She smiled to herself as she fingered the pearls around her neck—somehow she knew that the same aunt who had gotten her into this mess was going to help her get out of it. With God’s help.
Chapter 10
Daphne had never been a wallflower exactly. Certainly it wasn’t really possible with her height as well as a head of curly auburn hair. But driving around in the copper Corvette only made her even more conspicuous. But why not simply enjoy it? Hold her head high and accept that, like her flamboyant aunt, she wasn’t the kind of woman who could go around unobserved? Perhaps she’d managed to lurk in the shadows while working at The Times. But those days were over now. It was time to come out of her shell—and live her life. At least for a year.
As she parked her car in front of The Zeppelin, she felt people glancing her way. She could tell they were curious as to her identity—or perhaps they recognized her aunt’s car, although that seemed unlikely since Aunt Dee had seldom driven. But it was obvious that she was being watched as she went into the restaurant.
The foyer was bright and cheerful with pale wood floors and sky blue walls adorned with large black-and-white photos of old zeppelin balloons. Fun. She went to the aluminum-topped reception desk, with sides of corrugated steel that resembled something from an airplane hangar and told the hostess she was meeting someone.
“Jake?” The hostess asked with a knowing look.
“How did you know?”
The hostess grinned. “He told me to watch for a striking redhead. I figured that had to be you. Right this way.”
Jake stood to greet her as the hostess brought her to the table and pulled out her chair like a real gentleman. Then the hostess took their drink orders.
“You look pretty today,” he said after the hostess left. “Those pearls are a nice touch.”
She reached up to them, smoothing her fingertips over the silky beads. “Thank you. And that brings up one of my questions. The pearls belonged to Aunt Dee, and I assume since I’m allowed to use everything in the house that it’s okay for me to wear them. But I wasn’t sure . . .”
He nodded. “It’s perfectly acceptable for you to enjoy them. Besides I’ve heard that pearls keep their patina longer when they’re worn. And I’m sure Dee would be pleased to see them on you.”
She felt relieved as she turned her attention to the menu. Skimming past the broad selection of tempting choices, she quickly spotted the soup and salad special. For three practical reasons, this was her usual choice when having lunch in New York. (1) It usually had fewer calories, (2) it was usually moderately tasty, and (3) it was economical. She closed the menu and slid it aside.
“That was quick.” He studied her. “Already decided?”
“Yes. The soup and salad.”
“That’s a nice, safe choice. But what about all the other offerings? Don’t you care to consider them too?”
“Not particularly.”
He started reading from the menu, commenting on which entrées he’d sampled and which ones were his favorites. “You’re not really listening, are you?”
She shrugged. “I’m listening. But I just happen to want the soup and salad.”
“Really?” He leaned forward, peering curiously at her. “That’s what you really want? Or what you picked out of habit . . . what you’re willing to settle for.”
She pressed her lips together.
“So, do you have any idea what Dee would order?”
“Not really. I never ate with her here,” Daphne said.
“Sometimes she only wanted crab cakes and a martini. And sometimes she got the portabella sandwich with coleslaw. And sometimes she went all out and got a top sirloin steak—rare, with all the works.”
“And your point is?”
“Dee knew how to live.”
“Oh . . .” Daphne nodded. “Meaning I don’t?”
“I’m not sure.” He set his menu aside. “But I have my doubts. And quite frankly, so did Dee.”
But the waitress appeared with their drinks and asked if they were ready to order, and suddenly Daphne was flustered—and determined not to settle for soup and salad. She grabbed up the menu as Jake ordered the hazelnut-encrusted halibut. She was scanning over the list, trying to remember what he’d recommended, but everything just seemed to blur in her mind.
“And you, miss?” The waitress looked down on her.
“I’ll, uh . . . I’ll have . . . hmm . . . the halibut too.”
“Very good.” The waitress nodded.
Jake chuckled as she left. “Nicely done. Stepping out of your comfort zone.”
She rolled her eyes. “You think I’m in my comfort zone? I haven’t been in my comfort zone since I left New York.”
“Really, you were that comfortable there?”
She considered this. “No, probably not. I simply meant that I had my routine and rituals in New York and I knew what to expect, but to be honest it wasn’t exactly comfortable.”
“So maybe you’re finding your comfort zone here?”
“Maybe. But what you said about Aunt Dee having her doubts about me not knowing how to live. Was that true or were you just trying to get a rise out of me?”
He frowned. “Unfortunately it’s true. Dee felt that your life in New York was a disappointment to you. She was worried that you were never going to find fulfillment there.”
She sighed. As usual, Aunt Dee was probably right. Not that she planned to admit that to Jake. She had been feeling this way too and her boss’s reaction confirmed it.
“Anyway, you said you have questions. I assume about more than just Dee’s pearls.”
