by S F Bose
Two years after Grandpa Pete died, my dad and mom moved in to live with Grandma Addie and help out. At the time, they just had Brian and Becky, my bossy older brother and annoying older sister. In 1991, Grandma Addie started the B&B to supplement the money she got from the lease agreements. She and the family worked so hard to build the bed and breakfast into a thriving business. Now that it was a success, I really didn’t want to be responsible for any harm that might come to the B&B.
Grandma shook her head and gave me a sharp look. “Liz, this is our home and our business. We need a family member who cares leading the search for Marie’s ring. As much as I like Sam, he’s not family. But he does have the investigation skills. Together, you’ll make a great team.” Then she smiled and reached over to pat my hand.
“You can do it, Liz. You’ve always liked mysteries,” Grace said, trying to reassure me.
“Aunt Grace, I like to read mysteries, not solve them,” I replied.
“Liz Bean, we don’t always get to do what we want in life. Sometimes we have to take on daunting tasks. This is one of those moments for you,” Grandma said. I gritted my teeth. Tell me about it.
I met her steely gaze. “Okay. We’ll find Marie’s ring,” I said flatly, feeling more dread than enthusiasm.
“Yes, you will. Be here at 8:00 a.m. sharp tomorrow morning,” Grandma replied.
My eyebrows shot up. “8:00 a.m.?”
“That’s when Sam Nolan arrives, Liz,” Grace said, her blue eyes twinkling.
I left shortly afterwards, walking home to the coach house north of the B&B. I passed the barn, outbuildings, dormant gardens, and orchard. With every step, I was filled with a growing sense of apprehension.
Chapter 5
The next morning, I was groggy. I had tossed and turned in bed for hours considering and rejecting different arguments I could present to Grandma Addie about why I should not lead the search for Marie’s ring. Eventually, I slipped into a fitful sleep.
At 7:00 a.m., my phone alarm jolted me awake. Heavy-eyed, I took a hot shower. Then I dressed in a long-sleeved teal cotton sweater, gray fleece hoodie, old blue jeans, warm socks, and winter hiking boots. I slid into my parka and pulled a gray cable knit hat with a fake fur pom-pom over my hair, and shouldered my messenger bag.
In the short walk from the coach house to the B&B, my boot laces had come undone, my bag had slid to the bend of my elbow, and my black storm parka hung open because I’d forgotten to zip it. I was so not a morning person.
From force of habit, I entered the B&B through the mudroom door and walked up the hallway toward the kitchen. When I pushed through the kitchen door at 7:58 a.m., Grace’s dogs greeted me and sniffed in all the wrong places. After I scratched their heads, they went back to sleeping by the windows.
I stood uncertainly by the farmhouse table. One part of me wanted to cut and run. Another part of me wanted to curl up on the floor and go to sleep with the dogs. My eyes were slits, my brain was foggy, and I moved in slow motion.
At the opposite end of the kitchen, Grace was busy at the range. Millie Todd hurried into the dining room with two breakfast orders. When Grace glanced over and saw me, her mouth dropped open.
“Sit down,” she ordered in her southern drawl. I yawned and shuffled closer to the farmhouse table. After stuffing my hat in my pocket, I hung my parka and messenger bag on the back of a chair, and bent over to tie my shoelaces. Then I dropped into the chair and sighed. I watched as Grace put a K-Cup into the Bunn single-serve brewer. Minutes later, she set a steaming cup of caramel cappuccino on the table in front of me.
I looked up at her and croaked, “I love you so much, Aunt Grace.” Her deep laugh rolled over me as I sipped the coffee. I smiled. I’m going to live!
“How do scrambled eggs, a double helping of crispy bacon, and buttered toast sound?” she suggested.
I groaned. “It sounds like heaven,” I replied, and Grace laughed again. She went back to the Viking range and started cooking my breakfast.
“Is that guy here yet?” I asked.
“Sam? Yes, he’s in the dining room. Addie is filling him in on the missing ring. You should get more coffee and food into you before you talk to him,” Grace replied. Grace called her mom Addie, which I admired. If I called my mom “Lilly,” she’d give me her dark look and icy silent treatment.
