Chapter 11
Before going home, Daphne decided to check out the shop next to Bernie’s Blooms. It was called The Apple Basket and to her pleasant surprise, it was actually a small grocery store that specialized in fresh produce, whole foods, organic dairy products, fresh fish, and lots of other goodies.
She picked up a wicker basket and began to hunt and gather. Her plan was to invite Dad to dinner and to cook in Aunt Dee’s kitchen tonight. A cozy private setting seemed preferable to a busy restaurant for telling him the startling truth about Aunt Dee. Dad was usually so even-keeled, but she had no idea how he would react to discovering that his “older sister” was actually his mother.
By the time she made it to the cashier, she had a bag of jasmine rice, a fine-looking pair of salmon fillets, ingredients for salad, asparagus, a box of strawberries, organic ice cream, and a number of other things.
“Looks like someone’s in for a good meal tonight,” the young man said as he carefully set the last of her groceries in the canvas shopping bag he’d encouraged her to purchase.
“Yes. My dad.” She handed him her debit card.
“Lucky dad.”
“He loves salmon. I just hope I don’t ruin it. I haven’t done much cooking lately.”
So as he ran her card, he gave her some tips on preparing salmon.
“This is a great store,” she told him. “I’ll probably become a regular here. At least until my garden starts producing. Although I’ll still need milk and eggs and things I can’t grow on my own.”
“That’s great you’re planting a garden.” He gave her the receipt, then peered curiously at her. “So . . . are you new in town?”
She shrugged. “Not really. I grew up here. But I’ve been living in New York for the past twelve years.”
“And you’re moving back home now?”
She nodded, reaching for her bag.
“Good for you.” Now he came around the counter and stretched out his hand. “I’m Truman Walters and I own this store. Welcome back to Appleton.”
“Thanks.” She shook his hand. “I’m Daphne Ballinger.” She tilted her head to one side. “But I have to admit you seem a bit young to own a business. Kudos to you.”
He laughed. “Yeah. I get that all the time. Some people assume I’m still in high school and I’m just a part-time employee. I’m sure I’ll appreciate that a little more someday. But I’m actually twenty-nine pushing thirty.” He pushed a strand of shaggy blond hair from his forehead and, standing taller, proudly adjusted his green grocer’s apron.
“So how long have you had this store?”
“Just a couple of years. And believe me it hasn’t been easy. Most of the locals are used to those big one-stop superstores. You know, where you wheel an enormous metal cart around and pick up your tennis shoes, disposable diapers, and bananas all in one fell swoop.”
She laughed. “Not where I lived in New York.” She patted the canvas bag. “When you have to walk and use the subway, you learn to travel light.”
“And smart.” He nodded. “I just hope the rest of town catches on soon. Before I go out of business.”
“Really? Is business that slow?”
“I sure hope not. Especially since my folks were skeptical about this business venture right from the start. My dad gave me one year before I went under.” He brightened. “But I’ve lasted for more than two.”
“Good for you.” She smiled. “And today you gained a new customer.”
Now another woman was bringing her basket to the counter so Daphne told Truman good-bye, and feeling that she’d made another friend, she carried her groceries out to her car. Appleton continued to surprise her.
As she drove home, she wondered about Truman. Starting his own business while still in his twenties was impressive. But then he seemed energetic, bright, and cheerful. Hopefully he would succeed at it. She wondered if he was single but instantly reprimanded herself. The boy was five years younger than she—wouldn’t that make her a cougar?
Of course, that reminded her of Beverly and Robert. Daphne reflected back to when the three of them had been fellow employees and good friends. In fact, it was Daphne who’d originally befriended Robert when he’d come to work for the paper straight out of college. He had seemed “safe” to her since he was six years younger—kind of like a little brother. She and Beverly had taken the young man under their wing, and then it progressed to enjoying his company for impromptu “dates.” Especially if they were exploring the city and felt more comfortable having a guy along. It was a nice arrangement.
Which was why Daphne had felt slightly blindsided when Beverly announced that she and Robert were taking their relationship to the next level. Especially since Beverly was two years older than Daphne, which made her eight years older than Robert. But according to Beverly, age was just a number where true love was concerned. Without telling anyone, not even Daphne, the couple had flown out to Vegas one Friday after work, tied the knot, and been back at the paper on Monday. Daphne had been hurt but, as usual, she had concealed her true feelings.
Naturally, and despite their attempts to include her, everything changed between the three of them after that. Daphne felt she was odd girl out. And although Beverly still claimed to be her best friend, the distance between them grew a tiny bit wider each year. And now with Beverly expecting and Daphne relocating, it would become an abyss. Daphne was glad that Beverly and Robert were happy and she wished them both the very best. And it was a relief to know she would not be lost without them.
As she pulled into the garage, she remembered Beverly’s defense for being a “cougar” as Amelia had teasingly called her. “Men age faster than women,” Beverly had pointed out. “They wear out sooner. They die younger. So what’s wrong with finding a guy who can keep up with you?”
