“That would be Treena, I believe. The one who threw such a tantrum.”
Jesse rolled her wineglass between her palms and stared at the fireplace, wishing there was a nice, crackling fire to keep them company. “Well, maybe she’ll change her attitude when she’s had a chance to think about it.”
“In my opinion, Amanda did a good job of winnowing out the ones who expected a bequest handed to them on a platter,” Vivian said. “Being offered part-ownership in a mansion, if you are willing to take up residence and do the work required to turn it into a bed and breakfast, isn’t going to seem like much of a gift to some people.”
“Because it requires hard work?” Jesse thought of what it had taken to get her own businesses going, both the antique shop and the tearoom. “It’ll take a lot of teamwork, which these people don’t seem to have much of.”
“Both of those,” Vivian agreed with a nod of her head. “Plus patience. Lots of patience.”
“Oh, yeah. Those things come hard to some. Maybe having family members involved will help them work it out.”
“That would be fortunate, since the ones who don’t take the offer will end up with nothing.” Vivian added another inch or so of wine to the bottom of her glass. “We should have brought some cheese from the kitchen.”
“And maybe some crackers,” Jesse added. “I was thinking the same thing myself. So, I wonder how much time everyone will have before the property in Oklahoma goes up for sale. And I wonder how Bethany will feel about coming to live here permanently. She didn’t seem to like this place very much when she first mentioned it.”
“Well, she does have Gordon, and he’s certainly happy here. The one who didn’t want to come back again was Helen.”
“At least nothing in the will or codicils said anything about no marriages or dating,” Jesse said. “That has to be a relief to Mandy and Bobby Don.”
“And Bethany and Gordon,” Vivian added with a bright smile. “Even Trisha and her fiancé could take advantage if they wanted.”
“Amanda’s death seems to have lifted the veil from quite a few secrets. Kind of makes you wonder how many others we haven’t discovered yet.”
The sound of the door opening in the entry hall brought a gasp from Vivian, who set down her wineglass and scooted forward to the edge of her chair for a better view. Unable to resist the urge, Jesse twisted in her seat and stretched to her full height to peer over the winged corner of her high-backed chair.
There was the sound of footsteps and the door closing again. Then a tall man appeared rolling a sizeable suitcase with a carry-on stacked on top of it. His back was to them as he scanned the wide doorway into the formal dining room. He turned slightly, his shoulders flexing under what looked like a Pendleton wool shirt. Silvery blond hair gleamed in the light of the chandelier as he looked up to the landing above. Then, still turning, he looked toward the parlor where Vivian and Jesse sat staring back at him.
“Good Lord,” Vivian said, rising. “What in God’s name are you doing here? Look, Jesselyn, it’s…”
“Fisher?” Jesse said, blinking to clear what she was sure was a vision in front of her eyes. As always, she felt a jolt of happiness to see him, but here? Now?
“Good Lord is right,” Fisher Daniels said.
His suitcases forgotten in the middle of the entry hall, he advanced into the front parlor toward them, his arms extended. “I know what I’m doing here, but what in the world are you doing here?”
The words were barely spoken when he swept Vivian into his embrace, lifting her off her feet and twirling her around as if she were a child. “Vivian, you gorgeous creature!”
“Stop that this instant,” she demanded, batting at his shoulders while laughing. “Put me down.”
“Only because you insist.” He deposited her on her feet, holding her an instant longer while she steadied herself. He planted a kiss on her cheek and turned to Jesse. “And you!”
Jesse stood rooted to the floor, eyes wide, mouth open, hands spread in wonderment, staring at Fisher Daniels, lifelong friend, briefly and calamitously husband. Of all the people in the world to walk into her life at this moment, he was the last person she would have imagined and the best gift she could have gotten.
“Me what?” she demanded. “What are you doing here?”
“Moi?” Fisher touched his chest with manicured fingertips that belied the strength in his hands. “Why, I’ve been close friends with Amanda Carmichael for decades, which is why I know…” He turned to look at Vivian. “No offense, Vivi, my darling…”
“Oh, none taken,” Vivian assured him.
