“Sure. He came out in response to my help-wanted ad in his mom and stepdad’s paper, and I told him I’d give him a shot. He’s already worked all week for me. Great worker, very energetic.”
She was silent, staring at the fire and biting her lip.
“I thought you’d be pleased,” he said, watching her. “I know how you feel about Mrs. Goodenough.”
She had to tell him, and explained what she had witnessed just that day and what she had seen before, of his confrontation with Shelby Fretter.
Jakob shoved his fingers through his thick hair and sighed, shaking his head. “Gott im Himmel,” he muttered, staring into the fireplace. He often sprinkled his speech with phrases in German, which was spoken in his home growing up.
“What are you going to do?” she finally asked.
He took a moment, frowning down at his hands, which were now folded together, the fingers interlaced. Jocie yawned and he said quietly, “I’ll put Jocie to bed, and then perhaps we can talk more. I’m not keeping you, am I? I know you’re busy tomorrow.”
“I have time,” she said.
He picked up a snoozing Jocie. She awoke enough to say good night to Jaymie, then he carried her upstairs. Jaymie retrieved her dog and set him on the rug by the fire, then moved Jocie’s chair back in place and decided to do the dishes. It was the least she could do. She stood by the kitchen counter staring out into the dark and waited for the sink to fill with hot soapy water. Oddly enough, she was overcome by a feeling of déjà vu, and yet she had never done this exact thing before, washing dishes alone in Jakob’s cabin.
She shook herself and started. By the time he joined her she was done and hanging up the tea towel on the rack by the stove.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he said.
“I know,” she answered, turning and looking up at him. She felt a moment of intent, like he had an impulse to kiss her, but then it was gone and instead he took her hand and pulled her toward the living room. “Jocie said that she forgot to kiss Hoppy good night.”
“Tell her tomorrow morning that I kissed him good night for her.”
They sat facing each other on the sofa. Jaymie brought her knee up onto the cushion and examined his face. He was troubled, his eyes shadowed with his dark brows.
“I was so pleased about Cody,” he started. “I know how much you like his mother.”
“I’m sorry,” she said reflexively.
“For what?”
She thought a moment and shook her head. He was right; she had nothing to apologize for. It was information he needed to have about an employee.
“I guess I’m disappointed,” he said. “He seems like a nice fellow, eager to work. I’ve hired a lot of kids his age over the years and I can’t be fooled by that.”
“But those things aren’t mutually exclusive,” she commented. “An eagerness to work and anger control issues, I mean.”
“You’re right, of course.” He reached for her hand absentmindedly, and sat looking down at their two hands together. “I had thought better of him. Especially regarding his mother; he seems to truly love her.”
“I didn’t actually see what went on between him and Nan. I’m just guessing,” she said about her comment on the scuffle she overheard. “Nan is intense, and she says Cody takes after her.”
He nodded. “I’m going to keep him on for now. It’s just seasonal work ending Christmas Eve day. I’d like a chance to talk to him.”
“Talk to him? Why? What do you mean?”
He looked up and met her gaze, stroking her palm with his thumb. “Remember I told you about my brother, Manny, the globetrotter?”
She nodded.
“He was troubled when we were young. I don’t know why; I’ve never known. We were all raised in the same house, so why one should have troubles and not the others I can’t say. But he got in with a crowd of stoner friends and started smoking weed. That wasn’t so bad—he was just kind of mellow and disassociated when he smoked—but then he got into harder drugs. He had a girlfriend, a nice girl. Young. Scared all the time. He hit her; I saw it and was shaken to the core. That’s not how we were raised. He was sorry after, but they always are, aren’t they, men who hit women? And maybe women who hit men, I don’t know.”
Jaymie was sad for him, he looked so troubled. She put one hand over their clasped hands, but didn’t say anything, not wanting to interrupt his deeply personal story.
“My father tried to talk to him—so did my brothers—but nothing worked. He was angry, said we were taking everyone else’s side and not his. He took off and went away for a while, a couple of years, actually. My mama was so afraid for him. Papa thought he’d get himself killed.”
“I’m so sorry, Jakob.”
“But he didn’t end up dead, thank God. And when he came back he was different. Still troubled, but . . .” He shook his head. “It was like when he would have one of those moments of rage, he would pull back into himself and stop, just . . . stop. I heard him talking to Mama one night. I remember it so clearly; I was sitting in the living room fuming that he was back, because Mama and Papa were so happy, and I thought, why?”
“You mean, why were they happy?”
