Dairy-Free Death

by P. D. Workman

  “Yeah. You’re right.” Vic too displayed new resolve. “It isn’t our problem what anyone else says or thinks.”

  Erin fed the cat, and they finished getting themselves ready for work. Erin was determined to stay upbeat. She would just laugh at anyone who gave her doubtful looks. There she was, attracted to two different men, and the town thought she was having an affair with Vic, who she’d never felt anything but friendship and motherly affection for.

  They worked together efficiently, both putting the energy from their leftover anger into the morning’s baking and getting everything done in record time. Vic lingered over the labels and price board, adding extra flourishes and doodles to fill the time, and Erin worked in her office trying to catch up on her filing before opening time.

  When the first few customers trickled in, Vic and Erin went into action, handling the orders with unparalleled enthusiasm and efficiency. There were some surprised and confused expressions from the customers, but before long it seemed like everything was falling back into place, flowing as naturally as it ever had.

  Mrs. Foster was there with the children before school began, glancing several times at her watch to make sure that she didn’t run too long and make Peter late for school. Traci crowed for her “cook-kie” and then proceeded to slobber all over it as Mrs. Foster carefully made her other choices and paid at the register.

  “Everything has been so crazy around here lately,” Mrs. Foster said. “I just wish everything would settle down again, back to normal.”

  Erin wasn’t sure what, in particular, she was referring to. There was plenty in her life that had been disrupted recently, but none of those things might have had any impact on Mrs. Foster. She could be talking about completely different worries. Potty training. Meal planning. Too much homework or after-school activities. So, Erin just smiled pleasantly. “Yes, I hope they do,” she agreed.

  “They’ve set a date for Trenton’s funeral, did you hear?” Mrs. Foster asked.

  “What?” Erin looked up at her, surprised. “Why would they have a funeral here? He didn’t live here. Won’t his girlfriend want to take… uh… him back home?”

  “No, she’s having it here,” Mrs. Foster said. “He does still have family here, even if none of us are close. I thought it was a nice gesture… I mean, he’s been away from home for so long… all of his friends must be up north… but she wants to have it here. She says that was what Trenton would have wanted.”

  “Are you related?” Erin asked tentatively, trying to tease apart the various lines of Mrs. Foster’s explanation.

  “Cousins. Not close. Uh, second I think. And once removed. Maybe? I can never keep track, but his grandfather was my—”

  “Oh.” Erin blanked the rest of the explanation out. “I see. Yes, I guess everyone around here is related when you get down to it.”

  Mrs. Foster nodded.

  “I don’t understand why Joelle is having it here,” Erin said again, shaking her head. “I mean, maybe a memorial if his extended family wanted it, but…”

  Vic was listening in. “How would she even know what he would have wanted? She didn’t know about his allergy, but she knew his funeral wishes?”

  “Yeah. It just seems odd.”

  “Well…” Mrs. Foster shifted Traci in her sling and tried to wipe some of the slobbery cookie off of her shirt. “I thought it was real sweet of Joelle. I like that girl, even if she is a vegan.”

  Erin laughed. “Well, I’m sure she appreciates that. There certainly are not a lot of vegans in this part of the country.”

  “Vegans are almost as bad as atheists,” Vic declared, throwing a sideways glance at Erin.

  There were several nods from the waiting customers. Mrs. Foster started to nod, then caught herself, looking at Erin. “I… wouldn’t know,” she temporized.

  Erin finished ringing her up, chuckling. “Have a nice day, Mrs. Foster.”

  She waved at each of the children, especially an enthusiastic Peter, who was already demanding to know, “What’s an atheist, Mommy?”

  Erin shook her head at Vic. “You’re incorrigible.”

  Vic grinned. “Who’s going to go to this funeral?” she asked. “Nobody around here even knew Uncle Trenton.”

  “Will you?”

  “I suppose,” Vic admitted. “You want to come as my date?”

