“No,” Jesse answered, refusing to look up. “I don’t think so. I think it’s just a convenient day for us both.”
“What are you going to wear?”
At that, Jesse gave up and returned her mother’s gaze. “I have no idea, but it’s not going to be these stupid shorts. I know that for sure.”
“Well, it’s still cool most days, at least when you’re not working in a kitchen. Maybe a nice sweater and some slacks,” Sophia suggested. “A dress might be a poor choice if you’re still hoping he won’t notice you’re a woman.”
“Quit mumbling.” Turning from her barista duties, Lindsey moved closer and joined the conversation. “Now, did I hear what I thought I heard? Did he ask you out?!”
“No,” Jesse said, wishing they would all just be quiet.
“Yes,” Sophia insisted, “but, apparently, it’s not really a date.”
“Yeah.” The word was halfway between a snort and a laugh as Lindsey started toward the cash register at the other end of the serving counter. “Right. I’ll just bet it’s not.”
“It’s not!” Glancing over the dwindling crowd in the dining room, Jesse tried to keep her denials down to a loud whisper.
SueAnn arrived from nowhere, reached over the counter and took the salad bowl from Jesse’s hands. “You didn’t see him watching you walk away,” the girl teased. “If it’s not a date now, it soon will be. What are you wearing?”
“I don’t know,” Jesse snapped. “And in case anyone wonders why I don’t have a social life…” She spread her hands. “Ta-da!”
SueAnn laughed and headed back into the half-empty dining room to deliver the salad to the last table that hadn’t been served.
The “Closed” sign was in the front window, and cleanup in the kitchen was beginning. Lindsey was busy cashing out customers and preparing coffees to go.
“You know, except for SueAnn, none of us have much of a social life,” Sophia said as she sealed containers of leftovers and stored them in the industrial-sized refrigerator. “At least, as far as men go. Of course, I do occasionally date. Unlike you and Lindsey.”
“I like to think that Lindsey and I are just taking a break. It’s not like there’s a large pool of unattached men around here. And, yes, the sheriff is unattached, but he and I haven’t always been on speaking terms, so I’m thinking that baby steps are probably a pretty good idea.”
“Those are called sparks, dear, and they’re generally considered to be a good thing in a relationship.”
“I don’t think we’re either one in any kind of a hurry here, Mom.” Jesse stopped to wrap an arm around her mother’s shoulders and whispered, “Okay?”
“Of course, sweetheart.” Sophia patted her daughter’s hand. “I only want you to be happy.”
“Good. We’ll make me happy by dropping the subject. Do you want to go with me out to Amanda Carmichael’s estate this evening? I’d like to have a look around.”
“But they’re gone already.”
“Not everybody,” Jesse said. “I was thinking we could say we were landscapers. That Bethany had asked our advice on, oh… something. We can figure that part out later. It’s just an excuse to get on the grounds and see what these people are really like. At this point, anything’s better than the nothing we have now.”
“Count me in. Do you think Vivian will want to go?”
“I’m not sure she’ll have her wardrobe ready yet. That was a pretty expensive pair of shoes she ruined out at Winnie’s farm a week or so ago.”
“Well, she is Vivian,” Sophia said with a laugh. “But even she must have a pair of blue jeans tucked away somewhere.”
“The problem with Vivian is that even if she had blue jeans, she’d wear them with high heels. I think you’d have to knock her unconscious to get her into a pair of tennis shoes.”
“What are you two scheming about?” Lindsey paused next to them with a to-go cup of coffee in her hand.
“We’re heading over to Vivian’s in a bit,” Sophia offered, “to work on plans for revamping the Square’s garden plot.”
“And to figure out what we’re going to do about Bethany O’Connor’s problem,” Jesse added.
“Bethany O’Connor. Is that what Winnie was talking to you about? She’s the woman who thinks someone is trying to kill her employer?” Without waiting for an answer, Lindsey circled around the end of the counter, pausing on the front side. “Would it be a problem if I skipped that planning session, since I don’t really know anything about gardening or Bethany O’Connor, other than what SueAnn told me this morning?”
