Flamenco Strings Uncorked: A Callinda Beauvais Mystery Series, #4

By Patricia Steele

When Callie tries to bring Pablo Picasso’s dream to fruition, she ends up in the crosshairs of the Alonzo brothers and their unsavory connections.

Callinda Beauvais can almost see Picasso’s dream at her fingertips.  First, she struggled to speak halting Spanish.  Then she needed to find a buyer for the aged Spanish brandy, Sueño España. Wrapped in Picasso’s dream, she finds a haven in a small village in Spain, Algodonales.  Puzzle pieces slide through the Spanish village to bring indigent students the magic of playing flamenco guitar.    But there are people who are willing to kill to stop her.

            If you like a bit of romance woven into your stories, with a touch of intrigue, you´ll want to read this one.  A heartwarming story of family amid the bittersweet emotions that occur with a new baby, a wedding and Cupid flying around indiscriminately.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Plumeria Press
• Release date: Mar 25, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386087441

Book preview

ONE

Callie whispered, Olivier still looks shell shocked.

Cendrine, chuckled.  Sex is an iffy thing.  It was easier the first time because we both guessed correctly.  But this time, there was only one.  She snickered.  He’s still getting used it.

Warmth seeped into the living room as the spring sunshine slipped through the large glass window. The tightly-swaddled infant fit into Callie’s arms like a well-worn shoe.  Large blue eyes stared into chocolate browns that began to puddle with emotion.  The child stared, blinked, stared and blinked again.  And then turned to root for the breast that Callie knew would never drip milk. Her heart thumped hard with the knowledge.  She touched the soft, downy cheek with a finger and marveled at the golden tufts of hair that covered the child’s small head.  Lifting one tiny finger at a time, her hidden-heart hurt multiplied as she thought of the many times she’d ached to hold a child of her own. She smiled suddenly when the child’s fist tightened around her smallest finger and Callie’s melancholia turned to a perfect joy. She hadn’t seen the older twins when they were one week old.  This one, this little miracle, had already taken her broken heart and put it back together again. Blinking away tears, she lifted her head to smile at her niece.

Callie laughed and reached a hand toward Cendrine, to push a swathe of dark golden hair out of her eyes. Looking into her face, Callie whispered, "You are the child I never had, ma chère.  And this child will ease the pain of the last few weeks.  A new breath of life is exactly what we all need after learning the truth about your uncle’s death.  She will give everyone that special lift, oui?"

Cendrine’s eyes filled and she nodded her head before letting it drop against the pale blue wing chair across from Callie.  The women gazed at one another.

Laurielle Chloe Benoit is a big name for such a tiny baby though... Callie felt the amazing little package squirm, root for her breast again and knew it was time for maman to take over.

We’ve called her Lulu for months. I didn’t want to confuse the poor little one by calling her something else, so we had to find a full name. Cendrine’s eyes twinkled as she lowered the child’s rosebud lips to her breast and unloosed her bra flap to reveal her nipple.

Both women laughed when they watched little Lulu, who knew exactly what to do with it.  Her pink cheeks rose and fell with the gulps of milk and her blue-tinged eyelids closed in abject contentment.  Each of her fingers seized and expanded as if they were keeping time to music only she could hear.

Now, when is the wedding? 

Oh. Excitement warred with anxiety and Callie had difficulty swallowing. Questions could wait because the answers were complicated.  How could she tell Cendrine her stomach was in a fist of confusion, or give her niece answers that she didn’t have herself?  How could she confront her own questions?  Her head hurt.  She wasn’t ready to confront or explain.  She just wanted to enjoy her little family and then she would drive to Spain.  Jules had been patient, but she knew he had his own questions with little answers.  She knew she had to talk with him.  Soon.

Callie? Cendrine sat forward in the chair. The question lingered in the air; her forehead creased.  Her blue eyes grew round and her golden hair fell across her cheek as she waited for Callie to respond.

Instead of answering, Callie leaned forward with open arms. I think it is my turn to snuggle Lulu. She ignored the look on Cendrine’s questioning face and pulled the child’s now-sleeping body into the warmth of her neck.