“Yes, but the pearls lead to the next question.” She pulled the slip of paper from her bag. “Regarding Aunt Dee’s personal effects. I realize I’m not supposed to sell or get rid of anything, but even if I don’t get to keep the house—after my year’s up or if I give up before then—the house will still need to be cleared out some to be put on the market. That is, unless the Cat House plans to relocate to Huckleberry Lane and I suspect there could be a zoning ordinance problem there.”
He grinned. “You’re a sharp one.”
“Anyway, I wondered if I could at least pack up my aunt’s things. Put them in crates and store them until—”
“Actually, if we’re only talking about clothes and things of no real monetary value, I see no reason why you can’t clear them out whenever you like. You don’t need to store them. Just donate them to Salvation Army or the nonprofit of your choice.”
“Really? That’s okay?”
“Sure. And you’re right, you’ll be doing everyone a favor in the unlikely event that the house must be listed and sold.” He nodded. “Feel free to clean house, Daphne. Just don’t profit from it.”
“Thank you. And that brings me to the next question. What about Aunt Dee’s possessions, the ones that aren’t really valuable but might be meaningful to relatives. Like I know my young teenage cousin Mattie collects old costume jewelry. She told me about it the day of the funeral when I commented on a brooch she was wearing. And I honestly don’t think she told me as a hint, but even so I’d love to share some of my aunt’s old pieces with her. I think she’d appreciate them.”
“Mattie? You’re not referring to Mattie Stone, are you?”
“Yes. She’s Martin’s granddaughter. Her mom is Jocelyn Stone. She used to be Jocelyn Ballinger, Martin Ballinger’s daughter.”
“Okay, that makes sense now. Mattie Stone is also my daughter’s best friend.” He grinned. “I didn’t realize she was Martin’s granddaughter.”
“Small world.”
“And you’re right, Mattie does collect old costume jewelry and purses and things. She’s even gotten Jenna interested in it too. And fortunately those kinds of fashion accessories aren’t as nearly costly as
some of the new designer stuff that my ex-wife was into.”
“So I can give Mattie those pieces?”
“Sure. Just make sure you don’t give her any real jewelry. That could be a problem. At least for the time being. If you choose to give away Dee’s jewels after you marry, that’s entirely up to you.”
She frowned at him. “You seem awfully sure that I’m going to get married.”
He smiled. “I think the odds are stacked in your favor. You haven’t been here a week and already the men are lining up.”
She waved her hand. “Okay, even if I did manage to get a proposal—I mean who knows, miracles happen—but what about the true-love part? Didn’t Aunt Dee stipulate I had to fall in love and marry?”
“Yes, well . . .” He gave a reluctant nod.
“How likely do you think that is?”
She watched him as he focused on buttering a piece of sourdough bread. He was nice looking in a sleek New York sort of way. Very lawyerly in his charcoal gray suit and light blue shirt. But if she was his client, wouldn’t it be unprofessional for him to get involved with her. Besides that, how could she possibly trust his motives, knowing he was the only person in town—possibly the only person on the planet—who actually knew the value of the fortune she stood to inherit if she married, as well as the conditions attached to it? That alone warned her that of all the eligible bachelors, he was the last one she should consider.
“So, you have more questions?” he asked after a bit.
“Yes.” She glanced down at her list. “The house needs painting. And Aunt Dee had already picked out colors. Is it all right to get it painted?”
“Absolutely. No problem.”
“What about any changes or improvements to the interior of the house?”
“Again, I don’t see how that can be a problem. As long as the changes and improvements remain with the house in the unlikely event that you and the house part ways a year from now.”
“Please, could you stop calling it the unlikely event?”
He nodded. “Sorry.”
“The changes I make would probably help the house to sell.”
“I’m sure they would. I’ll create a budget for you from Dee’s estate. Just keep track of your receipts.”
“Now, about the Dear Daphne column. When am I supposed to take that on?”
“There’s no hurry. As I mentioned, they’re running old columns for the time being.”
“I know, but I think I’d like to get started on it anyway. I thought maybe I could practice a little in the upcoming week. Then I could start up for real after I get back from New York and settle in a little.”
“When will that be?” She told him a date which he jotted down. “I’ll let the appropriate parties know,” he said. “Everything, as you can imagine, is sent electronically nowadays. And everything should be on Dee’s computer. Did I give you her passwords yet?”
“No. I haven’t even had the nerve to go into her study yet.”
“Really? Why not?”
“I don’t know. That was always her personal space. She never really liked me going in there.”
“Well, that was only because she didn’t want you to know about Penelope’s steamy romance novels.” He smiled. “Can’t blame her for trying to protect your innocence.” He jotted something else down. “Note to self: Get Daphne the passwords for Dee’s computer.”
“Thanks.”
“More questions?”
As she was looking at her list, the waitress returned with their entrées, which Daphne had to admit looked and smelled delicious. She forked into the tender white fish, then took a sample bite. “Oh, my.” She shook her head. “That is really yummy.”
He chuckled. “Better than the beef barley soup and a green salad?”
“Oh yeah.” She forked another bite. And for another couple of minutes the table grew quiet as they enjoyed their meals.
