“He . . .” Vi stopped, seemingly at a loss.
Daisy reached across the table and touched Vi’s hand. “Honey, do you love Sammy?”
“Of course I do.” Vi sounded outraged.
“I mean when you look at him, does a joyous love come sweeping over you? Do you realize that you and Foster created this beautiful little being?”
Tears came to Vi’s eyes and she couldn’t speak. When Foster put his hand on her shoulder, tears began to leak down her cheeks. “I love him. I do. But I’m so worried about him all the time. You know they talk about SIDS and laying a baby on his back so he doesn’t choke, and what if he’s not getting enough to eat? And what’s going to happen when I have to go back to work?”
The tears ran freely now, and Daisy could see how complicated all this was for her daughter. “Vi, I’m going to say something you’re probably not going to like. You’re still a child yourself when it comes to life.” Vi was shaking her head and Daisy squeezed her hand. “What I mean by that is you’re not used to multitasking life. It was hard for me when I had you, but your dad had a good job. I was a stay-at-home mom for the time being. Your dad’s mom babysat when she could to give us time alone. You haven’t even had time to work up a routine. I want Willa to stop by so she can show you the steps for keeping yourself healthy as well as Sammy. You need to figure out how we can help you. Not take over for you . . . but help. You need to get out of the apartment yourself. You need to get out with the baby.”
“With Sammy? He’s not even a week old.”
“Vi, he won’t break. As long as you keep him warm and safe and fed, he’ll be fine.”
“And what if he has a crying fit while I’m in a public place? Not just that, but how am I going to feed him there?”
“Willa talked to you about this, but I’m not sure you were listening. You have to become comfortable with yourself as a mother.”
“You breastfed me?”
“I did. When I was out and about, and you needed to be fed, I found a nook where I felt comfortable. I knew how to keep myself covered without smothering you,” she said with a little smile, hoping to break the seriousness of their conversation. “You’ll get the hang of it. I promise you will.”
“Have you already talked to Willa about coming over?” Vi asked.
“I did. She can be here at lunchtime. She said she’d bring in takeout for both of you if Foster wants to join you.”
Vi patted Sammy’s back and rocked him a little back and forth. She cooed into his neck and rubbed her nose in his hair. Daisy could see that Vi was bonding with her son when she wasn’t too tired or anxious or doubting herself too much.
“All right,” Vi said. She turned to Foster. “Can you be here?”
“I can. I’ll tell Arden I’ll work on her Web site this week.”
This was a first step, and Daisy was so glad to see her daughter take it.
By lunchtime, Daisy was glad to see that Vi was dressed in slacks and a loose blouse. When Willa arrived, Daisy greeted her, asked after her, and then left. She’d eat lunch and wait for Vi to contact her.
In her kitchen at home, Marjoram joined Daisy on the stool next to her. Every once in a while, the feline would pop her head up and lean toward Daisy’s sandwich, which consisted of sliced turkey, lettuce, and tomato.
Daisy gave Marjoram a tiny piece of the turkey. “You’re not supposed to have people food, but I cooked it myself so I know exactly what is on it. But we never know what’s in our food these days, do we?”
Pepper must have heard their conversation because she came in from the living room, carrying her favorite black mouse. She plopped it at Daisy’s feet, wanting her to throw it.
“I guess I’ve neglected you two lately. That happens when a baby is born. Once Vi and Foster get their bearings, we’ll invite them over here so you can have some fun too.”
Pepper looked up at her plaintively and meowed.
“I have a rule. I don’t pick up one of your mice while I’m eating. If you let me finish my sandwich, I’ll give you both Greenies.”
As if they understood that word very well, Pepper went over to stand by her bowl. After Marjoram ate her tiny bit of turkey, she jumped down and went over to her bowl too.
“I can see how this is going to go,” Daisy said, placing her sandwich on her plate. “Greenies for you and then the rest of lunch for me.”
