Jenny and Molly seemed to mull my compromising solution for all of two seconds before both simultaneously saying no.
"That wouldn't do at all," Molly said. "After all, Jenny is twenty years older than me. How would it look if we showed up making the same fashion statement?"
Jenny looked properly miffed but she washed it quickly away. She appeared to be the negotiator and peacekeeper of the bunch. "How about if we both agree not to wear the hats to the celebration? There is still plenty of time to wear it this July."
Molly nodded reluctantly. "I suppose that makes sense."
Two more members arrived, including Virginia Kent, an elderly woman whose neighbor and main pumpkin growing contest competitor Beverly died in a terrible tragedy last October. She walked in with a man, who looked to be about her age, late seventies. They were holding hands which was the cutest darn thing I'd seen all day.
"Hello, everyone," Virginia called cheerily. I hadn't seen her much since her neighbor's murder, but she was looking much more spry. That might have been due to the charming man next to her with a head of white hair and an ingratiating smile. "Hope you don't mind. Oscar wanted to join us today."
Carla leaned over to fill me in on a few details but because she was several inches taller than the rest of us, it was awkwardly obvious. "They met on a senior's matchmaker site. He's a retired podiatrist. Virginia's been acting like a blushing schoolgirl ever since."
"How wonderful." I stepped forward to greet them. "How do you do? I'm Lacey Pinkerton. I own Pink's Flowers."
Virginia recognized me instantly. "The pretty girl with the powerful nose," she said. "How is that handsome devil—" She tapped her chin with a brightly pink polished nail. "What's his name?"
"Detective Briggs is fine." I shook Oscar's hand too.
"If we all take a seat," Jenny said, "we can have some refreshments before we start the meeting."
Carla made a point of pulling out the chair farthest from Molly. I followed quickly behind Jenny. "I'll help you carry out the food."
"Thank you, Lacey." Jenny's house was immaculate with labels on every kitchen drawer and each coffee cup hung neatly on a hook. I instantly wished I'd done a better job straightening up my house for my parents' visit.
I glanced at the half demolished wall through the side kitchen window while waiting for Jenny to pull sandwich trays from her refrigerator.
"It looks like you're getting a new fence."
Jenny turned with a grunt of exasperation. "That wall has given me more gray hairs than my thirty years of work combined." Her hazel eyes glittered with amusement at her own comment. Jenny seemed to be the most likable of the club so far. "This property belonged to my late husband's mother. He inherited it about ten years into our marriage. Percy Troy, my neighbor," she stated the name with no small amount of consternation, "inherited his property from his Aunt Henrietta. Apparently, Aunt Henrietta was the one who decided to build that old stone wall to divide the properties. Only she did it without having the land surveyed for proper dividing lines. Well, the wall has started crumbling. Every time it rains, another stone falls out. I hired a surveyor to find the exact lines for the properties so we could build a new fence. It turned out Henrietta had the wall built a good three feet on my side." Jenny handed me a tray of pretty tea sandwiches and reached into her fridge for a second platter with fruit and cheeses. She closed the refrigerator door with her hip. "When I mentioned to Percy that I'd go halves with him on a new fence but that the new fence would move three feet his direction, he threw a fit. The man is as cheap as Scrooge, himself. Not only did he not want to put up a new fence, he most assuredly did not want to give up any property."
Jenny managed to open the screen door with her elbow and waved me through, continuing her story as we carried the food outside.
"We ended up in a court battle. He lost, of course. And the judge told him that since his aunt made the mistake in the first place, he would have to pay for the new fence on his own."
"Oh my, I'll bet that made him even more sour."
"You could say that," she said. "It's rather sad. Anyhow, being the miserly man that he is, he decided to demolish and rebuild the new fence all on his own. And he is no spring rooster."
"He sounds rather stubborn," I said as I placed the sandwiches down on the table.
"Stubborn and cheap," Jenny said. "Now everyone dig in so we can get down to club business."
