Camellia considered that idea. “I never looked at it like that.”
Daisy gave a little shrug. “You’ll figure it out.”
“Are you just saying that or do you really believe it?”
Daisy handed Camellia the roasting pan and looked her straight in the eye. “I really believe it.” Camellia was smart enough to figure out anything . . . if she wanted to.
Chapter Fifteen
Wasn’t the dress rehearsal supposed to be exciting?
The day after Thanksgiving, Daisy thought back to her high school days. She could remember a dress rehearsal for a spring play. She’d been hyped on adrenaline, excited, nervous, anxious, and over-the-top raring to get started. It was all fun, from putting on different clothes to acting in character to watching for Tessa in the wings because she was helping with costume changes. She’d also entertained the hope that the credit in her record would help her be accepted at the college of her choice.
Sure, this dress rehearsal was absolutely different from that. Jonas had asked her to come along to watch just for the fun of it. They needed a few people in the audience to applaud at the right places.
But the mood for Christmas in the North Woods was anything but exciting the night before its first performance.
Jonas, of course, would be helping to manipulate the sets into place for scene changes. Jazzi was studying with a friend, so Daisy had invited Tessa along to help applaud. She enjoyed plays and concerts and any artistic production.
Tessa leaned close to Daisy and asked, “Shouldn’t they have started by now?”
“Glenda’s still running around with the script making last-minute changes. That can really throw off amateur actors.”
“What is this play about anyway?” Tessa asked.
“It’s about a family who went away for Christmas to a cabin in the North Woods. They thought they’d be alone to celebrate without all the glitter and distractions of the city. Like most families now, they don’t have much time to be together.”
“I know there’s a but coming,” Tessa said with a smile.
“Oh, there’s a but. Extended family members and friends show up to surprise the family at the cabin, and they all get snowed in together.”
Tessa’s face showed a distasteful expression. “I can’t say it’s a novel premise.”
From the first row, Daisy could clearly see the cast scurrying around. “It doesn’t have to be novel to be satisfying and heartwarming. But the actors and actresses have to dive deep into their parts and make it real. Right now, they’re all running around looking as if they don’t know what they’re doing.”
“I can imagine what you’re thinking,” Tessa said.
“What’s that?” Daisy couldn’t help watching Jonas, the play of his muscles under his flannel shirt and the fit of his jeans as he moved a piece of scenery into place. He was a man worth looking at.
Tessa continued, “You’re thinking that if Margaret were here, she would have whipped everybody into shape. They’d know exactly what they were doing, where they were supposed to be, and how they were supposed to act.”
“I wasn’t thinking exactly that, but you’re right.”
Tessa settled deeper into the cushioned seat. “How’s Vi feeling?”
Daisy relaxed against the seat back. “I think all of our strategies are coming together. Postpartum depression has so many components. I’ve given Vi advice on nutritional supplements. They can build up vitamin deficiencies and help moods too. We’re trying to hit all the angles.”
“It sounds as if having a baby depletes a woman’s body and puts every hormone in a tizzy.”
“It doesn’t do that with all women,” Daisy explained. “But apparently Vi is one of the susceptible ones. Speaking with Vi’s gynecologist, I discovered there’s actually a new drug that’s an infusion treatment for postpartum depression. But it has to be administered in a hospital setting and the woman monitored. You won’t believe the cost.”
“How much?”
“Twenty-five to thirty thousand dollars. What insurance company will pay for that?”
“So only the rich can afford to be treated?”
“If one of the big drug companies takes it on, it could become cheaper. Or it could stay in the stratosphere. For now, new moms just have to be aware of what’s happening to them and reach out for help wherever they can. I think Vi misses breastfeeding. Some research says antidepressants won’t hurt a baby, or they won’t be transferred in breast milk, but Vi and Sammy’s pediatrician don’t want to take any chances.”
Jonas and another volunteer moved a stairway to give the illusion of a second floor onto the stage.
