by Gayle Leeson
“Are you free this evening?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Would you like to have dinner with me?”
My heart did a little flutter. Of course! But I said, “I’d like that, but today has been really stressful. I really need some time in the kitchen to help take my mind off things.”
“Oh, sure. I understand.”
I swallowed down my nervousness. “You’re welcome to join me.”
“That’d be great. I get off work at five o’clock. I’ll run home and shower and change, and I should be at your house by six thirty.”
After ending the call, I decided to take that caramel apple pie with me for tonight’s dessert. I put it into a box, and had to fold up the dishtowel and put it underneath the hot box so I could carry it out. Then I finished locking up and headed for the big house.
Chapter 3
When I went onto the porch of the big house, Mom met me at the door with the fabric squares. “Let’s you and I take these doohickeys down to your house and get them onto those jars.”
“All right.” I backed out the door and then pulled it closed behind Mom. “What’s going on? Why are you so eager to get out of the house?”
“Can’t I be helpful if I want to?” She dashed off the porch toward my car.
“Of course you can. You just seem to be in an awfully big hurry to get out of here.” I took the box of fabric squares from her and put it onto the backseat. She and I got into the car and I drove us down to my house.
Naturally, I realized she wanted to get away from Aunt Renee, but I didn’t know why. My nosy mind wanted specifics. What was Aunt Renee doing here? What did she want? How long was she planning to stick around this time?
Princess Eloise was thrilled when Mom walked through the door. She greeted Mom and then kept standing on her hind legs until Mom reached down and picked her up. The cat rubbed her chin against Mom’s face.
“Let’s take these into the kitchen,” I said. “I can work, and you can love on Her Royal Highness.”
Mom smiled. “All right. I have missed her.” Then to the cat, “Yes, I have. I miss my little princess. I do!”
Even though Mom hadn’t been able to take Princess Eloise with her when she’d moved in with Aunt Bess last year, she saw the cat at least every other day. I knew she was still dodging the questions I had about Aunt Renee. But then, I supposed she’d tell me when she was ready to do so.
I put the pie I’d brought from the café on the counter and placed the box Mom had handed me on the kitchen table. When I removed the lid, I could see that Mom and Aunt Bess had made me an assortment of fabric squares: there were red and white checks, paisley, plaid, and floral patterns.
As Mom and Princess Eloise got comfy on one of the kitchen chairs, I went into the fancy room and got the Down South Café and Strawberry Jam labels I’d printed out before going to bed last night. The “fancy room” had been Mom’s bedroom. Now it was my sitting room and home office. After she’d gone to live with Aunt Bess, I’d had Roger install some bookshelves, and I’d filled the room with girly furniture: a white velvet fainting couch, an overstuffed peacock blue chair with a matching ottoman, a roll-top desk, and a wrought iron floor lamp with a white and gold fringed shade. I kept the door closed so that Princess Eloise couldn’t go in there and sharpen her claws on the fainting couch, but there was a doggie bed in there under the front window for Rory so that he could be in the room with me when he took a notion to be. He was much needier where I was concerned than Princess Eloise was. The cat could take me or leave me. The dog adored me.
I returned to the kitchen and placed about ten jars onto the table. A good start, I thought. I removed the outer part of one lid, draped a red-and-white fabric square over the jar, and replaced the metal ring. Then I centered a silver Down South Café label onto the top and a Strawberry Jam label onto the front.
I turned the jar toward Mom. “What do you think?”
“That’s great, sweetheart.” She barely glanced up from Princess Eloise’s face.
“What’s on your mind?”
“Renee.” The word rode into the room on a sigh.
“That’s what I thought.” I didn’t say anything more. Again, I knew she’d talk when she had it all sorted in her mind and knew what she wanted to say. Pressuring her wouldn’t make her tell me any faster. Instead, I prettied up another jar. And then another.
“It’s just so unfair of her to come in here and get Aunt Bess’s hopes up—not to mention Jackie’s,” Mom said at last.
“True. How long do you think she’ll stay this time?”
“It’s hard to say. The last time she was here—for Mom’s funeral—she didn’t stay but three days.”
I nodded. “But she did say she had to get back to work.”
“At what? Renee has never been able to keep a job for more than six months.” Her shoulders slumped. “When she left Winter Garden back when Jackie was sixteen, she said she was going to find a good-paying job that would allow her to take care of herself and her daughter. She promised that leaving Jackie with her grandmother was only a temporary arrangement and that she’d be back to get Jackie as soon as she got settled.”
“And she didn’t come home until after Jackie had graduated high school.”
“Right,” Mom said. “Over a year later, and she’d apparently still been getting settled. Now that Jackie is out on her own, Renee must feel it isn’t necessary to return to her family. She merely pops in and out whenever she feels like it and expects everyone to welcome her with open arms.”
“Jackie certainly doesn’t welcome her. Renee stopped by the café this morning, and Jackie looked downright sick over it.” I peeled a Strawberry Jam label off the sticker sheet and placed it on the front of a jar. “Renee asked Jackie if she was seeing anyone, and Jackie told her ‘not really.’ Not really, even though she and Roger are getting more serious by the day. Jackie doesn’t want to share anything with her mom. And I think that’s sad.”
