by Dale Mayer
She wiped the smile off her face and batted her eyelashes at him instead.
He chuckled. “As much as we appreciate it …”
“I know,” she said. “I’m making you guys look like idiots.”
At his glare, she laughed, holding her hands in front of her in a gesture of conciliation. “I’m joking.”
He nodded. “Better. The fact is, you have a knack for this, and, for whatever reason, people are coming to you too.”
“That’s not a bad thing,” she said. “I’m sorry you guys get stuck with all the paperwork.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “We’re happy to see the closure for all these cases too.”
“Right,” she said. “And I still have a couple other things to work on.”
“Like?”
“Like finding maybe a memorial society or a pioneering society or whatever for all those hope chest items.”
“All of them?”
“I’m not sure. I was thinking definitely the nightgowns and the love letters. Maybe some of the dishes, but I don’t know.”
“I would contact Scott first about that set of dishes,” Mack said. “If it’s not worth anything, then donate it all.”
“Or,” she said with a wry look on her face, “maybe I’ll keep it as a good set for myself.”
He looked at her in surprise and nodded. “I like that idea. Why not have yourself a Sunday set of dishes? At least somebody’ll use them after however many decades they’ve been sitting here.”
“You mean, more than one century?”
He rolled his eyes. “If that’s the case, that would be very sad. And I highly doubt the original owner of all those items would mind if you found joy in stuff she had collected for her own wedding.”
“I like the idea,” Doreen said softly. Then her practical side returned, and she said, “Unless Scott says something to convince me otherwise.”
He chuckled. “Always the pragmatist.”
“I was broke just long enough,” she said, “that I saw that cliff of poverty and realized how closely poised I was to fall over the edge. If it wasn’t for Nan, I would have hit that bottom real fast.”
“But you didn’t because of your nan,” he said gently. “And honestly, a lot of people end up doing very well because of their family. If it isn’t an inheritance, it’s a helping hand.”
“I know. Once again I find myself almost tearful over what Nan did for me.”
“Then maybe this afternoon you should take a walk down there. Give her something for a change instead of letting her send you home with something.”
She looked at him and then realized what he was saying. “Oh my,” she said, jumping to her feet, her hand to her chest. “Do you think I’ve been taking advantage of her?” She looked around at her kitchen. “Oh, now I feel terrible.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mack said. He reached out to gently grab her by her shoulders. “That’s not what I meant. But you have received so much, and, although I highly doubt Nan’s looking for anything, she might appreciate a little something too.”
Doreen sat down on her butt and nodded. “I haven’t done enough for her. I need to spend more time with her.”
“Or you might want to remember she has a life,” he said in a wry tone. “So don’t expect her to want to spend more time with you, but that doesn’t mean you can’t deliver flowers.”
She smiled at him. “You’re better at this than I am.”
“Better at what?”
“Relationships,” she said. “I had very little to do with anybody. I hardly know the nuances. Oh, I understood the politeness of taking a good bottle of burgundy or red wine whenever we went to a dinner party, and I knew exactly how to thank everybody for a disgusting dinner on some occasions. I also understood how to save face and how to make everything appear to be perfect on the surface. But real relationships, like what I have with Nan—and dare I say, the friendship we have—I don’t have much experience with.”
Mack leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s a really interesting insight. I would definitely say what we have is real. I feel like I can honestly yell at you and tell you off when I need to. But, then again, you apparently feel totally okay hanging up on me on a regular basis.”
She snickered. “Well, it’s not quite passive-aggressiveness—which was all I was ever allowed to be—and never even that much because my ex shot me down for it. But I do feel free to tell you how I feel from time to time.”
He rolled his eyes. “Good, because I would hate to think you were pandering to me.”
She shook her head. “Not happening. The animals might though if it got them a treat.”
He looked at them to see Thaddeus staring at him. “What do you want, big guy?”
Thaddeus opened his mouth and said, “Food. Food. Food.”
Doreen bolted to her feet, looked at the animals, and said, “You can’t be hungry again.”