Callie bit her lip.  Returning to France was her priority now that she’d solved the mystery of her husband’s death, sold her houses and assets in Oregon and agreed to be the trustee of Pablo Picasso’s dream.  Now she would concentrate on tiny Lulu, the twins, Francois and Bernadette, and her relationship with the lovely Jules.

Jules. She leaned her dark head back onto Cendrine’s couch cushion and closed her eyes.  A swathe of silver bangs fell over one eye and she pushed it away with a brush of her wrist.  As she listened to the tiny gulping sounds that Lulu made when she swallowed her mother’s milk, she thought her heart could not expand with an ounce more of emotion. Jules’ last kiss was still warm on her lips and her body quivered.  Flashbacks pummeled her mind and she couldn’t stop the tiny smile from spreading across her lips.  

Cendrine scrutinized Callie’s face.  She shifted to a safer topic. Are Spanish lessons helping you, Callie?

Callie heard the laughter in Cendrine’s voice and her eyes popped open. Pulling her thoughts away from bedroom memories, she rolled her eyes. "Hablar Español es muy difícil." To speak Spanish is very difficult.

When Cendrine clapped her hands with delight, Lulu nearly rolled off Callie’s lap. Her mouth formed an O as she moved the swaddled infant to her mother’s breast.  The tiny mouth latched onto the nipple and both women laughed in wonderment.

"You speak Spanish! Viola! What is your plan now, Callie? Olivier tells me the solicitor in Fuengirola has the papers ready for you, but you will stay a few days here first, oui?" She slipped one finger across her daughter’s soft cheek and then ran it through her dark hair as it lay near her ear.  The child was focused and her eyes started to drop like a curtain and then pop open for a second and then down again. 

Callie’s lips quivered before she gave her niece a tremulous smile.  She covered Cendrine’s hand with her own where Cendrine hugged her child. "You couldn’t pull me away from here with a ten-foot pole, ma chère.  This dream of Picasso’s has waited many years. It can wait a little longer.  I had hoped to speak better Spanish before I arrived in Algodonales.  Jules promised to help me, but he’s been away from his computer business for nearly two weeks and I know he will be busy with the catch up. He could find a Spanish tutor for me if I wanted one.  But I am going to go just as I am.  And then..."

...And then you go to Spain?  Olivier is very happy you are willing to do this.  It has been filling his head for weeks thinking about helping his father fulfill Picasso’s dream.  It is still so hard for us to believe they were friends.  When I think of all those brandy bottles...

Callie shook her head at the enormity of the job she’d set for herself. "The bottles must be sold first, ma chère, or we will not have the money to follow Picasso’s wishes. She pursed her lips. And now there are men who think the brandy money should be theirs..." Callie took a deep breath and blew it out slowly.  She fought the heaviness that had invaded her senses ever since she’d learned about the men trying to stand in the way of the guitar school.  Shuddering, she shook her head slowly and licked her lips.

Olivier is worried about you. These men read about the brandy bottles and your plan to sell them for Picasso’s music school.  They think we are stealing from their family. Cendrine’s face was mottled with frustration.

"I have been speaking with the people at Guitarras Valeriano Bernal. They will help me.  That family’s attorney showed them a copy of Picasso’s letter.  He told Olivier that the men steamed out of his office afterward, very angry.  I doubt we’ve heard the last of them."

Oh, Callie. This project sounded perfect when we read Pablo Picasso’s letter and we knew the brandy bottles could make a difference.  But, now with these Spaniards pushing their way into the equation, it has become so complicated and a little frightening.  Maybe you should....

I am going.  Over the past year, I have allowed people to push me around. These Spaniard brothers are wrong. Picasso’s word stands. The attorney in Fuengirola seems to think we have a very strong case to move forward.  And I want to create that guitar commune in that little village in the mountains.  I have already rented a lovely apartment in Algodonales called Casa Baraka. I am told it’s near the main square of the village by a massive church...and an easy walk to the flamenco guitar shop. She dropped her folded hands in her lap as if to put a period on the end of her sentence.  Her eyes bored into Cendrine’s and her lips pursed together tightly. 

