“It’s me,” Olivia said. “Maddie’s minding the store, so I wondered if you had time for coffee or a late lunch this afternoon. I’ll try your cell, too, unless the cops have confiscated it again.”
At the sound of Olivia’s voice, Spunky’s head popped up, and he jumped off her lap. Hoping for another walk, he yapped and strained at his leash. Olivia pressed the button to lengthen the leash and managed to punch her mother’s cell number before her puppy tried to leap off the edge of the bandstand in pursuit of a squirrel.
Again, she left a message, crankier than the first. Didn’t her mother ever stay home, like a normal person? Olivia checked her watch; it was two thirty, so okay, she still had plenty of time to get started on her quest for information, but—
The opening notes of “Night Fever” announced a call on her cell. Maddie had been messing with her ring tone again.
Olivia managed, “Hi,” before her breathless mother said, “Livie, just finished my kung fu lesson, love to meet for lunch, meet me at Pete’s and order me a spinach salad if you get there first. I’ll order scallops for you, if I get there first. Give me ten minutes for a quick shower. I know you have a plan to discuss. I can hear it in your voice. Peace out.”
“What do you mean, you can hear it in my voice?” Olivia demanded of a dead connection.
“Exactly what did you mean, you could hear it in my voice?” Olivia had arrived breathless at Pete’s Diner, having delivered a tired Spunky back home. Her mother had already commandeered a table by the window and was sipping a cup of coffee.
Ellie Greyson-Meyer tried to look innocent, but Olivia saw the corners of her mother’s eyes crinkle in silent laughter as their food arrived. Olivia slid her mother’s plate out of reach. “No food until you explain.”
“Oh all right,” Ellie said. “Even when you were tiny, I could always tell when you were hatching a plan. I remember when you were learning to walk, you’d pull yourself up a table leg with this big triumphant grin on your pudgy little face. Then you’d let go and plop down on your behind. You did that over and over.”
“Tell me you didn’t stand around and laugh at me.”
“Now, now,” Ellie said. “I tried to help, but you wouldn’t let me. You were so determined to do it yourself. Finally, I watched you sit on the floor for a bit, frowning and apparently thinking deep thoughts. Then you faced down that table leg, pulled yourself right up, and walked two steps sideways, holding onto the edge of the tabletop. When your father got home, I told him we had spawned a brilliant little problem solver.” Smiling with motherly pride, Ellie snared one of Olivia’s scallops and popped it into her mouth.
“And after the two steps, what happened?” Olivia said, moving her plate out of snaring distance.
“You couldn’t figure out how to slide your hands along the tabletop without letting go, so you fell down. That’s when I laughed, and you burst into tears. But you kept on figuring things out. Once you’d learned to talk, I could tell by the tone in your voice when you were about to implement one of your action plans. Which brings us to the reason for this impromptu lunch, not that I don’t treasure every fleeting moment you can spare for me.” Ellie dipped a forkful of bacon and spinach into her side bowl of dressing.
“I need to catch up on Chatterley Heights happenings for the last dozen years or so,” Olivia said. “At least for the period I lived in Baltimore.”
A mouthful of salad prevented Ellie from speaking, but her forehead puckered in puzzlement.
“And yes, I guess you could call this a plan. Don’t try to talk me out of it, okay?”
“It would be pointless,” Ellie said, having swallowed. “Does this have anything to do with what happened to Clarisse Chamberlain? Because you knew her better than I did. Our circles rarely intersected, and even when they did, we usually had little to say to each other. What do you need to know?”
Olivia skewered a scallop and let the butter sauce drip back to the plate, breathing in the pungent aroma of garlic and lemon. On second thought, she sloshed the scallop through the sauce and ate it, butter and all. Some experiences were worth a clogged artery or two.
“I can’t accept the way Clarisse died,” Olivia said. “At least not without understanding what led up to it. All I know is she was upset when I saw her on Tuesday, and then suddenly, two and half days later, she has her accident. If it was an accident.”
“You think it might have been suicide?”