“It is sad. But they have no relationship whatsoever anymore, Amy. Renee abandoned Jackie to basically go out and try to pretend she was still a teenager. Until she grows up and takes responsibility for her life, she’s never going to be a valuable part of Jackie’s or Aunt Bess’s life.”
“How’s Aunt Bess taking Renee’s return?” I asked.
“She’s thrilled. I think the poor dear has short-term memory loss when it comes to her only daughter’s behavior. She’s delighted that Renee is home, and she’ll be heartbroken when she leaves again.”
I remembered how Aunt Bess had acted the last time Aunt Renee had been home. For weeks, every time Mom brought the mail inside, Aunt Bess would ask if anything came from Renee. Every time the phone rang, she’d hurry to answer it, thinking it might be her daughter or news of her daughter. And then she’d finally gotten used to the idea of Aunt Renee being gone again and, seemingly, put it out of her mind. I know she didn’t completely put her child out of her mind, but she managed to get used to life without her again. And every time Aunt Renee returned, the cycle would begin again.
• • •
I was getting pork chops out of the oven when I heard Ryan’s car pull into the driveway. I put the baking sheet on a wire rack and went through the living room to open the front door.
“I hope you’re hungry,” I called from the doorway.
“My stomach thinks my mouth has been sewed closed.”
Ryan was gorgeous. He had dark brown hair and chocolate brown eyes, and he was tall with the build of an athlete. It was obvious by the definition in his arms that he worked out.
I laughed. “Come on in. We’ve got rolls, pork chops, macaroni and cheese, and potato salad. And for dessert, we have caramel apple pie.”
“Hear that, belly? You’ve died and gone to heaven.” He came on inside.
Rory came racing through the hous
e to greet Ryan, remembering him from the few times he’d stopped by my house when he was investigating Lou Lou Holman’s murder. This was the first time he’d been to my house for a meal. I had to struggle to keep a silly grin off my face.
Ryan bent and scratched the dog’s head. “Hey, buddy! You having a good day? You smell all that delicious food that’s in there in the kitchen?”
Rory’s tail wagged a mile a minute.
We walked into the kitchen. While Ryan washed his hands at the sink, I got out plates and silverware.
“What’s all this?” He jerked his head toward the rows of jam jars sitting at the end of the counter.
“That’s homemade strawberry jam that I’m taking to the café tomorrow.”
“Strawberry jam, huh?”
I put the plates and silverware on the table before returning to put the pork chops on a small platter. “Yep. You like strawberry jam?”
“Yes, ma’am, I do.”
“Then, by all means, take a jar or two home with you.”
He frowned. “You’re gonna have a hard time getting all those jars into your car. Do you have a box or something you can put them in?”
“I’m pretty sure I have a plastic crate in the basement.”
“After dinner, we’ll go down and get that crate and then put these jars into your car,” Ryan said. “And in the morning, I’ll meet you at the café to unload them for you.”
“Thanks.” I found his thoughtfulness touching. And I kinda hoped his offer to meet me at the café was less chivalry and more of just wanting to see me again tomorrow morning.
“It’s the least I can do.” He pulled out my chair.
I smiled as I sat down. “You’re being awfully chivalrous this evening.”
“I’m always chivalrous.”
I poured iced tea into our glasses, and we dug into our meal. He went on about how tasty everything was, and I’ll admit, I was pleased all the dishes had turned out so well.
“Have you had a big day?” He immediately scrunched up his face. “I’m sorry. Of course you have. George Lincoln died in your café this morning.”
“I’m sure you meant besides that.” I sipped my tea. “Actually, not long after the EMTs had carted off poor George, Jackie’s mom, Renee, showed up at the café. I imagine she remembered Jackie worked there when it was Lou’s Joint, and she thought she might still be employed there—which, of course, she is. I don’t think she had a clue that I’d bought the place.”
“I take it you aren’t close to Jackie’s mom then.”
“I’m not. And neither is Jackie.” I ate a forkful of potato salad. “My mom isn’t all that fond of her cousin Renee either.”
“Let me guess. Renee is a drug user who breezes in and out of town on a whim.”
My eyes widened. “No. I mean, yes, she breezes in and out of town, but she isn’t a drug user. I don’t think.” I frowned. Was Aunt Renee a drug user? “What makes you say so?”
“There just seemed to be years of animosity behind what you just said about her. Your telling me she remembered Jackie was a waitress at Lou’s Joint says that this woman isn’t a fixture in her daughter’s life. And for you and your mom to be angry with her tells me that being an absentee parent is a pattern of behavior with her.”
“Wow. You’re good.”
He grinned. “It’s my job to read between the lines.”
“Why did you think Aunt Renee was on drugs?”
“Because people that unhappy with their lives usually are.” He shrugged. “You might not realize it, but I’d lay odds that your aunt is using something.”
I mulled that over as I finished my meal. Aunt Renee being on drugs would actually explain a lot about her behavior over the years.
• • •
Once we’d cleaned up the kitchen and stacked the jars of jam into the crate, we went into the living room and sat on the sofa.
