Jackpot. Is that the way Glenda thought of a rich husband . . . and Margaret too?
“How so?” Daisy asked, wanting more of an explanation.
“She could live more than comfortably with him. He’d promised her that Little Theater before they were married. I think that’s one reason she married him. He was intrigued by her. She saw him as a man who could give her everything. The thing is—that thinking doesn’t work.”
“What do you mean?”
“No man can give you everything. You have to have it within yourself,” Glenda determined vehemently. “People think money can make you happy. Money can make you more comfortable, but not happy.”
When Daisy offered Glenda the plate of snickerdoodles, Glenda took one. “Do you know anyone who might have wanted to hurt Margaret?”
Glenda shook her head, still holding the cookie. “Rowan had more enemies than Margaret ever did. He doesn’t keep a close enough eye on his properties. One of them burned down because of a faulty sprinkler system. I heard him and Margaret arguing over it a couple of times because of the financial repercussions as well as mud on his reputation. She was afraid that would affect the Little Theater production.”
Either Glenda was tossing out information to put Daisy on a different track, or it was info that could lead somewhere.
Glenda took a bite from her cookie. “These are good.”
Daisy smiled. “We consider them a Pennsylvania Dutch treat. Lots of women I know make them for Christmas.”
“These would be good anytime. Cinnamon is my favorite.” Glenda waved the rest of her cookie at Daisy. “You ought to come to the theater and watch rehearsals.”
“The man I’m dating, Jonas Groft, is working on the sets, so maybe I will.”
“In honor of Margaret, I’m determined to put on this play in the best way possible. It will be a success just as she planned.”
Daisy frowned. Whatever Margaret had planned hadn’t worked out. It had gotten her killed.
* * *
True to her word, Daisy climbed the steps to the garage apartment around three, ready to help Vi. But Vi and Sammy weren’t there. Had something happened? No sooner had she thought the thought when she heard Vi’s steps on the stairs. She was walking up slowly, carrying Sammy in his car carrier. She wasn’t wearing a coat and she had crib sheets thrown across the carrier.
Daisy rushed to her to take Sammy and his carrier from her clasp.
“I never expected you to be downstairs,” Daisy said, surprised.
“I can’t leave Sammy up here by himself, and I had to do laundry. The diapers don’t fit him quite right and I want to keep his sheets clean for him. He was getting low on onesies too. I wish we could have a stacked washer and dryer up here but there’s just no room.”
“We talked about it when we were planning the apartment,” Daisy reminded her. “Downstairs just seemed to be the best idea.”
“I’m not complaining, Mom, really I’m not. It’s just . . .”
She threw the laundry on the sofa, then scooped Sammy out of his carrier. “The garage isn’t as warm as the apartment. I don’t know if I can keep him down there very long.”
“You could put him in that cute little bunting that Cora Sue gave you.”
“He’s not real thrilled with getting in and out of it.”
“I know how that goes. As he gets older you can make a game of it. Right now, it’s just a matter of wills. As long as he’s dressed, if you throw a blanket over him, that would be sufficient.”
“Would it? Maybe I could put a hat on him.”
“The back of the garage is heated. It had to be so the pipes wouldn’t freeze.”
“But it’s damp. I don’t want to take any chances with him.”
As Vi held Sammy, Daisy could see her daughter’s hand shake.
“Did you eat lunch?”
Vi thought about it. “No. I gave Sammy a bath, then I had to sort the laundry and take care of that.”
“Do you still have some of the tuna fish salad Gram made for you?”
“I do, but that’s kind of heavy if I’m going to take a nap. I’ll just grab a couple of saltines.”
“Vi.”
“I know, Mom. I’ll do better. I will. I’ll feed him and then I’ll nap for a bit.”
Settling into the corner of the sofa, Vi opened her blouse and covered her shoulder with a receiving blanket. Sammy began sucking.
Vi asked, “Are you worried about Jazzi going to Allentown this weekend? She said you’re going to take her and Portia will bring her home.”
