Daisy motioned to the sofa. “Make yourself comfortable and I’ll brew us a pot of tea.”
Rose again glanced around the first floor. “This open concept . . .” She shook her head. “Can we go someplace more private to talk, maybe your bedroom?”
It was an odd request, but Daisy didn’t see why they couldn’t. “Sure. Go ahead in. I’ll bring you the tea as soon as it’s ready.”
Rose didn’t hesitate. She left her coat on the sofa and her purse on the coffee table, then she went to Daisy’s first-floor bedroom and closed the door.
As Daisy waited for the teakettle to heat, she fed Marjoram and Pepper. They were both finished before she’d assembled the tray to take to the bedroom. “I think you two better stay out here,” she told them. “Or go upstairs with Jazzi.”
Marjoram turned golden eyes on her and gave a little murrp.
“I’m not sure what this is all about, but it’s better if you don’t distract us. Jazzi will be glad to see you. She’ll probably give you her pen to play with.”
Marjoram turned away as if that idea could be appealing and headed for the staircase.
“You can always take a mouse along,” she told Pepper. The feline washed one paw and then the other as if hurry wasn’t in her vocabulary. Then she stared at the closed door to the bedroom.
“I know you don’t like closed doors,” Daisy acknowledged. “But I’d appreciate if you don’t meow and scratch at it. Take your favorite toy and go upstairs with your sister.”
Daisy motioned toward the steps.
Pepper tossed Daisy a slant-eyed look, then with her tail high in the air, ambled toward the steps.
Daisy picked up the tray and went to join her mother.
To Daisy’s surprise, her mother looked nervous. She couldn’t remember any time when her mother had looked nervous. Her mom’s eyes held an expression she’d never seen there before, and they looked moister than usual. Those weren’t tears, were they?
Daisy set the tea tray on her desk and pulled out the desk chair. Her mom was perched on the bedside chair.
Daisy offered her mom the cup of tea, but her mother shook her head. “In a minute, okay? I want to talk first.”
Rose pushed her hair back over her forehead and clenched her hands in her lap. “I want to talk about us—about you and me.”
“Mom, if this is about the night of the reception, I told you I’m sorry. I never should have said what I did.” Daisy’s voice caught on the last word because the whole situation had upset her too. Sure, she’d always wanted to tell her mom those things, but not in that way, and certainly not then.
“You had every right to say what you did.”
Daisy was going to open her mouth to say she was sorry again when she realized what her mother had said. She felt stunned, and she kept quiet because she didn’t know what would come out of her mom’s mouth next.
Fidgeting with the belt on her slacks, Rose continued. “It’s my fault you felt closer to your aunt Iris and your dad. It’s all my fault. I wasn’t a good mother to you.”
Daisy called on heaven to help because she’d never wanted her mom to feel like this. “You’re wrong! Of course you were a good mother. You took wonderful care of me. When I was sick, you were right by my bedside. When I went to my first cooking class, you came to the dinner and tasted the food. When I married Ryan, you helped arrange everything.”
“Yes, I did those things,” her mother said sadly. “By then I had lost an important connection with you, and I was trying to make up for it. I guess I always felt guilty.”
She remembered what her aunt had told her about her mother’s postpartum depression. She stayed quiet.
“Your aunt Iris told me she confided in you about my postpartum depression.”
“Yes, she did. I wish you had confided in me. Did you think I would judge you?”
“You should have. After I came home from the hospital, I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I didn’t want to get out of bed. I didn’t want to take care of you. I just let your dad handle everything. Your aunt Iris stepped in to make sure neither you nor Camellia would be lacking for anything. After a month or so, I could still relate to Camellia, but I thought something was missing between the two of us. I didn’t know what to do about it. You had just had your first smile, and I didn’t feel any of the things I felt when Camellia had smiled.”
That comment was a stab into Daisy’s heart.
