by Gayle Leeson
“I thought it was rad,” Scott said. “I made a bunch of tips, and we sold a lot of merch.”
“Merch?” I followed his gaze to the shelves behind the register. Our supply of Down South Café t-shirts and mugs had nearly been depleted.
“I’m sorry to run,” Donna said. “I’d much rather stay here than go to the dentist...but to the dentist I must go.”
“Relax and think happy thoughts,” Scott told her.
“Thank you, Donna, for making yourself available on such short notice,” I said. “You, too, Scott.”
“I’m happy to help, and I’m even happier for the money,” Scott said.
Homer arrived, and Scott greeted him with an enthusiastic, “Guru Guy! Whose wisdom are you sharing today?”
“Mr. Samuel Clemens, better known as Mark Twain,” Homer said. “Did you know that Mr. Twain was born in November of 1835 soon after Halley’s Comet made an appearance?”
“I did not.” Scott’s answer was so earnest that I had to suppress a giggle.
“The thing only comes around every seventy-five years or so, you know. Well, Mr. Twain is said to have told folks that he came in with that comet and would go out with it too.”
Scott nodded. “That’s awesome. Did he?”
“He died the day after the comet returned.” Homer spread his hands. “At least, that’s how I heard it.”
Jackie and I were in the kitchen when Ryan came into the café. I heard Scott tell him, “Ryan, you’re just in time.”
I stiffened and scrunched up my face.
“Do you honestly think that if you close your eyes, he won’t see you?” Jackie joked.
“It’s not me I’m worried about him seeing.”
“Yeah, well...” She jerked her head toward the dining room. “Go on. I’ll man the grill.”
I took a deep breath and opened the kitchen door. “Hey!” I forced all the sunshiny brightness I could muster into my voice.
“Hey yourself,” Ryan said. “I hear I’m just in time.”
“For what?” I asked.
“For Homer to share with us some words of wisdom from Mark Twain,” Scott answered. “The floor is yours, Guru Guy.”
Ryan arched a brow at me, and I shrugged.
Homer sipped his coffee and then cleared his throat. “’Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it is time to pause and reflect.’”
“Whoa. That is deep.” Scott grabbed a coffee pot and refilled Homer’s cup.
“Amy, do you have a second?” Ryan asked.
“Sure.” I moved closer to the counter.
“Outside?”
“Yeah...no problem.” I smiled brightly as I strode toward the door. “Oh, hey, the sun is shining. We’ve barely had time to look out today.”
When we stepped out the front door and it closed behind us, Ryan asked, “What’s he doing here?”
“Who? Scott?”
“No. Homer—the one who comes in at the same time every day to order the same meal. That’s the him I’m talking about.”
“Now, there’s no need for sarcasm. Shelly called in sick this morning right after I learned there was a church group planning to stop by. I’d already called Donna, and she came in for a little while but then she had to leave—dental appointment. Anyway, when I found out Shelly wouldn’t be here, I asked Scott if he could come in.” I looked up into Ryan’s beautiful eyes. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
Ryan was frowning. “Shelly called in sick?”
I nodded. “It struck me as odd too. I don’t think she’s ever taken an unplanned day off, and then today of all days—”
His frown had deepened, and he was shaking his head.
“What?” I asked.
“I saw Shelly driving back into town from the direction of Abingdon about thirty minutes ago.”
“Oh. That must be where her doctor’s office is located.” A tiny golden leaf floated down onto his shoulder, and I smiled as I brushed it away. “Now that things have slowed down, I should call her and see how she’s feeling.”
“I don’t believe she’d been to the doctor’s office,” Ryan said. “It looked to me like she had her doctor—or, at least, a doctor—with her.”
{ }
Chapter Fourteen
I
stomped through the dining room on my way back to the kitchen. Homer tried to tell me some Mark Twain quote about anger, but I didn’t listen.
“Would you mind going out there and taking Ryan’s lunch order for the station?” I asked Jackie.
