“I was eight years old when we came to live with Amanda Carmichael,” Celeste shot back. “And she took me under her wing and treated me like one of her own. She asked me to call her Aunt Amanda. Until one day I wasn’t a little girl anymore, and all that disappeared. After that I was just hired help, like everyone else.”
Fisher leaned forward over the desk he sat behind. “Miss Landon,” he said gently, “I knew Amanda Carmichael for many years. She was a good woman, but I don’t think anybody would ever accuse her of being an angel. Or a saint. Like a lot of us, she was complicated, maybe a little self-centered. Selfish one minute and generous the next, and I doubt even she could tell you why. I’m sorry if your feelings were hurt, but she’s gone now, and you’re going to have to decide how you want to live the rest of your life. You can stay or you can go, but if you stay, other people will be depending on you to do your part. Do you need some time to think about it?”
The blonde braids wound neatly around the back of Celeste’s head waggled back and forth as she gave her head a fierce shake. Sniffing, she responded, “Where am I going to go if not here? What am I going to do? I don’t have any choice but to stay here and accept what’s left.”
The words were a familiar reminder that this wasn’t the first time Amanda’s former protégé had complained of having her life arranged by Amanda. Jesse made a quick note of what Celeste had said. It might be nothing more than the outcry of a disappointed child, but it could be a pattern of disappointment Amanda had left in her wake. Either way, Jesse had a feeling it was something worth investigating.
“All right then,” Fisher said through teeth that seemed slightly clenched. “We’ll move along if no one else has any further objections.”
“What I would like to know,” Nettie said, “is what plan or recommendations Amanda had when she conceived of this business. I’m a housekeeper, not an innkeeper. Who is going to manage this bed and breakfast? Who’s going to decide who does what? We may all be co-owners, but someone has to take charge. I’m willing to do whatever needs to be done to make this work, but I have no idea what that would be.”
Fisher shuffled through his papers, glowering as he did so. Then he looked up, removed the glasses from his nose and tossed them onto the rearranged pile in front of him. He cleared his throat.
Treena straightened herself, muttered a thank you to Vivian and returned to her chair at the end of the row facing the desk.
Celeste glanced her way as Treena sat back down, then faced forward again and dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a tissue.
Lady shifted restlessly, rearranging herself on her pillow until the curve of her spine lay against Bethany’s ankle. Bethany reached down and stroked the silky fur along the dog’s back.
Nettie wadded the handkerchief she held into a ball, shifting it from hand to hand. Gordon remained still, shoulders straight, head up, as silent as he had been from the beginning.
“Unfortunately, Amanda Carmichael died before her plans were fully formed,” Fisher said. “But she had made some notes. We had exchanged a few emails, and she and I had several conversations on the subject. As some of you may know, I am the one who first told her about this area and this estate specifically. Her initial purchase was made with the idea of turning Drake’s Rest into an inn. And she made plans for its development with each of your specific talents and interests in mind. Again, unfortunately, she didn’t get much farther than that, which leaves the real planning and its outcome up to you all as a group. I do intend to be on hand to help you as much as I am able.”
Vivian straightened, leaning forward as she raised her hand to shoulder height and lifted her index finger to catch Fisher’s attention.
He paused with his reading glasses in his hand halfway between the desk and his nose. “Vivian?” He sounded puzzled. “Did you want to say something?”
“Yes. Yes, Fisher, I do.” Vivian folded both hands into her lap, still leaning slightly forward. She looked prim but comfortable. “As you know, Amanda was a friend of mine from many years back, and I feel, strangely I will admit, that I owe her a certain debt for not being as good a friend as I might have been over the years. And as I come from a similar background and experience as Amanda, I have decided that I will fill in for her as best I can during the initial startup phase of this venture.”
Fisher frowned and set his glasses back down. “What does that mean, Vivian? Fill in…fill in, how?”
“I will remain here for a month or two as needed and assist in the planning and development of this home as a functioning bed and breakfast.”