Her mother apparently could see that because she rushed to say, “I’m saying this all wrong. I’m making everything worse, and that’s not what I want. I want you to understand that like Violet, something was going on inside me that I couldn’t fix, that I didn’t know how to fix. And by the time I felt more like myself, you were already walking and I realized that somehow I had lost my first year with you.”
For her own well-being, Daisy had to take a step back and look at this more objectively. “Did you ever talk to anyone about this, besides Aunt Iris and Dad?”
“No. I was so ashamed. I didn’t even really talk with them. They just saw what was happening. There were no mommy groups like Vi is attending. There weren’t even parenting classes anywhere. No, it wasn’t the dark ages. Maybe if I had brought it up with my doctor, he could have done something. But he was a man. I didn’t think he’d understand. Your dad had trouble understanding.”
“So much more is known about postpartum depression now,” Daisy said.
“I’ve seen that with Violet. I’ve seen what the right kind of support can do.”
“But you had the right kind of support, Mom. You had Dad and Aunt Iris, and I’m fine. Yes, I always felt you favored Camellia, but on the other hand, I thought Dad and Aunt Iris made up for that. I was never neglected. I was loved.”
There were tears in her mother’s eyes as she said, “I often wondered if you married Ryan and moved to Florida to get away from me.”
Daisy’s aunt Iris had come to the same conclusion. “Mom, no. I loved Ryan. Maybe I did want a different kind of life, but that wasn’t because of you. I was growing up and I needed to find out who I was.”
Her mother grabbed Daisy’s hand. “You are a beautiful woman. You are strong, and you are a wonderful mother. I’ve watched you with Vi and Jazzi, and I know that in my soul. I’m proud that you and your aunt Iris started a business, and are making a success of it. Yes, I’ve always been jealous of your aunt Iris and her relationship with you. I probably still am. I’ll work on it.”
Daisy looked into her mom’s eyes and said honestly, “Your telling me about this will make things better between us. I know it will. Thank you for having the courage to talk to me about it.”
Her mother flipped her hand into the air. “It wasn’t courage, it was desperation. I was tired of hiding the secret, and I want to be close to you. I always have. Most of the time, I just didn’t know how. So I want to ask you something.”
Daisy held her breath, not knowing what was coming.
“Do you think you can confide in me?”
“I can try.”
Her mother nodded. “Let’s have that tea. Do you have any whiskey to spike it with?”
“Mom,” Daisy said with a laugh. “I think I do. I’ll go get it.”
There was suddenly a knock on the door. Jazzi called, “Mom, can I interrupt?”
Daisy quickly went to the door and opened it. “We’re coming out.”
“I have something so exciting to tell you.” Jazzi practically danced into the room. “You too, Gram. Listen to this. I got a phone call from Colton.”
“Colton?” Daisy asked, surprised. “Is something wrong with Portia or the kids?”
“No. He told me he’s been thinking a lot since my visit. He was sorry about how things happened at the mall.”
“Do you think Portia urged him to say that?” Rose asked.
“I don’t think so. Maybe I’m just hoping for the impossible, but he actually said that he’d been mistaken when he thought I could be pushed away or put
into the past. On Thanksgiving Day, Portia seemed sad that I wasn’t there, and their kids even suggested that I should be there too because it was a family day. He made me want to cry, Mom.”
Daisy took a deep breath and waited for further explanation.
Jazzi went on. “He said he didn’t know it and Portia didn’t know it, but I’ve always held part of Portia’s heart. It took him a while to realize that I was what Portia needed to feel whole.”
Without hesitation, Daisy wrapped her arms around Jazzi and squeezed her tight. They stood that way for a few moments, and then Daisy remembered her mother was in the room. When she glanced at her, Rose had tears in her eyes.
“Did he say when he wants you to visit again?” Rose asked.
“Yes. He said he knows Christmas means a lot for me here, and what with Vi’s baby and all it will be a special Christmas for us. But he and Portia would like me to come up the week after Christmas and have a second Christmas with them. Isn’t that terrific, Mom?”
