“What does it mean?” Vi asked, not following his line of thinking.
Jazzi quickly picked up his thought pattern. “It means somebody was following Mom or knows her habits and is out to play a prank on her.”
Daisy remembered those wood trees falling on her at the rehearsal at the Little Theater. Was this a prank? Or was it something more sinister?
* * *
Daisy had all morning on Thanksgiving Day to cook, reassure Jazzi that someone had just played a prank on her, and text with Jonas that she was okay. He hadn’t seemed to believe her and he’d arrived early, ready to do anything that needed to be done.
She’d given him the job of setting the table. The white tablecloth with gold threads interwoven into a geometrical design fit her table. She’d found another white tablecloth in her hutch to cover the table that Jonas had contributed. She decided to mix her set of white ironstone plates with a set of dishes her mother had given her so they’d have enough place settings for the tables. The mixture of her mother’s garden-painted china and the white ironstone went together well. So did the mugs. The silverware was a combination of a rose-pattern stainless steel set her mother-in-law had given her and Ryan when they’d married and the everyday silverware she used with Jazzi. Tessa had provided orange-and-gold-patterned paper napkins to add even more color to the tables. The artistic one, Tessa had created two arrangements, a small pumpkin, gourds, and Indian corn for each table. She’d brought them over that morning along with the napkins because Trevor would be picking her up to bring her to dinner.
Daisy had stabbed the turkey with a meat thermometer and closed the oven when Jonas came up beside her. “Have you spoken to Camellia yet?”
Daisy hadn’t thought much about her sister with everything else going on. “No, I haven’t spoken with her, but she and her guy got in last night to stay at the Covered Bridge Bed and Breakfast.”
“How did your mom feel about that? Didn’t she want them staying with her?”
“She did, but Mom wouldn’t have liked it if they were sharing the same room. This is Camellia’s method of getting her own way, yet pleasing Mom too. They stayed late last night and played cards with Mom and Dad. I did find out her boyfriend’s name is Robert—Robert Corning.”
“And that’s all you know?”
“Actually, I think he works in an advertising company. But that’s it. I’ve had my mind on other things.”
Jonas leaned so close that their shoulders were touching. Then his arm was smack up against hers. It gave her a measure of comfort just to have him here. “Have you given any more thought to who might have sabotaged your baking supplies?”
“Put that way, it sounds like a prank, doesn’t it?” She lowered her voice. “If it is the same person who killed Margaret, then my guess is Margaret’s death wasn’t premeditated.”
He leaned away to study her. “How did you come to that conclusion?”
“The holes in the flour and sugar bags and the cracks in the jars just seemed like something he or she did on the spur of the moment. No one could have known that box would be sitting outside. No one could have known I’d be gone for more than a minute to retrieve something I’d forgotten. That phone call just happened to tie me up longer.”
He pushed his hand into the pocket of his black jeans, and Daisy suspected he did that to keep from clenching his fist. “So you think somebody is following and watching you?” he asked, tight-lipped.
“They may be trying to lead me off the scent. I don’t know, Jonas. I’ve been so preoccupied with Vi and Sammy . . . and just running the tea garden. I haven’t noticed if anybody is following me. We’re so rural out here that anyone could park their car in a stand of trees and follow me when I leave.”
“That’s a chilling thought.” Jonas glanced at the sliding glass doors that led out onto the patio in the back. “Glass doors are never secure, at least not secure enough.”
“When I renovated the barn into a house, I wanted convenience to the backyard. I hadn’t even planned on a security system at that point.”
“I know you have a camera at the back as well as the front, but it wouldn’t hurt to have more motion detector lights on the property.”
“This place would be lit up as if it were Christmas with all the raccoons, possums, and cats, not to mention deer, who run through the backyard.”
“Let me look into it, will you? Even low-level lights around the garden and the patio wouldn’t be obtrusive, but they would give anybody the idea that there are technological eyes on the whole place. You want to give the illusion of being guarded.”