“I really don’t want to do this, Grace. What if I can’t find the ring, we get bad reviews on all the online sites, and it hurts the B&B?” I asked.
She turned to look at me, hands on her hips, and surprise on her face. “Well aren’t you Suzie Sunshine!” she exclaimed and chuckled.
I frowned. “I’m serious, Grace.”
She shook her head and turned from the stove. “You’ll be fine. Addie wouldn’t give you the responsibility if she didn’t think you could do it. Drink your coffee and wake up.”
“Okay,” I replied, sipping some more caramel cappuccino.
What I couldn’t tell Grace is that I’d played some key roles when I worked at Worldhead Global Security. I had no problem with shouldering responsibility, making decisions, and being held accountable. However, failure there never involved potentially hurting my family. Not finding Marie’s ring could have negative consequences that nobody else seemed willing to consider.
But I had to admit there was another reason that made me reluctant to lead the search for Marie’s ring. After Nate died and I left Worldhead, all I wanted to do was return home to Mystic Grove and recover. I was happy waiting tables and didn’t want to take on any stressful responsibilities until I had recharged. Unfortunately, it looked like I wouldn’t have a choice.
I sat back and scanned the kitchen. Years ago, when Grace recommended getting a restaurant license so that we could offer more meals to our B&B guests and diners from the community, the family built out a commercial kitchen. White walls, stainless steel appliances, and a ceramic tile floor made the kitchen radiant. I had to squint because it was so bright. Most of the appliances were on the north wall to my left.
A wheeled, center island with a stainless steel countertop stood in the middle of the kitchen near the stove. It served as Grace’s main work area when she prepared meals. There were also two additional wheeled, stainless steel prep tables toward the front of the kitchen. We moved those around as needed during meal preparation.
On the south wall, there were rooms for the walk-in cooler and freezer, pantry, glassware and dishes, laundry, storage, and a small office. Grace, Millie, and Tillie kept it all in order.
Just then, Millie returned to the kitchen and said something to Grace, who nodded. Then Millie hurried to the small office where we had our lockers.
“Morning, Liz,” she said and smiled.
“Hi, Millie.” I replied with a smile and wave.
I drained my cup and went to the Bunn to make a second cup of coffee. After it brewed, I stirred it for a minute and took a sip. As I stood there, Millie left wearing her coat and carrying a purse. She must be running an errand, I thought.
I took another sip of coffee. Suddenly, I woke up and my sense of smell kicked in. I took a deep breath.
“Mmmm. When did Dad start roasting turkey?”
“Hours ago,” Grace replied. “He’s using the Viking and the two convection ovens until all the turkeys are cooked. We’ll start in on some of the other menu items this morning. I’ve already got the butternut squash and potato leek soups started,” Grace replied.
“It smells delicious,” I said and walked back to the farmhouse table.
The fragrance of roasting turkey made my stomach rumble. One of Dad’s secrets was to separate the legs and thighs from each turkey breast and then roast the pieces in separate pans. After all the turkey was cooked, he let it rest for a while. Then he sliced the turkey and transferred it into pans. He stacked the covered pans in the walk-in cooler. On Thanksgiving, we would flash reheat the turkey to warm it quickly and retain moisture. The result was perfect turkey every time.
My fa
ther came through the double doors on the left. His face lit up when he saw me, and he smiled and waved. He stopped to hug his sister, Grace, and talk to her about something.
I smiled as I watched them. Where Grace was full-figured and softly rounded, Dad was taller, lean, and angular. She was warm and extroverted. He was friendly but introverted. I was often amazed they were brother and sister.
Both were smart as a whip, though. Grace had graduated with honors from college. Dad was a Harvard-educated lawyer who had an academic’s face, thinning hair, and wire rimmed glasses. They both read voraciously and loved to discuss world events.
Today, Dad wore a blue plaid shirt and blue jeans. Despite being up since before dawn, he moved with energy. He poured a cup of coffee and joined me at the farmhouse table.
“Good morning, Lizzie,” he said and smiled. “Morning, Dad.” I stood, and we hugged. I kissed his cheek. He smelled like pipe smoke. One of Dad’s vices was smoking a bowl of tobacco in his old Stanwell briar pipe every evening after dinner.