As she unlocked the door, Daphne decided that if Beverly could be happily married to a man eight years her junior, Daphne could show interest in a guy who was nearly thirty. Of course, no sooner was the thought in her consciousness than she knew she was being perfectly ridiculous. Seriously, was she going to start plotting marriage with every single man she met? For Pete’s sake, she didn’t even know if Truman was single or interested in dating or in marriage.
“Don’t turn into a man-crazy fool,” she told herself as she went into the kitchen, and set her bag on the table. “Good grief. You should at least pace yourself.”
She put her groceries away, then called Dad, leaving her dinner invitation on his voice mail. “I haven’t really cooked for a while,” she warned him, “but I’ll give it my best shot.”
Knowing her culinary skills were rusty, she decided to organize herself by washing all the salad things, and then realizing it was nearly four, she decided to just go ahead and make the salad. As she tore lettuce and peeled cucumbers and sliced tomatoes and chopped green peppers, she remembered how many times she had gone through these exact same steps as a girl.
Aunt Dee had taught her to make a simple green salad when she was six, just a year after her mom died. “You’re the woman of the house now,” Aunt Dee had said as she tied a yellow-and-white gingham child-sized apron on her. “It’s time you learned to cook.”
The summer when Daphne was seven, she learned to make both boiled and scrambled eggs, macaroni and cheese (from a box), and several other easy things like tuna salad sandwiches, and how to boil hot dogs. And over the years, Aunt Dee had taught her more and more. By the time she was ten, Daphne did all the cooking for Dad and her. And although some of her experiments turned out to be catastrophes, Dad never once complained. He’d simply call out for pizza or grab some take-out Chinese, and occasionally the two of them would end up sitting in a fast-food restaurant at eight o’clock.
However, Daphne wanted tonight’s dinner to be perfection. And she put all her energy into being certain that happened. Sh
e wanted everything to be ready at the same time so when Dad walked in at six, it would all be just right. And hopefully he wouldn’t be late.
Dad arrived at Aunt Dee’s like clockwork. “Something smells mighty good in here,” he said as he came into the kitchen and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I’ve been looking forward to this all afternoon.”
“Go ahead and sit.” She pointed to the kitchen table, which she’d set prettily with Aunt Dee’s Desert Rose Franciscan-ware dishes. “Would you like some strawberry lemonade?” She’d stocked the fridge with fresh lemonade for when Mick should stop by again.
“That sounds delicious.” Dad removed his sports jacket and hung it on the hook by the back door. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” He sat down. “You cooking for me like this? I had planned to take you out tonight.”
“Oh . . . I just wanted to.” She set their salads on the table and sat across from him.
“Shall I say a blessing like we used to?”
“Please, do.”
“Dear Lord, thank you for your bountiful gifts, help us to be truly grateful, and bless the lovely hands that prepared this delicious-looking meal. Amen.”
“Amen.” She laid the pink plaid napkin in her lap and picked up her fork. She told him all about dining with Olivia and Jeff and Ricardo. And about how the garden was coming along nicely, and how she and Olivia planned to go shopping on Friday, and how much she’d enjoyed The Apple Basket today.
“Do you shop there too?” she asked him.
“You know, I’m ashamed to admit I haven’t been inside that store.”
“Oh, you should check it out, Dad. The foods they carry are so much healthier. Organic. No chemicals or hormones. And Truman, that’s the owner, is very knowledgeable about food preparation. He gave me the idea for how to cook this salmon.”
He nodded. “And it’s excellent. Okay, I’m convinced. I’ll have to go to The Apple Basket. And I’ll mention it to Karen too.”
For some reason she bristled at the mention of Karen. But, as usual, she tried not to show it. “So tell me about you and Karen,” she said carefully. “Is it more serious than I thought?”
He made what seemed like a slightly embarrassed smile. “Well, I do enjoy Karen’s company. We have fun together. But I’m just not sure.”
“Not sure?”
He nodded. “I don’t know that Karen is as interested in me as I am in her.”
“Oh . . .”
He gazed at Daphne. “You’re younger than me and you’re probably more up on these things. How does a person know if another person is equally interested?”
His question made her think of Dear Daphne and she was certain she’d read letters similar to that in the column. She tried to imagine what kind of answer Aunt Dee would have given, or the answer Daphne would write—when the time came to write. Pressing her lips tightly together, she thought hard.
“Well, I think the eyes have it,” she finally said.
“The ayes?” He looked confused.
She pointed to her own eyes. “The eyes. Think about it, Dad. Do Karen’s eyes light up when she looks at you?”
“Hmmm . . .” His mouth twisted to one side.
“Besides that, I think you can probably tell by her enthusiasm. Does she sound happy when you call her?”
“I suppose so . . . unless she’s with a customer. Then she keeps it short.”
“That’s understandable. But does she seem as happy to see you as you are to see her?”
Dad’s brow creased as if deep in thought.
“Have you been paying attention to all the little things?”
“Not particularly. Although now that I think about, Karen always seems happy to see me. And I do think her eyes light up. Or it might be that my eyes are lighting up enough for both of us.” He laughed, then shook his head. “I honestly never thought that at my age I’d be this interested in a woman again.”
