the woman. He made a show of assessing the wine before giving it his blessing.  

Emerson rolled his eyes at the theatrics of it all.  However, once he’d had the opportunity to sip at the wine himself, he’d had to admit that Henry’s original assessment was an accurate one.

“A perfect selection as always Isabel.  Thank you. I believe that is all we will be needing for the moment” He sent the hostess on her way with a smile, as he turned his attention back towards Emerson. 

Their privacy once again secured, the mask was removed and the conversation continued.

“So as you we’re about to explain. Did my money secure me my purchase, or did I simply pay for you to have a lovely evening out on the town.” He tossed the wine back and poured himself another.  His eyes never left Emerson.

 “Unfortunately, our lady-of-the-evening had to take her leave.  These women are proving harder to pin down than expected.” Emerson sipped at his wine as he watched for Aquitaine’s response.

The glass had stopped halfway to his lips as Emerson began talking.  It now seemed as if it were frozen there. His tone turned from one of frustration to cold rage. As he spoke he set the glass down with the utmost intention.  “Why should I even bother to uphold my end of the agreement. In the face of you seemingly so inept at keeping up yours?”

“The evening was not all a waste.”  Emerson sipped at his wine. Toying with the man. “As luck would have it I ran into another who could prove to be useful. And as I recall your daughter sits further up on the list than Ms. Carolline does.”

Aquitaine sat unmoving as he waited Emerson to continue.

Emerson sighed, setting down his glass.  “As it appears your sources on your daughter’s where-abouts are less than reliable. I was able to secure my own.  Along with some delicious poached eggs and bacon I was also able to determine where your daughter’s is set to be tomorrow night.  Rather useful all things considered? Don’t you think?” He picked up his wine and went back to enjoying its contents.

“I see.  So then we are still on schedule?”

In reply Emerson simply raised his glass savouring the wine.

“And who was your…no nevermind.  I care not. While I will admit I’m still less than pleased with how these events have played out.  If what you’re saying is true, than I have no need for further concern.”          

Emerson nodded once in agreement.

The two sat a moment longer, locked in a silent battle of wills, before Emerson looked down at his glass swirling its contents.  “Btw the way did you ever determine, where your daughter got off to the other evening?”

“Not the slightest clue.”  Mr. Aquitaine replied, returning to his earlier endeavour attacking the mountain of food covering his plate.    

“How strange.” 

All that could be heard in the room as the two men sat there was the occasional clicking of Aquitaine’s fork as he stabbed at the contents of his plate.   

How strange indeed.