Murder with Cucumber Sandwiches

by Karen Rose Smith

  “What happened?”

  “What usually happens to men?”

  Daisy was puzzled at that remark, and Miranda must have seen it. “Are you married?”

  “I was. I’m a widow now.”

  Miranda murmured, “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s been about three years. I don’t quite understand what you’re getting at.”

  “Another woman. Derek went to a food festival show in Colorado. When he returned, he was different. His contract with the network was up, and almost overnight he brought in a chef he’d met at the festival. She’d won an award and was a hot commodity. She was also blond, pretty, and overtly sexy. Almost overnight I was out, and that was because of Derek. Loyalty and everything we’d shared meant nothing to him.”

  “Then why was Derek’s show canceled?”

  Miranda’s smile was self-satisfied. She said with bitterness, “The blond bombshell bombed. She was an airhead. Oh, she looked good in front of a camera and could even perform now and then. But she had little common sense or instincts about food. The audience could see through her. Derek should have known that, but he must have been blinded by those dark brown eyes and that bleached blond hair. It was so over-highlighted. The ratings tanked and stayed tanked when Derek took over the show himself. Apparently, his bringing on the blond bombshell turned the audience against him. He just couldn’t gain it back.”

  “Why didn’t they invite you to return?”

  “Oh, I had calls from the producer. But I never called him back. I could never work with Derek again, even if he’d asked me . . . even if he’d asked me to marry him.”

  The timer on Miranda’s stove dinged.

  “That’s the focaccia bread. I have to take it from the oven. That’s pretty much it. I don’t know if my info helps you at all.”

  Daisy knew she had to leave. Even though business was slow, she didn’t want to be away from the tea garden for too long. Who knew what could crop up these days? And what if Jonas stopped in? Was he even back yet?

  “And the name of Derek’s new partner was Birgit Oppenheimer?”

  “Oh yes. That was her.”

  Miranda took the bread from the oven and set it on the cooling rack on the counter. Daisy suspected she wouldn’t get anything more out of Miranda today, even though she believed she knew more.

  Miranda turned around to face her. “So you’ll be leaving now?”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  “I have cooking to finish. Yes, that’s what I want. Talking about any of this is such a downer. I don’t need that in my life.”

  Daisy shrugged back into her coat and stood. “Thank you for talking to me.”

  “I doubt if it helped, but you’re welcome. You can just let yourself out.”

  As Daisy opened the door and stepped outside again, she noticed the rain had stopped. Her gut feeling was that Miranda was a legitimate suspect. She’d been a woman scorned in more ways than one.

  * * *

  Daisy had a sense of déjà vu as she sat in the living room with Foster and Vi. This time Jazzi wasn’t with them. This time she had to try to reason with them. This time could decide all of their futures.

  Jonas hadn’t called her after his weekend in Philadelphia. She hadn’t called him. So her future was irrevocably intertwined with Vi and Foster’s. She’d push any dreams she’d had about Jonas from her radar.

  Foster had taken two folded sheets of paper from his jacket pocket. He opened them up and laid them on the coffee table. Daisy thought he and Violet both looked a little shell-shocked. From the budget they’d developed?

  “Is that your six-month budget?” Daisy asked.

  “It is,” Foster said, meeting her gaze. His shoulders sagged. “We looked everything up online, from articles in baby magazines to parent magazines to income tax requirements.”

  “And what did you find out?”

  “What you already knew,” Violet admitted with defeat in her tone. “That we’re going to have a hard time supporting ourselves and a baby. If Foster takes on extra work and I work as long as I can, and we find a really cheap place to live, we can do it if we can get a loan.”

  Foster cut her a quick glance. “The problem is—we don’t have any collateral except for our cars.”

  Daisy nodded.

  “Mom, you said you’d back us. Would you give us a loan?”

  Thinking about the plans she’d considered all afternoon, she shook her head. “Loans are meant to be paid back within a certain amount of time. Also, they’re given in hopes that your circumstances will change for the better.”