“Sure,” Jesse agreed, clamping down hard on her natural curiosity. After all, Lindsey was a private person who liked to be questioned about her personal time even less than Jesse herself did.
“Do you have plans?” Sophia asked, obviously having no such qualms.
“Uh, yeah.” Lindsey responded slowly. “I’m, uh, I’m getting my hair done. And then I thought I might go for a run.”
“You’re getting your hair done?” Jesse echoed, sounding incredulous enough to draw a nudge in the side from her mother’s elbow.
But, seriously, Lindsey’s mousey brown hair spent most of its time in a ponytail even when she wasn’t working. And since it had never been “styled” in the three years they had co-owned the tearoom, a little surprise didn’t seem unreasonable.
“How nice, dear,” Sophia said, effectively blocking whatever else Jesse was about to say. “I’ve been thinking of having mine restyled before the summer heat kicks in.” Patting her short, blond curls, she nodded to the to-go cup in Lindsey’s hand. “Are you taking that to Sheriff Tyler?”
The younger woman grinned. “Yep. Looks like he’s about done, and I know he likes his coffee. So I thought I’d throw myself on the grenade and save Jesse from another trip over there.”
Lindsey tossed a teasing glance Jesse’s way. Then, with a wink, she turned and headed toward the porch where Joe Tyler was adjusting his hat and pushing back from the table. The other two watched her go.
“I think our little Lindsey’s growing up,” Sophia said wistfully.
“Don’t you think it’s kind of sudden? In the three years she’s been in town, she’s shown no interest in men,” Jesse said. “And now she’s getting her hair done and flirting with a man who’s almost old enough to be her father.”
Eyes still focused on the action across the room, she watched Lindsey hand the Styrofoam cup to the sheriff, bob her head without making eye contact and begin to stack the utensils, mug and napkin into the plate.
Joe Tyler lifted his gaze to Jesse, nodded and, with his index finger to the brim, tipped his hat. Then he turned and left the screened dining porch by the side door that exited to a bricked patio and a pathway to the street in front.
“Or not flirting,” Sophia amended, indicating she had been watching the same scene Jesse had.
Jesse herself was busy trying not to blush, and not knowing why his simple parting was affecting her in any way. They had talked. He had nodded goodbye. That was all. There was no need to overreact.
“Maybe she’d like to flirt, but just hasn’t worked herself up to it,” Sophia continued. “Sure would like to know some of those secrets she keeps bottled up inside.”
“Do you suppose she’s really interested in him?” Jesse wondered aloud.
“Nah. I think she feels safe with him because she knows he’s interested in someone else.”
“Good.” Jesse felt her maternal instincts relax just a bit. “Because whether she talks about it or not, I get the feeling Lindsey’s been really hurt by somebody. And somehow I don’t think our Sheriff Tyler is the man to tenderly coax her back into the world of dating.”
“Ha!” Sophia’s laugh was an outburst that had her slapping a hand over her mouth an instant later.
“Mother!” A twinkle in her eye, Jesse struggled to keep a straight face at her mother’s guilty expression.
“Well, don’t say things like that,” Sophia
answered. “The picture that conjured.… Oh, my, no. Tender is not the word I would use for that man.”
“Of course, a year ago it’s not a word I would have used for Lindsey, either,” Jesse said with the barest hint of concern. “And now that shell she’s built around herself is beginning to crack, just a bit, and the inside seems a lot softer than I would have imagined.”
“Uh-huh,” Sophia agreed, “and most people wouldn’t peg you for such a mother hen, either.”
“Who’s a mother hen?” Lindsey asked, pausing at the far end of the counter to drop cash collected from empty tables into the tip jar.
“Jesse,” Sophia answered.
“I am not,” Jesse protested.
“Oh, sure you are. Everybody knows that. In a grumpy, bossy kind of way,” Lindsey said and continued past them and into the kitchen to deposit the dishes from her tray.
“Everybody knows what?” SueAnn asked. With her own tray of dirty dishes, she stopped at the counter to leave a ticket to be cashed out.
