Thinking of Violet again made her smile. She’d gone back to Lehigh yesterday, her break over. Daisy couldn’t wait until her older daughter was home for the summer. They could have long chats on summer evenings as they weeded the vegetable garden, take hikes like they used to take on weekends, and barbecue burgers and chicken outside with Jonas.
That was daydreaming, and she shouldn’t indulge in it.
She said to Cora Sue and Foster, “Any spare minute you have this morning, help Aunt Iris and Tessa in the kitchen. We have a full house for tea service, and we still have to produce baked goods to fill the case. The morning crowd almost wiped us out.”
“I’ll handle filling the case and standing at the counter to handle new customers,” Foster assured her.
It wasn’t unusual to have a lull after the first morning rush. They used it to catch their breath and do whatever was necessary to fill the case for their lunchtime clients.
After Cora Sue and Foster went to the kitchen, Daisy made a quick inventory of the case. When the bell above the door dinged, she looked up and saw Russ Windom coming toward her. Russ was a retired teacher with gray hair that started high on his forehead, bushy white brows, and titanium black glasses. He came in most mornings for baked goods and a cup of tea. A widower with time on his hands, he enjoyed chatting with everyone. He was later than usual today.
Instead of taking a seat, he looked around, peered into the spillover tea room, and beckoned Daisy to the doorway of the other room.
Curious, she met him there. “Good morning, Russ. How are you today?”
“I’m just fine. I know I’m later than usual, but I have a reason for that.”
“You do?” Daisy prompted.
He glanced around again and then asked, “Is Iris here?”
“She’s in the kitchen baking with Tessa. Would you like me to get her?”
“Oh no. No. That’s why I came in later when Iris would be busy. I was hoping to have a word with you.”
Now this was an interesting twist. What did he want to have a word about? But she didn’t ask. She waited.
Russ was dressed in a plaid shirt with a button-down collar and khaki slacks. He wore sneakers, and Daisy knew he enjoyed a walk every morning after he left the tea garden. His face grew a little redder as she waited to hear his question. He looked uncomfortable and maybe even a bit embarrassed.
“Is something wrong, Russ? Did you buy something you didn’t like and you’d like a refund?”
“No, no. Nothing like that. You say Iris is in the kitchen? I don’t want her to overhear.”
“She won’t be able to hear us from there.”
“I know this is a little presumptuous of me, but you and your aunt are close.”
“If it’s a personal question, you should really ask her.”
“Yes, well, I know it hasn’t been a year since the man Iris was dating was killed.”
Now Daisy had no idea where this was going.
“No, it hasn’t been.”
“That’s why I thought I’d talk to you first. I need your opinion. Do you think your aunt would go to a movie with me?”
At Russ’s so-serious expression, Daisy almost smiled. But then she knew this was no smiling matter for him or for her aunt. She really didn’t know if her aunt was ready to date again.
“To tell you the truth, Russ, I don’t know what Aunt Iris would say. But I do know it won’t hurt to ask.”
Russ didn’t look disappointed but rather pleased with that assessment. “You think I should take the risk?”
“I do. What’s the worst that could happen?”
He frowned. “She’ll say no and I’ll have ruined our friendship.”
“It doesn’t have to be ruined. If she’s not ready, just tell her you’ll ask again in a few months. That will prepare her and maybe she’ll get ready.”
At that, Russ chuckled. “Aren’t you the smart one.” “No, not smart. But I do have a daughter in college and I’ve gone through several dating scenarios with her.”
“And now Jazzi will date soon.”
Daisy groaned. “That idea makes me want to lock her in her room or else buy a time machine to go back a few years.”
“Tell me you’d give up your life as it is now to return to the past,” Russ suggested.
After Daisy considered that idea, she answered, “No, probably not. And I think you are the wise one. How about a cinnamon scone and a cup of tea?”
“That should fortify me for a while. I’ll think about what you said. When the moment’s right, I’ll ask Iris.”