Cendrine’s face changed from interest to impishness.  And you will marry Jules before or after you return from Algodonales? Her eyes challenged her aunt for an answer again.

Callie raised an eyebrow.  Tell me about your cousin, Veronique, and her interior design shop. And I will tell you about Lily in America.  I can help you prepare the downstairs bedroom for her arrival.  She’s anxious to meet you and anxious to learn how to make wine.  Callie was quiet before murmuring, She’s had a rough time.

When can we get her here?

Not until the middle of August.  Her mother is still trying to get adjusted to the idea of her daughter spending her last year of high school in France.  You are sure that Lulu won’t keep you from working with her?"

"Always room for one more, Callie.  This little girl will fit into that snuggly thing grandmére gave me. I won’t slow down.  You know me.  Wine is my middle name.  Sparkling wine is part of my DNA.  It is amazing how much this industry touches me.  If I can be a part of Lily’s passion to make wine, I will share my own with her and we will make it happen.  I know you have a special interest in this girl.  When you told me how her uncle abused her, my heart cried.  Maybe one day you will tell me why this girl matters so much to you."

Callie blinked at her niece’s canny perception.

I know there is a story there, auntie.  Cendrine face stilled.

"Yes, there is.  One day I will tell you when it’s quiet and we’ve finished drinking one of your Chloe Rosé bottles."  Callie’s eyes brimmed with tears and she gave a sad chuckle.

Cendrine didn’t question her further.

Sometimes there are secrets we hold inside that are better kept there, deep inside where no light can touch it.  I was able to stretch my head around my own troubled past by helping Lily with hers.  She is a good girl and her mother is very sweet.  I am anxious for you to meet her.  Callie’s eyes cleared and she patted the blanket folds around Lulu.

Cendrine tucked the yellow blanket around her tiny daughter and then lifted her eyes to her aunt.  And I can hardly wait to mentor her with my wine-making skills.  Between me and Papa, I think we can make that young lady a winemaker.

Callie’s face clouded for a moment before nodding. But first, the brandy.  The flamenco guitars.  Lily.  And Jules.

TWO

Two hours earlier, Callinda Beauvais and Jules Armand had flown into Aix en Provence, France from Oregon.  Driving to Pertuis felt like a dream.  She was anxious to return to the village where she’d lived with her late husband, Francois Beauvais, where they had renovated a large, old mill house to make it their own. They had eventually added a guest cottage apart from the big house.  Now that cottage would be her new home.

She was in France again, home at last. She’d left behind her friends, her American memories with Francois and a few pieces of her heart. She’d brought fresh dreams across the ocean.  And now she sat beside Jules, a man she had not known well until a few months ago. He had wrapped up her heart like a tidy gift, a regalo.  She laughed as she realized she was beginning to think in Spanish.

Jules looked at her when he heard her chuckle. What?

She lifted her hand to squeeze his arm. We are coming home.

He placed his hand over hers and smiled warmly. "Oui."

When his eyes returned to the winding road that would take them from Aix to Pertuis, Callie’s mind had wandered again. She knew that her life would be very different now. She would miss friends in Oregon. She had WhatsApp on her smart phone. She could call Livvy, her best friend. That is, once she got the time difference worked out in her head. She’d already sold one of her houses and hoped her beach house would sell soon. She had a deposit slip in her purse from both estate sales.  Her boxes would arrive in a few weeks filled with everything she refused to leave behind.

"What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, ma chère?" Jules chuckled.  A car passed them.  The countryside was aflame with wild flowers and there seemed to be magic in the air.

Just thinking...and planning...and....

Jules laughed out loud and eased his foot off the gas pedal as he made another sharp turn toward the Beauvais Vineyard. His dark hair was laced with silver and his strong jaw was tight with thoughts of his own. He drove on quietly. Callie knew his office manager had been running the business during Jules’ absence. She also knew Jules was clearly anxious to get back to his computers so he could relieve his manager. 