“Not that, either. Sheriff Del wants to call it an accident, but try as I might, I cannot imagine Clarisse Chamberlain so distracted that she wouldn’t notice she was taking too many sleeping pills and drinking a whole bottle of wine. It’s even more absurd to think she would purposely take her own life. But maybe I didn’t know her as well as I thought. And I know very little about Hugh and Edward, only what Clarisse said about them.”
“You know,” Ellie said, “your stepfather might be able to fill you in on Clarisse’s history, at least as it pertains to business. He knew Martin Chamberlain well. They often got together to talk shop, right up until Martin’s death. He and Clarisse worked so closely together. It’s too bad their sons didn’t inherit the cooperation gene. Anyway, Allan might know if Clarisse was having business problems.”
“If she was having serious business problems, surely I’d have gotten some hint about it. Apparently she was in perfect health. If I’m as good at planning as you say, why do I feel so confused?”
Ellie pushed aside her empty plate and settled her elbows on the table. “I can think of several reasons, starting with shock and guilt. Now don’t roll your eyes at me. I’m still your mother; I occasionally have useful insights about my own progeny. You were quite fond of Clarisse. She seemed strong and vigorous, and you didn’t see her death coming. You’re in shock, you can’t understand how this could have happened, and you are upset with yourself because you should have seen the signs. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“I’d love to, but I’d be lying.”
“Okay, then. So good to know I haven’t lost my touch.”
Olivia signaled the waitress to their table and ordered a double chocolate brownie for dessert. “The biggest one you’ve got.” she said. “With chocolate frosting.”
“Just more coffee for me,” Ellie said. Once the waitress had left, she added, “Livie dear, I didn’t mean to drive you to triple chocolate.” She sounded contrite, though the corners of her mouth twitched.
“Mom, you’re good but not that good. It’s this whole situation. Sometimes I need endorphins, the gooey kind.”
“Understood. After your father died, I ate my way through a chocolate cake every four days.”
By the time her brownie arrived, Olivia had serious misgivings, but they didn’t stop her from digging in. With a second forkful of chocolate almost to her lips, she paused and asked, “Do you know Bertha, the Chamberlain’s housekeeper?”
“Of course, we’re in a knitting group together. Why?”
“She told me the strangest story. She said she’d heard Clarisse say that she wanted one of her sons to marry me. I barely know them.”
“Perhaps I’m biased,” Ellie said, “but I don’t find that strange at all. She was fond of you, respected you, so it’s only natural she would hope to have you as a daughter-in-law.”
“But according to Bertha, she also heard Clarisse say something about feeling she could trust me to handle some unspecified situation, but she could never trust Tammy to do so.”
“Ah,” Ellie said. “That is interesting. It brings to mind . . .” She began to stir her coffee in an absentminded way while her eyes wandered around the restaurant.
“Mother, are you aware that you aren’t speaking actual words?”
“Hmm?” Ellie dropped her spoon and it clattered against the side of her cup. “Oh, sorry, I was connecting several bits of information in my head. Tammy Deacons has been in love with Hugh Chamberlain for years, everyone knows that, but Clarisse was dead set against the union. The odd thing is
that she didn’t always feel that way. When Tammy and Hugh first started dating—oh, it must have been about ten years ago, while you were still in college. Anyway, Bertha told me back then that Clarisse was glad Hugh was ready to settle down.”
“I’ve known Tammy since kindergarten,” Olivia said. “She can be a handful at times, but I can’t believe she’d do anything outrageous enough to alienate Clarisse. I know Clarisse wanted grandchildren, and Tammy desperately wants children, dozens of them. She teaches first grade; what could be better training?”
Ellie frowned. “If I’d taught first grade, I might have thought twice about having my own kids.”
“Thanks so much.”
With a good-natured laugh, Ellie said, “I suspect Clarisse’s change of heart had more to do with the Jasmine situation.” She scooted her chair closer to the table and lowered her voice. “It didn’t turn out well.”
“Who the heck is Jasmine?”
“Oh my dear, you have been spending too much time working and not enough engaged in one of the guilty pleasures of small-town living—gossip.” Ellie’s eyes glittered. “You know, there’s often a grain of truth in gossip, if you know how to ferret it out.”