Marjoram gave a little murrp, and Pepper seemed to be smiling at her smugly. After she distributed Greenies into each dish, she washed her hands, finished her lunch, then picked up her jacket and purse. “I promise I’ll brush both of you tonight.”
The two cats followed her to the living room, then simultaneously jumped up on the deacon’s bench under the window in the sunlight. They began washing themselves, and Daisy knew they’d soon be asleep. They weren’t going to miss her one little bit.
As she drove toward Willow Creek Community Church, she knew she probably should have called Vanna to make sure she’d be there. On the other hand, if Vanna wasn’t at her office, she’d just stop at the tea garden and see how things were faring without her.
Whenever Daisy visited Vanna at the church, she parked in the church’s back lot and walked around to the side entrance. Chrysanthemums bloomed along the walkway. They were looking a little bedraggled because the colder temperatures had zapped them. Sometimes Thanksgiving in Pennsylvania could even bring snow.
An autumn wreath hung on the side door with ears of dried corn, a few gourds, and a huge orange bow. Daisy suspected Vanna had fashioned it.
She rang the bell, and a few seconds later Vanna appeared and opened the side door.
When she smiled, it seemed forced. “Hi, Daisy. What are you doing here?”
“I thought we could talk.”
“This is a good time,” Vanna said, and turned to head to her office.
Three steps led inside, and after Daisy climbed them, she walked down the hall following Vanna. Vanna turned right, where her office was located directly outside of the minister’s study. His door was open, but no one was inside.
“Did you come to me to talk about Margaret? Rowan told me you might.”
Instead of going around the desk to the rolling ergonomic chair, Vanna took one of the ladder-back chairs in front of the desk.
Daisy took the other chair.
Vanna looked uneasy as she asked, “What do you want to know?”
“You’ve already told me a little about Margaret.” Before hopping into questions that could lead to murder suspects, Daisy treaded easily and gently. “What was Margaret like before she left for New York?”
Vanna rubbed her hand across her forehead and closed her eyes for a moment. “She was always headstrong. When she got into trouble, I tried to cover for her.”
“Did she get into big trouble?”
Folding her hands in front of her, Vanna shook her head. “No. Mostly things like coming in late at night. She’d go in and out of our bedroom window. Or if all her chores weren’t done, I’d take up the slack.”
That sounded normal for sisters. “Did she appreciate those things?”
“I don’t know for sure. In a way I think she felt entitled. I was her sister so I should have her back.”
“But you didn’t feel that she had yours?”
Vanna leaned back in her chair. “There was no need for Margaret to have my back. I followed the rules. I did what I was told. I believed in the values my parents did. Even though I left the faith to marry my husband, we followed the same tenets. But Margaret. . . I don’t think she ever believed in anything in the first place.”
Vanna stood, crossed to the credenza, and straightened a pile of papers. “She couldn’t have run off to New York and not looked back if she had. I heard from her now and then. She was so proud of what she was seeing as if the sights of New York were some kind of awards she’d earned. But she usually didn’t put return addresses on the postcards except once or twice. To me that meant she didn’t want me to vi
sit. I don’t even know what her stage name was. Rowan might know that. I did hear from her regularly after she met him. He was all she thought about and wrote about. From what I could tell, it certainly helped that he was rich. He could give her whatever she wanted. But even after he gave her the Little Theater here, I don’t know if she was happy. Rowan travels so much for business, and I think that was starting to bother Margaret. She might have left our life here, but deep down I think she wanted a marriage that lasted forever and someone who would think only about her.”
“Was Rowan that man?” Daisy asked, knowing all about little-girl dreams.
“I’m not sure.”
Deciding to change subjects, Daisy turned to another topic. “What do you know about Glenda Nurmi?”
After the pile of papers was arranged to her satisfaction, Vanna returned to her chair. “Not much. I simply know that she and Margaret were friends in New York. I think Margaret told me they acted in a play together.”
“And Margaret asked Glenda to come to Willow Creek because she was the playwright of the play?”