“Sure, but will you tell me what’s got you so riled up first?”
“Shelly wasn’t sick today. She was out galivanting with Clark Bennett.” I picked up a spatula and flipped the burger Jackie had on the grill. “I’m going to see her after work, and she’s going to explain why she lied to us this morning.”
“I’ll go with you,” Jackie said. “Now, take a deep breath and blow out all those bad feelings. You’ve got to set them aside so you can work.”
“Since when are you the calm, rational one?”
“Since you walked outside and left your sanity out there in the parking lot.”
I blew out a breath. “You’re right.”
“Do you need a minute?”
“No.” I waved her on. “I’m fine.”
Together, we worked to get the orders ready so Ryan could get back to work. He told me he’d see me after work.
Then I apologized to Homer for my rudeness, and he wisely didn’t try to repeat the anger quote. I went back to the kitchen, once again fuming to Jackie that Shelly had lied to us and that Clark Bennett was playing my mother for a fool.
“I’ll hold down the fort if you want to leave right now and go confront Shelly,” Jackie said.
“No. That would be unfair to you. Plus, I need to calm down so I can deal with Shelly rationally.”
“Then you’re going to have to set your feelings aside. The lunch rush is about to hit, and I need you to either help me or get out of my way.”
“You’re absolutely right,” I admitted. “Would you mind doing most of the cooking for a little while? It might lift my mood to be around people. You know, if I have to pretend cheerfulness, maybe I’ll start to feel it.”
“Do what you need to do. After work, we’ll go see Shelly together.”
I took an order pad and pen and headed out to the dining room.
“You okay, Amy?” Luis asked as he was heading toward the kitchen with a bin filled with dirty dishes.
“I will be. I just need a break from the kitchen for a little bit.” I smiled. “I thought it would do me good to mingle with the customers.”
He shook his head. “Not me. When I’m in a bad mood, I want to get as far away from people as I can.” He went on into the kitchen.
Scott sidled next to me. “I don’t want to cloud your vibe or anything, but if things go south with Shelly, I’m available to work.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.”
I spotted Malcolm Pridemore trudging toward the front door. I glanced over to gauge Scott’s reaction. Would he confront Mr. Pridemore with his belief that Malcolm started the fire at the Pridemore house?
Scott started out from behind the counter, and I placed my hand on his arm.
“I’m good,” he told me. “I won’t embarrass you or disrespect your establishment. I promise.” He strode across the dining room and opened the door. “Good afternoon, and welcome to the Down South Café.”
Mr. Pridemore was leaning heavily on his cane today, and he sat at a table near the door. “Thank you, young man.” He squinted at Scott. “I know you...don’t I? Haven’t I seen you with that Ostermann boy?”
“Yes, sir. Would you like to hear about our lunch special today?”
“No. I know what I want. I’d like a cheeseburger. The beef must be medium well with an internal temperature of 150 degrees—”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Pridemore,” I interrupted, “but the minimum safe temperature f
or a burger is 160 degrees Fahrenheit.”
“Is that a fact?” he asked, leaning his head back so he could look down his long nose at me.
“Yes. It’s the USDA recommendation, and we strictly adhere to it.”
Mr. Pridemore nodded once. “Very well.” He then turned his attention back to Scott. “I’ll have my burger cooked to the internal temperature of 160 degrees Fahrenheit—but not a degree more—with a single slice of Swiss cheese, three dill pickle slices, and one slice of tomato—yellow if you have it. I’d like potato salad for my side and lemonade to drink.”
“Coming right up.” Scott took the order to the window for Jackie.
“Mr. Pridemore, I’m sorry to hear there was a fire at your sister-in-law’s house,” I told him.
“I appreciate that. Nothing terribly valuable was lost...just a few things I’ll now be saved the trouble of sorting through.” He unwrapped his silverware from the napkin and examined the cutlery. I could tell he was making sure it was clean.
