Murder with Cucumber Sandwiches

by Karen Rose Smith

  “Another batch of Snickerdoodles will come out of the oven in about three minutes. I have more scone batter ready to go. Eva said she’d roll and cut it for me. We’re almost out of beef barley soup, but I think we still have enough vegetable to get us through ’til the end of the day.”

  “Where do you need me most?” Daisy asked.

  “Can you mix up a batch, maybe a double batch, of apple cinnamon bread? We can sell that in slices. We have more chocolate chip cookies in the freezer. You might want to put those out to thaw.”

  As her kitchen manager, Tessa did a wonderful job. And Daisy let her. This was the type of business where everyone did their part and chipped in when they needed to help someone else with theirs.

  Daisy asked Eva, “Are you keeping up with washing the teapots?”

  “It’s a good thing we bought extras for the summer,” Eva said. “I’m good for now. Jazzi was helping me, but she disappeared a few minutes ago.”

  Disappeared. Just what did that mean?

  After Daisy did everything Tessa had requested, she checked both tea rooms and the counter line. Everything seemed to be under control, but Jazzi wasn’t in sight. She also popped into her office, but it was empty. She didn’t think Jazzi would go far without telling her. Maybe she’d needed a bit of privacy.

  Returning to the kitchen she told Tessa, “I’m going to check out back for Jazzi.”

  Tessa gave her a quick nod and a smile, then a thumbs-up sign. Daisy knew what that meant. They wouldn’t have to worry about profits this week, or maybe even this month.

  Unless . . .

  Unless Derek Schumacher had written a bad review for the tea garden and it was somehow published. She knew blogs could be timed to post. Maybe he’d set hers up and the word would go out whether the tea garden was a place to visit or not.

  Daisy stepped outside into the sunshine and heard birdsong along with the chatter of conversation around the corner at the outside garden. She checked around there first. They weren’t serving outside today. They knew that would require even more help. However, the customers who bought baked goods at the counter and tea could bring their selections outside and sit at the tables.

  Russ Windom was seated at one of the tables closest to her. She asked him, “How are you enjoying the weekend?”

  “I’m enjoying it a lot. I’ve even caught up with some of my former students. They themselves have children now. It makes one feel old.”

  “Think of it as feeling productive, not old. I’m sure you touched their lives in a positive way. That’s what matters. When they raise their kids, they might pass on something they learned from you.”

  “A very good point,” Russ remarked with a smile.

  “Have you seen Jazzi?”

  “Why, yes. She exited the side entrance a little while ago and went around back.”

  Daisy waved at what he was having. “Enjoy your chocolate chip cookies and tea.”

  His smile said he would.

  Moments later, she found Jazzi at the door that was the entrance to Tessa’s apartment. Steps led up to the second floor where her friend lived. Tessa used the third floor as her artist’s studio.

  But Jazzi wasn’t trying to enter Tessa’s apartment. Rather she had her phone out and looked upset. Daisy didn’t hesitate to go to her.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked her.

  Without any hesitation at all, as if she just needed to blurt it out, Jazzi answered, “I’ve been trying to call Portia, but she isn’t answering.”

  Daisy saw the tears in Jazzi’s eyes, and her heart hurt for her daughter.

  “Portia probably won’t answer until she’s ready to answer . . . ready with some kind of decision,” Daisy told her daughter again. “You can’t push this.”

  Jazzi took one more glance at her phone and pocketed it. “You know the social tonight?” Her voice was husky, and Daisy knew that Jazzi still might be fighting back tears. “I don’t want to go. I just don’t feel like it, Mom.”

  Daisy had a date with Jonas for the social. This was always the single mom’s dilemma. Should she go? Or should she offer to stay at home with Jazzi? However, she thought about the whole situation.

  “I’ll cancel with Jonas if you want me to stay home with you.”

  “Don’t do that, Mom. We have a security system, and I have Pepper and Marjoram for company.”

  “Can I take you to your grandparents?”

  “I’ll see them tomorrow for dinner.”

  “Can I help you look at this relationship with Portia another way?” Daisy asked.

  “What way?” Jazzi asked petulantly.

