Dead and Berried
Page 23
Suddenly the tears started. Monica swiped a hand across her eyes and tried to stem the tide of emotion that threatened to engulf her. She’d had to be brave for Gina’s sake and hadn’t wanted to let her guard down in front of the men on the yacht or in front of Detective Stevens, but now that she was alone, it was impossible to keep from crying.
Monica was reaching for a tissue when the landline rang. It was Greg.
“Are you okay? I looked all over for you at the celebration but couldn’t find you. Phyllis Bouma said she’d talked to you earlier in the afternoon but hadn’t seen you since.”
“I’m fine.”
“You sound like you’ve been crying. Is something wrong?”
Monica explained about Arline, the stolen boat and being forced into the lake so far from shore.
“And the police haven’t caught her?” Greg sounded alarmed. “I don’t like that. You could still be in danger. I’m on my way over.”
Before Monica could protest, Greg hung up.
She hadn’t thought about the possibility that Arline might still come after her. She quickly checked the locks on the front and back doors and went upstairs to change.
It felt good to peel off her wet sundress and wrap up in her terrycloth robe. She hung the dress over the shower rod to dry—hoping it wasn’t ruined—and went into her bedroom to get dressed.
Since Greg was coming over, she chose her best pair of jeans—the ones without any holes, although there was a small but hardly noticeable bleach spot on the back pocket.
She automatically reached for her favorite sweatshirt but then decided it was too ratty for public consumption and chose a white cotton sweater instead.
She tried not to jump at every sound she heard—the tree branch outside her window that needed trimming and was scraping across the glass, the settling noises the old house regularly made, Mittens’s irritated squeal when her claws got caught in the bedspread.
She didn’t want to admit how relieved she was when the front doorbell rang. As she descended the stairs she could see the top of Greg’s head through the small window set high in the door.
It was all she could do to restrain herself from throwing herself into his arms when she opened the door.
“Whoa,” Greg said, enfolding Monica in a strong hug. “Everything is going to be okay now.”
“I know,” Monica said, sniffing back the tears that were threatening to resurface.
She rested her head against Greg’s shoulder, enjoying the warmth and security of his embrace. He smelled like a mixture of citrus and old books—it was very soothing.
“I noticed a number of police cars out and about on my way here, and that’s unusual. Normally the only time I ever see a patrol car is when one of them is parked outside the Cranberry Cove Diner on a food run. But from what you just told me, I imagine they’re out looking for Arline. I’m sure they’re bound to find her soon.”
“I hope so.” Monica shivered.
“Don’t worry, because I’m not leaving you alone.” Greg pulled Monica to him.
Again, she rested her head on his shoulder and allowed herself to relax in his embrace. She felt the worry and fear of the last few hours slowly drain away.
She drew back slightly, looked up at Greg and smiled. “I have some white wine chilling in the refrigerator.”
He tightened his arm around her. “That sounds great.”
Greg was wrestling with the cork in the wine bottle and Monica was fetching glasses when the telephone rang.
“Hello?”
Monica listened for a moment. “That is good news.” She sagged against the counter in relief. “Thanks for calling.” She hung up the phone and let out a deep sigh.
“Good news, I gather?” Greg poured a measure of wine into each of their glasses.
“The police caught Arline. A couple of fishermen saw her struggling and picked her up and took her to shore. She told them that she’d taken her little boat out to join the Flag Day celebration but that she’d taken on water and started to sink. A reasonable explanation—she is a quick thinker.”
“And a good liar,” Greg said. He handed the glass of wine to Monica.
“But apparently she made the mistake of going back to Mrs. Wenk’s house, where the police were waiting for her. I guess she had some cash hidden in her room somewhere and wanted to retrieve it before she bolted.”
“I wonder where she planned to go?”
“Detective Stevens said they ran her fingerprints, and she’d been involved in a couple of scams before—nothing on this scale though.”
Greg shook his head. “Some people will insist on trying to make a fast buck. Unfortunately there is no such thing unless you win the lottery or have rich ancestors. And, let’s face it, most of us don’t. It takes hard work. I feel extremely lucky that I get to work hard at something I enjoy immensely.”
“Me, too.”
Monica realized that she did indeed relish each day on the farm, and woke to greet it with enthusiasm. She was lucky indeed.
“Are you hungry?” Monica opened the door to the refrigerator.
“Yes, actually I am. I was too distracted looking for you at the celebration to sample any of the food.”
Monica paused with her hand on the refrigerator handle. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You’re worth it.”
She quickly stuck her head in the refrigerator, pretending to examine the contents, so Greg wouldn’t see her blush.
“I’m sure I can rustle up something.”