“That’s right. And if I’m worried, I’m trying not to let her see. I don’t want to dim her excitement.”
Daisy went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Eva had given Foster and Vi a supply as a wedding present. She chose a blackberry rooibos.
“Tea?” she asked Vi as she filled the red kettle.
“Sure. That would be nice. It would be my cup for the day.”
Daisy had just turned on the burner when her cell phone played its tuba sound.
Sammy started and began fussing.
“I’m so sorry. I forgot to put it on vibrate.” She answered it quickly as Vi settled her son once more. It was Jonas. “Hi,” she said, happy to hear his voice.
“Are you at the tea garden?”
“No, I’m at Vi’s.”
“I see,” he said. “I was calling to see if you wanted to go to dinner tonight.”
“I don’t know what time Foster will be home. I plan to stay so we could try a bottle again with the baby. On my way here, I purchased a few new bottles with nipples that Sammy might take.”
“So you’ll be tied up for the evening?”
“No. I just don’t know when I’ll be free.”
There was a short silence. “Do you want company while you’re babysitting? I could stick around while you and Foster try your experiment. Then we could take Jazzi for something to eat somewhere, maybe drive to York and eat at her favorite burger joint.”
With a sigh, Daisy lowered her voice as she leaned against the kitchen counter. “All that’s a far cry from us having dinner together.”
“I know your grandchild and your daughters come first. Maybe this weekend we can have dinner alone.”
“Jonas, you must tell me the truth. Does my limited time bother you?”
He only hesitated a moment. “It doesn’t bother me as long as you include me with whatever you’re doing. It’s been a long time since I had a family or palled around with one.”
“You do have a family with us, Jonas. So let me ask Vi what she thinks of our plans.”
Daisy related to Vi what she and Jonas had in mind.
Vi said quickly, “I don’t mind Jonas being here. He makes me feel safe. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I’m still not used to being alone here, and especially not alone with Sammy.”
Before Daisy could say a word, Jonas did. “I heard that. Maybe sometime I could talk to Vi about what would make her feel more secure in her apartment when she’s there with Sammy.”
“That would be wonderful. Anything to relieve stress.”
“Is she still feeling overwhelmed?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“I know you can’t talk about it with her sitting there, but we can talk if she manages to take a nap. Did Glenda stop in at the tea garden yet?”
“She did. We can talk about that too. I didn’t get a whole lot out of her, but I did learn more about Margaret. She and Glenda met at an acting workshop.”
“Mom, he’s asleep,” Vi whispered.
“Jonas, I have to go. How soon can you get here?”
“How soon do you want me there?”
“As soon as your car can make it from there to here.”
He laughed. “I’ll see you soon.”
Daisy considered what Jonas had said . . . that he wanted to be included. And she would do that as much as she could. But no matter how they looked at it, their time together would be limited. Sh
e knew how little things in a relationship, little things that could be annoying, began to rankle a lot. Would he tire of their limited time together?
* * *
Daisy went to work the following morning secure in the knowledge that Vi had slept yesterday in the afternoon and into the evening. Foster and Daisy had tried the new bottles and nipples and Sammy had taken a good half bottle. That was going to work. Foster had texted Daisy while she and Jonas and Jazzi were at dinner that he’d given the baby a second feeding so Vi could sleep on even more. She’d gotten a good five hours of sleep and a few more during the night.
Jonas had seemed comfortable as he and Daisy had talked before Foster had returned home. She’d told him all about Glenda, and they’d taken turns holding Sammy. Daisy had watched Jonas bond with another little girl when they were working a murder investigation case, so she knew he liked children. Now she understood he could also handle a baby.
The tea garden was busy this morning, and Daisy didn’t have time to think about much else. However, several customers reminded her that Thanksgiving was fast approaching. The turkey she’d be buying and roasting would be a fresh one from an Amish family who raised them. She was beginning to look forward to the day and having a gathering at her house. Since her mother had done much of the planning and organizing, Daisy wanted to buy her a gift just to show her appreciation. She knew exactly what she wanted to purchase.