“Surely you’re not serious.”
“Of course, I’m serious. Why wouldn’t I be serious? I’m a business woman, and I advised Jesse when she was opening the Gilded Lily.”
Jesse bobbed her head in agreement, not wanting to be caught between an incredulous Fisher and an affronted Vivian. Jesse could understand Fisher’s surprise. She had been rather taken aback herself, but he did seem more opposed to the idea than she would have thought.
“Fisher Elias Daniels, are you implying that I’m not capable?” Vivian demanded. “For goodness sakes, I own an oil company!”
Fisher pinched the bridge of his nose, sighed, and said, “Vivian, light of my life, of course I’m not suggesting any such thing. You are possibly—pardon me, definitely—the most capable woman I have ever known. I simply didn’t want you to offer something so generous in a moment of emotion that you might later regret.”
Mollified, Vivian relaxed. “I have thought about it, and it’s something I want to do.”
It was in that moment that Jesse realized two things. The first was that Vivian had been serious when she had mentioned recently that she wanted more excitement and purpose in her life.
The second was that, though Fisher had better sense than to say it aloud, he was afraid to leave Vivian here alone after he and Jesse went back. That could only mean that he had come to believe the danger might not have ended with Amanda’s death—a niggling fear that plagued Jesse herself.
“I would be interested in hearing exactly what thoughts Amanda had on the subject,” Vivian said, still addressing Fisher. “That is, if you have those among your papers.”
Replacing his glasses, Fisher spread a manila folder open and lifted the top two sheets of paper. “The following are notes from a work-in-progress meeting between Amanda Carmichael and Fisher Daniels. They were reviewed by Mrs. Carmichael and bear her signature at the bottom of the second page. The notes are as follows: Regarding the reorganization of my home, Drake’s Rest, as a bed and breakfast, I (Amanda Carmichael) think that the first floor should be a common area, with the entry foyer to be used as an informal reception and checkin area. A floor plan is included with notations as to the use of each room as it currently exists. The dining room, kitchen and butler’s pantry are marked and an additional floor plan has been drawn up to reflect this area renovated to accommodate a new kitchen and a public dining area for guests as well as drop-in dining.”
Fisher stopped reading to look up. “I have made copies of each floor plan for the five of you.” He indicated the chairs immediately in front of his desk. “I will make an additional copy for you, Vivian, after the meeting.”
He handed a fistful of papers to Bethany, who sat directly opposite him. “The sets are stapled together. If you would take one and pass the others down, I’ll continue. And I would request that you wait to study the floor plans until after I have finished reading the notes from Amanda.”
“Are there more floor plans?” Nettie asked.
“Yes, one for each floor. There are also plans for outdoor gardens that will be discussed later with anyone involved with the landscaping.”
“Ah, I see.” Nettie took her copy of the plans from Gordon and immediately flipped through the pages. “Very thorough.”
“A firm of architects drew them up from the floor plans she received with the home’s purchase. To conserve your working capital, she kept the changes to
a minimum.”
“Oh,” Bethany said sadly as she stared at the plans she held.
“What?” Celeste asked.
“She has her bedroom marked as the bridal suite.” Bethany sniffed and wiped her nose with a tissue. “I had thought we might leave her room as it is.”
“Maybe that’s one reason she drew up the plans,” Gordon said gently. “If this is going to be run as a business, we can’t be ruled by sentiment.”
“Moving along,” Fisher announced and began to read again. “The second floor will be set aside as guest rooms, with the former master suite designated as the bridal suite and the room at the opposite end of the hall to be used as the presidential suite. Each room will maintain its period décor in keeping with the history of the home. On the third floor, each room will be equal in size, with shared baths between two rooms. The apartment over the garage will be divided into three bedrooms for the use of Gordon Pitts, Bobby Don Carmichael and Frankie Landon, and the groundskeeper’s cottage will be designated for the use of Bethany O’Connor and Lady Jane Grey for the lifetime of Lady Jane Grey, at which time Bethany O’Connor will take up residence on the third floor of the main house. The former groundskeeper’s cottage will then become a rental cottage for the Inn.”