He continued speaking. “I hadn’t realized my brother and his wife had accumulated such an eccentric load of junk. And, as executor of the estate, I have to go through all of it before I can dispose of the property. Very tedious business, I assure you.”
Scott brought Mr. Pridemore his lemonade. “If there’s anything else you need, please let me know. I’ll have your food to you as soon as it comes up to the window.”
Subdued, professional Scott was kinda sad...but I was glad he didn’t start throwing around accusations in front of our customers.
THE LUNCH RUSH WAS winding down when Mom and Aunt Bess popped in for pie and coffee. Scott won Aunt Bess over immediately by greeting them with, “Good afternoon, beautiful ladies! How are you today?”
“I’m fine, sweetheart,” she said. “How are you?”
“Better now that you’re here. What can I get for you?”
I couldn’t help but wonder if Aunt Bess recognized Scott from her photographs of the Pridemore house fire. But, of course, I hadn’t been sure it was Scott in the pictures until he’d confessed to being there, and I was already acquainted with him. This was Aunt Bess’s first introduction to Scott.
“We decided to come in for some pie,” Mom said.
“Excellent choice.” Scott moved over to the display case. “What flavor are you considering?”
“I’d like the Dutch apple,” Mom said.
“And I want to see what looks good.” Aunt Bess peered into the case. “That apple pie does look good...but then so does the chocolate coconut cream.”
“Why don’t you have a slice of each?” Scott asked her. “Life is short, and you could stand to put a little meat on your bones.”
I walked over to stand beside Scott, who’d just persuaded my pleasantly plump great-aunt into having two slices of pie. Aunt Bess was smiling at him adoringly. If we weren’t careful, she’d adopt the man and take him home with her. That’s all Mom would need—an Aunt Bess and a Scott to babysit.
“Scott, this is my Aunt Bess—who is Jackie’s grandmother, by the way—and my mom, Jenna,” I said.
“Awesome to meet you,” he said. “Now I see where Amy and Jackie get their good looks.”
Aunt Bess reached up and patted her hair as if a single white curl would dare try to escape the rest of her shellacked helmet. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Scott. I’m going to take you up on your suggestion and have a small slice of each of those pies and a cup of French vanilla coffee please.”
“Coming right up.” Scott winked. “You’ll have a scoop of vanilla ice cream with that pie, won’t you?”
“Well, I will if you insist.” Aunt Bess squeezed her shoulders forward and beamed like a schoolgirl.
“Jenna, would you like ice cream as well?” Scott asked.
“Please,” Mom said.
“When you finish eating, I’d like to show you something I’ve got in my car, Mom,” I said.
“Could you show me now while Scott is getting our pie ready?” she asked.
“Yeah...no problem.” I came out from behind the counter and told Scott I’d be right back.
“Take as long as it takes,” he said.
When I passed by Aunt Bess, she whispered not-so-quietly, “I like him better than Shelly.”
I simply nodded.
Since we were pressed for time, I talked as we walked toward my car, which was at the far left side of the parking lot. I was taking Mom to see the insurance information I kept in my glove box. Of course, that wasn’t the real reason we were going to my car. I had nothing whatsoever to show Mom, but that was our code when I wanted to speak with her privately. Mom has seen that proof-of-insurance information so often, the card is getting ratty.
“Jackie and I are—” I stopped, not wanting to tell Mom where my cousin and I planned to go after work. “—we have an errand to run this afternoon, and on the drive, I’m going to ask her to become a partner in Down South Café.” I took a breath. “What do you think?”
“What do you think? Is this a spur of the moment idea, or have you given it careful thought?”
“I’ve been mulling the decision over for a while now,” I said. “Jackie is my business partner in every other sense of the word. She’s dedicated to the café, she’s able to step in and manage the place for me if I’m sick or have to be away... I feel that offering her a partnership is the right thing to do.”
Mom had a wide grin on her face when she hugged me. “I agree a hundred percent.”
As we were strolling back toward the front door, we met Mr. and Mrs. Potts on their way out.