Daisy pointed to the chandelier near the stairway. “Jonas showed me the pulley apparatus for the chandelier. Keisha Washington, the stage manager, arranged all the props.”
“Is she the one who chose that oriental rug? It’s gorgeous.”
“Actually, Margaret chose that. Keisha said it blew their budget but she managed.”
As Daisy kept her gaze on Jonas, he moved an imitation fir tree into position while Jasper lined up another one.
“Are those the trees that fell on you?” Tessa asked.
“They are.”
“They have a solid base on them. Could they have fallen over on you?”
“The trees did what?” a male voice asked right over Daisy’s shoulder.
Daisy had taken a seat at the end of the aisle, and now she looked up straight into the eyes of Detective Rappaport. “I didn’t even hear you come down the aisle,” Daisy said.
Detective Morris Rappaport looked a bit rumpled, as if he’d had too much coffee and not enough sleep. He was wearing a black suit tonight with a white shirt. If he’d been wearing a tie, he’d long ago discarded it. The top two buttons of his shirt were open. He scowled at Daisy. “Detectives walk on cat feet, didn’t you know that?”
Daisy knew exactly what that meant. Her two cats were fast, and most of the time she didn’t hear them come into her room or leave.
“You learned that at the police academy?” she asked with amusement, trying to remove his scowl. She and Detective Rappaport had somewhat of a friendship, but tonight that wasn’t in evidence.
“You are trying to change the subject. I want an answer to my question.”
Looking as innocent as she could, Daisy asked, “What question?”
“I’ll arrest you for being coy if you don’t level with me.”
Tessa elbowed her. “You better tell the man what he wants to know.”
Tessa moved over a seat, and Daisy stood and did so too. Then she gestured to the aisle chair. “Why don’t you have a seat and watch the show. If you sit, I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
Still with a scowl, Detective Rappaport sat heavily on the padded chair. “Spill it.”
“It was an accident,” she said softly.
His eyes narrowed. “So tell me about the accident.”
“I dropped by to see Jonas and he was working on a set. He got called over to help someone and I was wandering around backstage. I probably shouldn’t have been. Two of those trees fell over on me.”
“They’re eight feet tall,” the detective noted. “Were you hurt?”
“Just a little banged up.”
Tessa interjected, “And a scrape with a bandage.”
“Why didn’t you or Jonas tell me about this?”
She looked him straight in the eye. “It didn’t seem important enough.”
He waved that comment away with one beefy hand. “Let me decide that.”
“What would Jonas or I have told you? Everybody was milling about. If someone did it, we had no idea who. And it could have simply been an accident.”
“But you don’t think it was.”
“I don’t know. Seriously, Detective Rappaport, I don’t. I’m attempting to stay uninvolved in this.”
“Have you given anyone the impression you’re involved?”
She knew she had to be
honest with this man who had once been almost an enemy. But now she knew he had her back. “Rowan Vaughn asked me to look into who might want to hurt Margaret. After all, you’re looking at him as a suspect, aren’t you?”
“Can’t say,” the detective mumbled.
Daisy almost let out a groan. “Back to that, are we?”
“You were telling me about Vaughn? My guess is he wants you to solve the case in case we don’t. So what did you tell him?”
“I told him I’d talk to Vanna, and I’d talk with Glenda. That’s it. I did and I didn’t learn anything that will help.”
“Someone thinks you might have or those trees wouldn’t have fallen on you.”
“When did you get so cynical?”
“I was born cynical.”
She doubted that.
The curtains suddenly closed.
A few seconds later, Glenda emerged from the side of the stage in front of the curtain. She made a motion with her hand, probably to Ward Cooper, who was in the lighting booth. The lights dimmed and then the curtain reopened. The dress rehearsal began.
* * *
“It’s a mess,” Rappaport mumbled to Daisy in the middle of the first act. “Most of them can’t even remember their lines.”
“That’s because Glenda changed a lot of them.”