Yet, with guilt ripping through her, she fed them all over again. Goliath sauntered over, took a few bites, and lay down in front of his food bowl, as if in disgust. On the other hand, Mugs had no problem devouring his bowl of food. He wandered over toward Goliath and sniffed, then he lay down but shoved Goliath back a little bit. The cat reached out and swiped his paw across Mugs’s head. But then Goliath got up and walked away. Mugs then devoured Goliath’s lunch too. Doreen stared at him. “Mugs! Since when do you eat cat food?”
Mack chuckled. “Lots of dogs have appetite-control issues. In this case, I think it’s just jealousy.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she said as she pulled away the rest of Goliath’s lunch, then set the bowl on the counter so Mugs couldn’t inhale any more. She washed her hands, only to turn around and see Thaddeus working away on Goliath’s food. “No, wait,” she cried out and raced to Thaddeus. She snagged the cat’s bowl and glared at Thaddeus. “That’s not bird food.”
“It’s bird food,” he said. “It’s bird food.” And he hopped up on her arm and started pecking away at the bowl.
Stunned, Doreen looked at Mack, who shrugged and said, “In the wild, birds will eat all kinds of things, including cat food and dog food. So I doubt it will hurt him. What kind is it?”
She looked at the label on the can still on the counter and said, “Fish.”
“Well, there you go. I’m sure Thaddeus won’t be hurt from having a little fish.”
“But it’s Goliath’s food,” she said. “How will I keep track of who’s eating what and making sure they’re getting enough if they eat everybody else’s food?”
“Don’t worry about it right now,” Mack said gently. “You’ve been distracted. What are the chances you didn’t feed them this morning?”
She cast her mind back and then shrugged. “I have no clue. If I did, it would explain why Goliath isn’t interested.” She walked to where she kept a bowl of birdseed for Thaddeus, and it was empty. She frowned and shrugged. “I honestly don’t know.” But she moved Thaddeus to the table and put the rest of the cat food in a sealed baggie and into the fridge. She closed the fridge with a thunk.
“What about you?” Mack asked. “Did you eat?”
“I got up late, so I didn’t eat much,” she confessed. “And it is lunchtime. Maybe a sandwich.” She pulled out the fixings for a sandwich, and then stopped and looked at Mack suspiciously. “Are you hungry?”
He gave her a smile. “So, does that mean I’m invited to have a sandwich with you, or does that mean you think I’m staying long enough so I can mooch a sandwich off you?”
Instantly, she felt guilty. “There’s enough for two sandwiches,” she said, grandly trying to put her own suspicions behind her. “And, yes, I do owe you a sandwich.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” Mack said, reaching into the fridge and finding a tomato and lettuce, rooting around for anything else, grabbing two plates, then walking to the table, pulling out four slices of bread. “But, yes, thank you. I’ll have a sandwich
. When I haven’t had any sleep, I need more food to keep going.”
Doreen felt bad. “I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s been a pretty rough day all-around.”
“That it has,” Mack said. He sat down and proceeded to make himself a sandwich. She worked alongside him and made herself one too. He went easy on the meat but heavy on the vegetables. She watched in fascination as he added layers to his sandwich. He put pickles on first; then he put peppers, tomatoes, onions, lettuce, and she just stared when he went to pick it up.
“How can you even get your mouth around that?”
He shot her a look and said, “Easy.” And he took a big bite. Hers was about half that tall. She sat beside him and ate hers too.
“Are you sure it was Steve in his house fire?” she asked out of the blue.
He turned to her and said, “That’s up to the coroner to decide.”
She nodded. “Right. I guess that makes sense.” As she kept eating, her mind was busy with the various cases. “If everybody’s dead, I guess the cases get closed?”
“If we have enough proof and evidence that we know who and what was behind it all, and everybody involved is deceased, then, yes, it would close with notes to that effect.”
She nodded. “Well, that would be nice.” Then she brightened. “We can get on the Bob Small case.”