  “They will,” Violet insisted. “After the baby’s born, I’ll get a full-time job.”

  Because it was necessary, Daisy played devil’s advocate. “What will you do about day care?”

  “We’ll figure something out,” Vi mumbled.

  Looking from her daughter’s face to Foster’s, she asked the most important question. “Are you sure you want to get married? You could give up the baby for adoption.” That idea tore at Daisy’s heart. She didn’t know if she could let it happen, but it was an option.

  “No,” came out of Foster’s and Violet’s mouths at the same time. “I won’t consider that,” Violet said. “Look at Jazzi. She searched for her birth parents, and they might not even accept her.”

  “But you would,” Daisy said.

  “I’m not going to put a child through that. Adoption means they’ll always have a hole in their heart. I can’t do that to a child.”

  After letting silence wash over the room, Daisy concluded, “All right. You’ve both made yourselves clear. I’ve been thinking about solutions, too, and I have a few ideas. But I want to talk to Foster’s dad first.”

  Foster shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know if you should do that, Mrs. Swanson.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because Dad’s angry with me, and I’m staying with a friend. We told him about the baby, and he practically shouted the roof off the house.”

  “Hopefully, he’s calmed down by now. Hopefully, he’s thinking about solutions too.”

  “Oh yes, he has a solution. We should end the pregnancy now, and we should both go back to school.”

  “Foster, I’m sure you know that when people are upset they say things they don’t mean. They also make decisions they shouldn’t make. That’s why I want the two of you to be absolutely sure what you want to do.”

  “When Foster came to Lehigh, we talked and talked and talked,” Vi said. “We’ve talked every night since then too. We know what we want.”

  Being in the same room with the couple, listening to them, she felt that was true. “I’ll call your dad and try to see him. Once we’ve talked, we’ll let you know our suggestions and concerns. We’ll figure out the best way to proceed. Okay?”

  “You didn’t say if you’d give us a loan,” Vi protested. “We know Foster’s dad won’t.”

  “You don’t know anything for sure right now except for the fact that you want to get married.”

  Foster bumped Violet’s arm. “It’s okay. Let your mom talk to my dad. She’s done it before.”

  Violet studied Daisy for a few moments and then nodded. “We’ll trust you, Mom.”

  Daisy just hoped she could live up to that trust.

  * * *

  Daisy was brewing herself a pot of white Himalayan tea when her cell phone that was charging on the counter played a tuba sound. After Foster and Vi had spent time alone outside, Foster had left. Vi had excused herself and gone upstairs. There was awkwardness between her and Daisy now that had never been there before. Jazzi had come home, and whenever Daisy passed the foot of the stairs, she could hear her daughters talking. That made her feel better.

  Picking up her phone, she saw Jonas’s face on the screen. How was his weekend in Philadelphia? What was he going to say to her? That they were finished? They might be.

  She answered his call with, “Hi, Jonas.”

  “I just got home fr
om Philadelphia a little while ago. I stayed an extra night. But I don’t want the sun to go down on another night without us talking. Can I come over?”

  It had been an ultra-emotional day today, but the sooner she talked to Jonas the better. She didn’t want him finding out about Vi’s pregnancy from someone else.

  Fifteen minutes later, Jonas was at her front door. On her phone app she could see him from the video monitor. He was wearing an open-collar shirt under a green pullover, black jeans, and black shoe boots. She hated the idea of telling him what was going on with Vi and Foster, but she knew she had to.

  Crossing to the front door, she opened it. He didn’t give her a chance to say anything, but rather took her hands in his. “It’s so good to see you. I missed you.”

  Her voice became a little shaky when she whispered, “I missed you too. But I was upset by what happened between us.” She waited for him to become defensive.

  He didn’t. “I understand if you don’t want me to stay long or to stay at all. Can we sit and talk?”