Daisy had been watching the play, but she’d also been watching the detective. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Glenda, who was still standing by the side of the stage watching every motion and listening to every word.
Rappaport grumbled, “Wouldn’t she make you nervous if you knew she was watching what you were doing?”
Tessa must have heard him because she answered, “The whole audience is going to be watching what they’re doing. That’s the point, Detective.”
He gave Tessa a look, then went back to staring at Glenda. Daisy couldn’t keep her question in check any longer. “Is Glenda a suspect?”
As if talking to himself, he mumbled, “Margaret stole a juicy role from her.”
“When was that?” Daisy asked.
Rappaport just shook his head.
“Do you know that Glenda and Margaret were rivals?” Daisy asked. “Do you think Glenda has a motive?”
Again the detective didn’t answer.
“Maybe they were rivals once,” Daisy said. “But Margaret and Glenda renewed their friendship after Margaret married Rowan.”
“What do you know about it?” the detective asked Daisy and Tessa.
“I don’t know much,” Tessa answered. “Just what I’ve heard from people coming in and out of the tea garden. They seemed to be friends, like Daisy and I are. They had a history. They reconnected when Margaret asked Glenda to come here to produce the play. Glenda seemed to be thankful for that.”
“Really?” the detective asked.
“Why? Do you doubt it?” Daisy wanted to know. He seemed to be eking out information to her, little by little. If she asked enough questions, maybe she’d learn something.
“What’s that old saying?” he asked. “Keep your friends close but your enemies closer?”
“Do you think that’s what Glenda was doing?”
“What do you think?”
“I think you can’t always tell someone else’s motive,” Daisy responded.
Tessa leaned across Daisy to ask the detective, “What’s the word on the street about Glenda and Margaret?”
That was an interesting way to ask the question, Daisy thought. Maybe he’d answer.
After hesitating, he did answer. “The word on the street is that maybe Glenda Nurmi had something to gain from her friendship with Margaret. The word on the street is she’s become helpful to Rowan Vaughn ever since Margaret died. That’s the word on the street.”
He hadn’t told them anything new. He’d told them about gossip he’d heard. The truth was Daisy had heard that same gossip from Vanna and Tamlyn. Possibly Glenda did have a motive. Possibly Glenda was the murderess.
* * *
The whole tea garden smelled like gingerbread on Saturday, which was no surprise since this was gingerbread house–making day. Tonight, she’d be attending the premier performance of Christmas in the North Woods along with Jazzi and Vi. Foster had pushed the idea of his wife going to the opening night of the play. In an aside, he’d told Daisy that Vi hadn’t been dressed up with makeup on since before the baby had been born. It would do her good to leave Sammy with him and just be a woman on the town again.
From the moment Daisy had met Foster, she’d considered him mature. This commonsense approach to what was happening in his marriage proved it. Daisy’s mom and dad would be joining them at the theater, and it would be a real family night.
But now she had to put thoughts of the Little Theater aside while she accepted the tickets of the tearoom guests appearing at the doorway to the tea garden and show them to their tables. Foster had come in early this morning to help Daisy, Iris, and Tessa make the sheets of gingerbread that would be needed. Cora Sue and Eva had been on icing duty. Now they were distributing squeeze bottles of it to each table to help “glue” the gingerbread houses together.
At the same time, Pam and Jada were filling bowls on each table that the gingerbread house builders could use for decoration. There wouldn’t be any judging of the final creations because Daisy didn’t want any of her child guests to feel that theirs wasn’t the best gingerbread house in the room. The Zook daughters would be helping the children when necessary and also serve tables in the main tearoom when tourists or other tea lovers came in for a scone or a cup of tea. Daisy knew she’d taken on a huge endeavor, but if today was successful, it could become a yearly tradition.
At the door, welcoming her customers, she suddenly gasped. “What are you doing here?”
Gavin Cranshaw grinned at her and pointed to his daughter Emily beside him. “Emily thought this would be fun.”