  There was a gasp from one of the customers, but when Erin looked over at them, she couldn’t tell who it had been. “We’re not a couple!” she said firmly, but she couldn’t help smiling at Vic’s mischievous expression. Vic had come a complete one-eighty from the previous day, choosing to tease the gossips instead of being upset by them. “I didn’t know him at all, so I don’t think I’ll go.”

  “But you tried to save his life. Maybe Joelle will want to thank you.”

  Erin refrained from pointing out that even if she had tried to save Trenton’s life, she had been the unwitting cause of his death. It probably wouldn’t be a good idea for her to show her face at the funeral. If Joelle wanted to thank Erin, Joelle knew where to find her.

  “I wonder if anyone else will be there,” Vic said.

  “Anyone else?”

  “From Trenton’s family.”

  Erin tried to remember all of the details. “His brother?”

  “There was Sophie, but she… committed suicide. And Davis. I don’t know if anyone even knows where he is anymore. But no one knew where Trenton was either, and he came back. Someone must have told him that Angela had died. And what about their dad?”

  “Isn’t he dead? I thought he disappeared years ago.”

  “Yes… but that doesn’t mean he’s dead. He’d only be sixty. He could still be around, like Trenton, and come back.”

  “Somebody would have to know where he was, to let him know about the funeral.”

  Late in the day, as Erin went to the door to flip the sign over to ‘closed,’ she spotted William Andrews through the door, putting flyers on car windshields. She waved and managed to catch his attention. Rather than just waving back, he walked up to her door. Erin stepped back, allowing him in.

  “Come cool off for a minute,” she invited. “You want a drink?”

  “A refill would be great,” he acknowledged, pulling his water bottle from the loop on his belt.

  Erin refilled it and returned it to him. “You want any baking? End of the day, I need to clear stuff out. Whatever you want is yours.”

  Willie took a swig from his bottle and looked into the display case. “I’m rather partial to ginger cookies.”

  “Sure! Let me get you a couple.”

  He didn’t object.

  “What’s the sale?” Erin asked him as she picked up a couple of cookies with the tongs.

  “Hmm?”

  “Your flyers. What’s up?”

  “Oh,” Willie moved closer to the counter and held one up for her. A sale on the Jam Lady jams at The General Store.

  “Ah. Aren’t they just so good? I can’t get over how much better homemade jams taste than store-bought. Or I guess these are store-bought, but so much better than the big commercial brands.

  Willie nodded his agreement. “I’d never get a commercial brand. They’re just sugar. Hardly any taste, just sickly sweet.”

  “Exactly. Having Jam Lady jams is more like… having pancakes or a jelly donut for breakfast, instead of just toast. It makes it an event.”

  Willie nodded, smiling. His eyes twinkled.

  Erin bent forward to hand him his cookies. “Do you have any idea who The Jam Lady is?” she asked in a low voice.

  He shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you if I did.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I would have been sworn to secrecy. If I knew.”

  “Somebody must know. Everybody knows everything in this town!”

  “Not everything. But you’ve got to be pretty good to keep a secret around here.”

  Vic finished washing down the counters and returned to the front to start retri
eving the unsold food from the display case. She saw Willie and her eyes lit up.

  “I didn’t know it was you! Did you get—” she saw the cookies in his hand. “You got something. Good. I hate to throw food out, and Erin and I can’t eat everything that doesn’t get sold. I wish there was some other way to put it to good use. Besides feeding the birds and raccoons.”

  “If we were in the city, you could take them to a homeless shelter. But here… no homeless,” Willie agreed.

  Vic had been homeless in Bald Eagle Falls, so the assertion might not be entirely true. But Vic lived with Erin now, and Erin didn’t know of any other homeless people living in town.

  “We could put some in the freezer for the next time we go into the city,” she suggested. “We can’t store that much, but we could put up a bit for each time we go there.”

  “Yeah,” Vic nodded. “That would be good.”

  “I always hate to see people go hungry,” Erin said.

  “Yes, you do!”

  “Did you… want to do something later, after I’m finished with my flyers?” Willie was looking at Erin, then turned his gaze to include Vic. “Both of you? Either of you? Some dinner? A game of cards? Pictionary?”

