Murder with Lemon Tea Cakes

by Karen Rose Smith

  “Sounds good.”

  To make a business succeed, everyone involved needed to work together easily. Daisy’s rapport with Iris was perfect for a work environment. After all, she’d learned a lot of her cooking and baking skills from her aunt as well as her mother. So being in the kitchen together was a natural thing. Working with Tessa was companionable. They’d known each other for so long they didn’t have to watch their words or worry about what they were going to say next. Tessa was a good friend, and Daisy was grateful she’d joined her in this venture.

  A stiff wind blew fallen leaves here and there as she and Tessa rounded the back corner of the tea garden. They could have used the kitchen door, but Daisy enjoyed checking the herbs and flowers in the garden off of the patio. A profusion of mums in purple, yellow, burnt orange, and cranberry colors formed a border. No one sat at the tables outside. When Daisy brushed against a pot of rosemary, the scent drifted into the air.

  Herbs were interspersed with flowers for their decorative value and their scent. The ornamental oregano had been a particularly unusual eye catcher this year. In between the large pots on the patio floor sat whimsical statues—a foot-high unicorn and a bronze cat seated on a stone reading a book, glasses perched on its nose. A flameless candle on a timer in a tall lantern glowed near the side door since the late-afternoon light was already becoming dim.

  Tessa entered first, and Daisy let the door shut behind them. Inside the general serving area, she could see a table of six happily chatting. Daisy never knew if a Friday afternoon would be slow because residents were rushing home to get ready for the weekend, or busy because groups of employees from a business had decided a cup of tea and a scone at the end of the day was just what they needed before they started their weekend. Today she was happy to see three of the other tables occupied too. A full house for afternoon tea and a steady business was all she could ask for.

  “How did it go?” Iris asked Daisy and Tessa.

  “We didn’t have much left over,” Daisy assured her. “And all of the teas went over well. Harvey’s crowd knows tea.”

  Iris laughed. “He said as much. I think he has several English friends who started the trend.”

  The party of six in the main tea room started to stand. One of them waved to Iris and called, “That apple bread is particularly good. I might have to order a loaf the next time it’s your goodie of the day.”

  “I’m glad you liked it,” Iris called back.

  As the group left the restaurant and the atmosphere grew quieter, Daisy followed Tessa to the kitchen.

  Tessa asked Daisy, “How about a pot of green tea with rose hips?”

  “That sounds calming. Just what I need.”

  As Tessa released water from a temperature-controlled urn, she said, “We hardly had any time to talk this afternoon. I have some news.”

  “What kind of news?”

  “I’m taking several of my paintings to Revelations. Reese Masemer has agreed to give my work a showing. Apparently, he had scheduled an artist who wasn’t really ready, and Reese is giving me that slot.”

  “That’s wonderful!” Daisy gave her friend a hug. Although Tessa had joined Daisy working at the tea garden, her true love was her art. Every spare moment, she painted upstairs. She’d turned the Victorian’s attic into a studio, and it was perfect for her.

  “Maybe you’ll sell everything.”

  “That’s a dream I’ve almost been afraid to dream.”

  “If you can see it, it can happen,” Daisy assured her. She told her daughters that all the time.

  “Speaking of seeing and dreaming,” Tessa said slyly, “how did dinner go with Cade?” She had known Cade back in high school too, though not as well as Daisy had.

  “It went just fine,” Daisy said, though she wasn’t sure it had. After Cade’s surprising remark about the prom, he’d acted like a longtime friend, not a man with a romantic interest in her.

  “Did he ask you for a date?”

  “Nope,” Daisy said with a shrug.

  “Did he try to kiss you?”

  “Nope,” Daisy said again, as if it didn’t matter at all. She didn’t even know if it did. “It’s possible he didn’t like me making the first move—you know, asking him to dinner.”

  “Don’t be silly. Men these days consider that a turn-on.”

  Cade hadn’t seemed romantically turned on, even though she was attracted to him. Maybe she was deluding herself, thinking something romantic could develop between them.