Emily didn’t hesitate to offer her opinion. “Dad does more stuff with Ben than with me. So I’m just trying to even things out a bit.” She winked at Daisy. “Maybe you could teach Dad how to make gingerbread.”
Daisy laughed. She’d met Gavin’s daughter at the rehearsal picnic for Vi and Foster’s wedding. Emily was fourteen and didn’t hesitate to say what she thought. To Gavin’s credit, Emily seemed to be confident in herself and unafraid to face the world.
Since the tea garden spillover room where they held private tea functions was almost full, no one came in behind Gavin.
“Come on,” Daisy said. “I’ll show you to your table.” She addressed Emily. “Do you mind sitting at a table with smaller children? My guess is, you’ll be finished before they will, and you can help them.”
“Unless I make our house really complicated,” Emily teased. Then she added, “I don’t mind. I like kids.”
Gavin just rolled his eyes and leaned close to Daisy. “As you can tell, she doesn’t consider herself a kid anymore. Turning fourteen did that.”
Daisy laughed and showed them to a table for six with two moms and their daughters who were about eight. She introduced everyone and said, “Have fun.”
After they all assured her they would, Gavin asked, “Can I talk to you for a couple of minutes?”
Daisy looked around and saw that all was under control. “Sure. Do you want to go to my office?”
“No, Foster would probably see us there and think we’re hatching a plot. How about that quiet corner over there?” He nodded to the corner by the bay window where a service cart stood.
“Sure,” Daisy agreed, wondering what this was all about.
Gavin put his hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back. Draw up the plan you want to use, and then I’ll see if we can execute it.”
His daughter gave him one of those oh-Dad looks.
Over by the serving cart and out of earshot of the general population, Gavin stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Foster came to me to talk about Vi and the baby.”
“Did he just need t
o vent?”
“I think so. He’s feeling powerless. I just wanted to check with you to see if there was anything in particular either he or I could do to help. I’ve hesitated to interfere or even to stop in too often. He explained postpartum depression and everything they’re trying to do to help Vi. I never realized it was so complicated.”
“Did you ever have to deal with it?”
“If Annie ever experienced it, I didn’t know about it. But I was working long hours building up the business and exhausted at night. Do you think I was clueless?”
“Many moms go through some version of postpartum depression, but not as serious as Vi’s experiencing. Now general practitioners and gynecologists try to catch it early. Willa, as a midwife, was particularly aware of it.”
Gavin raked his hand through his sandy brown hair, then rubbed his square jaw. “I hate to think Annie needed help and I didn’t notice.”
“You would have noticed. You’re that type of man.”
Gavin looked a little embarrassed and flushed. “I might have learned a thing or two since I was young. Back then, I’m not sure what kind of man I was. The truth is—I don’t think I was as mature as Foster is. What I’m concerned about with him is that he’ll take on too much responsibility. He needs an education and I want him to have it, but he can’t expect to work one or two jobs, go to class, and help Vi too. Not if he wants to eat and sleep and not get sick.”
“I agree. Two jobs?”
“From what I understand, he’s spending a lot more time on his Web site business.”
“If he builds that up, that could be more lucrative than working here,” Daisy admitted.
“Possibly. But I guess I simply wanted you to come on board to make sure we take care of Foster too. If he gets run-down, that’s not going to help Vi.”
“I absolutely agree. Did you think I wouldn’t?”
“Of course not,” Gavin protested with a shake of his head. “I suppose I just wanted backup. The truth is, I think he’d listen to you better than he listens to me. After all, you’re the one who kept a sane head when they wanted to get married.”
“You came around admirably.”
He sighed. “Not one of my finer moments at first.” He glanced toward his daughter. She was already talking with the two women and children at the table. “I better get over there before Emily plans a community gingerbread house.” He started toward the table, then turned around. “I mean it, Daisy. If you need anything to help Vi and Foster, please let me know.”
Murder with Clotted Cream Page 18
