While Foster looked through the glass into the kitchen, they heard the sounds coming from the kitchen and tea room—china clinking, customers chatting, a baking sheet being set into the oven.
When he turned back to Daisy, he seemed determined about something. “All right. If I get called in again, I’ll talk to your lawyer. I understand why you think you have to pay, but I’m hoping it won’t come to that. Thank you, Mrs. Swanson.”
With that, Foster left her office.
She thought they’d gone beyond the formal Mrs. Swanson, but maybe, just maybe, she and Foster weren’t as friendly as she’d thought they were.
* * *
Although Jazzi came in to the tea garden to work after school, Daisy could see that her daughter was distracted, and she knew why. She hadn’t heard from Portia lately. Jazzi didn’t know if Portia and her husband’s trip was still on.
As Jazzi emptied her backpack on Daisy’s desk, Daisy brought her a scone and a cup of tea. It was her favorite tea—cocoa Rooibos.
Jazzi looked at the snack and asked, “Don’t you want me to work?”
“We had two busloads of tourists this afternoon, and they all filed out about a half-hour ago. Do you have much schoolwork tonight?”
“I do, but I can still work if you want me to.”
“Why don’t you eat your snack and then decide.”
“Are you being nice to me because I haven’t heard from Portia?” Jazzi’s expression said she wanted the truth.
“I’m being nice to you because I’m your mom and I’m concerned about you.”
“You don’t have to be. I sent a text to Portia at lunchtime, but she didn’t answer me. I don’t know what to think.”
“I know you don’t. And I know you believe that I don’t want her to get in touch with you. But I do. I don’t want you in this limbo. But this isn’t a situation you can force.”
“I thought about just turning up on her doorstep.”
It took all of Daisy’s self-control to keep quiet.
Jazzi went on, “But I know that could push everything the wrong way instead of the right way. But I hate waiting.”
“I know. I’m not fond of it either.”
Jazzi pointed her chin toward the Plexiglas in the hallway. “I think somebody wants to talk to you.”
Daisy turned in her chair and saw Jonas. She couldn’t help but break into a smile.
“Go on, Mom. I know you want to. And I’m fine. I’ll eat, then think about cleaning tables or doing homework. I lead such a glamorous life.”
There was sarcasm in her daughter’s voice, but humor too.
As Daisy stood, she squeezed Jazzi’s arm. “You’re a good kid, do you know that?”
“Yep, I do.”
On that positive note, Daisy left Jazzi to her snack and went to meet Jonas. At first his smile said he was glad to see her, but then his expression turned serious.
“This isn’t simply a social call, is it?” she asked.
He frowned. “You’re learning to read me too well.”
“Do you want to go out back and talk? We’ll have privacy there.”
He motioned toward the kitchen’s back door. “Sure. Lead the way.”
They stepped outside, then kept walking across the paved area to the grass. The sun was warm on Daisy’s head. She loved spring. She really did. The season was all about new beginnings, and she was hoping there would be good ones.
They walked for a while in silence, heading toward the creek. The sound of the water gurgling over rocks was calming. Neither of them spoke until Jonas said, “I have investigation news for you.”
“Good news or bad news?”
“It was bad news for Schumacher. You need to keep this information under your hat . . . or under your apron.”
Daisy chuckled. “So you got it from Detective Rappaport?”
“I did. No matter what you think of him, he is a good investigator.”
“Except when he’s investigating the wrong suspects. He has Cora Sue and Foster in his crosshairs.”
“He’ll investigate everyone the same way, finding out exactly what he wants. Rappaport is one of those detectives who doesn’t just go on gut instinct. His motto is—follow the evidence.”
“In some ways, that’s good, and in others, I’m not so sure. What has he discovered so far?”
“He didn’t tell me anything about suspects. I wouldn’t expect him to, especially when he can’t seem to single one out. But he did find out that Derek Schumacher had a low blood pressure problem.”