  Daisy didn’t know what had happened to her manners or her common sense. She felt as if she had been swept up into a swirling outer circle of a tornado and hadn’t landed yet. She motioned to the sofa and the chairs.

  Jonas looked as if he were going to take a separate chair, but with a serious expression, he sat down next to her on the sofa.

  “No cats to greet me tonight,” he said, maybe trying to lighten the atmosphere.

  “They’re both upstairs with Jazzi and Vi.”

  “Vi’s still home?”

  “Yes. We had a lot to talk about.”

  Jonas’s gaze was questioning, but he didn’t give her time to say more. Instead, he turned to face her. “I’m sorry for my attitude before I left. Of course, your girls have to come first. It took me about a day to get my head on straight. I thought about what we said to each other, and I’m so sorry about what I said to you.”

  “Jonas, me too.”

  His jaw tightened and his brow creased. “You spoke the truth. I’ve never had kids. More important, I never dated a woman with kids before. Your children might look grown, but as my friend in Philadelphia reminded me this weekend, when a woman has children they’re forever attached by an invisible umbilical cord.”

  Jonas waited to see if Daisy would respond, but she couldn’t. She felt as if she didn’t have any air to breathe, let alone talk.

  Jonas went on, “My attitude came from disappointment and not being able to spend the weekend with you. If I’d had any common sense, or had been thinking clearly, I would have stayed home and spent any time I could with you here.”

  Tears came fast and furious to Daisy’s eyes, and a few leaked down her cheek.

  Jonas took her hand. “What’s wrong, Daisy? Can you forgive me for what I said, for causing a barrier instead of strengthening a bond?”

  She studied their clasped hands and found her voice. “I can forgive you, Jonas. We’re still feeling our way in our relationship. There are bound to be misunderstandings. But . . . Violet came home to tell me something that’s going to change all of our lives. I have to be truthful with you. You’re probably going to be even more disappointed and frustrated by any kind of future we’d have.”

  The lines around his mouth creased deeper, and his expression told her he had no idea where this conversation was going.

  She blurted out, “I’m going to be a grandmother.”

  Jonas was looking at her as if she were speaking another language.

  She hurried to explain. “Violet is pregnant. She wants to drop out of school and marry Foster as soon as she can. She’s intent on what she wants to do, and Foster is too. They’re determined to get married and have this baby. She doesn’t want to give it up for adoption. She might quit college to get a full-time job. I can’t imagine you’re going to want to be involved with me with as complicated as everything is going to get.”

  Jonas cleared his throat, kept her hand in his, and looked straight into her eyes. “Do you want me to be involved?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know because I don’t have any idea what’s going to happen next. I called Gavin, and we’re going to meet tomorrow morning. I have some ideas on how we can help Vi and Foster. I’m hoping Gavin can see through his anger and frustration to help me convince the kids to make good decisions.”

  “I understand why you want Gavin to help you do that. As Foster’s dad, he has a say in everything that happens. But I want you to know, I can support you, too, no matter what happens.”

  She thought about their argument before he left for Philadelphia. Just because she forgave him didn’t mean she’d forgotten what had happened. “Jonas, you’ve said you don’t know if you’re ready for the responsibility of a family. This would be a lot more than taking on me and the girls.”

  “I know that.” He studied her thoroughly. “You’re afraid that, in the middle of everything that’s happening, I’ll walk away. The only way you’re going to trust me is to start trusting me.”

  She took a very deep breath and wiped away any residue of tears. “I’m going to have to take one step at a time with Violet, with Jazzi, and with us. We’re going to be in limbo for a while. Can you live with that?”

  “All we can do, Daisy, is to be completely honest with each other about our feelings and our needs.”

  “After I talk with Gavin, I have a lot of calls to make for the plan I’m proposing. If Gavin goes along with it, and I can get the resources I need, then we’ll have to convince Violet and Foster our plan is good for them.”

  “Are you going to tell me what the plan is?”

