by Ann Yost
“Daisy?”
Her stomach clenched and she wrinkled her nose at the mirror. The day was going downhill like an alpine skier. “In here, Caro.”
The willowy blonde stuck her head into the bedroom. Her smooth cap of hair contrasted with the chaos of Daisy’s curls. Today it was pulled into a neat knot at the back of her head. She was the picture of elegance in her sleeveless blouse and black capris marred only by the bright patches on her cheeks.
“Where were you last night?”
Daisy sighed and wished she could put this off. “In Chicago. I wanted to see what I could find out about Spuds.”
“Spuds?”
Daisy realized Caro was in the dark. She filled her in, half expecting hysterics and surprised at her sister’s inattention. The clear blue eyes bored into Daisy’s face.
“Were you with Nick?”
She wasn’t going to lie. Not to Caro. She braced herself for a lecture. “Yes.”
“Oh.”
“Oh? That’s all you have to say?”
“Have you got anything to drink except kumquat juice?”
“Water.”
“I’ll get some,” Caro said. “Let’s sit on the porch.”
Settled into the matched Adirondack chairs the sisters stared out at the lake. The storm on the west side of the state hadn’t followed them home. The late afternoon sun made even the pine needles shine and the water reflected the image above. Daisy could imagine no lovelier, more peaceful place on earth.
“I hate this place.”
Caro’s words lacked their usual anger. For some reason that was harder to take.
“I can’t remember the last time you were here.”
“Seven years ago.”
Daisy winced. She hadn’t intended to evoke that memory.
“Why won’t you stop seeing Nick? You’re going to get your heart broken.”
“We’re just friends.” Dang. Another lie. “He’s interested in the murder investigation, too.” She waited for Caro to notice the slip but her quick mind was on something else.
“You’re just friends?
Daisy winced at the hope in Caroline’s voice. She hated herself for lying to her sister.
“I think you should tell me what you’re afraid of.”
“He’s a bad influence.”
“I don’t see that.”
“How could you? You’re a babe in the woods! You’ve had virtually no experience with other guys.”
“I’ve dated. Some.”
“Nobody like Nick.”
Daisy couldn’t argue with that.
“Please, Caro. Tell me what’s wrong. Did you love him? Do you still love him?”
“I can’t talk about this, Daze.”
“Now or ever?”
“Ever. I need you to trust me. Just this one time.”
“You want me to promise to stay away from Nick Bowman but you won’t tell me why.”
“Yes.”
It wasn’t an unreasonable request. She knew she’d spend very little time with Nick in the future. She should have agreed to keep the peace. The Old Daisy would have agreed.
“I can’t promise, Caro. I love him.”
Her sister went very still. “You mean you slept with him.”
“That, too.”
“Oh, Daisy.”
Daisy listened for anger but heard only grief. She knelt by her sister’s chair. “Nothing is going to change, dearest. Nick is going back to L.A. and I am staying here. I would never leave you and Junie, not even if he asked me. He hasn’t, of course. And he won’t. Please don’t be sad.”
“Oh, Daze.” Caro stared out at the lake.
Daisy wished the beautiful scene could bring her sister peace and comfort.
“I have something to tell you.”
Daisy smiled, encouragingly. Caro didn’t smile back.
“Isabelle Bowman came into Happily Ever After this morning. She found a report commissioned by her husband and Buzz Bowman. She told me it was a last desperate attempt to save the company.”
“Which means a last desperate effort to save the town. I didn’t realize things were that bad.”
“The expert concluded there was no chance for survival unless the company branches out. The specific suggestion is a prepared food plant and the best, most cost effective location is the Gray Lady property.”
“That’s not new. Arthur Sneed has contacted me on that twice.”
Caroline looked at her, sympathy in the lovely blue eyes.
“The Bowmans have filed a petition for eminent domain. With their connections they’ll get a judgment in their favor in record time.”
Daisy grimaced. She knew eminent domain was a legal loophole created to allow wealthy corporations or municipalities to buy up private property for the “greater good.”