Fisher put down the papers he was reading from and addressed the room at large. “There are additional notes regarding herb gardens, vegetable gardens, meditation gardens, picnic areas, and other things that Amanda felt would enhance the appeal of the bed and breakfast for guests. There are also specifics regarding the boat and possible fishing and whale watching opportunities for guests that I will address in a private meeting with Mr. Pitts and then again in a more general meeting later with everyone else.”
“She certainly had a lot of ideas,” Nettie said to no one in particular. “She have any suggestions for how we’re going to get these guests she’s talking about?”
“Actually, yes,” Fisher answered. “She had contacted someone about a website, and it’s already being set up. She had gathered tourism brochures from other islands to get some ideas and had already approached a whale watching operation about offering stops on the island for lunch at the B&B. She was thinking of nature walks through the surrounding forest, as well as observing the several eagle nests along the shore combined with benches installed for spotting the seals and whales that frequent these waters. She also hoped to develop a botanical garden here.”
“Like Butchart Gardens?” Celeste asked, showing her first spark of real interest.
“On a smaller scale,” Fisher answered with a nod. “And for guests who want the real thing, it’s a ferry ride away. For people staying here, Amanda was thinking that a day out on a whale-watching boat or a day trip to Butchart Gardens could be offered as excursions for guests.”
“Good heavens,” Nettie said in an awed whisper. “We could actually make this work.”
Catching some of Nettie’s excitement, Gordon spoke up. “A lot of the smaller islands around here are designated as parks by the state. With the boat we have available, we could offer day trips to all kinds of places that you can only get to by water.”
“It sounds like Amanda was planning to have a restaurant that people would go out of their way to visit,” Treena said. “We’re going to need a real chef who can teach the rest of us what we need to know.”
“Does that mean you’re thinking of staying?” Fisher asked.
She offered a half-hearted shrug. “I’m not sure. But we’re going to need the others if this is going to work.”
Lawrence Hardy cleared his throat and sat straighter in his high-backed chair. “I might be able to help there,” he said. “After a lengthy phone conversation with the five heirs still in Oklahoma, I have made arrangements for them to join us here.”
“Well, good grief,” Nettie cried, “why didn’t you say something sooner?” She rose halfway out of her chair and looked toward the door as if the new arrivals would be entering at any moment. “I’ve got to get their rooms ready. You can’t just bring five more people trouping in here without any notice. What am I going to feed them?”
“Does that include Trisha?” Jesse asked, really hoping that it did but unsure how a college student could get away on such short notice.
“Yes,” Hardy confirmed, “but she will be returning after the weekend in order to finish her school year.”
“Well, that should certainly simplify things.” Fisher closed the folder he had been working out of and set his reading glasses on top of it. “For those who are still uncertain, you have until Sunday to firmly commit. Anyone opting not to accept Amanda’s bequest will return to Oklahoma at the end of the weekend and begin whatever life they have chosen for themselves. I think we’ve done enough for now. We’ll meet again when the others have arrived.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Fisher busied himself reshuffling his papers, straightening them, and tapping the bottom edge on the desk until they were neatly aligned. Mumbling among themselves, the members of the meeting filed out, with Lawrence Hardy bringing up the rear.
Occupied with the impending arrivals, Nettie could be heard asking Treena to help with a pantry inventory and requesting that Gordon stay nearby in case a boat run to the closest grocery store on Orcas Island was needed. Celeste was the first through the doorway, followed by Nettie and Treena. Bethany, with Lady in her arms, gave a parting nod to Jesse and Vivian before falling into line behind the others. Gordon walked beside Bethany, carrying the dog’s pillow.
At the door, Lawrence Hardy turned back to face Fisher. “See you in an hour for lunch?”
“In the dining room,” Fisher agreed. “Do I need to bring anything?”