“That Jesse’s a mother hen.” Lindsey reemerged from the kitchen, retrieved the ticket SueAnn had left on the counter, and continued to the cash register to make change.
“No secret there,” SueAnn agreed. “Kind of like a Doberman with her pups.”
“You’re all nuts,” Jesse insisted, intensely uncomfortable with the whole conversation.
“Here, let me get that, hon.” Sophia swept the tray of dishes from the counter and started into the kitchen with them. “You need to be getting to school.”
“But there are two more tables,” SueAnn protested, then turned to Jesse. “And you still need to forward that email to me.”
“I will. And we can finish up here without you.” Jesse made a shooing motion. “You go.”
“Okay. If I get there early, I can get started on that list. As long as you don’t forget to forward it to me.”
Groaning, Jesse reached into the front pocket of her shorts, withdrew her phone, retrieved her email and forwarded the file to SueAnn. “Okay? Done.” She jammed her phone back into her pocket and pointed toward the side door that Lindsey and SueAnn usually came and went by. “Now leave.”
With a giggle and a blown kiss, the teenager headed through the dining room toward the porch and the side exit the sheriff had just used. Lindsey set to work totaling the register while Jesse cleaned tables and gently shepherded the last customers out the door. One day’s work was done and another, more exciting one waited.
She hated to think that she was starting to agree with Vivian—but this detecting stuff was almost becoming fun.
Chapter Five
The top was down on Sophia’s Cutlass convertible as she turned onto the winding front drive of the Windsor mansion. The spring afternoon was warm and the sun bright, but the April day was still chilly at sixty miles an hour.
As they drew even with the front steps of the portico, Vivian swept through the entry door and out onto the terrace to greet them. Arms spread, she twirled, laughing, then practically bounced down the stairs and twirled again before they were even out of the car.
“What do you think?” Vivian asked.
“Holy cow, Viv,” Jesse called. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Constance came by this morning before work, determined to help me pull together a wardrobe for our sleuthing.” Vivian turned to the side, hands on her hips, and kicked up a heel—a sensible wedge heel, to be exact—that was attached to a knee-high brown leather boot, into which was tucked the leg of her slim-cut blue jeans. “I forgot I even had these. And look at this!”
Her foot back on the ground, Vivian continued her pirouette, hands spread to showcase a cable-knit sweater in oatmeal, topped with a blue silk scarf that looped around her neck and down the front of the sweater. “That girl’s a wonder. She had me going through drawers and boxes I haven’t thought about in years.”
“Well, bless her heart,” Sophia said as she exited the car. Unwinding her headscarf, she fluffed her blonde curls with her fingertips. “I was just telling Jesse this morning that I bet you had clothes you had forgotten all about.”
Jesse stripped off the ball cap she shoved her hair under for the drive over. Tossing the cap into the passenger seat, she checked her reflection in the side mirror. One rake of her fingers through her shoulder-length hair, and her sun-streaked locks were as primped as they ever got.
“Connie’s got a good eye,” Jesse agreed, giving her hair one more finger comb just for the heck of it. “And that outfit is about perfect for any, uh, unexpected garden club adventures.” She still had a mental hiccup when a real garden club project bumped into one that was just a cover for a new investigation.
“Speaking of garden club adventures,” Vivian said, “I’m ready to head over to Amanda Carmichael’s. Do we have time to do that now?” She swept a hand down her length. “I’m dressed.”
Jesse laughed. “That’s exactly what we were planning. And it looks like you’ve got the perfect outfit for some field work.”
“Does Bethany know we’re coming?” Vivian asked, clearly eager. “Should we call her?”
“No need.” Sophia joined Vivian at the foot of the steps, hooked her arm with Vivian’s and turned her toward the front door. “Have we got news!”
“Lots of news,” Jesse confirmed. “But first let’s go inside and get the garden project taken care of. Then, Mom, you can fill Vivian in while I see what SueAnn’s found out.”