“I’m not surprised. I knew they wanted the property. We’ll get a good lawyer, Caro. We’ll fight them.”
“Daisy, Nick knows about this. Arthur gave him the report. As far as Isabelle knows he’s on board with it.”
“I don’t believe that.”
She didn’t want to believe it but it made sense. Bowman’s Biscuits and the family meant more to Nick than he’d admit. Even to himself. In a showdown Nick would side with the Bowmans. She searched for a hole in the argument.
“Wait. Why would Isabelle tell you?”
Caro shrugged. “Revenge, maybe? Apparently Arthur’s having an affair with his administrative assistant.”
“Mrs. Harter? Impossible.”
“Junie heard it from her new best friend Harmony Lime. The point is, Nick isn’t on your side.”
Daisy didn’t reply. What on earth was there to say?
Tears filled Caroline’s turquoise eyes. They tugged at Daisy’s heart.
“I’ll be fine,” Daisy comforted her automatically. “I have you and Junie.”
“I don’t know how to tell you this so I’ll just say it. Jillian Armstrong wants me to work for her.”
“Jillian Armstrong the designer? Fantastic! She recognizes your talent, Caro. Oh my gosh, what a break through. I told you so. Oh, finally something worth celebrating.”
“She wants me to work in-house. In Chicago.”
Daisy gazed at the other woman.
“It’s a long commute. We can pick the slack up here and you’ll come back on weekends.”
“I’m moving to Chicago, dear. Stevie will go with me. Junie wants to go, too. At least for awhile.”
They were all leaving. Nick had seen what she had missed. Her sisters needed room to spread their wings. They needed to be away from Mayville. Away from her.
“I think it’s great.” She cleared her throat. “I can’t wait to visit when you get all set up.”
“You won’t have time to visit. Not if you try to run Happily Ever After by yourself. We want you to come, too.”
“No.” Daisy would not allow herself to think about that. There wasn’t a lot she could do for her sisters but she could give them their freedom. “No. I’ll hire some folks to help out. Miss Patience Lanham could use the income.”
“Daisy, I know why you wanted the boutique. I know it was meant to give us jobs and to keep us together. I’m sorry things are turning out this way. I just feel that I have to take this chance. I have to go. And I have to get out of Mayville.” She got to her feet. “If you want to talk later please come over. I’ll be home.”
Home. In the cozy house on Fillmore Street. The one she and Stevie moved into less than a year ago. The one they would move out of soon.
Daisy stood on the porch and waved as her sister’s tail lights disappeared down Trout Lake Road. It had been a week full of lessons. Her instincts, for example. Couldn’t trust ’em. Ditto her judgment. She’d learned she needed to listen to what people were not saying.
And she learned that soon she’d be alone. She wondered why the prospect was so frightening.
****
The plan to search for the cellar hit a snag when
Nick arrived at Happily Ever After and found Junie in the midst of a wedding crisis.
“Nick!” She maintained her smile despite the shrill note in her voice. “I’m so glad you’re here. This is January Jane Pixley and her mother, Mrs. Pixley.”
“January Jane,” said the elegant mother. She extended her hand, palm downward. Did she expect him to kiss it? “I named my daughter after myself.”
He glanced at the younger woman. Long, brown hair flowed down her back. She wore a tie-dyed shirt with a peace sign, cut-off jeans and bare feet. A retro hippie.
“You can call me J.J.,” the girl said.
“We’ve got a problem,” Junie said. She sounded desperate. “A color problem.”
J.J. eyed Nick’s gray T-shirt and jeans. “You sure he can help?”
He lifted one eyebrow.
“Do you know Brad Pitt and Jen Aniston? I did the colors for their wedding.”
“Are they even married?”
J.J. ignored Junie’s muttered question, her eyes on Nick.
“Well, see I want something psychedelic, maybe crimson and chartreuse for my colors. Mother,” she made the word sound like “serial killer,” “wants to tone it down. She’s chosen rose and spring green. The guests will be bored to death.”