  “If you stay home tonight, what will you do? Try to constantly call Portia? Think about calling Portia? Be upset about Portia not calling you? Isn’t that going to be underlying everything you try to do?”

  “Probably.” Jazzi pushed her straight black hair over her shoulder. “But what’s the alternative?”

  “Come along with Jonas and me to the social. I know you don’t want to be stuck with us, and I don’t expect you to be. Make arrangements with friends. Decide you’re going to have a good time. Forget for a little while about Portia and what’s happening or not happening.”

  “I don’t mean to be snotty,” Jazzi said, “but you just want to go with Jonas and you don’t want to feel guilty if I stay home.”

  Jazzi’s feelings had been so much on the surface lately that Daisy didn’t come down on her this time for the snottiness. “Jazzi, look me in the eyes.”

  “Mom . . .” She drawled out the word.

  “I’m serious. Look into my eyes.” She pointed two fingers at Jazzi’s eyes and then the two of hers.

  Finally, Jazzi’s gaze was direct. “I told you, if you want to stay home, I will stay home. You and Vi come first in my life. Your needs come first. I just have to know what they are. I think it would be good for both of us tonight to socialize with friends.”

  Maybe Jazzi could see Daisy’s sincerity, and maybe she knew from experience that Daisy did what was best for her and Vi.

  “Let me see who’s going tonight,” Jazzi murmured. “Stacy texted me a list.” She checked her text and then she looked up at her mom. “Okay. It’s a good crowd. I should be able to find somebody to hang out with.”

  “And you’ll try to have a good time.”

  “I will. I don’t have to tell you to try and have a good time with Jonas.” Her daughter’s smile was a little sly.

  “Break over,” Daisy said. “Back to serving tea.”

  Jazzi laughed, a genuine laugh. “You don’t want to talk about Jonas, but sometime we’re going to have to do that too.”

  “Sometime,” Daisy promised, then headed for the door to the kitchen.

  * * *

  When Jonas rang her doorbell that evening, Daisy let him in and smiled. He was wearing a suit tonight and a tie too. His green eyes twinkled, and he looked relaxed. He checked out her outfit, a mint green two-piece linen suit. She’d wound her hair on top of her head in a messy topknot. Her jade earrings trimmed in gold dangled low while her gold bracelet watch determined that this was a special occasion.

  A little crease lined Jonas’s brow when he caught a glimpse of Jazzi descending the stairs, Pepper on one side of her and Marjoram on the other. Daisy knew what his perplexed look was about. Jazzi hadn’t dressed up, at least not in her Sunday best. She’d worn a new pair of torn jeans, a royal blue T-shirt, and a tan boyfriend sweater on top. Only, of course, she didn’t have a boyfriend. Her sneakers were her favorite ones with rainbow laces, but those laces were barely tied. That was because she knew Daisy didn’t approve of them hanging loose.

  Jonas leaned close to Daisy’s ear. “You look very pretty tonight. I’m not exactly sure what to say to Jazzi.”

  “Neither am I,” Daisy said with a chuckle.

  As Jazzi crossed the room to them, the two felines split off and headed toward the kitchen and their kibble bowls. “I hope they’re not lonely while we’re gone,�
�� Jazzi said as if she was still thinking about staying home.

  “They’ll probably nap all evening,” Daisy assured her.

  “Yeah, then they’ll be up half the night,” Jazzi complained.

  “You can always close your door,” Daisy reminded her daughter.

  “No way. I’m not shutting them out. Is it okay if I leave a light on for them?”

  “That’s fine,” Daisy agreed indulgently. “It would probably be best if you left the upstairs hall light on. That way it will glow into your room as well as down the stairs. I’ll leave the light on over the sink as I usually do.”

  Jonas said to Jazzi, “I’m glad you’re going along. Have you picked out which board game you’re going to play yet?”

  Jazzi scoffed. “It’s not that I don’t like board games, but it’s a party.”

  “Are you taking Catopoly along?” Daisy suggested.

  With a sigh, Jazzi said, “I’ll get it. At least that one I enjoy. I enjoy it more when the cats can play with the dice.”

  As Daisy tried to hide a smile, she shook her head. “I’m not sure how the board games are going to go over with English teenagers.”