Soon after Russ had finished his tea and left, business picked up again with springtime tourists. Sightseers from a bus from Westminster, Maryland, spread across the sidewalk out front. They apparently had been dropped off, then had toured the shops. Now they were finishing their visit by gathering at the tea garden. As Daisy served them a Japanese Sencha green tea with a hint of vanilla, one of the women who looked to be near seventy and was wearing a straw hat said, “That is a beautiful teapot.”
The blue-patterned teapot was a favorite of many of Daisy’s customers. She revealed, “It’s Polish pottery—Olympia.” She hadn’t covered it with a cozy because she knew she’d be pouring most of it.
“My name is Marge,” the woman said, holding her hand out to Daisy.
Daisy smiled and shook it. She could tell this was a customer who would like to talk. But that was what the tea garden was all about—chatting, relaxing, and enjoying tea.
Marge said, “I just bought a new teapot. It’s one of those glass pots with an infuser. You can see all around it as the tea leaves swish. It came with jasmine-infused tea flowers, but I can use loose leaf tea too,” she elaborated. “And I can even put it in the dishwasher, which is a real relief. Many of my pretty pots I can’t do that with.”
“I know what you mean,” Daisy said. “We hand-wash most of our teapots, and many of our cups and saucers too.”
“That means you care.” Marge’s head bobbed as she looked up at Daisy. “If you’re that kind to your china, you’ll be that attentive to your tea.”
“I like to think so,” Daisy assured her. “Enjoy your tea and scones.”
Marge was happily doing that as Daisy returned to the kitchen.
In the kitchen, Eva was putting porcelain plates into the cupboard. Tessa was busily arranging more pimento sandwiches on a tiered tray, and Cora Sue . . .
Cora Sue was studying her phone. That was unusual. Maybe she’d had an emergency text.
Daisy lifted a teapot from a trivet on the counter and went to Cora Sue. “Is something wrong?”
Cora Sue’s face was a little pale. She usually wore a bit of blush along with her lipstick and eye makeup. But right now even the blush didn’t make her cheeks look rosy. She touched Daisy’s arm. “Can you come into the office with me for a minute?”
Cora Sue was a dedicated worker. She always seemed to be in a good mood, and she enjoyed talking with their clientele. She was full-time at the tea garden and didn’t ask for unexpected days off. She also planned her vacations carefully to think about the other servers.
As Daisy followed Cora Sue, she hoped nothing was wrong. Yet that expression on Cora Sue’s face told her something was.
Once in her office, Cora Sue handed Daisy her phone. “Look at this. It’s Derek Schumacher’s blog.”
Daisy hesitated to take the phone. “Reading his reviews the other day was enough. I don’t know if I want to look any more.”
“This isn’t a review.”
Something in Cora Sue’s tone convinced Daisy to take the phone. “What am I looking at?”
“Scan the comments.”
Daisy scanned down the comments without reading Derek Schumacher’s latest blog. When she reached the tenth one, she gasped. It read:
You’ve written your last bad review that ruins a business. Write another one, and you’re dead.
Daisy was so glad Jonas was coming over tonight. Her argument with Jazzi
about Portia still hurt and bothered her. Maybe talking to Jonas about it would help. They’d be able to talk freely tonight. Daisy needed the warmth of his arm around her shoulders, his sensible conversation, his experience as a detective.
When he rang her doorbell and she opened the door to him, she felt as if her heart was twittering a message she’d never heard before. He is what he seems. He says what he means. You’ve fallen whether you wanted to or not.
Trying to hide the feelings that seemed to bubble up when Jonas was around, she said, “It’s just us tonight. Jazzi has soccer practice.”
She heard a meow from the deacon’s bench. “And the cats, of course.”
Marjoram stood, stretched, yawned, and then jumped down from the bench. She came over to Jonas as she almost always did. She looked up at him with her cute split-color face—tan on one side and dark brown on the other—meowed again, and sat on his foot.
“I suppose that means something,” he said with a smile as he stooped to pick up the cat.
“You understood her very well. Listen, she’s purring.”