“Low blood pressure,” Daisy murmured. “I don’t know exactly what you would do for that.”
“Apparently there’s not much that can be done. He was under a doctor’s care. Eating more salt can help, but that has to be under the direction of a physician. He also needed to drink lots of non-alcoholic beverages.”
“That day he ate here, he was drinking glasses of water and cups of tea.”
“That makes sense if he cared about his health. The third thing the doctor advised him was never to rise to his feet too fast. He could be dizzy.”
“I didn’t see any signs of that. Low blood pressure won’t kill you, will it?”
“No, it won’t,” Jonas replied. “But arrhythmias or seizures can kill a person.”
“Low blood pressure can cause seizures?”
Jonas shook his head. “No. That’s why this has been categorized as a suspicious death. Rappaport told me he’s called in favors to have the forensics expedited.”
“Do you think that will happen?”
“I believe Rappaport will stay on their backs until it does.”
“So they don’t have any idea what killed him?”
“Not until they analyze stomach contents, blood work, and tox screens. But all that takes time, even when the process is expedited.”
“So what you’re telling me is that this murder isn’t going to be solved any time soon.”
“That depends. Rappaport could get a break in the case some other way. A slip of the tongue . . . an unexpected clue.”
Jonas gave Daisy a sideways glance. “Do you intend to get involved?”
She knew Jonas wanted honesty, and that’s what she gave him. “I’m not sure yet. It depends if Cora Sue or Foster become Detective Rappaport’s main suspects. Either way, something is going on with Foster. I don’t think he had anything to do with Derek Schumacher’s death, but he’s troubled about something. I told him if the police call him again, he needs to take Marshall with him.”
“Good advice.”
Daisy took a deep breath, drawing in the scents of leaves budding, damp earth renewing, grass growing. “I should take a walk out here every day at lunchtime just to renew my energy.”
“That sounds like a good idea.” Jonas’s deep voice was a bit husky when he added, “What else renews you?”
“Spending time with you,” she said a little shyly.
Jonas took her hand and kissed the top of it. Then he swung their hands between them. “Maybe we should take walks together and get doubly renewed.”
As Daisy laughed, Jonas turned to face her . . . and then bent his head to kiss her.
* * *
Jonas stayed for a blueberry tart and a cup of peppermint bark tea. Then a busload of tourists arrived, and Jonas waved to Daisy as he headed for the door. Foster left an hour early to attend an evening class. After consulting with Iris, Daisy told Cora Sue and Tessa that they could leave too. Inventory had already been taken for the next day. The prep was done for salad dressings. Mini cheesecakes were in the walk-in. Vegetables had been scraped and diced for tomorrow’s soup.
Daisy was cleaning the last of the tables in the spillover tea room and Iris was pushing the broom, when there was a knock at the front door. Once before, someone had asked to be let in after hours. That had become a life-and-death situation.
Daisy hurried to the main tea room and saw Iris going to the door. “Are you sure you want to open it?” Daisy asked.
“It’s your dad, Daisy. Of course, I want to open it.”
A minute later her dad walked in, saying hello to both of them.
“Dad, what are you doing here?”
His blue eyes glistened with amusement. “Is that any way to greet your father after I’ve been gone?”
Daisy smiled. Maybe she did have PTSD after being involved in a few murder investigations. Post-traumatic stress can certainly result when a person goes through something dreadful and terrifying. She wrapped her arms around her dad and gave him a huge hug. He hugged her back, the bill of his baseball cap hitting her cheek.
“Sorry about that,” he said, and pushed the bill of his cap up.
Her dad was a flannel shirt kind of guy. Now that the weather had turned warmer, he usually wore snap-button plaid shirts and a flannel jacket.
“How was your fishing trip?” Iris asked.
“It was good,” he said. “I relaxed but mostly thought about a lot of things.”
“I’m surprised Mom didn’t call me to tell me you were back.”
“That’s because she doesn’t know it yet,” her father stated with resolve.