Chapter 3
Jenny's egg salad and cucumber on pumpernickel were just what I needed to reenergize myself after the long, hot bike ride. Thankfully, the much anticipated afternoon breeze kicked up as well. It seemed everyone was in a cheerier mood once the fresh air danced around Jenny's yard.
Oscar, it turned out, was quite hard of hearing, Virginia patiently repeated everything talked about at the table. Molly was beyond agitated at having to listen to everything retold, verbatim and at an extra loud volume. Her lips were in a thin, grumpy line by the time Jenny started the meeting. They grew thinner when Jenny asked Carla to read the last meeting's minutes.
Carla's eye rounded. "Me? Why of course. Let me just grab my glasses. You know I can't see a thing without them."
Molly grunted with aggravation next to me but Carla didn't hear. "She can't see a thing with them either," Molly muttered.
Carla returned, excited about her task. Along with the glasses, she carried a tube of sun block. She quickly applied some to her nose and cheeks. "Anyone else? The sun is straight above at this time."
Jenny and I took her up on the offer. As I spread some on my nose, Molly snorted. She held out her forearms. "I never need that greasy stuff. I only tan."
Oscar, who couldn't seem to hear one word at lunch, somehow heard her comment and jumped right into doctor mode. "It doesn't matter if you only tan, everyone can get skin cancer."
That medical advice, true as it was, only made Molly's posture slump more. She was not having a good club meeting. I wondered if that was usual or if she was just in a particularly bad mood.
Molly had not exaggerated about Carla's eyesight. The reading of the minutes, which was no more than half a page and contained little information, took a good fifteen minutes mostly because very patient Jenny had to help Carla read every other word. Carla complained the font was far smaller than average but it seemed to be just fine.
Carla finished the minutes. Molly wasted no time starting the meeting with a suggestion, although she said it more as a demand. She stood from her chair, cleared her throat and tucked her hair behind her ears. The sequined hat sat on the table. Halfway through the drawn out reading of the minutes, the hat seemed to get too heavy. I noticed her discretely trying to crack her neck a few times to relieve the burden of the weight on her head. Something told me Kate's one of a kind hats were not going to be the next big summer fad in Port Danby.
"I propose that we add a rule to our garden club constitution." Molly stood up straight, projecting her voice as though addressing congress.
"We have a constitution?" Virginia asked.
Molly waved off the perfectly reasonable question. "I think, since we represent the local gardening community, we should be role models for the rest of the town. We should never plant flowers that are already blooming. We should start our gardens from scratch like true experts, from seeds, tubes and bulbs. Just recently, I discovered Carla transplanting the dahlias in her garden straight from the nursery pots. It's a terribly amateurish move and more than a little dishonest."
Despite the sun block, Carla's face turned a beet red. It was a mix of anger and embarrassment. Unusual for me, I was stunned speechless by the baseless attack. Jenny jumped to Carla's aid before she melted into a shame filled puddle beneath the table.
"Molly, it just so happens that I went to the plant nursery with Carla. She was looking for dahlia tubers but they were sold out. She was very set on having dahlias in her garden and was terribly disappointed." Jenny touched her chest. "I told her she should buy the pots of dahlias and replant th
em in her garden. And frankly, you're being very harsh, Molly."
Carla still looked shaken, but some of the red was cooling from her cheeks. Molly, feeling properly chastised by the club president, sat down without another word. Carla was silent too.
"You know, I think the sun is just a little too hot for us today," Virginia said. "Oscar and I are going to leave early."
Jenny got up to walk them out. I was left at the table with Carla and Molly. The temperature was hot but the atmosphere at the table was cold as ice.
"I must confess, I replant flowers from the nursery into my garden for instant color," I said.
My comment earned a weak smile from Carla, but Molly pretended to be interested in the metal star studs on her hat. I breathed a sigh of relief when Jenny returned to the table. Elsie was going to want to hear every detail of the club meeting so she could say 'told you so'. And that she did. She told me so, indeed.