“It just dawned on me that we talked about my day, but you didn’t tell me anything about yours,” I said.
“It was pretty boring . . . routine. I wasn’t called out to the café—probably for obvious reasons.”
“There’s no reason obvious to me. The man collapsed. I’m guessing—mostly because Dr. Kent speculated as much—that George Lincoln had a heart attack. I know Shelly swears that he said something that sounded like poison before he fell off his stool, but Jackie and I thought he was merely gurgling or making choking sounds.”
“The obvious reason I probably wasn’t called out on the case was because I like you.”
I blushed.
He quickly moved on. “What did you think about what Mr. Lincoln did—or didn’t—say?”
“I didn’t hear him very clearly. I was in the kitchen and only rushed back to the dining room when I saw him fall,” I said. “Does Sheriff Billings think George was poisoned?”
“I think everybody in the department is under the impression that Mr. Lincoln died of natural causes . . . at least, at this time.” Ryan was weighing his words carefully. “I mean, anyone could look at the man and tell that he wasn’t in the best of health. But since he died so suddenly and was unable to communicate to anyone in the vicinity the nature of his distress, there will be an autopsy.”
“That makes sense. If it turns out that his death wasn’t accidental, then who might’ve had it in for him?”
Ryan shook his head. “Unless the toxicology report turns up something unusual, we won’t be looking into Mr. Lincoln’s life.”
“I hope it doesn’t turn up anything strange. I’m sorry for the man’s death, but I so hope he died of natural causes.”
“Me too. Now how about—”
Before he could finish his sentence, Princess Eloise jumped right into the middle of his lap, startling us both. The fluffy white Persian loved Mom, tolerated me, and seemed to have some affection for Ryan.
He petted her for a few minutes, sat her on the floor, and she promptly hopped right back up onto his lap.
I gave him a wry smile. “Want to go out onto the front porch?”
He nodded.
Leaving the cat inside, we went out onto the porch and sat on the swing. I curled up my legs, and Ryan gave the swing a gentle push. The chains squeaked and rattled along with the melody of the crickets. I hadn’t turned on the porch light so, hopefully, we wouldn’t be eaten alive by mosquitoes.
I leaned my head against the back of the swing. “What were you saying before we were so rudely interrupted?”
“Well, I was going to ask you to be my date for the dance Saturday night.”
Although the Independence Day Festival went on all weekend with picnics, chili contests, and a petting zoo, the highlight of the event was the dance followed by a fireworks show in the town square.
“Okay,” I said softly, glad the darkness masked my flaming cheeks.
“Okay, you’ll go?”
“Okay, you can ask me.”
He tilted my chin up with his index finger. “Amy Flowers, will you please accompany me to the Independence Day dance?”
“It would be my pleasure.”
Chapter 4
True to his word, Ryan met me at the café before his shift the next morning. Since he didn’t have to start work for an hour, I invited him inside and made him breakfast as a thank-you for bringing in the heavy crate of jam jars.
As he ate his pancakes, I arranged the jars on the shelf above the display case. There wasn’t room for all fifty jars, so I left the remainder in the crate and put it in the storage room.
“I’m guessing you’ll have to replenish your stock before the day is out,” Ryan said. “That’s the best strawberry jam I’ve ever tasted.”
I smiled. “Thank you.”
He looked sheepish. “I had some on toast before heading over here this morning. I didn’t expect you to make me breakfas
t.”
“You should’ve known better. But I am glad you got to try the jam.” I gazed out the front door. It was going to be sunny and hot today—up into the nineties again. “Business will either be as slow as sorghum molasses today, or we’ll be so busy we won’t know which end is up. I’m not sure which.”
“Let’s hope for a happy medium for you and a slow day for me. People get stupid around holidays. I’m sure I’ll encounter at least one drunk driver today . . . and that’s even before the real festivities get started.”
“Just be careful,” I said.
“I will.” He stood and smiled. “Thanks for breakfast.”
“Anytime. Thank you for carrying in that crate for me.”
“Anytime.” He winked and left.
I was humming a tune when Jackie walked in.
“Are you a fairytale princess now?” she asked with a grin. “Are there forest creatures sweeping the kitchen?”
“No.” I blushed. “Can’t a girl hum once in a while?”
“I guess she can . . . especially after her prince leaves to go fight crime and preserve the sanctity of the kingdom.”
“How did last night go?”
“It went great,” Jackie said. “Roger loved the pie. He was really impressed with my culinary skills.”
“Did you tell him your mom is in town?”
She lifted her shoulders. “There was probably no need. She might be gone by now, for all I know.”
“So you didn’t talk with her last night?”
“Nah. I figured she and Granny had stuff to catch up on. And I had plans with Roger anyway.” Her mouth tightened. “I wasn’t going to cancel my date simply because my mother decided to show up unannounced.”
I patted her back. “I’m here if you need me, you know.”
“Yeah, I know. Thanks.”
• • •
Homer was acting funny when he came in for his sausage biscuit. He looked around the dining room suspiciously before sitting down at the counter.
“It’s unwise for me to sit with my back to the door,” he said.