“That is terrific.”
Rose stood and crossed to Jazzi too. “I don’t think he would have said all that if Portia had put him up to it. With your visit and the holiday, he finally realized you’re a special girl, Jazzi, and they would be lucky to have you as a member of their family.”
Daisy couldn’t remember when she and her mother and Jazzi had stood in a circle like this, feeling strong bonds. This is what she wanted for her family. This is what she wanted Jonas to be part of someday too.
Chapter Twenty-one
On Saturday morning, Daisy had one thing on her mind. Maybe she was just trying to distract herself from Jonas’s situation weighing on her. Maybe figuring out who murdered Margaret would calm the anxiety she’d been feeling for a while now. She was certain of one thing. If she figured out who the other heirs to Conrad Eldridge’s estate were, she would possibly have the best clue as to who had murdered Margaret. Maybe it wouldn’t pan out at all, but she was going to give it a try as soon as she had a free moment.
A free moment came in the late afternoon. In her office at the tea garden, she went online. She had a few hit-and-misses because she wasn’t cueing in the right words. Instead of records of the deceased in New York State and other similar search phrases, she latched onto the word that mattered—probate. From there, it wasn’t difficult to find the Web site where she could access New York’s probate records.
Public records were public records. After fishing around in the Web site, she found Conrad Eldridge’s will. Most of his money had endowed various charities. However, she found the name of a second heir who’d been left less than Margaret. Examining everything she knew, and each clue that she’d found, she believed she knew who the killer was. Still she wasn’t positive and she needed to talk to Rowan.
Picking up the landline receiver in her office, she called Rowan’s house. She’d try there first.
Tamlyn answered with her usual greeting. “This is the Vaughn home. Tamlyn speaking.”
“Tamlyn, hi. This is Daisy. Can you tell me if Rowan’s there?”
“He’s not,” Tamlyn answered easily. “But I can tell you where he is. He went to the theater to make sure everything was ready for the evening performance.”
“I’ll try to catch up with him there,” Daisy responded. “Thank you.”
But Tamlyn wasn’t ready to hang up. “I saw Mr. Vaughn packing a couple of bags,” Tamlyn said. “I really think my time here is going to be over. Do you need another server at the tea garden?”
“I do. But I probably can’t match what you’re making now.”
“I’ve saved money from working here,” Tamlyn said. “And I need something to get me through until I decide whether I’m staying in Willow Creek or moving away. The thing is—I don’t know where I’d go if I did move.”
“No family?” Daisy asked.
“None to speak of... none I’d want to be close to. If I could get enough hours with you to pay for an apartment, I could handle the rest for a while.”
Daisy thought about the holidays and how people liked to enjoy Christmas tea services. If she had another full-time server, she could plan holiday teas more often than she thought she could. But she’d have to talk to Iris about it. If they pulled in more profit, she could afford to pay Tamlyn for full-time work at least through the Christmas season.
“I need to talk to Iris Albright, who’s my partner. Let me do that, then I’ll give you a call, or you call me at the end of the week and I’ll set up an appointment.”
“That sounds good, Mrs. Swanson. Thank you so much.”
“If we can help each other, we’ll have a win-win situation. Thanks for the information about Rowan. I’ll talk to you soon.”
After Daisy hung up, she knew exactly what she was going to do. As soon as she could get away, she’d drive to the Little Theater and speak with Rowan. His answers could be the key to solving his wife’s murder.
* * *
By five o’clock Daisy had ducked out of the tea garden early, and she was driving down Market Street. She turned off Market onto Hollowback Road and followed it to the Little Theater. She’d told her aunt where she was going. Her cell phone was charged. It wouldn’t be too long before some of the cast would be arriving at the Little Theater to get ready for tonight’s performance. She should be able to have private time with Rowan first.