He nodded. “He had caused them so much pain and I was so angry at him for that. It took me longer than anyone to get over his behavior; I think maybe because we had once been so close. The closer you are to someone the more they can hurt you. But anyway, Mama asked him what had changed. He told her that a man gave him a job and talked to him. Not all the time, and he didn’t preach. He just . . . talked. The guy must have been a miracle worker. Manny thought about things, and got the idea that he wasn’t taking responsibility for his own behavior. Which was exactly what Papa had told him years before, but I guess he had to hear it from someone else. From then on he said he felt changed. He went looking for help and got it. It didn’t happen overnight, but it happened.”
Jaymie didn’t say a word, knowing he wasn’t finished. She should get going, she supposed, but she was in no real hurry. This felt important, the sharing of difficult stories from their families. It was what had been missing in her relationship with Daniel.
“I’m grateful you told me about Cody,” Jakob said. “I’m going to keep him on. Do you mind if I call Nan and talk to her about her son?”
Jaymie thought for a moment, feeling a thread of trepidation. Nan was a very private woman. But Cody needed help and if Jakob could offer it, then it was important. “What would you say?” she asked, hedging.
He paused. Jaymie had noticed this about Jakob; he never spoke in haste. When she asked a question, he often took time to form an answer.
“I suppose I’ll let her know that I did hire him, and ask if he’s spoken about it. I’ll look for an opening, perhaps say that I’ve heard he’s troubled by his dating life, or something like that. I’ll try not to be intrusive, but maybe I can ask if she knows anything that’s bothering him.”
“I’m not sure she’ll talk to you. I hope she does. You’re a good man, Jakob Müller.”
“I’ve been blessed in life.”
She knew, though, that all had not been sunshine and roses for Jakob. His wife, deeply unhappy, left Jakob and Jocie, fleeing the US for her homeland, Poland. Once there she fell back into old ways and took an overdose of prescription medication, either accidentally or on purpose, no one knew for sure. Tragically, she died. It was a terribly sad thing for Jocelyn to have lost her mother when she was just three.
She felt a yawn rising and sighed deeply instead. “I had better go,” she said. “I do have a long day tomorrow. Will you and Jocie be able to come to Dickens Days in the evening? Can you get away from the tree lot?”
“I hope we will. Gus, my buddy and partner, is looking after it tomorrow afternoon and evening, while I work all Saturday.”
Jaymie stood, as did Jakob. He hugged her close and she felt co
cooned, sighing against his chest. They hadn’t kissed yet. She hoped they would, but when they both felt the time was right.
He carried Hoppy out to the van for her and helped her in, then handed her the sleepy dog. “Good night, Jaymie. Träum was schönes.”
“What does that mean?” Jaymie asked, pausing in the act of putting her key in the ignition. His face was shadowed and she couldn’t see his dark eyes.
“Sweet dreams,” he said, his voice husky.
“I will surely have those,” she said softly, her breath puffing out in steam in the frigid air.
He closed the van door for her and retreated to the porch, where he was illumined by light from the kitchen window. He waved, and she backed out as Hoppy snuffled and snored on the passenger side.
Home, bedtime routine and bed, no time to even read before turning out the light. She didn’t need a romance novel to guarantee sweet dreams, featuring her and Jakob’s first kiss. She could only hope it was as lovely in real life.
• • •
MORNING CAME TOO quickly, as usual. She raced around the house making breakfast and getting her stuff together. It was Friday of the first official weekend of Dickens Days. The next day would be the grand opening of Queensville Historic Manor, with the mayor of Queensville presiding at the ribbon cutting. But first Jaymie had a morning of work at the Emporium.
She felt like she was floating as she speed walked to work, arriving ahead even of Valetta. Her friend, key out, joined her on the board porch of the old general store, but stared at Jaymie for a moment. “There’s something different about you,” she said. “You’ll have to fill me in. Something tells me you spent the evening with a certain junk man.”
“We had dinner, which Jakob cooked, and my own brownies for dessert, and we watched A Charlie Brown Christmas while Jocie cuddled with Hoppy. We talked, and I went home.”
“He cooked dinner for you?” Valetta asked, as she unlocked the Emporium and let Jaymie in ahead of her.
“Meatloaf and mashed potatoes. It was awesome!” Jaymie said, turning on lights and shrugging out of her coat.
“Does he have any unwed brothers?” Valetta asked, before she headed back to her pharmacy counter.
“As a matter of fact he does, one or two.”
“If they’re all as domesticated as he is, send one on over to me. I never could find a man who was good for anything, but maybe there’s hope yet.”
They went about their business with a flurry of early shoppers and met up, as usual, at eleven for tea. Elevenses, as Mrs. Bellwood, the town’s resident who played Queen Victoria, called the midmorning tea break.