“Yes. Since they were friends, Margaret thought Glenda would enjoy the honor. Can you imagine writing a play and seeing it performed?”
“Do you know if Glenda had anything else made into a production?”
“I don’t know. Margaret only ever mentioned Glenda acting with her. This might be Glenda’s first play actually produced. Margaret said it needed tweaks and she could do that. Then it would be just right for a small town like Willow Creek.”
Daisy wondered if that was a compliment to Glenda . . . or a dig as to her ability.
Had Margaret made other digs? Digs that could have led to murder?
* * *
That evening, Daisy’s mom hosted a Thanksgiving planning meeting with dinner at the family home. Once Jonas had stepped in the door with Daisy, Rose watched Foster enter the kitchen behind them.
“Vi’s not coming?” Rose asked Foster as he came in with Jazzi.
“Vi wanted to stay at home with Sammy. He was sleeping and she didn’t want to wake him.”
“You know, don’t you, that babies have to adjust to your schedule, not the other way around,” Rose pointed out.
“That may be true when Sammy’s a little older,” Iris said. She had been in the living room and came out to greet everyone. “But he’s less than a week old, and Vi’s still getting used to a routine.”
The look that Iris exchanged with Rose made Daisy wonder what tension lay between those words. Rose looked as if she were biting back a comment, something like, But you’ve never had any children so how do you know? However, Daisy’s mom restrained herself, which was a surprise in itself.
Daisy’s dad waved at her from the living room, then started into the kitchen.
Daisy went to give him a kiss and a hug.
“How is Vi, really?” he asked.
“Doing a little better,” Daisy said. “She talked to Willa again this afternoon. She’s going to join a mommy group.”
This couple had a lot to adjust to. They only had a little over three months of marriage before Sammy had been born, and that time had been more about the pregnancy than about them.
There was a knock on the kitchen door, and Rose went to answer it. Tessa had been invited to dinner too. She shared many holidays with them, and Thanksgiving was no different.
When the oven timer went off, Jonas asked, “Should I get that?”
Daisy nodded, not knowing what would come up at their family meeting. Something always did.
Rose had made one of her famous baked chicken pies, and Daisy knew the chicken, potatoes, carrots, onions, and peas in a thick white sauce surrounded and covered with a pie crust would taste delicious. Another casserole was sitting on top of the stove. Daisy picked up potholders to take that to the table. It was her mom’s baked cinnamon apples. They’d enjoy dinner if an argument didn’t break out.
A half hour later everyone had pushed their plates aside and were enjoying second cups of coffee or tea.
Rose said, “I’ll roast a turkey for Thanksgiving and Daisy can roast one too so neither of us has to handle a large one.”
Her father added, “Thanks for inviting us all to your house for the holiday, Daisy. You have a lot more room than we do here.”
Daisy’s first floor was more of an open concept, so she could easily fit everyone in. She said to Iris, “Can Russ come?”
“He’s planning on it,” Iris answered with a wink.
“Camellia says she’s driving down from New York the day before and she’s going to bring her latest beau,” Daisy’s mom informed them.
Camellia dated often, but she didn’t spend more than three months with any one man, at least that’s the way it seemed to Daisy. It could be interesting to meet her new boyfriend.
Tessa spoke up now. “I thought I’d ask Cade to come along. Is that okay?”
Cade Bankert was a real estate agent who’d gone to high school with Daisy and Tessa. He’d sold Daisy the property that the barn was located on before she’d renovated it. He’d also sold her and Iris the Victorian where the tea garden was housed. She and Cade had gone on a couple of dates, but that hadn’t developed into anything more than friendship.
“Of course he’s welcome,” Daisy said. She glanced at Jonas, but he didn’t seem to mind.
“I’m not the best cook,” Jonas told Rose, “but I can bring an extra table and chairs to Daisy’s. That way you can make sure everyone has plenty of room and a chair to sit on.”
Daisy reached over and took his hand and squeezed it. She felt more comfortable doing things like that now. After all, they were steadily dating.