Callie looked down at the tightly clasped hands in her lap. She wore one ring on her right hand, a gift from Francois on their twentieth anniversary. She touched the onyx stone with a finger and felt the tears well up in her chest. They had been happy and when he died, she had been devastated, never imagining she could love again. She turned to look at Jules’ profile.  Warmth filled her from the inside out. She loved him.  So, why was she questioning herself? He was charming, beautiful, kind, and funny.  He made her laugh. He was quick witted and she hadn’t felt such peace in a long time.

Before he arrived in Oregon to spirit her away a few days earlier, she’d learned the greatest, most important thing about herself. She knew who she was and that she was quite capable of being independent. She had the freedom to do exactly as she pleased. But despite the fact that he made her feel shiny new again, she needed to put her mind in order. She’d finally come to terms with Francois being murdered, but it hadn’t been easy. His killer was in prison.  That thought gave her a bittersweet jolt of happiness.  But Francois was still dead.

When the car jerked to a sudden stop, Callie was thrown forward and Jules’ arm automatically pulled her back. The French oath he whispered surprised her. He looked at her apologetically, shook his hand at the rude motorist, who had stopped in the roadway without alert blinkers, and swerved past him.

"I am sorry, ma chère. I should have pushed him into that ditch.  Maybe I should go back and do that, but not today." He pushed the gear shift into second and the engine whined before it got to third. His lips strained against his teeth.

Callie laughed. Thank you for that, Jules.  

He chuckled, his mood reverting back to normal.

I will need to leave immediately after taking you home, this is alright? Claude needs me at the offices and...

But, of course!  I have a baby to meet, hugs waiting and plans to make.  The air in the car seemed to swoosh around them.

And the biggest plan is to set a date for our wedding?  He whispered the question.

Callie’s heart stilled. "Sí, señor."

He laughed and patted her knee where black, gray and white leggings molded her legs. The long black tunic fell in folds past her thighs and her shiny black ring glittered in the sunshine.  

"Bon. Olivier will show us the newspaper article tonight at dinner about the vineyard people in Spain hoping to cash in on the brandy. Is that why you’ve been so quiet since we got off the plane?"

She turned toward him. No. My mind is whirling about many things, Jules. That is just one of them. These descendants were not part of the flight to smuggle Picasso’s brandy bottles to France. Some people may have died in the process.  These men are distant relatives of Picasso’s partner, not beneficiaries of his will. They can’t stop us...can they? Her voice wavered only a heartbeat before she answered her own question. No, they cannot.

Jules smiled. That’s my girl.

French sweet music filtered through the car’s stereo and Monet-like vistas outside Callie’s window returned her heartbeat to a crawl. She laid her head back on the seat and closed her eyes. Touching French soil had always filled her with peace. This time she was moving home again. Why wasn’t the expected peace finding its way into her mind? Why was she questioning her feelings for Jules now? Maybe she wasn’t ready to give up her independence? Or did she want to live in pause position until her Spanish adventure ended?

She heard flamenco guitar music in her head and realized how anxious she was to get to the little village.  She’d only seen photographs of Algodonales on the internet and then she had rented the little apartment.  Her Spanish dictionary was stowed in her bag. The Spanish translation APP on her phone was accessible off line and Spanish words fluttered around in her head like jumping beans. She took a deep breath. Her gypsy blood was thrumming and just maybe this one last adventure would put things right again. Until then, she had a new baby to meet.

Jules’ tires crunched over the loose gravel beneath the arched stone entrance to Beauvais Vineyard. She glanced up and smiled, waiting for the cottage to come into view.  They passed several large trees and the mill house that she and Francois had refurbished years earlier. The vista of bright, early blooms flew past her window in a blur.  The sky was blue, welcoming.  It was spring and her life felt brand new.

Callie lifted a finger to blot the puddle that filled her eyes. The sweet connection moved over her like a tornado. She felt disembodied, caught between the far past and the near future. 

And there it was. 

The house. 

The cottage. 

Home at last.

Suddenly, she felt calmer than she had in many days.