While Olivia nibbled on her brownie, Ellie began. “It started seven or eight years ago. This impossibly beautiful young woman named Jasmine Dubois appeared in town and was hired as a waitress right here at Pete’s Diner. She had jet black hair that hung down her back in those soft natural curls that other women pay good money for.”
“All except you,” Olivia said. She snatched a loose, gray ringlet that had escaped from the fuchsia scrunchy holding back her mother’s hair.
“You’d have curls, too, if only you’d let your hair grow out a bit. And would it kill you to wear a dress once in a—”
“Could we stay on topic, Mom?”
“I’m only saying . . . Oh all right, Jasmine. She was stunning and graceful, and the male population of Chatterley Heights swooned at her feet for about a week, until it became clear that she wasn’t easy and she was smarter than all of them put together. One day I was here having a late lunch—after my Pilates class, I think it was—anyway, a man came in and sat at the counter. Some guy traveling through, I didn’t recognize him, but it was clear right away that he wasn’t entirely sober. Well, he took one look at Jasmine and whistled. Jasmine got this tight look, like her teeth were clenched, but she politely asked for his order.”
“Let me guess,” Olivia said. “He ordered Jasmine.”
“Exactly, and he did not use his indoor voice. Aren’t you going to finish that brownie?” Ellie asked, her hand hovering within plucking distance.
Olivia shoved the plate across the table. “I’m aching to know how Jasmine handled this jerk, so feel free to talk with your mouth full.”
“Triple chocolate must be savored.” Ellie closed her eyes in ecstasy. Olivia was beginning to wonder if the story would ever reconnect with Clarisse and her changed attitude toward Tammy, but she had to admire her mother’s sense of dramatic timing.
Licking a crumb off her index finger, Ellie said, “I had a good view of Jasmine’s face. She looked straight at the guy, slowly arched one black eyebrow—she had these intense eyes, nearly black, and even I felt a chill go down my spine. But the idiot didn’t get it. I couldn’t see his face, but he sat up straighter, like he thought he’d scored. He reached around to his back pants pocket and pulled out a key on a plastic ring, like they still use at the old Nightshade Motel south of town. Why they don’t switch to key cards, I’ll never know, except the owners are so old I’m pretty sure they died years ago and came back as zombies—”
Olivia edged back her sweater sleeve and examined her watch.
“You’re just like your father,” Ellie said. “Anyway, the guy plunked the key on the counter in front of Jasmine. He said, loud enough for the whole diner to hear, ‘I’ll get the whiskey, you bring your tasty self.’ Well. Jasmine leaned toward him a bit, let him see a hint of cleavage while she picked up the key. She took his empty cup over to that big, old urn they use for the coffee. She put down his cup and lifted off the top of the urn, like she was checking to see if it was empty. I can still see the steam swirling into the air as Jasmine held the lid in one hand and dropped that hotel key right into the urn. I saw coffee splash up, so I knew it was full. Then she gave the guy the sweetest smile and said, “Oops.”
“Wow. Did she lose her job?”
“As you can imagine, that wretched man made quite a fuss, which brought out the cook and Pete—Pete was still alive back then. They were both big fellows. Pete had been a prizefighter, you know. The customer sputtered about how he’d done nothing, nothing at all, and Jasmine threw his motel key in the urn for no reason. The cook exchanged a glance with Pete, then turned around and went back to the kitchen. Pete was quiet for a bit. Finally, he said to Jasmine, ‘Guess you’d better make fresh coffee.’ He crossed those muscular arms and stared at the guy.”
“That was it?”
“That guy didn’t say another word. He backed away from the counter, tripped over a chair, and left.” Ellie captured the last morsel of Olivia’s brownie and downed it.
Their waitress, a tired woman who looked to be in her seventies, appeared at their table and retrieved the empty dessert plate. Without asking, she filled their coffee cups. “You girls want another brownie?” Her eyes strayed to a crumb on Ellie’s chin. “Maybe two?”
“No, thank you, Ida,” Ellie said. “Olivia is watching her figure.”
