Good Bones: A Taylor Quinn Quilt Shop Mystery (The Taylor Quinn Quilt Shop Mysteries Book 7)

by Tess Rothery

  Taylor couldn’t blame the Reuben family. Though Aviva was a young adult, the word “young” seemed more valid than the word “adult.” There was just something unworried about her wide, round eyes that made you want to protect her. “How’s school going? Are you able to take classes online?”

  “I did. We’ll see what happens in the fall. I’m paying as I go, so I have one more semester at Chemeketa Community ahead of me.”

  “This must have been a frustrating time for all students.” It was a bit trite, and had been said a million times over, but what else was there to say? It was a frustrating time. For students and teachers.

  “Yeah, I think frustrating is a good word for it. Pretty much all the same stress we had during regular school but none of the outlets. No sports. No parties. Nothing to take your mind off school or dying.”

  “It’s been bleak. What are you doing for self-care?” Taylor’s counselor had strongly encouraged her to quit relying on shopping to relieve her stress. She had two good reasons: one, getting out to shop was dangerous, and two, shopping online was too easy. Taylor had tried, but the literal pile of custom printed fabrics from Spoonflower was evidence she had failed.

  “It sounds cheesy, but yoga and meditation. I know everyone is doing it, but Belle hooked me up with this group from her church and I like it.”

  “That’s good.” Taylor had also been invited to the Zoom-yoga-Bible-meditation class, but it hadn’t sounded like her thing.

  “What on Earth is this?” Sissy came stomping down the stairs—her voice echoing between the walls. They could surely hear her up in the dining room. She plunged into the kitchen with one arm outstretched, a thin bone held between two fingers.

  “Oh dear.” Taylor thought the bone looked awfully familiar.

  “It was hidden under a napkin,” Sissy snapped.

  “Whose?” Taylor took tentative steps toward her friend.

  “Maddie’s. She didn’t make a scene though. Just quietly called me over and slipped it from the napkin into my hand. I tried to ask her about it, but she shook her head and pointed to the napkin. How could you be so careless?”

  “I wasn’t careless.” Aviva picked up a wooden spoon and knocked the top of a large enamel pot. “I’ve been boiling the bones all afternoon. I wanted nice broth to work with tomorrow. I’ve got a lot of sauces to make.”

  Sissy eyed her bone. “This has been boiled. It’s clean as a whistle and cooked. You put those trays together, didn’t you?”

  “Like I had time to mess with her stuff.” Aviva’s voice broke on the word, time. The kitchen work was getting to her.

  “Are we sure some animal didn’t…” but even as Taylor began to ask, she felt foolish. What animal would lick a bone clean, then tuck it under a napkin? “Hold on.” She had stashed the other bone in her room before dinner. She wasn’t sure why, except it felt like evidence. Something to show the exterminators, maybe. Instead of trying to get past Sissy, who was looming at the foot of the stairs, she took the elevator. It also helped her avoid cross contaminating the dining room.

  When she found what she was after, a rush of embarrassment flooded her. Why had she saved it? Did she need it? As her counselor often asked: did it serve her needs, or just her feelings? And why had she needed to look at it again? It was a clean, cooked bone, just as it had been before. Was she expecting to call Sheriff Rousseau of Yamhill County to see if he’d do a DNA test to prove the two bones were related?

  She shoved the bone into her pocket and returned to the kitchen. She couldn’t ask Sissy to rebuild the chicken that was still in the pot and see if these came from the same one. That would be absurd.

  The elevator took her back downstairs and she snuck into the kitchen where indeed, Aviva and Sissy stood on opposite sides of the giant island trying to rebuild the steaming chicken.

  “Ouch!” Aviva stuck her finger in her mouth. “This is stupid and hot.”

  “We’ve got to know where it came from.” Sissy frowned at the pile of steaming bones.

  Taylor tossed hers into the pile. “Here. From earlier. Maddie found it in her work basket. I packed the baskets, no one else. But I didn’t put this in it.”

  Sissy narrowed her eyes. “I see. Aviva, when did you start this chicken?”

  “Right after lunch.”