“It’s nice to see you’re open to trying new things.”
“Yes, I suppose I’ve lived in a rut of sorts. I need to remind myself that I’m not still there.” She grinned. “Driving the Corvette is a pretty good reminder.”
“I’ll bet.” He nodded.
“Okay, now I have a tricky question. I asked you about it before, but you were a little vague. It’s about my dad. I feel like he has a right to know that Aunt Dee was really his mother. It seems unfair that I know and he doesn’t. I understand that she wanted to protect him, but I really think he’ll understand. I mean, he’ll be shocked. But I think he’ll want to know. Is it okay if I tell him?”
“It’s entirely up to you.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. And I agree. I think he deserves to know she was his mother. However, I have to draw the line there.”
“What do you mean?”
“You can’t disclose anything about Dear Daphne or Penelope Poindexter. We have to respect Dee’s last wishes for anonymity regarding those two things. You do understand, don’t you?”
“Yes. That’s not a problem. I don’t even want Dad to know about those things. I doubt he would understand the Penelope books, and I don’t want anyone to know that I’m taking over the column. I can understand why Aunt Dee didn’t either. That’s a lot of responsibility—giving advice out like that. What do I know about love and all those things?”
“Apparently Dee thought you could handle it. And think about it, what did she know? A spinster aunt? And yet she left behind some of the best advice ever.”
“I know. I’ve always been a faithful reader of her column.” She set down her fork. “And you know what? I’m glad I never knew it was Aunt Dee writing it. That would’ve ruined everything for me.”
“So she knew what she was doing to keep it secret?”
“I think so.”
She went over her other questions, which were fairly minor, and his answers were not surprising. And finally their lunch came to an end and he insisted on paying the bill, explaining that he always covered his clients’ lunches. “A tax deduction,” he said lightly.
But the word she heard was client. He did think of her as a client. And that meant he understood the distance that would have to remain between them. Oddly enough that was both a relief and a disappointment. But mostly a relief. She had enough to sort through without trying to weigh someone’s motives. Really, it would be best if he continued to play the role of counselor and big brother. Just not the Big Brother from Orwell’s 1984—that was creepy.
As planned, she stopped by Bernie’s Blooms on the way home. She parked in front and went inside with the excuse of purchasing flowers, which was ridiculous considering that Aunt Dee’s yard was full of blooming things. But as soon as she entered the shop, she realized it was much more than just a traditional florist shop. Filled with all sorts of lovely household items, from candles to vases to clocks to kitchen towels . . . and more.
“May I help you?” a young woman asked as Daphne was happily browsing in the candle section.
“Oh no, I’m just enjoying all these delicious-smelling scents.”
“Yes, those are soy candles. Very popular.”
“Is Olivia around?” Daphne finally selected a candle that smelled like citrus and pine.
“Yes. She’s working in back. Do you want me to get her?”
“If she’s not too busy.”
“I’ll go see.”
Daphne continued to browse but jumped and nearly dropped the candle when Olivia let out a happy squeal from behind her. “Oh, you came to see me!” Olivia hugged her tightly. “I was just thinking about you and how we need to get together again.” Olivia held her at arm’s length and looked. “My, don’t you look fancy. Heels and pearls. Where are you off to, City Girl?”
“I was just meeting with my attorney,” Daphne said
. “We had lunch at The Zeppelin and I thought I should dress up a bit.” She frowned. “Although I’m not really sure what people wear around here.” She looked at Olivia’s faded jeans and plaid shirt.
“Appleton’s a pretty casual town.”
“And I didn’t bring much with me from New York. Although I’m afraid what I wear in the city isn’t really going to work here. I guess I should do some shopping. Do you have any recommendations?”
“Well, I’ll tell you where not to go. Remember Frederica’s?”
“Yes. We used to shop there all the—”
“Forget about that. They only have old-lady clothes now.”
“Oh.”
“And Sharpe’s has gone downhill too. Hey, my day off is Friday. If you like, I could take you around to the good spots.”
“Sure. I’d love that.”
Just then Olivia peered out the window to where the Corvette was parked. “On second thought, you can take us around in your swanky car. Maybe we can do lunch too. Just like old times.”
“Sure. And I’d like to find some shops with house things too.” She held up the candle. “Touches like this. I want to spruce up Aunt Dee’s house a little. Make it feel more like my style, you know?” Even as she said this she wondered, what was her style? Would she even recognize it if she saw it?
“Sounds like fun. Count me in. Now, if you’ll excuse me I have to get some arrangements finished. Seems like everyone’s having a birthday or anniversary today.”
“Yes. Don’t let me keep you. But I’ll see you on Friday.”
They agreed on the time and then Daphne made her purchase. As she carried the bag out to her car, she felt a rush of hopeful optimism. Having Olivia as a friend again was an unexpected delight. Having her as a shopping partner would be just plain old fun.
Lock, Stock, and Over a Barrel Page 10