“How about solar lights?”
“There are some garden solar lights that also detect motion. But depending on the weather, they’re not always reliable. If you want that kind, that’s fine, but I’d suggest a few electric ones for the sake of dependability, in addition to the others.”
“That sounds like big bucks.”
“That sounds like security, Daisy. If you’re going to be involved in murder investigations, you need to protect yourself and your family.”
Jonas was right, of course. She could squeeze the budget and dial back her own purchases. She didn’t want to skimp with Jazzi. But if Jazzi understood the situation, she might not mind. Since she wasn’t paying tuition for Vi now, she’d intended to put that money into a savings account for Jazzi for college. She’d portioned out some of the insurance money that had been paid to her after Ryan died for the girls’ educations. They all really had everything they needed as long as they were healthy and happy.
The doorbell rang.
Jazzi called, “I’ll get it. I used my phone app. It’s Gram and Aunt Camellia. Gramps and Camellia’s boyfriend are following behind. He’s pretty hot, Mom.”
“She’s going to be dating soon, isn’t she?” Daisy asked Jonas woefully.
“Have you talked to her about boys lately?”
“No. With her learning to drive, we’ve had enough to discuss.”
“My guess is she has her eye on one.”
She gazed at him aghast. “Jonas Groft, what do you know about teenage girls?”
After another look at his smug expression, she shook her head. “Never mind. Don’t tell me. As a detective, you saw way too much.”
“Everything I saw as a detective shouldn’t even be talked about in the same room with Jazzi. You’ve got a gem there, and in Vi too.”
She leaned her cheek against Jonas’s shoulder just for a moment. Then she went to the door to greet her mother.
Somehow, once everyone arrived, Daisy and her many helpers carried the food to the table. Daisy had briefly met Camellia’s boyfriend. He was about five-foot-ten, looked as if he worked out, and had a nice smile. His hair was short and spiky, his nose narrow, and his jaw pointed. He was wearing a tan oxford shirt, brown dress slacks, and a sports jacket with a small plaid design in burgundy and dark brown.
Daisy was hoping she’d get a chance to talk to him later. Right now, however, her dad was carving the turkeys. He was an expert at it, and Rose was holding Sammy, cooing to him while Vi looked on. Tessa and Trevor seemed friendly enough as they conversed with each other and Daisy’s other friends and family.
After Daisy’s dad finished carving the turkeys and they placed the trays with the meat on the tables, he stood between the two tables and gave a short prayer of thanksgiving. Then they started the meal, and Daisy kept her fingers crossed that all would go well.
Conversation swirled around the table as everyone ate turkey and all the trimmings. Those trimmings included sweet and sour red cabbage, green beans with bacon bits, cranberry, walnut, and orange salad, sweet potato casserole with a crumb topping that was more like a dessert, and of course, bread stuffing from both inside and outside of the turkeys. Daisy heard Foster explain to Russ and Iris that his dad and brother and sister went to have dinner with one of his father’s friends who was also one of his crew managers.
Daisy tried to hold a conversation with Came
llia, but Camellia seemed more intent on listening to Robert’s conversation with her father. As they were growing up, Camellia had ignored Daisy whenever she’d wanted to. Daisy had gotten used to it. Unless she had something really important on her mind, or Camellia’s attitude seeped under her skin, she took a back seat. She considered catching up with her sister to be important, but apparently Camellia didn’t want the same kind of bond in her life that Daisy did. However, the conversation that Camellia was listening in on between Robert and her father caught Daisy’s attention too.
Robert was saying, “This is the new way of advertising.”
Daisy’s father apparently didn’t agree. “New way of advertising. It seems a waste of time and money to me. By the time the commercial’s over, I don’t even know what the product was that was advertised. How can that help sales?”
Sean’s disagreement didn’t seem to bother Robert. “I’ll grant you it’s subtle. For instance, you have a well-known star in a car commercial. He’s in every commercial for that make of car. There’s no need for the name of the product if the public automatically associates that star with the product. It’s subliminal advertising.”