  “I’ll call you after I talk to Gavin. I promise. But even if we figure out a good way to handle this, I won’t have much time for us, and I believe you’ll get fed up with that and with me.”

  Jonas gently took her by the shoulders and turned her toward him. “I can’t tell you I won’t get fed up, but I can’t tell you I will either. We’ll just have to see what works. If we have to snatch fifteen minutes here or there, that’s what we’ll do.”

  In a low shaky voice, she asked, “Will that be enough for you?”

  He countered with, “Will that be enough for you?”

  She leaned forward and laid her head on his chest as he wrapped her in his arms. She wished she had a crystal ball to know if they were going to survive this or if their lives were going to fall apart.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The following morning, Daisy sat across her desk from Gavin Cranshaw at the tea garden, her office door securely closed.

  Tessa and Iris were in the kitchen working on freshly baked goods and the soup of the day. Daisy had already baked cinnamon scones for the sales case. Last night on the phone, Gavin hadn’t been very articulate, but she’d been able to hear the anger in his voice. Since Gavin was a contractor who started work early, they decided the best course was for him to come into the tea garden this morning. It was only six a.m., but they were both wide awake. She’d brewed a pot of black tea. Now it sat in mugs on her desk.

  Gavin was about six feet tall and his hair was sandy brown. Like Foster, his square jaw and long nose brought interest to his face. He was wearing jeans, a white T-shirt, and a red flannel jacket. After he reached for his mug, he set it back down without taking a sip. “I know I didn’t handle Foster and Violet’s news well. I was so disappointed and frustrated that he’s messing up his life.”

  Daisy wasn’t sure how to bring calmness and reason to this discussion, but she knew she had to for all of their sakes. “I know Foster is a fine young man, and Vi is a fine young woman. I care about what happens to both of them. But I also believe we have to safeguard the baby.”

  Gavin waved his hand through the air as if all the pent-up energy inside of him had to go somewhere. “Vi should give up the baby for adoption, and they should forget about the marriage idea. Eighteen and nineteen. How do they ever think that’s going to work?”

  “I was eighteen when I married Ryan.
How old were you when you got married?”

  “Too young,” Gavin snapped.

  “Would you do it again?”

  He gave her a cutting look that told her he knew what she was trying to do. “There’s no comparison between then and now, and you know it. What happens if they can’t make ends meet? They’ll end up living with one of us . . . with a baby.”

  Taking a deep breath, she picked up her mug. “Gavin, I know we’re both facing a challenge. But if we don’t support our children emotionally as well as in other ways, what’s going to happen? They’ll run off and get married, they’ll have the baby, and they’ll end up living in a run-down apartment or in their car.”

  He scowled. “You sound as if you have an alternative.”

  “I do. At least an alternative as to where they can live. I thought about this long and hard.”

  “Go ahead.” He took a swallow of tea.

  “I don’t know if Foster told you, but my house was an old barn with an outbuilding when I bought it. My husband’s insurance money allowed me to start over here, not only with our home but with the business. When I sold our house in Florida and moved here, I wanted something that would fit us and could grow with us.”

  “I don’t understand.” Gavin looked puzzled.

  “We finished the house and it’s exactly the way we wanted it. We turned the outbuilding into a two-car garage and the space above it is unfinished. My intention was to eventually turn it into an apartment for additional income. Or . . . if one of the girls wanted a place of her own as they got older and graduated, she’d have it. At the time, I’d decided I was tired of construction and didn’t know exactly what I wanted to do with that second floor . . . or take out a loan to do it. So I waited.”

  “Go on,” Gavin said.

  “If Foster and maybe some of his friends are willing to volunteer sweat equity to do the finishing work, I would invest in the space for Vi and Foster. It will be a small apartment, but it could suit them until they can afford something else. While they live there, they’d have to pay utilities, but I’d forgo rent for the first year. This won’t be a free ride. There are consequences to making mistakes or acting impulsively, whichever applies, but I’ll keep the rent reasonable after the first year. What do you think?”