Iris took a step back and gave him a piercing look. “Tell us what’s going on, Sean Gallagher. This isn’t like you at all. Rose is upset enough without you coming here first.”
“Upset?” her dad asked.
Daisy sighed and decided to spill the truth. “Mom came in here scolding Aunt Iris because she told you that you should go on this trip. Mom couldn’t understand why you’d leave her alone this time of year, busy as it is.”
“She had plenty of help,” her father grumbled. “I made sure of that.”
“But none of that help is you,” Daisy said softly.
Her dad pulled out a chair and removed his ball cap and set it on the table. “I know you’re closing, but I really could use a cup of tea.”
“I didn’t turn off the hot water keeper yet,” Iris said. “Do you have a preference?”
“How about that pear spice concoction?”
“Coming right up,” Iris said. “And if you don’t want me in on this conversation, I can make myself scarce.”
“Maybe I just need a little advice . . . about Rose. Who better to get that from than her sister and her daughter?”
“We’ll listen, Dad, but I don’t know how much advice we can give you.” Daisy knew relationships had to work themselves out. Advice from others often put a wrench into what might happen naturally.
Daisy was worried because whatever her father was contemplating sounded serious. Once more she wondered if he had a health issue he hadn’t told her mother about. Maybe there was a financial problem with the nursery? She could ask the questions, but she wanted to give her dad the chance to explain the situation himself.
Iris soon returned with three cups of tea and blueberry muffins with a lemon curd spread.
“Just what I needed,” her dad said. “I’m tired of trail mix and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”
“You didn’t cook on this fishing trip?” Iris asked.
“If cook means making coffee over a campfire, yes, I did that. I didn’t catch any fish, so I roasted hot dogs. But not much else. I wasn’t there to eat but rather to think.”
“And just what were you thinking about?” Daisy prompted, believing her dad was stalling because this might be a difficult discussion.
“I was thinking about my end years and your mother’s end years.”
She suddenly felt panicked. “End years? What are you talking about, Dad?”
He reached across the table and patted Daisy’s hand. “I don’t want to alarm you, and I don’t want to alarm your mother, but we aren’t getting any younger. At your age, you still have dreams and hopes and places you might want to travel to.”
“Are you saying you can’t have those anymore? You’re not even sixty yet!” Daisy pointed out.
Her dad looked at Iris and then back at Daisy. “Think about what that means. If your mother and I are lucky, we’ll have maybe fifteen, maybe twenty years together yet. And I have to figure out the best way to spend them.”
Daisy was incredibly shaken. She never thought of her parents as old. Maybe she still thought of them as she had when she was a little girl. She wanted to deny, deny, deny that someday her parents would be gone. Suddenly, the reality of what her father was saying struck home.
It seemed that her aunt Iris had made the decision to keep quiet at this juncture. She didn’t want to overstep her bounds or make her sister more cross with her than she already was.
Daisy took a deep breath, then asked, “So what are you thinking about, Dad? Do you have health issues that I don’t know about . . . that Mom doesn’t know about?”
“No, I don’t,” he said. “Arthritis here and there but that can be expected. However, any day something could crop up. Your mother and I have a retirement account that doesn’t have nearly enough in it. I consulted with an elder lawyer to consider the things I should be doing at my age.”
“You consulted an elder lawyer without Rose?” Iris asked.
“I can’t discuss anything like this with Rose without her getting all upset. I thought it was better if I did research and then summed it up for her. That’s why I needed the trip to think about all of it.”
“And what did the elder lawyer suggest?” Daisy asked, curious.
“She suggested long-term care insurance. We’re at the age now when it’s good to consider it. It’s expensive, but with the price of nursing homes and home health care these days, it could be essential to have. I won’t go into the ins and outs of it now. I have all of that summed up so I can go over it with your mother. I don’t think she’ll fight me on that if I can just get the discussion going.”