On her break, instead of eating lunch, she pulled on her fleece jacket, pushed her phone into one pocket and her wallet into the other, and told Tessa where she was going. Quilts and Notions, the Fishers’ store, would have exactly what she wanted for her mom.
Quilts and Notions was the kind of shop that made Daisy smile. Colorful quilts hung on the walls and from racks made for that purpose. Shelves on another wall held potholders and placemats. The area with bolts of cloth always drew Daisy to it, even though she didn’t sew. Her aunt Iris did, and Daisy had often helped her pick out material, threads, and buttons. A corner rack that spun around held books in subjects from quilts to the historic nature of Lancaster County.
Rachel Fisher was busy at the counter speaking with a woman in Pennsylvania Dutch. She lifted a hand to Daisy to let her know she’d seen her. Rachel was an attractive wife and mother, New Order Amish, who didn’t need makeup to make her look beautiful. Her hair, parted down the center and gathered in a bun at the nape of her neck, was covered by a white kapp. Their district had decided on a heart-shaped kapp, and it certainly fitted Rachel and her girls. She was a loving, kind woman who had been Daisy’s friend since childhood.
After Rachel handed the woman a bag with her purchases, she moved toward Daisy, the white strings of her kapp floating in front of her. Today Rachel was wearing a dark purple dress with her black apron. A few strands of her blond hair had pulled away from her bun and dangled along her cheek. Her blue eyes sparkled as she came over to stand with Daisy.
“What do you need today?” Rachel asked.
Besides more hours in the day or time to spend with Jonas or a good weekend for Jazzi with Portia and happier emotions for Vi? She shook her head. “Not much.”
Rachel laid a hand on Daisy’s shoulder. “Too much going wrong and not enough going right, ya?”
She’d always been honest with her friend—no pretense between them. Rachel and her husband, Levi, were as honest as the day was long. Daisy had come to expect forthrightness from most Amish. Their values went deep, and their way of life was humbling. Daisy admired the communal atmosphere they lived in more than she could say. Beyond all that, their faith revolved around the fact that everything was in God’s plan.
“I shouldn’t complain,” Daisy said. “I’m grateful for my blessings. I have so many.”
“But as a mom, you worry about your girls, ain’t so?” Rachel asked.
“Probably more so than I should.” Gazing into her friend’s eyes, she shared her major burden. “Vi doesn’t seem to be bouncing back since Sammy’s birth.”
“Is all well with the boppli?”
“He’s a sweetie.” Daisy sighed. “Maybe I’m making too much of everything.”
“Moms worry. That is true. But give Vi a little time.”
“I came in to buy a few potholders and placemats for my mother.”
“Things between you and your mom are better?”
“Better, except when she found out that I found Margaret’s body.”
“What a terrible thing to happen.”
“It was. Margaret’s husband came to see me. He wants me to help solve the murder.”
Rachel’s blue eyes widened. “Zas in der zelt?”
Rachel’s What in the world? was exactly what Daisy was thinking. What in the world was she thinking? She couldn’t help Rowan.
“I told him I’d talk to Vanna and Glenda, the playwright, and I did. But I don’t know if I’m going any further than that.”
“Do you want to?”
Daisy picked up a potholder with an intricate star pattern in yellow, green, and black. “I didn’t learn much. Just some background on Margaret and a little bit about Glenda. My good sense is telling me to stay out of this one.”
Touching her hand to her chest, Rachel asked, “But what is your heart telling you?”
“That Margaret was a complicated woman. Nobody deserves to die like that.”
Both women stayed silent for a bit while Daisy pulled out a potholder here and another there, and placemats she thought would accompany each other as well as the potholders.
Rachel suddenly stood with her back against the shelves, her arms crossed over her chest. Daisy knew something was coming, but she didn’t know what. The Amish didn’t like to gossip. It was another trait that Daisy admired.