  “The Amish teens will enjoy them as well as the smaller kids. No, it’s not dancing to a DJ, but there could be communication around those tables . . . and fun. It was a good suggestion that Rachel’s husband Levi gave and a partial compromise.”

  “I suppose. Amish and English have been living together in Willow Creek for the past two centuries. The times are changing so fast that sometimes I don’t know if we have anything in common anymore. If we want them to be part of our world, and we want to be part of their world, then we have to make concessions.”

  Jonas nodded. “Most of those concessions are good ones because we go back in time a little. The English kids will get enough of DJs and dancing, playlists and parties in the years to come.”

  “And the Amish?” Daisy asked.

  “Except for their Rumspringa, they’ll still be establishing their social bonds the way they always have—more quietly, around the table, with family, working together and playing together.”

  Jazzi returned from the kitchen with what almost looked like a purple tote bag, its handle thrown over her shoulder. Although Daisy’s purse carried her phone, keys, lipstick, and not much else, Jazzi’s tote should have enough supplies for a weekly camping trip.

  * * *

  Once they arrived at the community room at the firehall, Jazzi asked if she could go meet her friends. Daisy gave her the okay.

  Jazzi was off, waved to the group she was meeting, and smiled. Daisy was happy to see that smile.

  “I’m glad she came tonight,” Daisy told Jonas.

  He directed her toward a table where they could sit and talk for a while before they decided if they wanted to participate in any of the games.

  “She looked happy enough to see her friends,” Jonas pointed out.

  “I don’t know if she’s faking it or not.”

  “Would she do that?”

  “Maybe. So I won’t worry.”

  Jonas dropped his arm around her shoulders and passed his hand up and down her arm. She liked the feel of him close like this. She liked the bonds that seemed to be growing between them. But here wasn’t the place to submit to her attraction to him.

  She cleared her throat. “I’m going to take Jazzi to get her learner’s permit. She’s been studying the questions. Maybe that will distract her from what’s happening with Portia. The problem is when I talk to her about restrictions that accompany a learner’s permit, she becomes annoyed with me.”

  “I could casually do that some evening that I come over.”

  “She might listen to you.”

  “Male authority figure and all that?” he asked with a smile.

  “I think the two of you have a bond because you found her birth mother.”

  Jonas turned his chair to face Daisy more directly. “Do you resent the fact that I did that?”

  “Of course not,” Daisy was quick to assure him. “I’m the one who came to you, remember?”

  “Oh, I remember. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t want it to happen. That doesn’t mean you don’t see me as putting a wedge between you and Jazzi.”

  “Portia isn’t going to be a wedge unless I make her one,” Daisy insisted, thinking about what Jonas had just said.

  “Sometimes you can’t control what you feel.” His eyes were a darker green, maybe telling her things he couldn’t say in words, at least not yet.

  “I know,” she whispered softly, and she knew he caught her meaning. No, she didn’t resent him for finding Portia. He’d made the situation easier.

  He leaned close and kissed her temple.

  A short time later, they stood in line at the buffet table and picked up snacks and drinks. By then more people had arrived. They chose a table, sitting with Amelia Wiseman and her husband. The couple managed and operated the Covered Bridge Inn. Daisy had worked on a committee with Amelia and enjoyed her company. Arden Botterill was there too. Soon Rachel and Levi joined them along with Elijah and his wife Darla. Eventually they chose a table where the people were playing word games. Jazzi on the other hand was playing Catopoly with her friends.

  Around ten, Daisy said to Jonas, “I don’t think I can keep my eyes open much longer.”

  “We can go if you’d like. Tonight has been enjoyable. Maybe there should be a games night here every Saturday, or at least once a month.”

  “I’ll tell Jazzi we’re leaving.” Daisy went to Jazzi’s table and put her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Are you ready to go, honey?”

  Jazzi looked around the table at her friends. One of them nodded to her. Daisy saw it but didn’t know what it meant.

  Jazzi asked, “Can I stay another hour, please? Sherry’s older sister Olivia is here, too, and I can catch a ride home with them.”

  “How old is Olivia?” Daisy asked.