“What do you think she’ll fight you on?” was Iris’s next logical question.
“I had an offer to sell the nursery.”
Daisy and her aunt exchanged a look. It had been so much a part of her parents’ lives. What would they do without it?
“It was a good offer,” he added. “If we put that money into a retirement account and don’t draw from it right away, we could have a no-frills decent income for the long term.”
Daisy knew how she worried about finances as she studied the income the tea garden brought in week by week. She had sleepless nights when the sum was lower than she expected, but she rejoiced when it was higher.
Sean pointed at Aunt Iris. “In a few years you’re going to have to think about this too.”
“Ah, yes,” her aunt said. “But then I can come to you for advice.”
Sean’s lips twitched up. “I can give you good advice now. Make a will. And not only make a will. You need to have a medical power of attorney and a durable power of attorney. I’m sure Marshall would do that for you and be reasonable about it.”
“Do you have all that?” Daisy asked.
“Your mother and I do, but we need to update everything. We also have to make living wills.”
“This is an awfully big discussion you want to have with Rose,” Aunt Iris commented. “Maybe you should think about dividing it up. Talk about what you think is most important first, then slowly step into the other matters.”
“Aunt Iris is right, Dad. This is an awful lot to throw at Mom.”
“I suppose it is. I’ve been gathering information for a few months. I can’t expect her to absorb it in one night. I just wish—”
“Wish what?” Daisy asked.
“I just wish your mother would be more practical about it. She thinks I’m a worrywart, but I want to be prepared.”
Daisy was shaking her head. “I don’t believe she thinks you’re a worrywart. I think she’s afraid to lose you, and that’s why she doesn’t want to talk about it. Talking about it makes it a possibility, and she doesn’t want to consider it. She loves you, Dad, and she’ll do anything to keep from thinking about the time when you won’t be at her side . . . or she won’t be at yours. Maybe you can com
partmentalize much easier than she can.”
“Maybe so,” her father agreed. “Do either of you have any suggestions on how I should broach this?”
“I suggest you make a special time to talk to her about it,” Daisy suggested.
“A special time. Do you mean a date?”
Daisy smiled. “Exactly. Don’t tell me you’re too old to have a date.”
“I’m leaving now,” Aunt Iris said with a laugh.
“We won’t go there,” her father agreed with a chuckle. “Maybe you’re right. And I can make your mother feel special after being gone like I’ve been. Maybe we’ll set up a series of dates, and we can talk about something different at each one.”
“That sounds like a plan,” Daisy said.
“And I won’t tell her I stopped to have a blueberry muffin and tea with the two of you.” Her father winked as if complete honesty wasn’t always the best policy. Daisy would have to consider again whether or not that was true.
Chapter Six
Daisy stood beside her friend Rachel, adding tea cozies to a shelf for display. She’d known Rachel since she’d been a child. The Esh family, who were New Order Amish, had let Daisy’s parents start bushes and shrubs on their property for the nursery. Daisy had wandered the fields on that farm as freely as Rachel. Their differing lifestyles hadn’t mattered. Rachel wore the traditional cape dress and black apron with a kapp over her hair. Her family traveled in a horse and buggy. However, Daisy had never felt different from Rachel in any way that mattered. They were friends then, and still were.
“These quilted cozies are so cute,” Daisy said to Rachel, although she knew her friend, like most Amish, was uncomfortable with praise. “I especially like the one that slips on from the bottom and then ties around the spout and the handle of the teapot.”
She adjusted the cozies among the teapots that she had for sale.
Rachel lifted her head and sniffed the sudden waft of baked goods that made its way into the spillover tea room. “Tessa must be baking chocolate scones. They smell wonderful gut.”
“Do you have time to try one with a cup of tea?”
“Another time, ya?” Rachel asked. “Hannah went to visit a sick friend with soup and biscuits. I told Sarah I wouldn’t be gone long.”
Murder with Cucumber Sandwiches Page 6