Daisy coasted her car into a parking spot. She decided to park at the back door rather than the front entrance. The cast and crew used it, and she imagined Rowan would too. The thing was—Rowan’s car wasn’t in the front lot or this back one. Could Tamlyn have been wrong? On the other hand, Rowan sometimes used a driver. A driver could have easily dropped him off. Besides, taking a closer look at the windows of the theater, she thought she saw dim lights inside.
Daisy wouldn’t find any answers sitting in her car. Climbing out of her PT Cruiser, she shut the door and pressed the remote to lock it. It felt a little odd being out here alone . . . and a little spooky too. Lights that went on at dusk glowed in the parking lot, and branches from trees that had gone leafless swayed in the wind. Dried leaves on the ground picked up by the breeze rolled across her shoes. No, it wasn’t spooky. She was just scaring herself silly. She was not afraid of a parking lot.
Nonetheless, she hurried across the asphalt and pulled on the back door. It was open, as she’d expected it to be. A few lights guided her way as she went deeper inside.
She called Rowan’s name. Then she called again. “Rowan, are you here?”
Unzipping her jacket, she climbed slowly up the steps at the back of the stage. Once there, she realized the stage was already set up for the first scene of the play. That scene was separated into two sets, one for the North Woods at the right side of the stage, and another for interior scenes on the left. A staircase led to a landing that was supposed to be a fake second floor. A chandelier hung over the living room just beyond the stairs. Daisy had been up there when Jonas had been working on the sets and she had seen how the chandelier was attached to the beam across the stage.
Crossing to the middle of the sets, she called again, “Rowan, are you here?”
Rowan didn’t answer her. Another male voice did.
“I’m here,” Ward Cooper said.
Panic tightened Daisy’s chest. Ward Cooper was Conrad Eldridge’s nephew. He was the second heir to an inheritance from the Eldridge estate. He was the one Daisy highly suspected was the murderer.
Still she only had her suspicions. She wasn’t sure, not yet.
She noticed that Ward was wearing a running suit. Maybe he’d jogged to the theater?
Keep your cool, she told herself. Act normal.
Normal. How could she act normal if she was facing a murderer? Ward had seemed so kind....
He must have noticed Daisy’s glance sweeping over him because he gave a small shrug and smiled. “I came in early while I was on a run to make sure everything was ready for tonight.”
Okay so far. The panic lessened just a
mite. “Is Rowan around?” Daisy wanted to know. “Tamlyn said he’d be here.”
“I haven’t seen him,” Ward said. “If it’s important, you might want to try his cell. Do you need his number?”
“I have his number,” she responded, but the end of her voice shook a little. Trying to make up for that, she explained, “I had some ideas about the sponsorship for future plays. I wanted to talk to him about those.” For good measure she added, “I’m meeting Jonas here. That’s why I’m here so early.”
She stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets, feeling her keys and her wallet. But she was shaking now. She could feel her fingers trembling against the inside material of the pockets.
Something in Ward’s eyes changed. There was a shift. He didn’t look so kind anymore. He must have heard her fear and seen her nervousness. “Sponsorships, huh? You’re really getting involved.”
“Running the tea garden, I have to be good at organization as well as making scones.” She hoped her response would lighten the atmosphere . . . but it didn’t.
Where was Rowan? She wished she had called Jonas. But Iris did know Daisy was here.
Ward casually took a few steps closer to her. “I heard you took a trip to New York. Was it successful?”
“Of course it was successful,” she bluffed. “All a woman needs is Fifth Avenue to be happy, right?” If she could engage Ward, she might discover all her fears were in her imagination. Yet, she had the premonition that all her fears were in her gut where it mattered.
“So you shopped?”
“Yes, and I always wanted to visit Chelsea Market. It has the best food.” It wasn’t true that she went there, but it was the only thing she could think of.
“Chelsea Market and Fifth Avenue are a bit apart.”
“That’s why cabs run in New York City.” If she could just keep this conversation going where she wanted it to . . .
“Did you make a stop on West Eleventh Street?”
Murder with Clotted Cream Page 24