  Before their conversation could go any further, Daisy’s cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She’d put it on vibrate while they were serving and mingling with Harvey’s customers.

  Slipping it from her pocket, she saw Violet’s number. She said to Tessa, “It’s Vi. I’m going to take it.” She always took her kids’ calls. They always came first.

  “What’s up, honey?” Daisy asked Vi as she headed to her office.

  Violet just started right in. “You know I said I might come home next weekend?”

  “Yes.” Jazzi was so looking forward to seeing her sister, and Daisy missed her oldest more than she could ever say.

  “I don’t think I will be. It’s so crazy here—crazy busy in a good way, and I just love it. In fact, I might not be home until Thanksgiving.”

  Relief rushed through Daisy because she was pleased that Violet was adjusting to college so well. Yet dismay weighed her down. She definitely felt the effects of a half-empty nest, especially when Jazzi seemed to be pulling away from her.

  “Not until Thanksgiving?” she repeated, trying to keep her voice even so Vi didn’t hear how very disappointed she was.

  But her daughter must have heard a little of that disappointment. “It’s really not that far off, Mom. As busy as you are, and as busy as I am, it will be Thanksgiving before we know it.”

  “I suppose you’re right. If I book many parties like the one I have on Sunday, I won’t have time to think about anything else.” Though, of course, that wasn’t true. Her daughters were on her mind every waking moment and many sleeping ones.

  “You’ll kill them dead on Sunday, Mom. Make it a splash Willow Creek will remember.”

  Daisy didn’t know about making a splash. She just hoped her servers wouldn’t spill tea on anyone.

  * * *

  On Sunday, Aunt Iris patted Daisy’s shoulder. “We’ve outdone ourselves.”

  As Daisy glanced around Harvey Fitz’s twenty-fifth anniversary celebration, she had to agree with her aunt. White tablecloths gave an immaculate appearance. Vintage china with its roses and tulips and gold trim welcomed everyone who sat down at one of the place settings. Lace doilies on multi-tiered serving dishes spoke of refinement. The guests could choose from pots of green, black, and oolong tea, including Daisy’s Blend, a decaffeinated green tea infused with raspberry and vanilla.

  “Tessa’s sandwiches with the smoked salmon on cream cheese and rye are being gobbled up first,” Daisy commented. They never knew what their guests would like best.

  “The lemon tea cakes are a hit, and so are the strawberry layered-cake pastries.”

  “Harvey seems happy with it all.”

  At the moment, he was dipping his spoon into the leek and potato soup Daisy had created. The expression on his face said he liked it.

  Tessa passed by Iris and Daisy after she checked on the status of service. “I think it’s time for a tea toast. Maybe that will break up the argument between Harvey Fitz’s daughter and son.”

  As Daisy looked their way, the two siblings seemed to be squabbling over something. Daniel was a good-looking young man in his mid-twenties. His light brown hair was stylishly gelled, and his patrician nose replicated his father’s. However, the expression on his face was dark, and his scowl gave him the appearance of a much less handsome young man. Harvey’s daughter, Marlene, was shaking one long, graceful finger at her brother. Her blond hair was upswept in a messy topknot, and Daisy noted that her roots showed. She was obviously a brune
tte at heart. Giving her the benefit of the doubt, Daisy wondered if that was special effects highlighting. Who knew these days?

  “A toast would be good right now,” she agreed.

  She poured herself a cup of tea and went to stand at Harvey’s table. She’d done this before for birthday parties, anniversaries, and bon voyage celebrations. The tea garden was becoming popular for all of those. But she’d never before rented out her business space for the whole day to someone as well connected and rich as Harvey Fitz. When she stood between his son and daughter across from him, they stopped arguing, realizing something more public was about to occur.

  Daisy rang a crystal bell that tinkled prettily. She’d hidden it in her apron pocket. It was perfect for occasions like this.