THREE

Anticipation hung in the air a few hours later when Callie walked into the mill house with Jules.  Olivier greeted her with kisses on both cheeks.  She shared a startled look with Jules, when Olivier immediately thrust a crinkling newspaper into her hands.  The Olive Press headline from Fuengirola, Spain stared back at her, outlined in bright red ink. Picasso’s Aged Brandy Found in France.

Mateo Rosa Trascasas sent this to me a few days ago. I am glad his law firm is handling the paperwork for the foundation, Callie.  He said these men do not merit part of the cash from the brandy sale. Olivier dropped onto the couch beside her.

Jules sat next to Callie’s chair to read the article over her shoulder.

Callie’s breath hitched a moment before she read the words aloud, "The great-grandsons of Jose Luis Alonzo Mesa learned recently that bottles of brandy from the now-defunct Colinas Ocultos Vineyard, are to be sold by a foundation purportedly based on a letter left by Pablo Ruiz Picasso years ago. The brothers, Eterio and Ruben Alonzo Fernandez, say the proceeds should be theirs.  They admit they were unaware of the existence of this brandy until the story came to them through their friend, Demetrio Martin Salas, from Jerez. It was mentioned that the label showed a Spanish señorita riding a cork like an American bucking bronco. An unknown French woman is involved in the complicated arrangements.  The Alonzo brothers do not know who she is or why she is part of this foundation."

Cendrine walked into the room. Lulu’s face was buried into her neck, sound asleep. Three sets of eyes turned toward her.

What? Her eyes shifted between Callie and Olivier as she pushed golden-blonde hair from her eyes with a free hand.

Olivier’s eyes nodded toward the newspaper in Callie’s fist.

Oh. Cendrine frowned and raised her eyebrows.

How could this have happened? Before we’ve even begun, it’s blasted across the news. Callie shook her head as she traced the words on the paper with her finger. When Jules squeezed her shoulder gently, she lay her cheek over his hand before clenching the paper again.

There’s more, Callie. I didn’t want to tell you until you arrived...  Olivier shook his head at them.

Wary, she lowered her head and shook it slowly as if to say, what else?

These Alonzo brothers want to sue the foundation for the money once the bottles are sold.  Their attorney contacted Mateo two days ago. He told me they should have no rights to the money because of Picasso’s letter. I believe him.  But, when the brothers find out they will receive nothing, they’ll probably fight you.

Callie’s face cleared and she smiled with the face of a rebel. And I will be ready for them.

Alone?  Jules voice sounded like steel.

Callie didn’t answer him, but instead, raised an eyebrow.

Jules cleared his throat. "I can’t worry for your safety, chère?"

The room grew quiet as her eyes swung toward him. "Of course you can. But right now my concern is getting to Algodonales and preparing for the music colony. After the bottles are sold you can worry about me. Oui?"

A look of impatience crossed his face for an instant before he sighed heavily. So, it sounds like our wedding will not take place until after the big Spanish plan?

Callie looked at him beneath lowered lashes and bit her lip. Yes, I think that is best. There is so much to do there and I want our special day to be clear of all the complications that lay ahead.

Cendrine and Olivier exchanged a look at the same time Lulu began to whimper and the spell was broken.

The room was warm and seemed to spin around her.  Jules’ fingers lay on her arm. She’d promised to marry him after they returned to France. Where had this uncertainty come from? She’d hurt his feelings, felt it through her body like a burning coal. But when her truth meter had peppered her with questions, she had listened.

When Cendrine snuggled Lulu into her bassinet, she hastened into the kitchen to finish preparations for dinner.  Jules and Olivier walked outside, leaving Callie alone where the warm room engulfed her and tossed the complicated worry game inside her head.  

She’d fallen in love with Jules several months earlier, when she’d finally accepted that Francois’ was dead and buried physically and mentally for her.  Jules had been Francois’ best friend and the sweet connection wasn’t lost on either of them.

Now, learning that Francois had been murdered, after receiving a letter from Jules’ attorney, had changed something inside of her. She knew