Jenny picked up a pen and opened her notepad. "We need ideas for the garden club booth. We need to set it up tomorrow. Then we'll need to make sure someone is running the booth during the festivities. It would be great if we could sell something for a fundraiser."
"How about potted dahlias?" Molly said snidely with a sideways glare at Carla.
"How about potted herbs?" I piped up quickly. "I'd be happy to donate them. I've got basil, oregano, thyme and rosemary at the shop."
Carla's smile returned. "What a wonderful idea. But would you be able to get the pots planted in time? The celebration is the day after tomorrow."
"No problem. I'll get started on them right away."
Jenny clapped lightly. "I love that idea. All in favor?" Even Molly had to begrudgingly say aye. Especially when she didn't seem to have anything else constructive to add to the meeting after her short rant about the dahlias.
Jenny drew a quick chart on her paper. "I'm going to set the booth up tomorrow. You can bring the herbs whenever you have them ready. And since you're doing all that work, Carla, Molly and I will take turns running the booth."
I picked up my lemonade. "That works." The shop had been quiet since the start of summer, so I had plenty of time to get the herbs planted. As we firmed up details about the booth, a swarm of busy body flies began darting around the leftovers on the table.
Jenny waved her hand to clear them away, but flies were never scared off by a hand wave.
"It seems the flies are on to us. We should probably take this food back into the house," I suggested.
"Good idea." Jenny reached for the sandwich tray, and I picked up the second platter.
Molly snapped her hat down low on her head. "Well, if there's nothing else to discuss, I promised to help Rachel Holder make salt water taffy for the city council booth. They are raising money to refurbish the Hawksworth Museum."
I forced back a smile at the term museum. An old gardener's shed stocked with a few mismatched and uninteresting artifacts was hardly a museum, but it was the town's claim to fame, along with the century old murder mystery.
"Refurbished? How?" I asked. Molly had, after all, tripped onto one of my favorite subjects. I held my breath hoping for something groundbreaking and exciting.
"I think there is talk of painting the outside of the gardener's shed," Molly said.
My shoulders dropped in disappointment but then I wasn't sure what I was expecting.
Molly lifted her lemonade and drained the glass. She set it down on the table but got a proper librarian-like look of disapproval from Jenny.
"Since I made the lunch, it would be nice if you at least helped by bringing in the glasses," Jenny said.
Molly plucked up the glasses with a huff, reminding me of a teenage version of myself being asked to clear the table.
Carla seemed anxious to put space between her and Molly so she hurried ahead carrying in the leftover napkins and placemats.
The four of us gathered in Jenny's immaculate kitchen, admiring her organized pantry, complete with brightly colored labels on every basket and container. Even Molly dropped her grump face and took a picture so she could try something like it in her own kitchen. Carla snapped a photo as well. And while I couldn't see myself organizing my kitchen any time soon, I felt obligated to show the same enthusiasm.
Carla looked at the photos she'd snapped. "If you don't mind, Jenny, I'm going to post these on my food and garden hobby blog. I've just earned my three hundredth follower," she said with a beaming smile.
Thankfully I was the only person to catch Molly's eye roll. I'd had enough contention for one club meeting. It was now glaringly obvious that Molly didn't like Carla. And while she didn't show her aversion as boldly, I could only assume that Carla also didn't care for Molly.
Jenny closed the pantry doors. "Ooh, I have one more little part of the house tour to show you. My dad left me a rather impressive collection of World War II memorabilia. It'll just take a second, if you guys have a moment to spare."
I needed to get back to the shop but Jenny seemed so excited to show us the collection, I didn't have the heart to say no. Even Molly politely followed Jenny down the narrow hallway to a bedroom at the back of the house. The interior of the house was spotless but outdated. The bedroom we entered had an antique wrought iron daybed that was adorned with dozens of embroidered pillows, at least two for every holiday.