He munched his sandwich, but she could feel his growing angry vibes.
She sighed, took another bite, swallowed, and then added, “Or maybe not.”
He sagged in his chair, popped the last bite of his sandwich in his mouth, and said, “Definitely not.”
And then he hopped up and poured two cups of coffee. He gave her one as she finished her sandwich. “As soon as I’ve had this, I’m gone.”
She nodded. “Makes sense to me.”
So they sat outside, both tired but happy they were where they needed to be in life. Finally, Mack finished his cup and left. Doreen watched him leave almost sadly. But, in his case, he was like a boomerang. The more he left, the more he came back.
And she was starting to realize just what a darn good thing that was.
Chapter 32
Friday Afternoon …
Doreen straightened up from her hoeing. Her work in Millicent’s garden was going well. It was a gray overcast day, and, with any luck, she’d be done in no time. Which was a good thing, considering the threat of rain later. She could have come yesterday, but she’d gotten into the rhythm of Fridays so hadn’t wanted to change it. Thursday had passed in a blur of her own gardening and research and wondering, plus her first attempt at making spaghetti herself, then back to her gardening to keep her busy while she waited for more answers.
So far, there weren’t any.
She smiled at Millicent, who came out with a piece of zucchini bread and a cup of tea.
“How are you this afternoon?” Doreen asked.
“I’m fine,” Millicent said. “I wasn’t sure if I would see you or not today.”
“True enough,” Doreen said cheerfully. “But I’m trying to maintain a Friday schedule, though it might go off the rails once in a while. Of course, I never slow down. And that’s all good. At this rate, we’re starting to get this place tuned up nicely.”
“Are you okay to maybe cut back the lawn edge in that garden bed a bit?” Millicent’s tone sounded anxious, as if worrying that Doreen wasn’t prepared to do this.
Doreen looked at her and said, “Of course. Do you have a grass edger?”
Millicent nodded. “I think it is in the shed.” She slowly made her way down the steps, even against Doreen’s protests, and headed to the shed, then brought out an edger.
“How far back do you want me to expose?” Doreen asked. Together they sorted out a two-inch line, and Doreen went along and cut and broke up the sod so the garden bed and the sod wouldn’t encroach on each other. “It’s a nice and easy way to keep it clean, isn’t it?”
By the time she got all the way to the rear fence and around the back to come down on the other side, she could feel her arms aching. She took a break, went back, and removed all the pieces she had cut. Then she carried them to the compost pile. As soon as she was done, she went back and raked the garden edge.
“That looks fantastic,” Millicent said warmly.
“It makes a big difference, doesn’t it?” Doreen returned the grass edger to the shed. As she walked toward Millicent, she said, “And just in the nick of time too.” Her hours were up, so, with a wave, she collected her critters and headed back to the creek.
She was just hot and tired enough that, by the time she made it to her place, she stayed at the creek and stood barefoot in the cool water. The water had risen, so several more rocks were underwater. She stared in amazement, then bent down and grabbed several handfuls of cold water and splashed her face. After that, she sat on one of the few rocks in the middle that was still dry.
“It’s been a good day,” she said to the animals.
Mugs walked into the center of the creek to find himself swimming. She called him back to shore.
“Well, that’s a surprise,” she said. “I hadn’t thought it was that deep.”
Cautiously he took a few more steps forward, and it appeared to be just over his height, so he started to float. It went down fairly steep on one edge. Doreen realized the current was getting stronger. She could imagine it would be quite something by the time the river runoffs came through. With Mugs now thoroughly cooled off, and Thaddeus sitting on a rock enjoying the cool breeze, she plunked her butt down beside the bird and let her body relax. Her life was so much different here, so free compared to what it used to be. Thaddeus hopped onto her shoulder and gently cuddled against her neck. “Not only is it so much freer,” she whispered to him, “but it’s also a whole lot more loving.”
He rubbed his head against her and said, “Thaddeus loves Doreen. Thaddeus loves Doreen.”