Greg peered over Monica’s shoulder. “You’ve got eggs and bacon. Do you have any Parmesan cheese?”
“I’ve got a small piece I picked up at Fresh Gourmet.”
“How about spaghetti?”
Monica opened the pantry door. “You’re in luck. What are you thinking of concocting?”
“Pasta carbonara. Assuming you don’t mind if I take over your kitchen.”
Before Monica could answer, there was a brisk knock on the back door and then it opened.
“Hey.” Jeff was standing on the doorstep, and Lauren was right behind him.
“Surprise.” He motioned to Lauren. “Lauren’s home for a few days.”
“Come in.” Monica ushered them into the kitchen. “We were about to make some dinner. Can you join us?”
“Sure,” Jeff said enthusiastically.
Monica smiled. She knew that with all the physical labor Jeff did on the farm, he was pretty much always hungry and could easily eat four or five meals a day.
Monica poured Lauren a glass of wine while Jeff opened the refrigerator and helped himself to a beer.
Monica could tell by the expression on Jeff’s face—the lines of worry around his eyes and mouth were gone—and the way he carried himself that he must have good news.
“I guess there was nothing to worry about,” Monica said, cocking her head toward Lauren.
“What do you mean?” Lauren looked from Monica to Jeff and back again.
Jeff colored slightly. “I was worried when I couldn’t reach you on the phone. I was afraid you were trying to ditch me.”
“I’m sorry.” Lauren put an arm around Jeff. “My phone was stolen and it took several days to get it replaced. I didn’t realize you’d be worried. And I certainly wasn’t planning on ditching you.” She squeezed his shoulders.
“It looks like everything is okay now,” Monica said as she put a pot of water on the stove.
“More than okay.”
Monica turned around just in time to see the twinkle in Jeff’s eye. He put his beer on the table and took Lauren’s hand.
“Lauren,” Jeff held up their linked hands, “has decided to stay in Cranberry Cove. The company she’s interning with has offered her a job when she graduates. Fortunately they allow employees to work off-site. It will
mean frequent trips to Chicago but at least she won’t have to live there.”
Lauren answered Jeff’s smile with one of her own.
“That’s wonderful,” Greg said. “We should have a toast.” He opened the cupboard, retrieved a wineglass and filled it. He handed it to Lauren.
“Wait,” Jeff said. “We have something else to celebrate as well.” He exchanged glances with Lauren, who broke into a grin as large as Jeff’s. “Lauren has agreed to become my wife.”
“That definitely calls for a toast,” Greg said, raising his glass. “To Jeff and Lauren.”
“To Jeff and Lauren,” Monica repeated, raising her own glass. “I’m so happy for you both.” She gave Jeff a hug and then Lauren. “Have you set a date?” She laughed. “I don’t imagine you’ve had the chance to figure out the details yet. I’m just so excited.”
“We do plan to be married here on the farm.” Jeff glanced at Lauren and smiled. “We thought we could set up a tent on one of the fields by the bogs.”
“That would be lovely!” Monica exclaimed, picturing the scene in her head.
“We thought about having a wedding brunch,” Lauren said, glancing at Jeff. “With plenty of your cranberry baked goods to eat.”
“If you wouldn’t mind,” Jeff hastened to add.
“It would be my pleasure.”
• • •
Over dinner, Monica told Jeff and Lauren about what had happened that afternoon.
“Thank goodness you’re okay!” Lauren said.
Jeff looked horrified—his face had gone as white as his napkin. “You and Mother could have been killed.”
“Let’s not talk about it anymore,” Monica said briskly. “I’d much rather talk about your wedding.”
“Speaking of which, we still have to tell Lauren’s parents our news before it gets too late. They go to bed pretty early.”
“Of course,” Monica said, getting up to clear the table.
Lauren jumped up to help, but Monica shooed her away. “You get going. I’ll take care of this.”
Lauren opened the door and took Jeff’s hand.
“Good luck,” Monica called after them as they left.
“Why good luck?” Greg asked with a puzzled look on his face.
Monica shut the back door. “I don’t know. I suppose because Jeff’s concerned that Lauren’s parents don’t approve of him.”
“Why ever not? He’s a fine young man.”
“He is. But Jeff thinks they wanted someone different for Lauren—someone with a high-powered job and the income to go with it.”
“Is that what you’re looking for in a man?” Greg asked with a laugh, although his expression was serious.
“Not in the least,” Monica reassured him. “Been there, done that. And it was a mistake.”
Greg looked relieved. “I have an idea,” he said, coming up behind Monica and putting an arm around her waist. “Let’s leave the dishes and take our wine into the living room and relax for a bit. You must be beat.”