Daisy couldn’t help but give her two cents. “That might be the case if the public will recognize the product just by hearing the star’s name. That doesn’t mean they’ll buy the product unless they specifically want that product. Even a teenager isn’t foolish enough to think if she rides in one of those cars, she gets the star driving next to her.”
Jazzi chimed in now. “Mom’s right. I’d never buy a car because of a person advertising it. I buy it for the color and what kind of tech conveniences it has.”
Daisy’s gaze locked with Robert’s. “I imagine you have focus groups. What are they saying?”
“Mixed reviews,” he kind of mumbled. “We try everything that we think will sell a product. Focus groups aren’t always on the mark.”
“If a company knows their product,” Daisy offered, “there’s no need for subterfuge. The company just points out its good points and presents it to their customers.”
Camellia gave Daisy an argumentative glare. “It’s not that simple anymore, Daisy. Ads have to be slick, fast with music that will attract the right demographics. All you do for the tea garden is put ads in magazines and maybe some on the Internet. It’s not the same thing as going after a national audience. Robert does that with the products he has in his client load, and I do it with my company’s wines.”
Camellia’s remarks felt like a put-down. Jonas covered Daisy’s knee with his hand. She didn’t know if that meant she should take Camellia’s comments seriously, or if she should let them slide. But she wasn’t in her let-it-slide mood.
“Since the tea garden is making a successful profit, I assume I’m targeting the right customers, and advertising in a way that brings them in. Can your company say the same? Or even the car company? It might be worth millions of dollars but has a red profit line.” She knew exactly the car company that Robert had been talking about. After all, she didn’t live with her head in the sand.
“I still say a small business in a small town isn’t the same thing as selling a national product,” Camellia protested.
Sean and Rose exchanged a look. Sean said, “Okay, daughters, how about if we pull out the desserts. Everybody can change seats around the table and talk to someone they haven’t talked to yet today. Sound good?”
Daisy felt a bit embarrassed. She shouldn’t let this sometime tension between her and Camellia come out into the open. She was actually surprised her mother hadn’t jumped in.
“Sure, Dad,” she said quickly. “We’ll stack these dishes, bring in more coffee and tea, and move around a bit.”
Tessa was holding Sammy, and he was sleeping in her arms. As Trevor stood behind her, the look in his eyes gave Daisy pause. He was staring down at the baby as if he might want one of those little beings in his lifetime. He hadn’t approached her with even one question about Margaret’s murder. Just maybe he and Tessa had more in common than Daisy had ever imagined.
At one point, as Daisy, Camellia, and Tessa took desserts to the table, Daisy noticed her mom and Aunt Iris had their heads together. They were looking at Vi, and Daisy wondered what that was about. Maybe they were just concerned for her. Maybe they were figuring out a babysitting schedule.
After everyone was seated again, with a slice of their favorite pie or the gluten-free chocolate cake along with their beverage of choice, Daisy found herself next to Vi with her mother on the other side of her daughter.
She heard her mother ask Vi, “Do you think the medicine is working?”
Vi didn’t take offense. She easily answered, “I’m sleeping better at night. I also seem to have a bit more energy. Not only that, but when I hold Sammy now, whenever I just look at him, I feel this bubbling joy and happiness inside of me. It feels like it could burst. It’s like bubbles in a champagne bottle. I feel joy.”
When Daisy heard Vi’s words, tears came to her eyes. That’s what motherhood should be—days of joy and caring so much about the little one that you knew you’d be connected forever through space and time and eternity.
When Daisy caught a glimpse of her mother, however, she didn’t see happiness on Rose’s face. She saw pensiveness that didn’t belong at the Thanksgiving table today. Rose glanced over at Iris, and Daisy wondered what the two of them shared that no one else knew.