  Vic eyed Erin. She didn’t know whether she felt like Vic was a third wheel or the bratty little sister, but it was awkward. Did Willie just want to spend time with Erin? Or both of them? Was he just looking for a little company, an escape from boredom? Or something more?

  “We head to bed pretty early,” she said. “Getting up for the bakery as early as we do.”

  “Right.” Willie nodded. “Another time, maybe.”

  “We could do something tonight,” Vic inserted. “I don’t need to go to bed that early. We could still have dinner or a drink. We still have to eat.”

  Willie looked at Vic, then back at Erin. “You do need to eat,” he pointed out.

  “Well… yes. Of course, we need to eat, as long as it isn’t too late. We have the cat to feed too.”

  “Blossom will be fine for a couple of hours,” Vic insisted. “It’s not like he’s a baby. He’s got bowls of food and water.”

  “He might start yowling.”

  “We can’t be home all the time,” Vic said sensibly. “He’ll have to get used to us being away sometimes.” She raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to go home and take care of the cat, and Willie and I…”

  Erin shook her head and quickly made up her mind. “No, no. You’re right, of course. There’s no reason we can’t take a couple of hours for dinner. Orange Blossom will be all right.”

  Vic looked at Erin, lips pursed. “Okay, then,” she agreed. “We’ll all go together. You don’t think Terry could get off, do you? As long as he’s on call, he might be able to come too, make it a foursome.”

  “No. He’s on patrol for a couple more hours. It will have to just be the three of us this time.”

  “Dinner, then?” Willie asked. “What do you feel like? Chinese?”

  They all looked at each other, uncertain at first and then nodding more certainly.

  “Chinese, it is.”

  Chapter Ten

  ERIN WAS JUST THINKING about dinner the night before, an odd mixture of awkwardness and fun, when the bells on the door rang. She looked up and saw a face she had hoped not to see again. Joelle Biggs. There was a man with her, sticking close to her side. Not quite holding her arm, but close to it. He was taller than Joelle and was gaunt. His face seemed familiar, but Erin was sure she hadn’t met him before.

  Joelle didn’t walk to the display case, but directly to Erin at the cash register.

  “Hi.”

  Erin gave a friendly nod of greeting. “Hello. What can I help you with today?”

  “This is Erin. She’s the one who helped with Trenton,” Joelle told her companion. “Gave him CPR and everything. Her and the policeman.”

  “I wanted to thank you in person,” the man said, putting out a calloused, cigarette-yellowed hand to shake Erin’s. “And to invite you to the funeral.”

  Erin shook his hand uncertainly.

  “This is Davis,” Joelle told her. “Trenton’s brother.”

  “Oh! Oh, I’m sorry for your loss, Davis. Both Trenton and your mother.”

  Davis made a motion that was half shrug, half head-shake. “Yeah, thanks,” he agreed. “Appreciate it.”

  “To lose both of them so close together…”

  His lips pressed together. “I hadn’t seen either of them for a long time. They haven’t been in my life.”

  Erin nodded understandingly, but she wasn’t sure what to say to him. “I lost both of my parents when I was young.”

  “Sometimes I wonder if that wouldn’t have been better.”

  Erin was surprised at his words, but even more surprised at the tone. He didn’t sound bitter or sad. Just flat. There was no emotion. She didn’t have any response to that. After hearing what Angela had been like as a parent, she couldn’t argue with how Davis must have felt about her.

  “So, you’ll come to the funeral?” Davis asked.

  Erin cleared her throat. “Well, I didn’t really know Trenton…”

  And he hadn’t been particularly nice to her. He’d been the competition.

  “But you were with him at the end,” Davis said. “I want you to be at the funeral.”

  “Umm, okay. I suppose,” Erin reluctantly agreed. “Tomorrow afternoon…?”

  “Yes. Two o’clock. At First Baptist. I suppose you go there?”

  Erin shook her head. “No, I… I’m not a religious person.”