Finally, Rachel said, “Did you know that Mr. Vaughn has made offers to a few Amish store owners who have apartments above their stores? He wants to buy the buildings and then rent the stores to the storekeepers.”
“That doesn’t make any sense if they’re living there.”
“It does when the amount Mr. Vaughn is offering is enough to buy a nice property.”
“Has anyone sold to him?”
“Not that I know of. But it could be why his offers are going higher and higher. Someone is bound to sell soon. I guess he’s rich enough to make whatever he wants happen.”
But was Rowan Vaughn rich enough to subsidize his ambition? What if his ambition was much bigger than the stack of bills in his wallet or the amount of money in his checking account? Perhaps Rowan’s finances had something to do with Margaret’s murder.
Chapter Ten
The restaurant in York, Pennsylvania—about twenty minutes from Willow Creek—was a lot fancier than Daisy was used to. Jonas had brought her here for a Saturday night date. They sat across from each other at a table for two with a pristine white tablecloth covering the table. The crystal sparkled under a brass chandelier and the silverware definitely didn’t have any spots. Daisy had just unfolded the black napkin over her lap when the sommelier brought the wine menu.
Jonas asked Daisy, “Would you like to order or should I?”
“One glass would be fine for me.” She wanted him to understand he didn’t have to buy a whole bottle.
“And one glass will be enough for me. Order whatever you want, even champagne. We should celebrate Sammy’s birth, don’t you think?”
She looked up at the sommelier. “Would you recommend the sparkling rosé?”
He did and she nodded. “That will be fine.”
Jonas ordered a cabernet. After the sommelier left, Jonas waved at the menu. “Order whatever you want. I mean it, Daisy. You deserve some pampering tonight.”
After she looked over the prices, her gaze met Jonas’s again. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. Filet mignon, lobster, or prime rib. I hear the Chilean sea bass is quite good.”
“Did you sell a lot of furniture this week?”
He chuckled. “Tonight isn’t about the cost. It’s about enj
oyment—enjoying the food, the wine, and each other.” His green gaze held the honest light that she appreciated so much.
“All right, the Chilean sea bass it is. And I’ve always wanted to try asparagus risotto. What are you having?”
“The seafood combo—crab cake, scallops, shrimp, filet of haddock. You can try some of mine if you’d like.” His eyebrows wiggled a bit and she laughed. It felt so good to laugh. Violet wasn’t the only one who’d been a bit tense . . . more than a bit.
“I suppose we’re going to make light conversation all evening?” she asked.
“I think light conversation will go better with the wine and the food.”
“It may take me all evening to think of something light.”
He grinned at her, reached across the table, and took her hand. “I know what you have on your mind right now. Portia, Jazzi, and Colton. When you dropped off Jazzi in Allentown last evening, I know your worry about this weekend began.”
“It did,” Daisy said, but didn’t have a chance to add more as the sommelier brought their glasses of wine. They raised their glasses, and when Jonas clinked his against hers, he said, “To Sammy and a life full of every good thing.”
As they sipped their wine, Daisy felt almost giddy and it wasn’t from the alcohol. “I know you said we should have light conversation, but I have a question. If I want to learn more about Margaret’s life in New York, who do you think I should talk to?”
“Somehow I knew this topic would pop up.” He squeezed her hand.
“That’s as light as I can think of right now.”
With a shake of his head, he dramatically sighed.
Jonas was different tonight, and she couldn’t put her finger on exactly how. Although to her he always looked rakishly handsome, tonight he was wearing a charcoal suit with a pale gray shirt open at the collar. When she looked at him, she knew the man underneath that attractive exterior was filled with integrity and compassion for others. She’d never been attracted to good looks, but rather to a man whom she could form an emotional bond with. When she’d fallen in love and married Ryan, she’d been impetuous, filled with a penchant for a future with him and eager to learn about marriage and life and independence she might have never felt before. Now she wasn’t impetuous. Now she knew dreams were wisps like smoke, and today was the reality.
Murder with Clotted Cream Page 11