“I know you never dated anyone when I lived at home.”
“No, I just didn’t feel that was right somehow. It seemed that our life was already full—it was busy enough with just the two of us.”
“And you didn’t date anyone after I left for college?” She didn’t want to mention that had been sixteen years ago.
“I did make some feeble attempts to get back into the dating game. I even joined a singles group at the church for a spell—but I was so outnumbered by women that it was a little overwhelming. Besides, I felt like a confirmed bachelor by then. And I already had my guy friends to play cards and golf and watch ball games with. Most of them acted like they envied my freedom and independence. And I suppose I enjoyed that notoriety some. But the truth was, there just weren’t any single women around, I mean, ones that made me feel . . . well, the way Karen does.” He let out a little sigh.
“Then for your sake, I hope Karen feels the same as you, Dad.” And even though she didn’t feel particularly fond of Karen, or maybe Daphne was just suspicious, she meant it. If Dad was truly in love with Karen, she hoped Karen felt the same. She really didn’t want to see Karen break his heart. She couldn’t even imagine her dear old dad with a broken heart. And if Karen hurt him at all, well, Daphne would have to control herself from throttling the woman.
“Speaking of romance, you mentioned having had dinner with Ricardo.” Dad’s eyes twinkled with interest. “But you didn’t really say how that went.”
“It was a nice evening.” She nonchalantly explained how it was completely impromptu and how Ricardo kindly gifted them with the meal. “And the dessert—his Appleton pie—was scrumptious.”
“Yes, I’ve had it too. More times than I care to admit. But that’s not what I meant. I meant how did you and my good friend Ricardo get along?”
She rolled her eyes. “Still playing matchmaker, are we?”
He feigned an innocent look. “Can’t a father care about his daughter’s love life?”
“Love life?” She laughed.
“Ricardo is a genuinely good man, Daphne. Why wouldn’t I want to nudge you in that direction?”
“I’ll admit he’s a good guy. And I did get to hear the story of how he’d been engaged to Bernadette.” She sighed. “That was very sad.”
Dad nodded. “That was one of the things that connected me to Ricardo. We both knew what it felt like to lose a loved one.”
“But don’t you think that would make it hard on me? I mean, if I was interested in Ricardo in that way? Bernadette was such a lovely person. Those would be some pretty big shoes to fill.”
“You’re a lovely person too, Daphne.”
“Thanks, Dad. But you are just slightly biased.” She laughed.
“Remember that Ricardo and Bernadette weren’t actually married. Besides that, it’s been several years since she passed. I think Ricardo must be ready for a new romance now. Why else would he join you for dinner like that?”
“You could be right, I mean that he’s interested in romance. I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not, but he’s hired a very pretty waitress named Kellie. And she seems fairly intent on getting romantically involved with him. I’m not the only one to think so either.”
Dad looked alarmed. “Oh no, Daphne, I think you’re wrong. I’ve seen Kellie. And she’s really not Ricardo’s type.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“I don’t know. Just a feeling.”
“Well, I wouldn’t bet on it, Dad.” She stood and began clearing the table. “I thought we might want to have dessert and coffee later.”
“Yes.” He leaned back and patted his midsection. “Let’s give this time to digest. And again, I have to say it. Everything was delicious, Daphne. You still know how to cook.”
“Well, I hardly ever cooked a real meal in New York. So I had to really focus to get this one right.”
“You mean the house wasn’t how you liked it?”
“Well, I never really changed much . . . you know . . . it was pretty much how your mom left it.”
She nodded. “Yeah, I know.”
“I think it’s time I moved on.”
She forced a smile. “So are you going to make your condo into a swanky bachelor pad?”
Dad laughed. “No, I don’t think so. But I might get a leather sofa.”
“Good for you.” She linked with his arm as she led the way to the front room. She was preparing herself for what she planned to tell him, but she wanted to be sure he was seated comfortably before she began. She had rehearsed her spiel in her head, but as she sat down it felt as if her words and thoughts had been scattered by the wind. As Lucy hopped up into her lap, Daphne took in a deep breath and, stroking the cat’s orange fur, decided to simply begin.
“I met with Jake McPheeters again today,” she said slowly and deliberately.
“Was there more to go over regarding the will?”
“Sort of. Jake had told me some things on Monday, things that I’d still been trying to sort out. Some, uh, rather surprising things.”
“In regard to Aunt Dee’s estate?”
“Not exactly. More about Aunt Dee herself.”
“Really?” Now Ethel jumped onto Dad’s lap and he absently petted her. “What sort of things?”
“Well, it kind of concerns you, Dad.” Daphne bit her lip. “I’m not even sure where or how to begin.”
Dad looked intently at her and she had his complete and undivided attention. “Go ahead.”
“Well . . . it seems that Aunt Dee is not really my aunt.”
“What?” He frowned. “Well, of course she’s your aunt, Daphne. She’s been your aunt for your entire—”
Lock, Stock, and Over a Barrel Page 11