Everyone had signed up for something to bring, so Daisy didn’t have to handle more than a turkey and acting as hostess. There would be more than enough food probably even for the week after Thanksgiving. In fact, Daisy was relieved with the interactions with everyone today until . . .
At the head of the table, Daisy’s dad was around the corner from her. His voice was low when he asked, “When the police questioned you, was it factual or did they push for more?”
“The police questioned you?” Rose asked. “About that tea at Margaret Vaughn’s house?”
Daisy hadn’t told her mother that she’d found the body. Before she could signal to cut the conversation, Jazzi said, “Mom found Mrs. Vaughn. She walked right into the crime scene. Of course, the police had to question her.”
Looking stunned for a moment, Rose shook her head. “I didn’t know you found the body. Why didn’t you tell me about it?”
After demanding that question of Daisy, she turned to Iris. “But she told you all about it, didn’t she?”
Without hesitating, Daisy stood and put her hand on her mom’s shoulder. “Mom, let’s go talk in the kitchen.”
When Rose didn’t stand right away, Daisy asked, “Please?”
Rose tossed her napkin onto the table, stood, and followed Daisy into the kitchen.
Daisy started right in. “I didn’t tell you I found the body because I didn’t want you to become upset. You always do when I’m involved.”
“You shouldn’t be involved.”
“Mom, I was serving tea for Margaret and the cast of the play. I went to the butler’s pantry and there she was. It wasn’t like I went looking for trouble. I really didn’t want to upset you.”
Rose seemed to accept her explanation, but she still looked hurt. “I understand it was just part of your business and you found her. You should be used to dealing with the police by now.”
Daisy didn’t retort. She bit her lip on any words that might make things worse between them. She didn’t know how to make her relationship with her mom better except by always agreeing with her.
But as soon as that thought manifested itself, she also knew she couldn’t do that.
Chapter Seven
Daisy had once heard a mausoleum described as a magnificent tomb. On Tuesday morning, Daisy studied the structure where Mar
garet would be buried, and she didn’t know if it was grand or not. It was fashioned of stone. What she did know was that the mausoleum gave her the creeps. Since her last murder investigation, confined spaces almost made her panic.
By her side, Jonas circled her waist with his arm. “Are you okay?”
“I’m not sure.”
They were attending this funeral at Winding Vines Cemetery in Lancaster and standing in front of Rowan Vaughn’s family mausoleum. As her gaze swept away from this mausoleum to the rest of the cemetery, she spotted other mausoleums and sections of burial plots. Older plots were commemorated with memorials in shapes of angels, crosses, emblems, and towers. Many more recent graves were simply memorialized with flat gravestones.
“Would you ever want your family to be buried in a mausoleum?” Daisy asked.
“Not particularly,” Jonas answered with a husky catch in his voice.
They’d both lost loved ones. They’d seen death close up. Since they’d been involved in murder investigations, they’d also seen the repercussions of death.
Daisy couldn’t help but say, “They’re so gloomy. It’s got to be dark and damp inside the building. I like trees and sky and sunshine. Loved ones should be surrounded by that in some way.”
“There are so many ways to look at this,” Jonas said. “Most of them maudlin. Mausoleums are more of a tribute to a family than to a loved one.”
“Maybe only rich families have mausoleums.”
“Or families with very long bloodlines,” Jonas added. “There’s upkeep on a building like this.”
Gray columns rose from the ground to the ceiling on either side of the mausoleum’s doorway. At the wider side of the structure, there was a family emblem. A bas-relief angel with a wide wingspan soared above the emblem. Arborvitae had been maintained at the four corners and rose higher than the roofline.
Daisy felt chilled to the bone. November had descended with a cold grip, and today was a perfect example of a steel-gray day with the reminder of winter in any wind that blew. A green canopy had been set up a short distance from the mausoleum with Astroturf, folding chairs, and a platform for Margaret’s casket.
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