He turned back. “Which is why I know…” Gathering Jesse into his arms, he stared down at her. “…that you were not friends with Amanda Carmichael. And you have no business being here. Now, be quiet and kiss me. Then you can tell me what you’re up to.”
Chapter Seventeen
“Bully.” Jesse tilted her face up to be kissed.
“Don’t be silly. You’re ecstatic to see me, and you know it.”
And she was. Seeing him walk into the room had felt like discovering a marvelous surprise package under the tree on Christmas morning. A marvelous, troublesome surprise package. A beginning frown tugged at Jesse’s brow. What in the world was he doing here?
Fisher’s arms tightened around her, and he dipped his cheek to nuzzle hers. His words were soft puffs of breath against her ear. “Seriously, Jess, it feels so damned good to see you, I don’t think I really care what nefarious purpose brought you here.”
“We don’t see each other often enough anymore, do we, Fisher? We’re all grown up now, and life gets in the way.” She drew back far enough to kiss the dimple in his chin. “And there’s nothing nefarious about my presence. Bethany O’Connor asked us here.”
“Oh, good grief, of course!” Vivian clapped her hands and beamed as if she had just solved the last clue in a scavenger hunt. “Pendleton plaid wool. Alaskan cruise. Arriving in the night. You’re the executor!” she crowed. “I don’t know why you’re the executor, but you are, aren’t you? Why are you the executor, Fisher, dear?”
Fisher smiled. He kissed the tip of Jesse’s nose and stepped back, still keeping one arm around her waist. “It’s a long story, Viv, but I guess Amanda decided I was someone she trusted. And I was also the one who introduced her to this property and told her it had potential as a business venture. Amanda and I go back a long way. I met her when I was still in college, and over the years we managed to be very good friends to each other.”
“She was the first society woman to hire you as her landscaper, wasn’t she?” Vivian asked. “I remember that now.”
“I do owe her,” he acknowledged. “I told her I’d do what I could. Not just as her executor, but to help this business succeed for anyone who wants to take it on.”
Jesse hated to barge right in with her questions. Fisher had been her dearest friend since first grade, but while it was a wonderful surprise to see him, she couldn’t let sentiment get in the way. She needed answers, and as executor, Fisher just might have them.
“Do you know her employees very well?” she asked.
“Not really.” He turned his head to look down at her with a puzzled furrow crinkling his brow. Then, still hesitant, he added, “I never had much direct contact with them. I worked some with Bobby Don Carmichael and the two Landon kids. Bobby Don can get a bit of an attitude sometimes. Frankie’s young and eager, but a little immature. I don’t quite know what to make of Celeste. I will say that too many of Amanda’s employees seemed to be hanging around waiting to see what would happen when she died.”
Jesse gazed up at him, just inches from his chiseled jaw and handsome features. The lines at the sides of his mouth and corners of his gray-blue eyes seemed deeper than usual, signs of a long day of travel and of duties weighing on him.
“Did Amanda ever seem worried that someone might get tired of waiting and try to hurry the process along?” she asked.
This tim
e his brows climbed, his eyes widened and alarm showed plainly on his face. “What in the world are you talking about? Surely you aren’t suggesting…”
“Bethany said Amanda was in the hospital recently,” Vivian confided. “From an overdose of her sleeping pills. Bethany was afraid someone might have tampered with Amanda’s medicine, though it was officially ruled an accident.”
“Those are ugly suspicions,” Fisher said, obviously hearing this news for the first time.
“And yet, Amanda died the same night she arrived here. From another accident.” Jesse kept her words soft because the suspicion was, indeed, ugly and would be uglier still if it proved true. Plus, she and Vivian had just double-teamed him—a fact she would rather he didn’t notice. “Bethany said there were other incidents,” she continued. “Small ones, easily overlooked, and that Amanda refused to take them seriously.”
“Why would Bethany tell you all of this?”
“She’s friends with Winnie,” Jesse explained. “And Winnie brought her to us when Bethany confided in her.”
Fisher nodded. “Ah, I see. Because of what you did for Winnie when her husband died.”