“Whatever you might have questions about. Once the others get here and get settled, I’m leaving to start the ball rolling back in Oklahoma.”
“See you in an hour then.”
The door squeaked closed behind him, and Jesse, Vivian and Fisher all breathed a sigh of relief.
“Holy crap!” Fisher stood, lifted his arms over his head and stretched. “I must have been out of my mind when I suggested this place to Amanda.” Arching his back, he rotated his head in a semi-circle from one shoulder to the other.
“I’ve been wondering about that,” Vivian answered. “Why did you?”
Fisher came out from behind the desk, took the nearest armchair, dragged it over to them and sat down. “She had told me about her scheme to provide her dependents, as she called them, with a livelihood after she was gone. She asked me to keep my eye out for a property that might work. I discovered this one when I was up this way on vacation.”
“Bet you’re sorry now,” Jesse said.
“You don’t know the half of it. Especially since it may have gotten Amanda killed.”
“Oh, you don’t really think that,” Vivian argued. “Her medicine was being tampered with while she was still in Oklahoma.”
“Well, if that’s true,” Fisher said, “then that would narrow the suspect pool to the ones who were with her in both places, which is…who…Bethany?”
“Treena.” Jesse scribbled in her notebook as she spoke. “And…”
“Celeste,” Vivian added. “That’s it. They are the only ones who were in both places. And Bethany had easy access to Amanda’s medicine.”
“Treena would have had access to Amanda’s food, at least while they were still in Oklahoma,” Jesse said. “And that’s where Amanda was given the overdose of her medicine. It would have been a simple matter to add it to her food, especially for someone who helped with the cooking.”
“And Celeste?” Fisher asked.
“According to others that we talked to, Celeste still had a very close relationship with Amanda,” Jesse answered. “Celeste doesn’t seem to think so, but others felt that Amanda was still closer to her than to anyone else. So it would seem that Celeste would have had access to Amanda’s medicine, to her food, and to Amanda herself. The question would be why would she harm Amanda?”
Vivian shrugged. “The same question would apply to the others. No one really had anything to gain by Amanda’s death, and no one seems happy with the outcome.”
“Pushing her to her death on the staircase could have been an accident,” Fisher said. “But tampering with her medicine would have to be on purpose. So who had something to gain? And what was that blathering Treena was doing about Brandon Carmichael?”
“Ah, yes.” Vivian turned to Jesse. “Didn’t she say something about her grandmother seeing to it that Treena got what was coming to her? Do you suppose that awful old woman got it into her head that Brandon was the father of those children? Do you suppose she has any proof?”
“That’s ridiculous,” Fisher argued. “Brandon Carmichael’s been dead for years, and if anyone had any proof of paternity they would have come forward when his estate was being settled.”
“Greed doesn’t care much about logic,” Vivian said. “Treena’s grandmother is in assisted living and has apparently been cultivating a relationship by filling Treena’s head with nonsense. A lonely girl reared without a father might jump at the chance to believe in a fairytale.”
“I believe she did say something like that,” Jesse answered half a beat behind. “Fisher, do you suppose that while you and Mr. Hardy are lunching, one of you could call the sheriff’s department to see if they’ve arrived at an official cause of death for Amanda?”
“I suppose we could.” Fisher’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Do you suppose you could tell me why you suddenly need to know that?”
“Well, we are about to add five more people to the mix here. And that’s going to make finding Amanda’s killer about five times more confusing. Plus, if the police suddenly decide that Amanda’s death wasn’t an accident, then her office that we haven’t searched yet, and her bedroom that we haven’t finished searching, are going to be off limits to us.”
“What do you think you’re going to find?” he asked. “We have no idea what we’re even looking for.”
“What I personally would love to find are some old pictures,” Vivian said, growing excited. “I barely remember what Brandon looked like, other than he was a handsome man. I do remember that. With strawberry blond hair, which come to think of it, was quite similar to Treena’s.”
Murder on a Silver Sea (Myrtle Grove Garden Club Mystery Book 3) Page 18