“I am,” Monica admitted.
She picked up their two glasses and followed Greg into the living room. They sat on the sofa and he poured them each more wine.
Mittens jumped onto the coffee table, knocked the wine cork off and began batting it around the living room floor. Monica watched her fondly. It was hard to imagine life before Mittens arrived.
Monica took a sip of her wine and sighed contentedly, snuggling back against the cushions of her old sofa. “I’m so happy for Jeff and Lauren. I was worried for a while—that Lauren was going to find life in the big city more enticing than the slow pace here in Cranberry Cove.”
“I’m happy for them, too. They’ll make a great couple.”
“Jeff has had a spot picked out for a house for quite a while now. If the farm continues to do well, he should be able to start building soon.” Monica plucked at the fringe on the afghan tossed over the arm of the sofa. “He wants an updated version of a traditional farmhouse with a big wraparound porch. A perfect place for children to play.”
“Whoa. Aren’t you getting a bit ahead of yourself?” Greg laughed. “They’re not even married yet.”
“True. I don’t even know if they want children. I think Jeff does, but I don’t know about Lauren.”
Monica noticed Greg was looking at her very intently. She began to chatter nervously.
“I’m so excited for there to be a wedding here at Sassamanash Farm. I can picture the tent and the tables set with white tablecloths and cranberry-colored overlays.” Monica stopped abruptly. “I think I’m getting a little carried away. Of course it will be up to Lauren and her mother to plan the wedding, not me.” She laughed.
Greg cleared his throat. “Speaking of weddings . . .”
Monica felt her breath catch.
Greg intertwined his fingers with Monica’s and gave them a squeeze.
“I’m hoping there will be another wedding here at the farm.” Greg turned toward Monica and took her chin in his hand, tilting her face up to his. “Ours. Monica Albertson, will you marry me?”
A million thoughts ran through Monica’s mind. Was this too soon? Did she know Greg well enough? Was she ready for this?
But the only word that came out was, Yes.
• • •
Later, as Monica was getting ready for bed, she reflected on her day. It had been like Michigan weather, where you could have sun, rain and snow all on the same day. She’d had fun at the Flag Day celebration, uncovered a killer, been nearly drowned, learned of Jeff and Lauren’s splendid news and said yes to a marriage proposal.
She fell asleep dreaming about weddings under a tent out by the cranberry bogs.
Recipes
Cranberry Cobbler
4 cups fresh cranberries
1½ cups sugar
1 cup all-purpose flour
½ teaspoon baking powder
1 egg, beaten
¼ cup butter cut in small cubes
Preheat oven to 375 degrees.
Toss cranberries with ¾ cup sugar and spread in a greased 8- or 9-inch square baking dish.
Mix flour, baking powder and ¾ cup sugar. Add egg and mix until incorporated. Spread over berries.
Dot with butter cubes and bake for approximately 45 minutes until top is golden brown and filling is bubbling.
Cranberry Walnut Chocolate Chunk Cookies
1 cup butter, softened
½ cup granulated white sugar
1½ cups brown sugar, packed
2 eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 teaspoons hot water
½ teaspoon salt
2½ cups all-purpose flour
2 cups semisweet chocolate chunks
1 cup dried cranberries, chopped
1 cup walnuts, chopped
Preheat oven to 325 degrees.
Cream softened butter, white sugar and brown sugar until light and smooth. Beat in eggs one at a time along with vanilla extract.
Dissolve baking soda in hot water and add to batter along with salt. Mix in flour. Stir in chocolate chips, cranberries and walnuts. Chill batter for 1 hour.
Drop by tablespoons onto cookie sheet, leaving room for cookies to expand. Bake for approximately 10 to 12 minutes. Cool on a rack.
Quinoa with Dried Cranberries and Walnuts
1 cup uncooked quinoa
2 teaspoons olive oil
3 tablespoons shallot, chopped
1 cup water
¼ cup white wine
½ teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons olive oil
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
freshly ground pepper to taste
½ cup dried cranberries, chopped
½ cup walnuts,
chopped
¼ cup fresh mint, chopped
Rinse quinoa according to package directions.
Heat 2 teaspoons olive oil in a saucepan over medium heat. Add shallots and cook, stirring, until tender—approximately 2 minutes. Add water, wine and salt to pan and bring to a boil.
Add quinoa, cover and reduce heat. Simmer for approximately 15 minutes or until liquid is absorbed. Remove from heat and let cool.
Combine 2 tablespoons olive oil, lemon juice and pepper and whisk until emulsified. Place quinoa in bowl, mix in cranberries, walnuts and mint and stir. Add dressing and toss until combined.
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