  “We had a two-hour break after lunch. That’s enough time to cook the meat off the bones, easily. Was the bone warm when you found it?”

  “Room temperature.” Taylor felt like a bad detective. She hadn’t even thought to check its temperature. But that was silly. First of all, she wasn’t a detective, she was a shop owner. She’d just been pent up in her little house too long, that was all.

  “Someone is trying to annoy Maddie.” Sissy glanced Taylor’s way, but didn’t say more.

  “I don’t think she’s on anyone’s good list. She seemed to have significant professional disagreement with Jeanne, and she was rude to Pyper.”

  Sissy started. “Oh, was she?” Her lips pursed.

  “Condescending, anyway,” Taylor corrected herself. She didn’t want to enrage the mama bear.

  “Who’s sitting with her? Someone could have stuck this on her tray while she was looking the other direction or getting a coffee refill or something.” Taylor asked.

  Aviva used the tip of her finger to slide a bone around the butcher block counter.

  “Possibly.” Sissy didn’t sound like she believed it though.

  “What do you think the bones mean?” Aviva asked.

  “Lessee…someone has a bone to pick with her?” Taylor asked.

  “Could be.” Aviva connected two likely bones. “Maybe skin and bones?”

  Sissy built one wing out of its various parts. “No way, Maddie’s not that skinny. What about black magic?”

  “Which of the guests is most likely to practice Wicca?” Taylor asked.

  “Lorraine.” Sissy sniffed in annoyance.

  “Or maybe Courtney.” Taylor felt protective of poor Lorraine. “She seems sort of new age, with the homeschool-ranch thing going on.”

  “No way. Those homeschool families are ultra-conservative. She’d not put a curse on someone.”

  “But Lorraine would?” Though Taylor was well-aware of Lorraine’s paranoia issues, she couldn’t see the thoughtful academic engaging in anything supernatural.

  Sissy sighed heavily. “Probably not, but she can go off the rails.”

  “How much do we tell Belle?” Taylor asked.

  “None.” Aviva took a quick step back. “Belle’s overwhelmed. She can’t take anything more. Let’s just help her stick to her agenda. We can handle this ourselves.”

  “I wish Jonah was here.” Sissy looked toward the staircase.

  Aviva and Taylor frowned at each other.

  “Why?” Aviva asked. “What good could he do?”

  Sissy smirked. “That’s right, neither of you are married. A husband can come in very handy when you’re all stressed out.” She cupped her hand and made a little pile of the bones. “Anyone come into the kitchen during the two-hour break?”

  Aviva shrugged. “I got an hour to myself at two. I’m only cooking family meals for ten people. Sure, it’s got dessert, but it’s doesn’t take a whole day.”

  “And you didn’t lock the kitchen?” Sissy looked from the staircase over to the elevator. “No, I see you couldn’t have. So, someone could have come between two and three and taken some bones out of the pot. I’m sure your broth is done now. Why don’t you put it in the fridge? I’ll take the bones out to the garbage, and hopefully our little bully will be out of ammunition.”

  While they did their tasks, Taylor took over the dishwashing and wondered what else chicken bones could be trying to say. Perhaps, your goose is cooked? Or something about being hen-pecked? Why did the chicken cross the road? Maybe it was about the bone and not the chicken…Bone of contention? Close to the bone? Bare bones? Work your fingers to the bone?

  By the time she had the pots and
pans done and the dishwasher loaded, she felt no closer to an answer. One of these women was trying to annoy Maddie, but whoever it was had gotten under Taylor’s skin too.

  Chapter Four

  The next morning Taylor was thrilled to see the meal trays filled with waffles, whipped cream, syrup, fresh strawberries, and strips of perfectly fried, crispy bacon. The ladies all seemed thrilled too. Taylor stood guard in the doorway to the butler’s pantry, watching and waiting. A small table with a toaster had been set up for those who might want to toast a piece of that thick, homemade, brown bread. It seemed to defeat the purpose of the carefully prepared meal trays, but she wasn’t going to complain. Everyone seemed to want toast, and the sounds of satisfaction implied the iffy sandwiches had been all but forgotten.