He stroked Marjoram’s back until she started to wiggle in his arms. Then he set her down. By that time Pepper had awakened, found her favorite toy—a long catnip-infused fish—and carried it to Jonas. She just sat and looked up at him.
“I’m not sure she wants the same thing,” he told Daisy.
“She doesn’t. She wants you to throw it so she can chase it.”
Laughing, he stooped, picked up the blue fish, and gently tossed it near the sofa. Pepper went scurrying after it with Marjoram right behind her, trying to win the race.
Tonight, Jonas was dressed in a short-sleeve indigo Henley shirt and stone-washed jeans. But after he’d laughed at the feline antics, his face had gone back to serious, lines around his mouth and eyes deep as if he were in thought. She wondered what was on his mind. She knew he’d tell her in his own time. Jonas sometimes had a difficult task expressing his feelings, but when he did, she knew exactly what he felt.
“I made sauerbraten tonight in the slow cooker, and mac and cheese. I hope you like it.”
“I like everything you make,” he told her. “Is there anything I can do?” He followed her into the kitchen.
That was another thing about Jonas. He helped no matter what the task. She hadn’t met many men like that. “The coleslaw is ready. Just pull it out from the fridge. I just have to take the mac and cheese out of the oven.”
“Do you want to sit at the island or the table?”
“The island is fine with me.”
She and her girls ate there most of the time. They used the table in the dining area when guests were present. Jonas wasn’t a guest anymore.
Jonas cut the sauerbraten while Daisy spooned out the mac and cheese. “I made a light dessert, lemon-sponge pudding. So you might want to save a little room.”
“Will do. How was your day?”
Daisy had set her phone on the island. Now she picked it up and tapped it open. “Something a little unusual happened.”
His brow creased. “Something to do with that food critic?”
“How did you guess?”
“That’s mostly what’s on your mind these days, except of course, for Jazzi’s situation.”
Daisy hadn’t known Jonas long, but he definitely knew how to read people. “You’re right. That’s mostly what’s on my mind. I’d like your opinion about this.” She handed him the phone so he could read the comment.
He scrolled up, then he scrolled down. He stopped on the comment again.
“Do you think that person really means it?” Daisy asked.
Jonas shrugged. “In my experience, comments like that usually come from a relative or a friend of the person who received the bad review. Most of the time, those comments don’t amount to anything.”
“But what if it does? What if this person means what he says? His user name is ‘avidfollower.’”
“I saw that, and yes, he or she could be a crazy stalker.”
Daisy never thought about the post being from a woman.
Jonas went on, “My guess is Schumacher probably notified the police and they’re looking into it. After all, he is a celebrity of sorts.”
“Of sorts,” Daisy grumbled.
Jonas patted her hand. “You’ll do fine. Your food is good.”
“I bet the last tea shop owner thought her food was good too. Don’t try to placate me with that everything-will-be-fine platitude, because I’m not buying it.” She eyed him because that had just come pouring out. Many times in her life, her intelligence had been underestimated because of her blue eyes and blond hair. So sometimes she was a bit defensive.
Jonas, however, seemed unperturbed. “I really do think everything will be fine in your case. But I do understand how worried you are about it.”
Taking a breath, still sensing a serious undercurrent about Jonas tonight, she asked, “Is something causing you worry?”
Jonas took a mouthful of sauerbraten and then one of the mac and cheese. “I did learn something today that’s worrisome. To me, at least.”
She waited, hoping he’d trust her with everything he was thinking and feeling.
Finally, he went on. “One of the detectives I worked with in Philadelphia is taking a job with the Willow Creek Police Department. He’s going to be Rappaport’s partner.”
“Do you know him well?” She couldn’t understand why that would be worrisome for Jonas.
“His name is Zeke Willet.”
Suddenly, Daisy saw pain in Jonas’s eyes. She’d only seen that kind of pain once before when he’d told her what had happened with his partner and lover. She’d been pregnant with his child when she’d been shot and killed. What about Zeke Willet made that pain in Jonas’s eyes return?