Jenny laughed lightly and picked up a pillow with a bright orange Jack-O'-Lantern embroidered on black fabric and another with a gray bunny holding a colorful basket of intricately hand-stitched Easter Eggs. "I store these in here until the corresponding holiday comes around. Right now, I've got two flag pillows on the sofa in the front room." Jenny practically skipped over to the closet on the side wall. She threw open the doors to expose shelves filled with war artifacts. Before she could start her 'tour' the front doorbell rang.
"I wonder who that could be?" Jenny turned to us before leaving the room. "Go ahead and browse. I'll be right back."
The shelves were filled with faded uniform patches, several intricately carved knives, a canteen and mess kit and many black and white photos. It was a nice little collection, but I badly needed to get back to the shop. And I was standing with my two garden club counterparts who'd fallen awkwardly silent during Jenny's absence. Fortunately, she returned quickly with another pair of footsteps plodding down the hallway behind her.
A fifty something man wearing thick glasses and a blue cap over what appeared to be a mostly bald head walked in after Jenny. His face was pink, and there was a line of sweat around the collar of his shirt as if he'd been working out in the sun.
"Everyone, this is my neighbor, Percy Troy." Jenny's tone was slightly off, as if she was forcing politeness. Apparently, this was the cheap, stubborn neighbor with the wall problem. "He dropped by to ask a question, and I mentioned I had the war memorabilia collection out. So he decided to join us."
Percy nodded politely to all of us and stepped farther into the room to see the collection.
Jenny briefly talked about the medals and the pictures, before pulling forward a box made of polished walnut. The brass plaque on the front said World War II Commemorative Colt 1911. "This was my father's prized possession." Jenny opened the box to reveal a well-preserved handgun with an intricately embossed silver-plated grip. Even the barrel was ornate. Eight shiny bullets had their own separate compartments in the dark blue velvet interior of the display box.
Percy and Molly seemed most interested in the collection, but Carla's attention was pulled to the embroidered pillows.
I gave my due attention and complimented the items before making my exit. "Jenny, if you don't mind, I've got to get back to the shop and get those herbs planted."
"Of course."
Supreme hostess that she was, Jenny walked me out to the front porch and waved good-bye as I climbed onto my bicycle and pedaled down the driveway.
Chapter 4
Ryder had taken a late lunch. I'd finished potting basil and rosemary in tiny plastic pots and was leaning into the sink w
ashing my hands when the shop door opened. "I'll be right with you," I called.
Something cold and wet pressed against the back of my knee. I tossed a handful of suds into the air with a stunned gasp. I spun around to find Detective Briggs' dog, Bear, sitting politely behind me, pretending the cold nose had nothing to do with him. Briggs shrugged apologetically at me. He wasn't wearing his usual suit and tie. It was just too hot. His white dress shirt looked exceptionally nice against his tanned skin. His dark hair had grown just a touch longer. It curled up nicely on his white collar.
I patted Bear on his big, soft head. I'd never been as confused about anything as I was about my relationship with Detective James Briggs. I was solid about a few things. I liked him a lot and not just in a 'hey let's have a cup of coffee' way. I loved working murder cases with him. And I would certainly not say no if he moved toward a kiss. Certainly not. But just when I thought things were heading that direction and we grew even more comfortable with each other, he got distracted by work or I got busy at the shop. But it wasn't just the usual logistical barriers and life happens kind of stuff that got into the way. There was something else. And whatever it was, it came totally from his side. He withdrew whenever it seemed we were moving forward. I'd finally convinced myself that he just didn't feel the same way I felt. It felt like a cold slap in the face knowing Briggs just wasn't that into me, but I had no intention of risking a perfectly good friendship over a broken heart.
Briggs walked over to say hello to Kingston. My bird gave him a cursory glance before returning his shiny black eyes to the two sparrows twittering outside on the window ledge.
"What time do your parents get in?" he asked. We hadn't spoken in a week. Briggs had been working on a case in the neighboring town. They were all small towns but sometimes it seemed he had to stretch himself thin to cover the three neighboring coastal cities as well as Port Danby. I only wished I could use that as the excuse for him not having enough time to see me socially.
Dahlias and Death Page 2