“I just don’t want to incite a riot,” Mrs. Pixley said. “Or cause anyone to lose their lunch.”
J.J. glared at her mother.
“Ladies, ladies,” Nick soothed. “We’re on the same page. Red and green. It’s a matter of degree.” He leveled a slow smile at each. He was well aware of the potency of his smile. The atmosphere was charged with a new sexual energy. “Here at Happily Ever After we like to integrate the weddings with nature. Many are held in our courtyard which naturally includes every shade of green including chartreuse.” He smiled at J.J. “Our florist can provide a spectrum of red flowers, too, which we can mix and match until you are perfectly happy with the combination.”
He went on about nature and colors until their eyes glazed. Either he’d bored them into a coma or seduced them. Six of one, half a dozen of the other. He reached for their hands. “Whatever the final decision on colors they will complement your natural beauty.”
“You’re good, Nick,” Junie said, after the Pixleys’ departure. “You may have missed your calling. I’d never have picked you as a colorist.”
He grinned at her. “With good reason. I’m color blind as a bat. That argument, though, was about control. I’m an expert on that subject.
His cell phone buzzed and he answered.
“Nick, dear,” Isabelle said, “I want you to come to the mansion for dinner.”
Not again.
He could refuse, of course, and with good reason. The murder made the blue diamond lethal. The mission was no longer a mere tying up of Pops’ loose ends. He needed to protect the future of Daisy and her sisters and it wasn’t just a physical threat. The consultant’s recommendation to acquire the Gray Lady through eminent domain could destroy Happily Ever After.
Nick needed to convince Isabelle and Arthur not to sue. He repressed a sigh.
“I’m on my way.”
Chapter Fifteen
In spite of everything, the hot pink sticky note on her computer made Daisy smile.
D - We had a “Drop-in” client. Mon Dieu! A real bridezilla in the making! She and her mom were in a snit about colors but Nick fixed it! (Here Junie had drawn a smiley face). The guestrooms are set up with beds, tables and lamps. Nadine found a recipe for “BATWING PUNCH” but don’t worry—there are no actual batwings in it! I’m making cauldron cookies. Don’t ask what’s in them. You DON’T want to know! Caro’s looking for you. See you a demain. LOVE, ME.
The O in love was heart-shaped and there was a p.s. With Junie, there was always a p.s.
I almost forgot. Mr. Foote sent over the hearse to pick up a coffin. Apparently Miss Olive told him he could have it. Guess that’s one down! As Cherry Ann would say, Huzzah!
Daisy’s amusement turned to nostalgia. Dear Junie. She’d always been the reckless one while—at least until seven years ago—Caro had been smart, focused and driven.
Daisy was the rock. After their mother left and Gran came, both she and her dad had frequently praised her for her practicality, her common sense. What would they say now? She’d ruined everything by trying too hard, holding the girls too close.
She longed for a do-over. Should she have stayed Grand Harbor? She’d liked being a reporter but she hadn’t felt the same magic during the moments she’d spent with her dad at the Mayville Monitor. Even now she could remember the thrill of clacking keys and the scent of freshly cut newsprint. She suspected the “ink” in her veins was more about the connection with her father than the actual field of journalism.
Family. It always come down to family. She was happiest with them, taking care of them. She was happiest being needed but she hadn’t always considered their needs.
Caro and Junie were entitled to lives of their own. How had she not seen that?
Well, she saw it now. Her jaw tightened. She would let her sisters go and Stevie, too, but she would stay in Mayville. She would build her little business and she would not give up the Gray Lady. She would fight the Bowmans—including Nick—and she would win. She would have her Happily Ever After.
****
Nick found his stepmother in the foyer directing Finch who was attempting to load a gravestone onto a dolly.
“I’m sure Finch has other things to do, Judith. I’ll take that.”
Finch didn’t argue.
“Thank you, dear. And, remember. I’m called Harmony Lime.”
Nick refrained from rolling his eyes. “Where’s it going?”
“To the mortuary.”
“You mean over to Happily Ever After?”
“Hmm? Oh, yes. That’s right.”