After a pause, Jonas revealed, “Zeke was friends with Brenda, and he blames me for her death.”
Chapter Three
The food critic was coming today. Daisy was beyond nervous as she sliced cucumbers and set them out to drain. She was ticking off the items on the list in her mind of other things she still had to do when Foster came into the kitchen. He was frowning and looked . . . troubled.
There were preparations going on all around Daisy. Her staff was as nervous as she was. Eva was making sure every teapot shone without a water spot, the cups and saucers too. On her left, Tessa was cutting triangles of rye and pumpernickel bread. On her right, Cora Sue drained pimentos, while Aunt Iris and Foster had been taking care of breakfast customers.
“Karina just came in,” Foster told Daisy.
This was an all-hands-on-deck day. Aunt Iris would be directing Karina on what she needed to do to ready their reservations-only tea room.
Foster’s brown hair fell over his brow when he asked, “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Not feeling she had any spare minutes, Daisy took a deep breath. After all, she was one of the bosses. If an employee needed to talk, she had to be there for them.
“Back in five,” she told everyone in the kitchen. Then she motioned to Foster to step outside with her. A breath of spring air could calm down her adrenaline . . . maybe.
They were hardly out the door when Foster asked, “Can I leave early today? I’ll juggle my schedule with anyone who will cover for me.”
“When do you want to leave?”
“I’d like to leave now. But I’ll stay until we serve Derek Schumacher.”
Daisy looked toward the outside entrance to Tessa’s apartment and to the cars parked in the designated area for staff and customers with disabilities. She didn’t want to press Foster too hard. She’d rather wait to see if he’d tell her why he needed the day off.
He didn’t explain. He just nervously switched from one foot to the other and stared down at the creek at the rear of the property.
“Is there anything I can help with?” Daisy wanted to know.
“No,” Foster blurted out. “I just need the time free. That’s all.”
Daisy could feel the seconds that she needed for prep time ticking away, and it didn’t seem Foster wanted to tell her any more than he had. Still she asked, “Foster, are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. I hate to leave you in the lurch, but there’s something I really need to take care of.”
“All right. If we plan well, we’ll be able to serve afternoon tea without you.”
After another glance at the cloudless blue sky, at the budding willows and maples farther down the property, Foster nodded and started back inside.
Daisy thought he’d looked at the world as if he’d never see it in the same way again. Something was going on with him. Maybe his father knew what was wrong. Then again, maybe not. Twenty-year-olds didn’t always talk to their parents.
Hoping Foster would eventually tell her why he needed the time off, she followed him inside.
With the arrival of spring, the flow of guests for the afternoon tea service was a parade of mostly pastel dresses and blouses. A few customers even wore fascinators. Tourists had also dressed in jeans.
As Cora Sue checked off the names with reservations, Daisy watched for Derek Schumacher. She had seen his photo on his blog, so she knew what he looked like. She spotted him immediately. After he opened the door and stepped inside, she saw that he was tall and lean and had wavy brown hair that looked professionally styled. His brows were a darker brown that seemed to emphasize his golden-brown eyes. In dark brown slacks with a camel blazer over a cream-colored shirt, he was quite handsome. He sported one of those scruffy beards, the kind that looked like the man hadn’t shaved in a few days.
While Derek studied the tea garden with what appeared to be an analytical perusal, Daisy approached him. “Hello, Mr. Schumacher. Welcome to Daisy’s Tea Garden. I’m Daisy Swanson. Let me introduce you to my aunt Iris, the co-owner of Daisy’s.”
Derek Schumacher didn’t exactly smile, though he did extend his hand when she did. Then he proclaimed, “Your name, the name of the tea garden, your aunt, and your daughters all have flower names. Very quaint.”
From the way he said it, she didn’t think it was a compliment. He must have seen her daughters’ names on the tea garden’s website. There had been a line in the text about her daughters working at the tea garden with her.
Murder with Cucumber Sandwiches Page 3