  Everyone in the room looked her way, and she smiled. “Daisy’s Tea Garden is so pleased to welcome Harvey and his family and friends here today. Harvey Fitz’s business acumen has made Men’s Trends a roaring success for all these years. Harvey, we just want you to know we recognize your achievements, and we applaud them. We hope you enjoy your celebration here at Daisy’s as much as we enjoy having you.”

  She lifted her teacup in a toast. “To Harvey Fitz. To success, health, happiness, and at least twenty-five more years to come.”

  The whole room stood to applaud after their sips of tea, though Harvey’s children were two of the last to stand. They looked as if they knew they had to give their father his due.

  Daisy glanced at her aunt and saw the adoring expression on her face as she watched Harvey. Did Aunt Iris know what she was getting into with this family? Did she think Harvey’s children would go their separate ways and not concern themselves with their father or her?

  Love really was blind sometimes, Daisy thought.

  The front door of the tea garden suddenly flew open. Although Daisy had put the CLOSED sign in place, she, of course, hadn’t locked the door. Harvey’s guests needed to feel free to come and go. But now she wished she had locked the door because the woman who blew in looked altogether entitled and enraged.

  Everyone on Harvey’s guest list had appeared and been checked off. Daisy didn’t know who this woman was, but she had the feeling she was about to find out. The glaringly fake redhead, with her long wavy hair, red manicured nails, and Prada purse quickly canvassed the room and made a beeline toward Harvey.

  In her designer orange and brown color-blocked suit, she shook her fist at him. “You can’t hide your assets and get away with it.”

  To Harvey’s credit, he didn’t respond in kind. Rather, as everyone else sat down, obviously cowed by what was happening, Harvey regally stood.

  “I assure you, Monica, that nothing is hidden.”

  “I don’t believe it for an instant,” she snapped back. “You won’t return my calls. You won’t answer your door if I visit. You are hiding something.”

  So this was Harvey’s wife. Daisy considered Monica and then her aunt and just shook her head.

  Harvey responded, “My financial statements are an open book. I think you should leave before Daisy has to call the police.”

  Monica’s cutting sideways glance at Daisy told her the wife didn’t think she was a threat.

  A woman at a nearby table—Daisy remembered her name as Colleen Messinger—stood and went to Monica’s side. She whispered something in Monica’s ear.

  Harvey’s wife’s face seemed to deflate. She studied the gathering, and Daisy thought she glimpsed tears in the woman’s eyes.

  However, Monica’s shoulders remained rigid. “Your lawyer better set up a meeting with my lawyer. Don’t think you can avoid me forever.”

  Then, with Mrs. Messinger taking her by the elbow and walking her to the door, after a last look at her soon-to-be ex-husband, Monica Fitz left.

  There almost seemed to be a unanimous sigh of relief in the room. Harvey’s children had their heads together now instead of squabbling, but they made no move to leave. In fact, Harvey’s daughter reached out a hand to him.

  Were Harvey’s children now leaning toward their father’s side because they were hoping they could still inherit his fortune?

  Daisy had stepped away from Harvey’s table, giving the guest of honor time to recover. At a nearby table she spotted empty teacups. Taking her hostess duties seriously, she picked up the pot sitting between guests and refilled their cups. They paid her no mind because they were involved in conversation. In fact, as she poured the second cup, she heard one man say, “To keep the coin collection Harvey inherited, he gave up the house and forked it over to Monica. I don’t know what else she wants. This divorce is costing him big. It will take a long time to recoup what he settled on her.”

  If Monica was receiving a more than generous settlement, then what was her problem? Maybe this divorce was something Harvey wanted and she didn’t.

  Could the couple still reconcile?

  Aunt Iris was studying Harvey again as if he was the secret to happiness for the rest of her life.

  Daisy would stand by her aunt, especially if she was headed for a fall. She just wished she could keep her from falling.

  Chapter Three

  After Monica Fitz left, everyone tried to fake a cheery atmosphere again. Daisy and Iris both went from table to table, making sure teacups were filled and the guests felt welcome in spite of what had happened. Tessa kept the sandwiches and desserts coming, as Karina and Cora Sue carried in more tiered dishes when the first ones emptied.