  He gave her a long, appraising look. “You’re not one of them.”

  “One of the First Baptists? No.”

  Joelle spoke in an undertone to Davis, as if Erin couldn’t hear her. “I heard that she and her assistant…” Joelle jerked her head to indicate Vic, the innuendo clear.

  “No,” Erin said. “We’re friends. We both have… other interests.”

  Davis gave a sharp bark of a laugh. “That’s good. You’re both too cute to be out of circulation.”

  Erin’s cheeks burned. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got customers…” The Potters clearly hadn’t finalized their choices yet, but Erin was desperate to get Joelle and Davis moving on their way. “So, unless you’re buying something…”

  Davis looked over at the baked goods, but Joelle shook her head. “No. We still have arrangements to finalize. We’d better be getting on our way. We’ll see you tomorrow, Erin.”

  “See you tomorrow, Miss Biggs.”

  Erin picked up a couple of Clementine’s big genealogical books and hauled them out to the living room with her. Vic had been playing with Orange Blossom with a piece of string and looked up to see what Erin was doing.

  “What’s that?”

  “These are family trees and other genealogical records.”

  “Really?” Vic shook her head. “Those are huge. Did you borrow them from the library?”

  “No. They were Clementine’s.”

  Vic left Orange Blossom and sat down beside Erin, looking over the book that Erin opened up on the coffee table.

  “Wow. Did she write all of that?”

  Erin flipped a few pages. They were almost all in the same handwriting. “Yeah, it looks like she did.”

  “That must have taken a lot of hours to do.”

  “Years, probably. You can see different inks as you go back. Some of them are pretty faded.”

  “I thought you were an orphan! You’ve got all of this family?”

  “You do too, probably.”

  “No.” Vic shook her head. “Like this? No way.”

  “How long has your family lived in Tennessee?”

  “Well… forever. I don’t know how far back. Great, great grandparents… more than that.”

  “Then I’ll bet you anything some of this is your family too.”

  “No. I know folks are always making jokes about all of the intermarrying, but it isn’t really that bad. There are plenty of people
who got married to non-Tennesseans.”

  “Not all of them. Not if your family has been living here that far back. Look.” Erin flipped to the pages she had been looking at before. “Look at all of the family names of people who live here and shop at the bakery. Here’s a Potter. And a Cox.” Erin ran her finger under some of the names. “They’re all related. To each other. And to us.”

  “Not to me,” Vic said. “I didn’t know anyone in Bald Eagle Falls except for Aunt Angela. My people didn’t come this far…”

  “I wanted to see if the Plaints were in here,” Erin said. “Everybody knows everybody, and I know at the funeral tomorrow everyone is going to be talking about how everyone is related to who. Third cousins once removed. My sister-in-law’s uncle. Everyone is going to know everyone else and how they all fit in, and I just wanted to see… to figure out how I fit in. If I do.”

  “It looks like you do,” Vic said, looking over the long sheets of names. She picked up the string and dangled it for Orange Blossom to chase. “Catch it, Blossom! Catch it!”

  Erin continued to scan through the pages. “I don’t see any Plaints here. Or Websters.”

  “Webster isn’t my family’s name,” Vic said, without looking at her. “Well, it’s a grandma’s family name. My family name is Jackson.”

  “Jackson!” Erin turned and looked at her. “Well, there’s a southern name. I’ll bet there are a ton of Jacksons in here.” She slowed down and went back a couple of pages. “Here. Are you related to this one?”

  “Who?” Vic looked at it. “Obadiah? Who knows. There are a lot of Jacksons. They probably aren’t even all really Jacksons, just people who needed something to go by.”

  Erin followed the paternal line up and down, looking for any branches off to Plaints. She shook her head. “I’m going to go bug-eyed trying to make any sense of this. How am I going to do this?”

  “What?”

  “How am I going to know if I’m related to anyone at the funeral tomorrow.”

  “You just know you are. I don’t think you can figure out and memorize all of the relationships in one night.”