Overwhelmed with joy by hearing those words and wondering how long it had been since she’d heard anybody say they loved her, she held him close for a long moment, feeling tears prickle in the corner of her eyes. Not to be outdone, Mugs came around in front of her and jumped up so his front paws were on the rock between her legs. She smiled and gave the hairy wet mass a cuddle. “We will never get you dry,” she said. “I think that means we’ll lie out in the grass and just rest this afternoon.”
But then she looked at her own garden, and guilt went through her. “Or not,” she said with a heavy sigh. It was a great day for gardening, and she wasn’t terribly tired after her short rest, so maybe she could do a little bit more. She got up and walked back to the porch, found her gloves where she’d left them alongside her digging fork and dug up the next couple feet of weeds with the animals lying around beside her.
She worked happily until she heard someone call out.
She yelled, “I’m out back,” but there was no answer.
She waited, thinking surely it must have been Mack, although it was pretty early for him. She walked back in the kitchen door and through to the living room, but she found no sign of anybody. Frowning, she peered out the front door, but again she saw nothing. However, a bunch of people out front were talking to one of her neighbors. Thankfully none of them were journalists. They all seemed to talk excitedly about plans, then piled into vehicles and left.
Surprised, but figuring it must have been noise from that group or one of the other neighbors—since they did make noise occasionally—and studying both of her front doors, she shrugged and headed back outside. She was almost done with what she’d planned to do in her backyard for the day, but not quite. She returned to her garden; the animals were once again in tow, collapsing on the lawn around her. She finished up along one bed, finding it full of painted daisies, black-eyed Susans, and echinacea. Basically, all the same look of a daisy flower but in yellow, pink, purple, and white. It would be stunning.
Except … they would flower at different times. The white daisies would open soon. Well, not very soon. She
studied the buds and saw they were still quite tight. But they were forming. So, maybe within a month.
She continued to work, forcing herself to go past her two-hour time allotment and having a mental argument with herself as to when she should quit. Then finally, she’d had enough. Thirsty and tired, she stepped back and saw she was halfway done with the one long bed to the house.
She really liked the idea of what Millicent had done with her garden and the edger. Doreen wasn’t sure she had one of those though, but it was a good idea. And, if she could ever get stepping stones, she would put them down in a gravel base to make a simple path to the creek. Inspired by the design and, with ideas flowing through her, she walked back into the kitchen and poured herself a big glass of water. Then she sat down with her notepad and designing a curved path around the weeping maple that needed some TLC and continued drawing with the path down toward the creek.
She had some big grassy spots that needed aerating and fertilizing, and she didn’t even know if a lawn mower was to be had around this place. The grass was getting long in spots, just not in enough spots to be worth mowing. She laughed. “I could probably take scissors to the long blades of weeds.”
By the time she was done, she straightened, rotated her neck, and rose to put on a cup of tea. She should take her cup and sit out front. Maybe she could come up with some ideas for the front yard too. When the teakettle boiled, she got herself a cup and headed to the front door, opening it, and froze.
She grabbed her phone and called Mack.
“What’s the matter?” he said, his voice distracted.
“I need you, and I need you now,” she snapped. And she hung up.
She lifted her nose and smelled again. There was no doubt about it. It was gasoline. She took a long moment to assess what would burn in the front and what wouldn’t burn and what she could do about it. Water on gasoline she didn’t think was a good idea. And then she remembered dirt. That would be the best solution and wouldn’t harm the grass. Maybe that was the only thing that would help. Oh, why didn’t she have a pile of topsoil to use? But Richard had a small pile on the side of his garage. She ran into her garage and grabbed the wheelbarrow and a shovel and raced to Richard’s property. She shoveled the wheelbarrow full then struggled to push it to her property and up the driveway. Richard didn’t appear to notice her actions as he wasn’t yelling at her. By the time she pushed the wheelbarrow to where it was needed, she was sniffing the air, looking for the smell. When she found it, she covered up the line of liquid all around the house with dirt.