“You smell like vanilla,” I said.
“Good nose. I’ve been smoking Mac Baren Vanilla Cream Flake tobacco lately,” he replied and sat across from me.
“Does Margo like your pipe smoking?” I asked. Margo Becker was Dad’s girlfriend and had moved into the B&B to live with him a year ago.
“She tolerates it because I’m otherwise loveable,” he replied, and I laughed. Dad grinned but then his face turned serious. “It must be difficult to have your divorced parents dating other people,” he said.
I shrugged. “Sometimes. But we’re all glad you’re both happy.”
Dad smiled. “Thanks Liz. That means a lot. I do think your mom and I are both happy. Not that we weren’t happy when we were married, but...you know.” He looked at me uncertainly.
“Things changed,” I offered, and he nodded.
“Exactly. Things changed. But now we’re both still friends and we’re happy.”
That was true. He and Mom got along famously now. After the divorce, she met Ben Katz, a white-haired, bearded inventor. When she retired from her teaching position at the University, she moved into Ben’s small farmhouse in Cross Plains. She and Ben often had dinner with Dad and Margo at the B&B. It was nice, but it was also…weird. Not that I would ever tell Dad that.
“The turkey smells wonderful,” I said, and he sniffed.
“I started roasting them early this morning. After a while, I can’t smell anything.”
“Trust me. My mouth is watering,” I assured him and he smiled.
After a pause and sip of coffee, Dad leaned forward. “Are you okay, Liz? You look tired.”
“I didn’t sleep very well last night. I’ve also been sleeping later than I should, so being up this early feels like dawn to me,” I replied and grimaced.
Grace walked up and set a plate with eggs and crispy bacon in front of me. She slid a second smaller plate with thick buttered toast next to it. I looked at the bacon and moaned. Next to a nice hot cup of caramel cappuccino, I loved crispy bacon.
“This is perfect, Aunt Grace. Thank you,” I said and tucked into the food.
“Anything for you, Andrew?” Grace asked.
Dad shook his head. “I had cereal earlier, thanks.”
“Okay, holler if you need anything,” Grace said. She swatted his shoulder and walked back to the stove. Dad chuckled and sipped his coffee.
I munched on a crispy piece of bacon with my eyes closed. I savored the crunchy saltiness that blended with maple sweetness and applewood smokiness. It was perfection. When I opened my eyes, I was surprised to find Dad staring at me with his mouth slightly open.
“What?” I demanded, biting into a piece of buttered toast.
He shook his head. “I just haven’t seen you eat bacon in a while. It’s like a spiritual experience for you,” he replied and I laughed.
“I do love it.” I took a sip of coffee and looked at him. “Did Grandma tell you about our problem?”
“The missing ring? She did. She said that you and the PI were going to find it.” I waited for a laugh, but he was serious.
“I haven’t met the PI, but we’ll try,” I replied, eating more eggs.
“Do your best. I wouldn’t be surprised if the ring fell out of her purse and will just turn up.”
The coffee, bacon, and eggs kicked in, and I felt more awake. “I sure hope so, Dad.”
At that moment, Grandma Addie came through the swinging doors from the dining room. A tall man who must be Sam Nolan followed her. He carried a black storm parka under his left arm. When he paused to hold the swinging door open for Nana Anna who trailed him, she beamed. Sam returned her smile.
“Here they come,” I said.
Dad glanced over his shoulder at Addie and the man. He turned back to me. “He comes highly recommended, pumpkin,” Dad said, and I nodded.
Grandma Addie walked straight to our table. “Liz Bean, this is Sam Nolan. Sam, this is my granddaughter, Liz,” Grandma said. I stood. Sam briefly glanced at my short white hair. Then his eyes slid down and locked with mine. He reached across the table and we shook hands.
“Pleasure,” I said.
“Likewise,” he replied and smiled.
Standing next to him, Nana Anna grinned.