Vivian scaled the steps and aimed toward the door. “Let’s get a move on, then. I have decided that patience is for the young, and I, personally, am getting too old to waste time being reasonable. Which reminds me, I pulled out some pictures of my dahlias and picked a few I thought would be best.”
“Okay. Great!” Jesse held open the front door for the others to enter. “That takes care of the garden project… unless someone has something else to discuss for today?”
“Don’t you at least want to see the pictures?” Vivian asked. “I have the notebook open in here.” She gestured toward the sunroom on the other side of the formal living room.
“We might as well look at them,” Sophia said, giving her daughter a glance that spoke volumes.
If her mother were standing closer, Jesse was pretty sure she’d be feeling the nudge of an elbow about now. “Sure. That’s as good a place to talk as any,” she agreed, falling in line behind the other two.
Vivian headed toward a set of French doors flanking the fireplace on the opposite wall. Sofia was right behind her. Being taller than her mother, Jesse drew even by the time they entered the sunroom.
Here, windows embraced the outdoors on three sides and comfy sofas faced each other around a large square coffee table where pictures of dahlias were spread. The three women sat next to each other on the sofa that faced the front of the house.
Sophia pulled the pictures closer. “Oh, Vivian, these are lovely. Really lovely.”
“Jesse wanted something exotic.”
“Wow, Vivian,” Jesse said, looking at the spidery, frilled flowers in shades of pink, lilac and darkest purple, “these are really beautiful. They’re perfect.”
Vivian waved her hand. “Well, good then. That’s settled.” She looked expectantly from Sophia to Jesse. “Now what is this news?”
Jesse stood. “I’ll let Mom explain, while I call SueAnn. Oh, and Winnie texted me. She said not to wait for her ‘cause she’s tied up with her dad and can’t make it today.”
Leaving her mother to explain Amanda’s sudden departure, Jesse moved away to make her phone call.
“I’m not done yet,” SueAnn began. “But the best I can tell, practically everyone Amanda Carmichael employs, including Bethany O’Connor, is related to her in some way.”
Jesse walked toward the French doors overlooking the garden, which were as far removed as she could get from her mother’s recounting of the morning’s events and Vivian’s excited exclamations.
“Bethany is a relative?” she asked, more th
an a little surprised.
“The daughter of a second cousin, on Amanda’s mother’s side of the family. Bethany might not even be aware, but I’m sure Mrs. Carmichael is.”
“Before you get started, do I need to write this down, or do you have something you can email to me?” Jesse asked.
“I’ve been typing up my notes as I go. I was getting ready to send them to you.”
“Great. So give me the highlights.”
“Okay, here goes. Not counting Bethany, there are seven people working for Amanda here and two more in Washington. The groundskeeper here is Bobby Don Carmichael, mid-40s, related to Amanda’s ex-husband, and I have no idea why he’s working for Amanda. But he’s probably someone you’ll talk to when you go out there.”
“All right,” Jesse said, “that’s one down. Seven people? Who needs that many people to run one house?”
“Well, she started with Helen Oglethorpe, who’s the granddaughter of Amanda’s brother, which would make her a great niece. She’s the housekeeper and was nineteen, pregnant and unmarried when Amanda gave her a home and a job and took in the twin girls when they were born. When the daughters were older, Amanda gave them jobs, too, and helped with their college.”
“Well, that was nice of her.”
“It really was,” SueAnn agreed. “Honestly, I can’t find where any of these people have any right to complain. Every one of them went through some sort of rough patch and were more or less rescued by Amanda Carmichael. Which brings us to Mandy Landon, who was a widowed second cousin with two children when Amanda took her in. The kids were given jobs when they were older, but Amanda didn’t offer to pay for their college.”
“Which explains how she ended up with seven people working for her,” Jesse said. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw her mother and Vivian involved in a whispering session. “You got anything juicy on the two people in Washington?”
“The housekeeper is a Nettie Shoemacher, but I don’t have anything else about her. Now as for the other—a Gordon Pitts—he’s a different matter.”
Murder on a Silver Sea (Myrtle Grove Garden Club Mystery Book 3) Page 4