  Taylor kept her eye on Maddie. Though she’d been as discreet as anyone could want during dinner the night before, there was no telling what someone would do if they found a chicken bone in their bowl of strawberries.

  But the breakfast seemed to pass like a dream. Soft voices murmuring morning nothings. Light laughter. You could almost see the coffee waking them up. Taylor thanked the stars in the sky that ladies of wealth in the early 1900s were allowed to sleep in a little. Breakfast at nine seemed to bring out the best in their guests.

  Courtney and Tansy had even styled their hair in the fluffy updo that Sissy had taught them the day before. While not exactly normal, it flattered both of their faces. Courtney wore a long, light dress of blue cambric that seemed to go well with the hair. She looked a little like a sister wife, but what did that matter?

  Taylor glanced around the room observing how the group had split themselves.

  Courtney, Maddie, and Jeanne sat together. They had come as a group, so it made sense. But Taylor did fear fireworks. Exactly how long would the good mood last? Strawberries and cream were only so powerful.

  Lorraine, Tansy, and Pyper sat together at the other table. Taylor had often wondered about Tansy and Lorraine's relationship. She'd gotten to know them as a mother-daughter just slightly during the murder spree last fall. She’d learned things at the time about Lorraine that worried her, and she wondered how it felt to carry those worries as a daughter.

  Tansy was in her late-twenties, and Pyper in her early twenties. But there seemed to be a greater age difference between the two of them than that.

  Though Tansy had spent much of her growing up life in her dad’s house with Sissy, the doting stepmom, life with a mom who had moderate mental illness and addiction issues, had matured her in ways that were absent from Pyper’s less complicated life.

  But the three ladies were smiling warmly, even tenderly, at each other.

  Lorraine spooned whipped cream onto her waffle but shook her head slightly. "It is rather American to eat cake for breakfast, isn't it?"

  "And left-over cake," Pyper said. "A day-after-your-birthday tradition. I love that." She snapped a bite of her crispy bacon.

  "Very true. We have gone so far as to consume actual cake at the beginning of the day," Lorraine stated. "But what is this,” she waved at the waffles with a thin, pale hand, “but another form of cake? Similarly, muffins. People around the world scratch their heads in wonderment at what we call muffins."

  Tansy was helping herself to another waffle. "Makes me glad to be an American, Mom."

  "And that's another interesting concept," Lorraine said. "Our country’s obsession with a national identity. One can deduce from a historical perspective that this obsession with objects of identity comes from a place of insecurity. Much like the insecurity a younger sister feels in a family of origin. The vulnerable feeling of youth pushes us to prove our worth as a nation."

  "Yeah," Pyper said. "Poor Breadyn."

  "Breadyn's not the only little sister in this family." Tansy winked at her sister.

  Pyper's smile seemed forced. "I suppose not, in a way. On the other hand, you’re an only child and I'm the eldest. Birth order matters."

  "Birth order…" Lorraine looked into the distance, her eyebrows drawn together. "There is a philosophy that has been disproven time and again, yet the middle-class, with its middle-class educational understanding, remains committed to the idea. One wonders what would happen to them if they realized they had fallen victim to the Barnum effect."

  "Okay Mom. Enough. We know you're highly educated." Tansy glanced at Pyper and rolled her eyes—an act of sisterly solidarity.

  "You could have been as well. We had the Love family trust at your disposal.” Lorraine sipped her coffee.

  "I'm doing pretty well for myself. Education isn't the only path to success." Tansy’s voice took on an almost childishly defensive tone.

  "Another uniquely American point of view," Lorraine said.

  "I love college. Would that I could access the Love family trust fund." Pyper laughed a little as though she were trying to lighten the mood.

  "Yes," Lorraine said, "I'm sure you would like to. It is something rather special to be a part of a family like mine."

  Things at the table seemed to be going south, so Taylor brought a coffee carafe over. "Refill anybody's cup?"

  "Though Americans do seem to have a strong dependency on coffee," Lorraine stated, "there are other nations who handle it both better and worse than we do."

  "She asked a simple question," Pyper said. “How hard is it to say yes or no?”

