“Thanks for agreeing to come here for dinner,” she told them. “I don’t want to leave the puppies alone if I don’t have to.”
“No problem, Mom,” Candice said. “I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble. You know we would have been happy to pick something up on our way over.”
“I know, but I’m just getting back into the swing of cooking. I made a nice homemade lasagna, which should be ready to come out of the oven in just a few minutes.”
“I bet it’ll be amazing, Ms. D,” Eli said, sniffing the air as they walked inside the house. “It sure smells great.”
“It will be better than the frozen ones you can buy at the store,” she said. “Beyond that, I make no promises.”
The two of them settled in with the puppies while Moira got the lasagna out of the oven and put the finishing touches on the meal. First she sprinkled a hearty layer of parmesan cheese over the pasta dish, which she then put on a trivet on the dining room table. Next, she went to the fridge and took out the bowl of fresh greens that she had bought at the farmer’s market yesterday. With one hand, she added cherry tomatoes, shredded carrots, sliced almonds, and diced cucumbers before putting it on the table and getting a variety of dressings out of the fridge. By then the dinner rolls—the one pre-packaged dish at her table—were done, and she gingerly took them out of the oven and transferred them to a basket. All that was left to do was put the butter and drinks on the table, and they were ready to eat.
She called Eli and Candice to the table, and was hit with a sudden flood of nostalgia as they clambered back over the gate to the mudroom and headed to the kitchen sink to wash their hands. For over eighteen years she had made most of the meals for her daughter, and it was something that she missed. Cooking for one just wasn’t the same, though she did eat with David quite often. She missed having her daughter in the house, and deliberately tamped down on her sadness at the thought that the young woman would probably never live with her again. Of course she was glad for Candice’s sake that the young woman was independent now and was making her own life choices… but Moira missed having somebody to cook for.
“This looks delicious, Mom,” her daughter said as she slid into her seat at the dining room table. Eli sat next to her and agreed.
“I can’t wait to dig in.”
“Well, help yourselves. There’s plenty to go around.”
They began eating, spending a few minutes in silence until their initial hunger pangs were silenced. Once the deli owner finished her first serving of piping hot lasagna, she put her fork down and looked at the pair at the table across from her.
“So, what was it that you wanted to talk about?” she asked.
The three of them had had dinner with Eli’s grandfather only a few nights ago, so she had been surprised when Candice had asked to meet for dinner a second time. The only thing he could think of was that they either had some sort of announcement to make, or had something they wanted to ask her.
“Well—” Candice blushed and looked over at her boyfriend, who cleared his throat and put down his fork. He glanced over at the young woman, who nodded encouragingly. He gave her a small smile and shook his head.
“She’s your mom,” he said. “You have to be the one to tell her.”
Moira’s daughter sighed, then braced herself and met her mother’s eyes.
“Mom,” she said. “Eli and I have decided to move in together.”
The deli owner served herself another slice of lasagna and took a bite to give herself time to think. Moving in with someone was a big step, and she wasn’t sure her daughter was ready for it. Moira liked Eli, of course, but Candice had really only been seeing him for a few months—less time than she and David had been dating. Her daughter had something of a history of having relationships end badly. What were the chances that things would turn out the same way between her end Eli?
She looked over the table to the young couple and smiled. In the end it was their choice, and she would just have to trust her daughter’s instincts. After all, it wasn’t like she hadn’t made her fair share of mistakes with men herself. Look at her ex-husband, after all. From the beginning, Mike had been far more trouble than Eli ever was.
“I’m glad for you, sweetie,” she said. “Are you going to find a completely new place, or is one of you going to move in with the other?”
“We’re both going to move into Eli’s grandfather’s house, since it’s bigger than my apartment,” the young woman said. “Reggie has been letting Eli live there, and is going to leave it for him in his will. It won’t be quite as convenient as my place right about the candy shop, but it isn’t that much farther away.”
“That sounds just perfect,” the deli owner said. “Once you get settled in, I’d love to come over and see it.”
With the announcement made, the atmosphere of the dinner became much lighter. Despite her misgivings, Moira was glad for them. The young couple was obviously in love, and she would just have to hope for the best that they would stay that way for a good long time.
She followed the two young people into the kitchen, where they again made a beeline for Hazel and the puppies.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“All right, Mom, I think that’s the last of it,” Candice said.
Moira, who was sitting in the passenger’s seat of the refrigerated truck gave her daughter a thumbs up, at which the young woman slammed the rear doors shut. Darrin, standing next to her, double-checked that they were firmly latched, then the two of them came around to the front to get into the truck. Since Candice had never driven such a big, bulky vehicle before, she squeezed herself into the back seat of the cab while Darrin took the driver’s seat.