  “She’s twenty. She goes to Millersville too. Maybe Foster knows her. Anyway, please, Mom? I don’t get a chance to do this often.”

  Daisy suspected Jazzi meant she didn’t get the chance to stay out later. Sure, she had sleepovers with friends, and they often went to the movies. But this was a little different.

  “All right. I won’t set the alarm, so you can get in easily. Do you have your key?”

  Jazzi patted her tote bag that was sitting beside her chair. “Sure do. Don’t wait up for me, Mom. I’ll let you know when I’m back.”

  Daisy had to accept the fact that Jazzi was growing up. She didn’t like it. She didn’t like it at all.

  Jonas drove Daisy home, both of them enjoying the quiet in the car and each other’s company. There, he walked inside with her and gave her a long good night kiss.

  After he left, she brewed herself a cup of tea. Jazzi had said she’d be home in an hour. By the time Daisy had tea, watched the news, and dressed for bed, her daughter would be coming in the door.

  However, eleven came and went and Jazzi wasn’t home. Eleven thirty came and went. At midnight Daisy was still sitting on the sofa waiting, ready to call the parents of Jazzi’s friends.

  Then she heard a car. She made herself stay seated. She didn’t go to the window and look out. She trusted her daughter.

  Except Jazzi was an hour late. Daisy would hear her story before she made any assumptions.

  Daisy heard the key in the lock. She saw the door open. Before Jazzi spotted her, she saw Jazzi and she didn’t like what she saw. Jazzi was clutching her tote bag and seemed to have trouble closing the door. When she turned around to head to the kitchen, she didn’t even glance through the living room. Her gait seemed unsteady, and she didn’t walk in a straight line.

  Daisy stood and called to her. “Jazzi?”

  Startled, Jazzi dropped the tote bag and turned to face her mother.

  “Have you been drinking . . . or worse?” Daisy wanted to know.

  Jazzi just stood there and stared at her mom, her
mouth opening and closing as if she had no idea where to start her explanation.

  Chapter Nine

  Before Jazzi could answer Daisy, her face practically turned green. She left her tote bag where she had dropped it and made a beeline up the stairs. Daisy could hear her in the bathroom getting sick. As far as Daisy knew, Jazzi didn’t drink. She didn’t even know if her daughter had ever had a beer. Maybe that was naïve, but, on the other hand, she hoped Jazzi had never felt the need to drink before.

  Why now? Peer group pressure? Or was it a lot more than that?

  Marjoram and Pepper, who had been sitting on the sofa with Daisy, roused from their nap and trotted up the stairs. Daisy picked up Jazzi’s tote bag and followed.

  A half hour later, after holding Jazzi’s hair away from her face, after pressing a cool washcloth to her daughter’s brow, Daisy helped her wash up, then guided her to her room. Jazzi crumpled onto the bed like a wet sheet of paper. Daisy hadn’t scolded her at this point, just ministered to her. In her mind, she was running over all the things she should say . . . and do.

  Pepper had perched on Jazzi’s dresser to watch whatever came next while Marjoram stretched along the side of Jazzi’s bed, waiting for her to lie down.

  Daisy went to Jazzi’s dresser and lifted out a pajama set of a tank and boxer shorts.

  “Do you need help getting undressed?”

  Jazzi glanced up at her mom and then down at her hands. She took the tank and shorts from Daisy. “You don’t have to stay. I can get ready for bed.”

  Daisy took hold of the bedroom chair and pulled it over beside her daughter’s bed. “It’s not going to be that easy. You’re not going to bed as if nothing happened.”

  “Mom . . .” Jazzi drew out the word as if her mother should know what that meant.

  “I’m going downstairs and make us both a cup of tea. You get changed. Then we’ll talk.”

  “I have a headache.”

  “No kidding! Believe me, it will be worse in the morning if you had as much to drink as I think you did.” Daisy couldn’t keep the bit of anger from her tone, and Jazzi heard it. She looked away as Daisy went downstairs.

  Daisy knew how Jazzi liked her tea, mild with a spoonful of sugar. So she brewed a light green tea and carried the tray with the mugs upstairs. Jazzi was sitting in bed propped up against her headboard. Her eyes were closed.