“Everything was lovely, dear,” said Mrs. Potts, with a pat on my arm. “Have a good day now.”
“You, too, and thank you.”
As we walked back into the café, Aunt Bess was happily eating pie and regaling Scott with her adventure of taking Mom’s SUV to the Pridemore house to “help investigate” the fire.
“You see, I realized right away that there was something fishy about that fire,” she said. “I’m fairly certain it was arson.”
“I totally agree,” Scott said. “I was there that night too.”
“You were?” Aunt Bess clapped her hands together. “You might be in some of my pictures.”
“Show me.” He got the apple pie back out of the display case while Aunt Bess was fishing her phone out of her large floral-print purse. “Let me get Jenna’s pie and ice cream while you’re finding your shots of the fire.”
I was impressed with how well Scott plated the dessert. He even drizzled caramel onto the plate before he placed the pie and ice cream on it.
By the time Mom got her dessert, Aunt Bess had pulled up her photos from the night of the fire. “This could be you.” She turned her phone toward Scott.
I saw that the image was the one that appeared to capture a man running away from the Pridemore house.
“Dude, that is me! I was trying to get out of there before the firefighters thought I was involved.”
“Then you agree it was arson,” Aunt Bess said.
“Oh, for sure,” Scott agreed. “And I think that old dude Malcolm is the one who set the fire.”
“You and I need to get together and compare notes.” Aunt Bess dropped her phone into her purse. “I’m something of a Nancy Drew in Winter Garden.”
“Don’t you mean Jane Marple?” Mom asked wryly.
Aunt Bess gave her a scathing look. “Don’t you mean you ought to shut up and eat your pie?”
Mom grinned at me and dug her spoon back into her pie.
“You’re right,” Scott said. “We should compare notes. Maybe together we can bring this guy down. Could we have coffee later?”
“We’re going shopping after this, and I’m not sure what time we’ll be back,” Mom said quickly, after catching my look of alarm.
“Tomorrow works better for me anyhow,” Scott said. “When and where would you like to meet?”
“My house...for lunch,” Aunt Bess said.
Jackie
came out of the kitchen. “I thought I heard your voice, Granny. What’s going on?”
“Aunt Bess just invited Scott for lunch tomorrow,” I said.
“And I’m accepting.” He smiled at Aunt Bess. “It’s a date.”
“Jackie, maybe you could take them some food,” I said.
“Yeah.” She gave me a hard stare. “You’d better believe I will.”
We had no time to discuss particulars because Phil Poston and his son ambled into the Down South Café with hot dogs and fries on their minds.
“I’M ABSOLUTELY NOT all right with a suspected arsonist—and a possible murderer—being alone in the house with my grandmother and my aunt,” Jackie ranted as she drove us to Shelly’s house. “Are you? Are you okay with it?”
“Of course not. That’s why I volunteered you to take them some food. And tonight, when Ryan gets to my house, I’m going to make him tell me if Scott is being seriously considered as a suspect in either the arson or in Gladys Pridemore’s murder.”
“Do you think he’ll tell you?” she asked.
“Yes. Or, if nothing else, he’ll tell me to get that lunch canceled if he believes Scott is a threat to Mom and Aunt Bess.”
“I think we should cancel the lunch anyway.” Jackie braked at a Stop sign and turned to look at me. “Whether he’s a murderer or not, what do we really know about the guy?”
“Not much,” I admitted. “But, hey, after we visit Shelly, I might be calling him to work tomorrow.”
“Amy, I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
She pulled out into traffic, and we were both quiet. Not wanting to miss the opportunity to discuss the partnership with Jackie before we got to Shelly’s house, I broke the silence.
“Would you like to become a partner in the Down South Café?”
“What brought that on?”
“You already do all the things a partner does,” I said. “Why not make it official?”
“Wow. I’m...I’m floored.” Her grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Do I have to give you an answer right now?”
“No. Take as much time as you need.” I wanted to ask about her reservations, but I knew this was a decision Jackie needed to make for herself.