“Ex-husband,” Jesse corrected. “And, yes.”
“And Bliss,” Vivian said. “My great-niece?”
Fisher nodded. “Yes, I know Bliss. She and I met when she was looking for trilliums for a new shade bed.”
He let out a sigh then and raked his fingers through his back-swept hair, a shorter style than the shoulder-length Jesse was used to. He stared at the floor while his hand moved on to massage the muscles on the back of his neck.
After a long pause, he finally said, “So, are you telling me that you think someone may have murdered Amanda? That she may have been pushed down those stairs?”
“It’s possible,” Jesse said. “She was eighty. And she took sleeping pills at night. It wouldn’t have been too hard to help her lose her balance at the top of the stairs.”
“Look, Jesse, I’m charged with making sure Amanda’s estate is settled according to the dictates of her will and the trusts she established.” All traces of the joking, casual Fisher were gone.
He was the serious, successful businessman who had built a life from nothing and ran his world his way. “I’m here to help these people accomplish what Amanda hoped they would be able to accomplish with this bed and breakfast idea. She felt very deeply that this was the best thing she could do for them. And I’m not here to accuse anyone of murder or to do anything other than my duties as executor.”
“I understand perfectly, Fisher,” Jesse promised. “I really do, and I wouldn’t expect anything else. But you asked me why I was here. I’m here because Bethany was afraid that someone was trying to kill Amanda. And that if they succeeded, they might not stop with Amanda.”
“I don’t even understand what that means.” He stared at her, frustrated, and maybe a little irritated.
“Lady Jane Grey is the heir to Amanda’s estate. She could be in danger.”
“The dog? She’s afraid someone might kill the dog?” Disbelief replaced his irritation. “You do realize, don’t you, that Bethany O’Connor can be a little, uh…” His breath escaped in a huff. “How do I put this? High strung? Emotional? How about overly imaginative?”
“Lady is Bethany’s responsibility,” Jesse said patiently, “and she really likes that dog.” Then she paused and shrugged. “However, now that I’ve heard the specifics of the will and the trust, I don’t see what anyone would have to gain by hurting Lady Jane.” Switching topics, she asked, “What do you think about Gordon Pitts?”
“What about him?” Fisher countered. “Why are you asking about Gordon? Because I can assure you that he would never hurt Amanda.”
Before Jesse could answer the question, Fisher nodded and went on, “Ah, I suppose you’ve heard about his criminal record. Well, according to Amanda, that man’s death was an accident. The other guy started the fight, and Gordon was just defending himself. But it happened in a bar, and Gordon was a professional boxer at the time. So it was ruled manslaughter and he did jail time.”
“Oh.” Vivian’s exclamation sounded shocked. “So that’s what he did.” Her gaze shifted to make eye contact with Jesse. “A boxer, huh? Not at all what we had imagined.”
“We didn’t know that part,” Jesse told Fisher, “and, no, we don’t suspect Gordon, and that’s not what I meant. He’s someone who needs to stay here if this place is going to survive as a business. And we think he and Bethany may be very good friends, if you know what I mean. So, I was just wondering what you thought of him, is all.”
“Okay, in that case, Amanda didn’t trust very many men after her divorce. And she trusted Gordon Pitts. I never asked her why.”
Whatever resistance Fisher still harbored disappeared. “As for the others, I know that she felt sympathy for Bobby Don. Again, I don’t know why, but she never truly trusted him. Frankie Landon was charming and likable, but she never particularly trusted him either. With Bethany, Amanda knew she could trust her to look after of her dog because she knew that Bethany cared much more for the dog than she ever had for Amanda herself.”
Vivian moved closer and cupped Fisher’s face in her palms. “You look tired, son.” She smiled up at him with concern. “You didn’t get much sleep last night, did you?”
He shook his head. “I had to leave the cruise ship in Victoria, clear Customs, and find a room for the night. Then I had to stop off in Friday Harbor to clear U.S. Customs. While I was there I took care of some business back home, then chartered a boat to bring me here.”