Judith looked different tonight. She’d abandoned her diaphanous robes in favor of black designer jeans, four-inch heels and a black T-shirt with Yes, Wi-can, spelled out in rhinestones across the front.
“Yes, Wiccan?”
“It’s pronounced, ‘Yes, We-can.’ A take-off on the campaign slogan of somebody or other. I’m certain the bride would prefer to use her own altar, but she and the Grand Wizard travel in a small RV. Naturally, she’ll use her personal atheme.”
Whatever the hell that was. “Naturally.”
“Could you move one of the coffins into the old crematorium? That’s the bridal suite.”
“The newlyweds want to sleep in a coffin?”
Judith’s smile, the one that had induced Buzz’s father to marry her, spread across her face.
“I don’t imagine there will be much sleeping.”
Nick tried to block out the image of the high priestess and the grand wizard locked in marital embrace in one of Uncle Randolph’s coffins.
“Oh, and Nicky, could you transport a few beds from the homeless shelter to the Gray Lady? The coven members are excited about staying in an old mortuary. Better access to the spirits, you know.”
Nick considered the coven house party. It would turn Happily Ever After into Grand Central Station. If he failed to find the blue diamond in the next two days, the event would impede his progress. On the other hand, it would temporarily discourage the treasure-hunting-stalker-murderer. He fought the impulse to shadow Daisy until the danger was past. He’d destroyed their easy friendship with the one-night stand. He didn’t want to hurt her more than he already had.
He loaded the altar into the back of Judith Bowman’s van and he sucked in the evening air. The slanted rays of the sun bathed the emerald lawns and the flower beds in a golden light. He remembered the summer evenings out here catching fireflies with Buzz, lying in the perfectly manicured grass to gaze up at the stars. A sense of longing twisted inside. He missed his brother. He missed Pops. His mind drifted to the adventure in Chicago and he realized, with some surprise, that what he missed most of all was Daisy.
But that was insane. He’d
never wanted to be tied down. Long ago vhe’d made the decision to carve out a life for himself, by himself. It had been the right decision and he didn’t regret it. And yet she’d gotten under his skin. Now he’d discovered that once wasn’t enough. Ten times, a hundred times, a thousand times, he thought recklessly, wouldn’t be enough. The question was, did he want her enough to give up his cherished independence?
Nick continued to examine the idea until he met Arthur, Isabelle, Judith and Alice in the front parlor.
The attorney stood by the liquor cart. He held up a bottle of whiskey and Nick nodded. He could definitely use a drink.
Isabelle waited until he’d taken a healthy swallow of single malt.
“Thank you for coming over, Nick,” she said.
He thought he detected a catch in her voice but she looked normal enough, her salt-and-pepper hair combed into its usual neat style, her figure encased in a bright pantsuit. Red? Green? He recalled his performance with the bridezilla-to-be and he smiled.
“You look very nice,” he said to his aunt. “Is that spring green?”
Arthur stared at him. “Spring green?”
“I’d call it mint,” Alice said, put in.
His sister-in-law, as always, wore a well-tailored pantsuit. He thought the color was some kind of brown. In fact, she looked like a sepia print. Remembering that she was coordinating the handfasting he assured her he would transport the altar to Happily Ever After that evening.
“There’s no hurry. Tomorrow will be soon enough,” Alice said.
“Tonight, Alice and I are going to collect juniper berries by the frog pond outside Titusville,” Judith told him. “It’s the only place in the state where those particular berries grow.”
Where had that unlikely claim originated? Had some ambitious Wiccan searched every pond, bog, river and marsh in the state?
“In order to use the berries for the fertility blessing we must collect them after moonrise,” Judith added.
Nick doubted whether the world needed more witches and wizards but the subject of reproduction triggered his guilt. Had Daisy told him the truth about birth control? He couldn’t imagine she’d lie about something like that. He hoped she hadn’t lied. He hoped his carelessness hadn’t caused an unsolvable problem. Oddly, it didn’t seem as unsolvable as it should have.