  Daisy caught sight of Jazzi, who was supposed to be helping to bus the tables. She was standing near the kitchen, her back half turned to Daisy, and in her hand—

  Daisy caught sight of her daughter’s smartphone. Maybe it had been a mistake to get her one of those. But Jazzi had missed Vi so much, and this was a way for them to text and send photos and video conference.

  Daisy had upgraded hers so it was compatible with Jazzi’s. She still wasn’t familiar with it.

  Harvey Fitz was an important client. He and his guests deserved their full attention during the course of the celebration, including Jazzi’s.

  Although Daisy didn’t want to ruffle Jazzi’s feathers any more than they seemed to be, she crossed to her daughter and in a low voice said, “Can you put the phone away until after the tea party?”

  She waited to see if Jazzi would explain what was so important, but Jazzi didn’t. Daisy wasn’t into snooping, but she did want to snatch Jazzi’s phone sometime when she wasn’t looking and check text messages and calls. Nevertheless, as Jazzi solemnly slipped the phone into the back pocket of her khakis, Daisy knew they were going to have to have a serious talk soon. Something was up with her younger daughter, and she wanted to know what it was.

  Jazzi said, “I suppose you’re going to want me to help wash up the teapots too. If you weren’t so concerned with the vintage look, you could buy new ones that you could load into the dishwasher.”

  Daisy took a deep breath. She was better with praising than with counting to ten. “Look around here, Jazzi. This tea garden is what supports us, and it supports us because Iris and I make it unique. If we used dishes and teapots we could throw in the dishwasher, this place wouldn’t have the same atmosphere. If you’re worried about dishpan hands, there are three different kinds of lotions in the ladies’ room. The apricot is especially nice.”

  Jazzi gave her mother a look as if she lived on another planet. “Dishpan hands have nothing to do with it. Time does. I want to get out of here and get back home.”

  “Do you plan to go to college someday?”

  “You know I do.”

  “Then get used to working, and not always working where you want to work. Life gets bumpy sometimes, Jazzi. It’s what we make it.”

  But Jazzi wasn’t taking any advice, not today anyway. She just said, “I’ll make sure everyone who’s finished has their place cleared.”

  Daisy wanted to advise her to do it with a smile, but she wasn’t going to push her luck with her daughter. Not today. Maybe tonight.

&n
bsp; Suddenly a deep voice behind her asked, “Teenage rebellion?”

  She turned to face Jonas Groft. She’d noticed he was one of Harvey’s guests, but hadn’t thought much about it. Jonas, a former Philadelphia detective, owned the furniture store down the street. Woods had been opened about a year. No one really knew his story or why’d he settled in Willow Creek, but he came in for tea many afternoons, and they chatted about their businesses, Willow Creek, and the customers who came and went.

  She wasn’t sure she’d ever stood this close to him before. Someone had mentioned he was thirty-nine. He had thick black hair with a few strands of silver at his temples and green eyes that seemed mysteriously intense. Tall and exceedingly fit, he had shoulders that were broad and long legs. He moved as if he’d once been an athlete, though sometimes he seemed to work his shoulder as if it had been injured. She hadn’t asked him any personal questions over the months he’d been coming in to sample their teas because he’d seemed to keep his guard up. He hadn’t delved into her personal life or she into his. That had been okay with her. Now, however, he was asking something personal. What did he know about teenage rebellion?

  “Are you aware that teenagers are a species unto their own?” she asked him.

  He laughed, and she enjoyed the sound of that laugh because he seemed to be somber much of the time.

  His green eyes studied her as he explained, “I dealt with juveniles back in Philly who could have been considered to have come from an alien race.”

  She had a feeling he’d dealt with more than juveniles. “Jazzi wants to earn money, but not by working here. She’s supposed to be helping me with the tea garden’s yearly cookbook but isn’t accomplishing much in that direction either. And why don’t I feel guilty listing her faults to you?” she asked with a wry smile.

  “Because I imagine you need someone to unload on once in a while.”

  “I have Aunt Iris.”