While he pulled out of the deli’s parking lot, the deli owner gazed out the window. The leaves on the maple tree outside the deli had begun to change color more quickly over the last week, and it felt more like autumn than ever. Normally her favorite season—well, she loved all the seasons if she was going to be honest with herself—she felt that this year, autumn’s glorious beginning had been marred by the deadly fire. She couldn’t even begin to imagine poor Mrs. Samwell’s grief, and hoped that this event would give both widows—and the entire community—the closure that they all needed. She liked the idea of celebrating someone’s life as opposed to grieving their death. Someone like Farmer Samwell had achieved so many things and touched so many people that it didn’t make sense for all of that to be forgotten once he was buried.
“Ms. D, which way do I turn up here?” Darrin asked, distracting her from her thoughts.
“Right,” she told him. “Then it’s the first driveway on the right, about a quarter of a mile down the road.”
He followed her directions and a few minutes later the refrigerated truck was turning onto Farmer Samwell’s driveway. Darrin stopped the truck near where David and Moira had parked before and got out to talk to Mrs. Samwell, who was waiting on her porch for them. The deli owner watched as she shook the young man’s hand, and then spoke to him quietly for a moment. She pointed, and Moira turned her head to look to where she had gestured. The big tent was set up again, which was a good thing because the skies were threatening rain. She looked back in time to see Darrin nod and turn to come back to the truck.
“She said we can pull right up to the tent and not to worry about the grass,” he told them as he slid into the driver’s seat and put the vehicle in gear.
“All right. Still try to be careful, though. I’ll feel bad if we accidentally tear up the lawn.”
He cautiously eased the truck onto the grass and let it roll down the slight slope until they pulled even with the tent, where he put it in park and hopped out again. Candice climbed over the seat to follow him, and was already out by the time Moira had her seatbelt undone. Oh, to be young again, she thought. At least I’ll get this cast off eventually. She joined the two of them around the back of the truck and began helping to take out the tablecloths and the nice platters that she had brought especially for thi
s occasion. There were bags of ice in the truck as well, which they would use to keep the perishables cool.
They finished setting up just in the nick of time. People began arriving all at once and began making their way toward the tent. Mrs. Franks was one of the first to get there, and she gave Moira a quick nod of thanks before walking over to Mrs. Samwell. The deli owner watched as the two women embraced, and Mrs. Franks wiped a tear from her eye.
“Ms. Darling, I heard rumors that you were catering this event,” said a voice that Moira recognized immediately. She spun around to see Zander Marsh standing by the food table.
“Mrs. Samwell thought the deli would be a good choice, since I did business with her husband,” she told him. At a loss for what else to say, she searched her brain, finally remembering his hobby. “How is the brewing going?”
“About the same as ever,” he said with a smile. “Thanks for asking. And who might this be?”
He turned to look at Darrin, who shook his hand and introduced himself.
“You’re the one that Ms. D might start buying some produce from?” he asked. The other man nodded.
“We had a productive meeting about that the other day, and I think we’ll both have no trouble maintaining the same working relationship that she and Mr. Samwell had,” he said. “Hopefully I’ll be able to offer the deli even more in the future. I have quite a few plans to increase efficiency and yield, and I can hardly wait to start implementing them.”
“So you’ve bought this place?” her employee asked. “That was fast.”
“Not yet,” Zander admitted without a trace of shame. “But I’m going to. The moment Mrs. Samwell puts it on the market, it’s mine.”
When he eventually walked away, Moira breathed a sigh of relief. She was put off by the man’s arrogance, and couldn’t get over her suspicion that he had something to do with the murder. The only problem was, she had no proof.
As the day wore on, she found herself wishing that David had been able to make it. She and her employees were working hard to keep the platters full from the supplies in the truck, and she was due for her break in just a few minutes. It would be nice to have someone to talk to while she took a breather, but most of the people here she didn’t know. Maybe she could find Mrs. Samwell and give her condolences again.
Suddenly Moira felt bad for not inviting Reggie. She felt certain that the old man would have appreciated the chance to say goodbye to his friend like this, and she wished that she had given the matter more thought back at their dinner.
Finally, it was time for her break. She made sure that Darrin and Candice were okay to handle things on their own, then took her leave of them. She wanted to find their hosts and thank them, or at least find someone who might tell her more about Mr. Samwell.
Instead, she found Zander yet again. Luckily he hadn’t seen her yet, so she hung back by the drink table and tried not to look like she was eavesdropping. He was talking to another man; someone she didn’t know.
“You’re a lucky man, Zander,” the other man was saying. “One unfortunately timed fire, and your business gets the chance to grow once again.”
“It’s like I have some lucky spirit watching over me, isn’t it?” Zander said, holding his cup up as if toasting some imaginary friend. “All that’s left is to deal with Mrs. Samwell. I never thought it would be so difficult to get her to sign those papers. The woman’s brain seems scattered more than usual these days.”
“Well she did just lose her husband under mysterious circumstances,” the other man said. “You can’t really expect too much from her at the moment. I’ll help you hunt her down, though, eh? We’ll see if we can’t get something out of her today.”
The man she didn’t know gestured with his head toward the old farmhouse, and he and Zander began walking in that direction. Moira paused only a moment, then set off to follow them.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Doing her best not to attract attention to herself, Moira eased away from the crowd and walked toward the farmhouse. If anyone asked, she could just tell them that she needed to use the restroom, or that she was looking for Mrs. Samwell, whom she realized she hadn’t seen for a good half an hour.