Jazzi and Foster began a game of Scrabble as Iris took hold of Sammy next. Daisy organized the cleanup and insisted her mom didn’t have to help. Again, in an agreeable manner that wasn’t like her, Rose didn’t argue. Daisy expected her mom wanted another turn with Sammy. Vi and Trevor seemed to be having an animated conversation about the state of the newspaper industry and whether or not the Willow Creek Messenger would go online permanently and stop printing a newspaper.
At the sink as she washed the roasting pan, Daisy was aware of Camellia coming up beside her. Her sister had cared about hair and makeup and the latest styles. She wore her brunette bob in a sleek cut.
Camellia picked up a dish towel. “You didn’t have to put Robert down like that, you know.”
Daisy stopped scrubbing. “I wasn’t putting him down.”
“It sure felt like it,” Camellia shot back. “He’s too nice to come back at you with statistics and argument.”
“Camellia, we were having a discussion, pros and cons, what works and what doesn’t.”
“That’s just the thing, Daisy. He is an expert, and so am I. We live in New York City. You have a tea garden in Willow Creek.”
That was a put-down if Daisy ever heard one. “Yes, I have a tea garden in Willow Creek. Do you have a problem with that?” Letting the roasting pan sit in the sink, she faced her sister.
“You could have done anything with the life insurance money that came your way after Ryan died, but you decided to come back here, renovate some old barn, and start up a business that could go under in a year.” Camellia sounded as if that was exactly what was going to happen.
“The tea garden has been open over two years now and is in the black,” Daisy reminded her.
“Still . . .”
“You sound as if a barn home is a shack. We’re quite comfortable here. We designed it exactly the way we wanted it. Have you designed your home?”
“You know I live in an apartment.”
“I do. So I don’t understand why you’re suddenly looking down on what I started here.”
“You could have helped Mom and Dad at the nursery.”
Daisy almost couldn’t find words to respond to that observation. But after a heartbeat, she did. “And been their employee? I’m a grown woman, Camellia. I deserve my own life. I had my own life with Ryan.”
Camellia didn’t seem fazed by Daisy’s vehemence. She glanced over at Jonas. “Are you serious about him?”
Turning, Daisy gazed at Jonas and smiled. “More serious each day. Is there something wrong with that?”
“He’s a cop, and you’ve been involved in murder cases. Is he the reason why? Mom almost has a fit every time that happens. She worries.”
This time Daisy was stymied for a response. She took her time before answering. “Yes, Jonas was once a detective. That’s how Jazzi found her birth mother. He helped. Somehow I’ve gotten involved in murder cases, and his expertise is valuable. He even has contacts who are helpful. But he doesn’t drag me into anything. If there is such a person as a knight in shining armor, I’d say Jonas comes pretty close.”
As if she was waiting to jab at Daisy again, Camellia responded, “So you’re forgetting about Ryan?”
“I’ll never forget about Ryan.” Daisy kept her voice quiet but firm. “Not a day goes by that I don’t remember what we shared. I can’t look at Jazzi and Vi without thinking about the times we all had together as a family. But finally my brain can wrap itself around the fact that my life will never be the same again. I’ve started a new life, Camellia, and I don’t know why it bothers you so much.”
“It doesn’t bother me. I’m glad if you’re satisfied with what you have. I just don’t want Mom to worry about you.”
“I’m sure she worries about you too. Are you and Robert serious?”
She gave another shrug. “I don’t know.”
“How long have you been dating?”
“About three months.”
Uh-oh. That was usually Camellia’s time limit for a relationship.
Camellia scowled at her. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“I doubt that,” Daisy said.
“I’m just not sure Robert and I fit together like Mom and Dad do.”
“Is that what you want?”
“I think so.”
“Then you might have to date a man more than three months to find out.”
“You’re supposed to know right away,” Camellia protested.
“Who told you that?”
“Mom did. She and Dad knew right away.”
“Maybe so. But there can be friendship first and then passion, don’t you think? Or you could have sparks at first, but then you have to figure out if you can be friends.”
Murder with Clotted Cream Page 17