“No wonder you look tired. You need rest, dear. You’re still a gorgeous man, but we’re all getting a little too old to go without our beauty sleep.” Vivian patted his cheeks and released him.
“That’s touching and hurtful all at the same time, Vivi. Do either of you have any idea which room I’m supposed to sleep in?”
“Not the vaguest. Why don’t you take Jesse’s room, and she can bunk in with me tonight?”
“Oh, there’s no need for that.” Fisher turned to stand between the two women and slipped an arm around each of their waists. “Jesse can sleep with me. We’ve done it plenty of times before.”
Vivian shook her head as they began to walk slowly toward the door. “You are a bad man, Fisher Daniels.”
“I’m not sure everyone here needs to know that we’re quite that well acquainted, Fisher.” Jesse felt a blush creeping over her in spite of her knowledge that her embarrassment was wasted with her old friend.
She, Fisher and Michael Windsor had been an inseparable trio through twelve years of school, until Michael died in a single-car accident, alone in the middle of the night just months before their graduation. Devastated and grieving, she and Fisher had turned to each other for solace, making the mistake of marrying for all the wrong reasons.
It had lasted less than a year and left them estranged, with their friendship adrift for nearly a decade. That was behind them now, and together with Sophia, Fisher and Vivian were all the family Jesse had left since her grandfather’s death.
“Mr. Daniels,” said a voice that lacked the slower, rounder edges of the Oklahoma accent, “I was wondering when you would arrive.”
Vivian suddenly stopped walking, and Jesse was jerked out of her fugue by the knowledge that they were no longer alone. The heavy shoes with thick sponge soles and a black shirtwaist dress with a white lace collar identified Ms. Shoemacher before Jesse’s gaze ever reached the woman’s shoe-button eyes and fluffy, white curls.
“I have your room ready.”
Fisher’s arm tightened slightly as he dipped his head and murmured “Drat” for Jesse’s ears only. Then his arms slipped away.
“Perhaps you’ll join me for breakfast in the morning, ladies. It’s such a pleasant surprise to find you here,” he said aloud before joining Nettie Shoemacher in the parlor’s doorway. “And you, dear lady, are far too kind to have waited up for me.”
“Not at all,
sir. That’s what I’m here for. And if I understand the terms of Mrs. Carmichael’s bequest, it’s something I’ll be doing a lot more of in the future.”
While Fisher gathered his bags, the housekeeper cast a suspicious glance toward the other two women before turning to lead the way up the staircase.
“Is it just me, or did she seem rather dyspeptic?” Vivian asked when they were alone again.
“Not everyone is born to be an innkeeper, I guess. Although I had thought she seemed rather happy about the will. I could kick myself for not asking Fisher about her when we had the chance. We still know next to nothing about her.”
“Do you suppose Gordon might be awake? After two years on this island with her, he must know something,” Vivian suggested.
“I wouldn’t want to speculate on what Gordon might be doing right now,” Jesse said. Her brain had contemplated about all it wanted to for the day.
Vivian gasped. “Oh, you don’t really suppose…” Then she laughed and let the thought end half-formed.
The house was quiet. Mrs. Shoemacher had apparently settled Fisher and gone on her way.
“Either way,” Jesse said, “we would appear to be the only night owls in the bunch.”
“Maybe we should clean up after ourselves and go to bed,” Vivian suggested. “Then we can set an alarm for later. I would love to get a peek into Amanda’s room while no one else is around.”
Jesse checked her watch. “If we hurry, we can be in bed by 10 o’clock. Six hours sleep would be, let’s see… 4 a.m. I think it’s safe to assume the house would be ours for at least an hour or two before even the earliest riser would be up.”
Vivian took a deep breath and let it out in a contented sigh. “I do love this. Who knew skullduggery could be so entertaining?”
Jesse handed the two empty wineglasses to Vivian and retrieved the almost empty bottle of wine. “We’ll see how you feel about that at 4 a.m.”
Chapter Eighteen
Murder on a Silver Sea (Myrtle Grove Garden Club Mystery Book 3) Page 13