I automatically did a quick risk assessment. I was 5’6” and normally felt tall. But at easily 6’2”, Sam made me feel short. He was fit and obviously worked out. He was also alert. His dark eyes scanned the kitchen, and I saw him note the back door. A smart person always knew where the exits were. I also thought I saw the impression of a handgun on his right hip, concealed by his sweater. There was an edge to him and I wasn’t sure I could take him in a fair fight. Sam was definitely a threat. Fortunately, we’d be working on the same side.
I also noted that Sam had an aversion to color. He wore a black tee shirt, gray V-neck sweater, and black pants. A gray tweed Irish flat cap perched on his tousled black hair. His skin was winter white, which made his thick eyebrows and nut-brown eyes appear even darker.
It was Sam’s eyes and mouth combined with a straight-edged nose that made him look vaguely like a young John Cusack. The double curve of his upper lip did remind me of an archery bow. So that’s what Nana Anna meant by Cupid’s bow lips, I thought. However, instead of John Cusack, Sam really reminded me more of one of my failed college romances: Joey Scanlon. That relationship had not gone well.
“You already know my son, Andrew,” Grandma said. Smiling, Dad stood. When Sam reached his right hand out to shake Dad’s hand, I confirmed the imprint of a handgun on his right hip, under the gray sweater. Sam used a belt holster. I preferred an inside-the-waistband sticky holster for my Glock 19. I stretched and felt its reassuring pressure on my right hip.
Grace removed the breakfast dishes and we all sat down. I took a long drink of coffee.
Grandma sat next to Dad. Sam was to her right. Nana Anna sat across from Sam and Grace slid into the chair to my left across from Grandma Addie.
“All right then, we’re here to discuss the next steps in finding Marie Wescott’s ruby and diamond ring. Liz and Sam are going to take the lead on this for us. I’ve brought Sam up to speed on everything we know as of last night,” Grandma said and smiled at Sam and then at me. We both smiled back.
“Have you met Marie Wescott?” I asked Sam.
“Your grandmother pointed her out in the dining room but we didn’t speak. She was with her husband,” he replied. He had a quiet but deep voice. I immediately picked up a slight Chicago accent.
My eyes slid to Grandma. “Did you talk to Nancy and David Blackwell?”
“I did. They said that when they left the dining room, four people were playing cards at one table and four other people were playing a board game at another table.”
“So they never saw Josh come over to the Wescott and Cloutier table,” I said, more to myself.
Grandma shook her head. “No, unfortunately they didn’t. So our first step will be to thoroug
hly search the dining room. After breakfast is over, your father and Ryan are going to close the room, move the tables and chairs, and vacuum every square inch.”
“Then we’ll sift through whatever we vacuumed up to see if we find the ring,” Dad said.
“On her way out, Millie told me all the B&B guests had been served,” Grace said. “We’ll just have to wait until everyone finishes breakfast and leaves.”
“Millie left?” Grandma asked sharply.
“Just for a bit. Her grandson is in a Thanksgiving program today. Same for Tillie’s granddaughter. Before you freak out, Addie, they’ll both be back later this morning. We’re on target to have everything cooked and prepared for Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow,” Grace replied.
Millie and Tillie were both putting in extra hours to help us with the regular guest meals and the Thanksgiving holiday preparation. They could use the extra money and we sure needed the help.
Grandma relaxed. “Okay, I did speak with Marie this morning. She said she searched their entire room while her husband was in the shower. She didn’t find the ring.”
Sam Nolan pulled a pen and small notebook out of his pocket and flipped through it. “Do you really think this Josh DeMarco stole the ring?” he asked me. He twirled the pen in his right hand. Nervous gesture, I thought.
I shook my head. “I’m not sure. According to Marie, he did come over and stand next to her. Then he knelt down to tie a shoelace and was close enough to reach her purse. We haven’t corroborated that with any of the other guests yet. However, if true, he had the opportunity to steal the ring.” I opened my mouth to continue but paused.
“But?” Sam pressed.
My eyes cut to his. “But Josh is a very anxious guy. He’s almost painfully shy and doesn’t strike me as having the temperament to be a thief. I was surprised to hear he approached the Wescotts and Cloutiers and ended up playing poker with them. So the short answer is I’m skeptical he took Marie’s ring. However, it’s a possibility we can’t ignore.”