I should probably just turn around and get back to the table, she told herself. When has interfering in something like this ever ended well? She could go back to the table, continue greeting all of the wonderful people who had come to give their condolences to the families of the two farmers, or she could follow these two suspicious men inside and figure out what they were doing. She glanced down at her broken arm and sighed. Despite what common sense was telling her, she knew what she was going to choose. She would never be able to let a killer go in good conscience, especially not when an innocent woman’s life was at stake.
Right now all I need to do is gather information, she thought. If either of them says something that confirms that Zander started the fire, I’ll get out of there and call David—and then the police.
Luckily neither of them men seemed to sense that they were being followed. As she watched them walk staggeringly across the grass, tripping on the odd clump here and there, she realized that they both were slightly drunk. She figured that she was lucky—if they weren’t at the top of their game, that could only be to her benefit, after all.
They reached the farmhouse and walked right through the front door, making no effort at stealth. After a moment she followed them, trusting that they would be too distracted by their search for Mrs. Samwell that they wouldn’t notice her. She was right, or they just didn’t care that they had a shadow. Neither man was in sight when she entered the house, but it only took a moment of searching to find them in the kitchen. She waited in the hallway, ready to dart into the bathroom if someone saw her.
What are they doing? she wondered. Are they really going to hunt Mrs. Samwell down like they said? She wondered at what point she should call the police. Neither man had acted dangerously yet, and she doubted that the snippet of conversation that she had heard would be anywhere near enough information for an arrest. Zander hadn’t actually mentioned starting the fire or killing the two men, after all.
“Man, I can’t believe that he’s gone,” said Zander’s friend. “I thought that old guy would live forever.”
“He probably would have,” Zander said, leaning against the counter and opening a fresh beer. “He was as healthy as a horse.”
Moira frowned. Apparently Zander hadn’t known about Farmer Samwell’s cancer. That could explain why he had decided to take matters into his own hands.
“Do you think you’re going to live in this house once his wife finally signs it over and moves out?” his friend asks. “It’s a bit bigger than yours.”
“Not as nice, though,” the young brewer said. “I don’t want to have to spend even more money to get it up to date. I’ll probably just use it as a guest house, or maybe a bed and breakfast. I think it would be perfect for that. I’ll have to get rid of what’s left of that old barn, though.”
“That shouldn’t be too hard. I can help, if you want. I’ve got those backhoes still sitting at my place. They’ve been completely useless so far.”
“We’ll make a party out of it,” Zander said. “It’ll be fun. Knocking stuff over is always fun.”
The two men toasted and chugged their beers. Moira shifted on her feet, getting impatient. They were taking their sweet time to get to talking about the murder. She still didn’t know for sure if Zander was guilty or not. If he was, then she couldn’t very well just walk away. Mrs. Samwell might be in danger. But if she wasn’t, then she was doing nothing more than wasting time invading an innocent man’s privacy. She felt glued to the spot, unable to make a choice as to whether to confront them or just leave.
Mrs. Franks made that decision for her. She came up behind Moira in the hallway, surprising her.
“Lost, dear?” she asked kindly, seeing the confusion on Moira’s face.
“Um, I was just wondering if it was all right to grab
a glass of water,” she said, immediately cursing herself for not mentioning the bathroom. Now she was going to have to go in the kitchen with the two men.
“Of course. Mrs. Samwell told me that guests were welcome to use the lower floor of her house to get out of the heat and refresh themselves. I have to say, you’ve been doing a marvelous job out there. The food is delicious, of course, and your employees have been nothing but polite and helpful.”
“That’s good,” Moira said, giving her a quick smile. “I always love to hear that.”
“Now go get yourself a glass of water, and good for you for not loading up on pop and beer. I told Augusta that she should have provided water bottles, but of course she didn’t listen to me.”
Shaking her head and muttering to herself about her stubborn friend, the older woman brushed past Moira and went into the bathroom to wash her hands. Feeling like she should actually go get a glass of water now, since Mrs. Franks would probably notice if she didn’t, the deli owner walked into the kitchen. Zander noticed her immediately.
“Ms. Darling,” he said happily. “What a coincidence. We were just talking about you.”
Moira, who knew for a fact that they weren’t, felt a frown flash across her face.
“I just came in for a glass of water,” she said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You aren’t interrupting at all,” he assured her. “Do you want a beer?”
He offered her a bottle, but she shook her head, declining. Instead, she reached for one of the glasses on the drying rack and turned the tap on cold.
“I’m on the job,” she reminded him as she filled it up. “Gotta stay sober.”
“You own the business,” he said with a chuckle. “You don’t have to do anything. But I respect your dedication.”
He raised the bottle in salute to her, then popped the top with a hiss and guzzled it. Moira sipped her water, wondering how soon she could make her exit without seeming rude.
Spicy Lasagna Murder: Book 13 in The Darling Deli Series Page 7