Ida’s gaze shifted to Olivia, looked her up and down, and shrugged.
After Ida shuffled off to the kitchen, Olivia said, “I gather you two know each other.”
“My goodness, yes,” Ellie said. “Ida used to babysit me when I was little.”
“I don’t remember her.”
“Her husband had a stroke in his forties. She took care of him for decades afterwards until he finally died a few years ago. Right after the funeral, she rented out her house, collected his life insurance, and went on cruises until her money ran out. That’s when she came home and went to work. She’s in my Wild Widows group.”
“Your what ?”
“Yes, there really is such a group, and I am one of the founding members.”
“But you married again.”
“I’m still a widow, I know what it’s like, and you never forget the friends who stand by you when you are no longer part of a couple. Our mission is to demonstrate that life goes on and can even be great again, whether or not we remarry.” Ellie reached across the table and patted Olivia’s hand. “Divorced women could do with a group like ours.”
“Mother . . .”
“I’m only saying, it’s a fun group. We asked Clarisse to join several times, but she always refused. Politely, of course. Which brings us back to Clarisse and Jasmine.” Ellie pushed aside her half-drunk coffee and reached for her macramé bag. “You thought I’d gone off on a hopeless tangent, didn’t you? Unfortunately, my timing was off, so I’ll have to talk fast. My papermaking class starts in fifteen minutes. Jasmine was, as you can now see, an extraordinary young woman. She was secretive about her origins, but she had gifts and great charm, when she chose to use them. Clarisse thought she had promise and was delighted when both her sons became friends with her. Rumor has it she dated Hugh Chamberlain, at least for a while. By all accounts, Clarisse was thrilled. So much so, in fact, that when Jasmine began to date Lucas Ashford, Clarisse quashed the relationship. She told Lucas that Jasmine was out of his league and off limits.”
“I can’t believe—”
“Believe it,” Ellie said quietly. “Clarisse could be remarkably single-minded when it came to her family. When she decided Jasmine should marry Hugh, Tammy Deacons was, as they say, toast, and she never regained Clarisse’s approval. Even though I suspect Hugh genuinely loves her now. Jasmine and Hugh were off-again, on-again for a long time, until Jasmine packed up and left town. No one knew why. Maybe she simply felt it was time to
move on.
“Anyway, gotta run, sweetie. The store is still closed on Mondays, right? Then here’s an idea: come to the house about eleven on Monday for brunch. I’ll cook all your favorites, and you can talk to Allan about Clarisse and the boys. He still has a fair amount of contact with Hugh and Edward, and he’s quite good at observing people. For a man, that is.”
Ellie slid off her chair, which was, like all furniture, too big for her tiny frame. She gave Olivia a quick kiss on the cheek and turned to leave. After a couple steps, she stopped with her back to Olivia. She tilted her head to the side, as if she’d thought of something.
“Mom?”
Ellie pivoted around. “It’s nothing really,” she said. “I remembered a question I’ve been meaning to ask you. Are Maddie and Lucas seeing each other? If it’s still hush-hush, you don’t have to tell me, but I noticed a few looks between them the other day, when I was in the store, and I’ve been hearing rumors that Maddie . . . well, that she fixed the cookie contest this morning so Lucas would win a private baking lesson with her. So I wondered. . . .”
“The answers are: yes, they are seeing each other, and no, it isn’t a secret, since they practically shouted it through the entire event this morning. And yes, I’m pretty sure Maddie fixed the contest. We will have a serious chat about that before the next event. Do please spread the word that it will never, ever happen again.”
“Of course, Livie dear, don’t give it another thought. Most folks seem to have found it more amusing than irritating. This time, anyway.” Ellie’s normally sunny features gathered into a small frown. “Lucas and Maddie,” she said, almost to herself. “That is interesting. I wonder. . . .”
“What, Mom, what do you wonder?” Remembering her own concerns about the relationship, Olivia felt a ping of anxiety.
At that moment, the call of a wood thrush announced four o’clock from the restaurant’s Audubon clock. “Now I really will be late,” Ellie said. She raced for the door on her small but well-exercised legs.
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