  "Pyper, be polite," Tansy sounded like she was correcting one of her young children.

  "Why?" Pyper asked. "No one else is.”

  "No, thank you, Taylor." Lorraine placed her hand over the top of her mug. "I have had enough this morning. Perhaps it is time that I stepped away from the table." She hadn't eaten two bites of her waffles, and none of her bacon. She laid her hands on the table as though to steady herself as she stood.

  From the doorway to the butler’s pantry, Belle cleared her throat, capturing the attention of the group. Her face was ashen and her eyes wide. "We’ve had a bit of bad news."

  Heads bobbed up and stared at her in silence.

  "It seems that…" She swallowed and caught Taylor's eye.

  Taylor nodded her sister to continue.

  "It seems that… no that isn’t correct. I'm sorry. Let me begin again.” She straightened up, throwing her shoulder’s back and her chin out. “The van driver who brought you here has tested positive for Covid-19. The hospital alerted the county, and the county alerted us. He’s already on a ventilator."

  The ladies stared in silence. Frozen.

  "We are all under quarantine. The county has suggested that at the end of our weekend, you return home and attempt to isolate from those you live with. However, I have an alternative suggestion."

  A light murmur buzzed between the six ladies.

  Courtney stared with flushed face and wide eyes.

  “I would like to invite you to extend your stay with us. We could prevent becoming a super spreader event by isolating together for the next two weeks. I calculated that if we all returned home, we could expose over fifty new people through our families and work.”

  “I just have so many kids…” Courtney murmured.

  “I know everyone has their own fervently held beliefs about the situation, but I think we can be comfortable here. I think we could have fun, even. It could make our quarantine an opportunity rather than a punishment."

  "Let me see, stay in this glorious mansion for two weeks being waited on by kitchen staff and entertained by talented artists or go home to my millions of kids and my husband where they might all get sick?" Courtney paused, her face was pale, and a line of worry cut between her eyes. But she laughed, and it broke the ice.

  "I'm in medicine, so it was only a matter of time before I had to quarantine,” Jeanne said. “I just never thought it would happen this way. I expected I’d get my free two weeks off from a sick patient." More laughter.

  Lorraine finished the process of standing and said, "It will mean shutting the museum office for two weeks.” She looked around the roo
m and then smiled just a little. "Though the museum has been closed to visitors for months now, so I cannot see any negative repercussions from my staying here. Thank you for the gracious invitation."

  "The trouble is,” Belle said, “if you choose to leave, you'll need to arrange your own transportation. We can't risk exposing another driver to what we may or may not be carrying."

  "I'm happy to stay." Maddie’s voice was firm, but her face didn't look happy.

  Taylor could hardly blame her. To be isolated with an anonymous enemy seemed the worst of the options. But Maddie had children at home. Being personally bullied must be far more desirable then exposing her children to this virus.

  "I won't ask for a show of hands. This is an appropriate opportunity for private decisions. But please let me know right away if you plan on leaving. We will need to make arrangements for food, as well as contact the county so they can continue tracing exposure. Thank you all. And I’m terribly sorry we put you in this position. My worst nightmare come true." Belle's face went from gray to pink and her large blue eyes seemed to fill with tears as she looked across the room and then looked down.

  Tansy stood with her mother. "I'll go make arrangements for my kids.” She too, had far more to risk if she went home, and the way the color had drained from her face indicated she saw all the worst possible scenarios for what they were. “Pyper, do you need to call anyone? Maybe your dad to let them know you and Sissy will stay?"

  Pyper drew the bowl of sugared strawberries to herself. “I think Mom can take care of all that."

  “Is that all of us then?" Jeanne asked. "We’re all happy to stay?"

  The voices around the room assented. It took Taylor a few minutes to realize she should probably call Clay to let him know she wouldn't be in on Monday. She had a little lump in her throat at the thought. Not because she would miss his company, but she didn't like how alone he would be for two weeks. Just him in the shop, and him in his apartment. The last few months would've been unbearable if they hadn’t had each other to talk to.

  As the dining room emptied out, Maddie stayed. She stared at her plate, looking sick.