“Come on out to the porch,” Jaymie said, as Valetta carried her steaming mug of tea toward the front. “I want to scope out the town and see where I’ll stroll this evening.”
Valetta grabbed a heavy sweater from the hook behind the cash desk and pulled it on, then followed Jaymie outside. “I’ll be here this evening. I caved when Haskell called, and so I’m working here on the porch as kind of an information center for visitors. He doesn’t trust the Snoop Sisters.”
She was referring to Mrs. Imogene Frump and Mrs. Trelawney Bellwood, the two Queen Victorias, who had mended a longtime rift and were now inseparable. The ladies would be taking care of the booth where warm cider and information about Dickens Days and the Queensville Historic Manor would be dispensed to tourists.
Jaymie and Valetta huddled on chairs on the wide-board porch and sipped their tea, which steamed in the chilly air. Bill Waterman and a couple of young fellows wheeled a heavy wooden structure on a dolly cart down the street from his workshop. Jaymie recognized one as Cody Wainwright. Odd, because Bill had been emphatic about not hiring him, but there weren’t many day laborers available for work in Queensville, so maybe that had changed his mind. The teenage boys who would be helping later were in school, and fellows like Johnny Stanko, who used to take odd jobs whenever he could, now had a steady gig bussing tables, washing dishes and tending bar at a place out on the highway.
They wheeled the dolly cart just beyond the Emporium to a spot of public property known locally as “the village green.” It was merely a small triangular plot bounded by the intersection of three roads: the main street, the road leading to the river and docks and a residential street that led to Jaymie’s home, but it had been serviced with electricity and water so that the town could use it for just such events as this. The cubicle would be centered over that electrical outlet so lights and small appliances could be plugged in.
“Bill did such a good job on the booth,” Jaymie said, as she and Valetta watched.
“I love the musical notations above the counter!” Valetta said.
The stand was a square enclosure with a marquee over the counter on which Bill had painted some sheet music with “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” picked out in notes and with the words in script. Hot cider would be available to strolling tourists who had come for the beginning of Dickens Days. Unofficially, Dickens Days lasted all of December, but officially, it was a two-week period before Christmas when the town was lit up.
The men got down to business screwing the booth together and leveling it. Cody was the harder working of the two young guys Bill had hired, and eagerly took direction from the handyman on what to do and how. Jaymie was glad Bill had help. He was getting older. It hadn’t slowed him down, but she often felt the town relied on him far too much. He needed extra hands.
“Have you got all your shopping done?” Valetta asked her, as they watched.
“As much as I’m doing,” Jaymie said, glancing over at her friend, for whom she had commissioned a hand-knit sweater made by Mabel Bloombury. It had a colorful depiction of Valetta’s pretty cottage home, with little house-shaped wooden buttons down the front. Gifts made by expert crafters, whether knitters, woodworkers or others, were original. She loved giving them even more than getting them. She already had it, and it was wrapped and ready.
“I was done in September,” Valetta smugly replied. “William and Eva are getting educational toys whether they want them or not. I will be that aunt!”
“I wish I had a niece and nephew to spoil,” Jaymie said, standing and stretching. “I’d better get back to work. My tea is cold, anyway, and so am I. There are some cobwebs in the rafters just begging to be eradicated. I’m going to have to get out the sixteen-foot ladder to handle them.”
Valetta’s eyes widened. “Oh, Jaymie, please don’t! Let the Klausners hire someone to do that!”
“I can do it,” Jaymie said. “I’ve done it at home before.” She had done the ceilings of her home, but they were twelve foot, not the twenty-foot-high ceilings of the Emporium. She went inside. Valetta didn’t follow right away, so she assumed her friend was finishing her tea.
Getting the ladder out of the back storage room was trickier than she thought it would be. She was trying to maneuver it when she felt it move on its own and yelped, looking up to find Cody Wainwright on the other end.
“Mr. Waterman sent me in to help,” he said, his gaze sliding away from hers.
“I should have known Valetta wouldn’t let it go,” Jaymie grumbled, as Valetta scooted past her into her enclosed pharmacy.
“I don’t want to see you dead, so shoot me,” Valetta said, then closed the door, going back to work as a customer came up to her counter.
Jaymie explained what she was doing, and she and Cody worked in silence all the way around the Emporium, as Jaymie took a duster on a long handle around the ceiling, sending cobwebs drifting down to the floor. Jaymie was actually glad of the help. Cody was fairly intuitive and didn’t need a lot of direction. He was careful and proactive, too, making sure obstructions were out of her way as they moved the ladder around the store. When she was done, she and Cody folded the ladder and carried it back to the storeroom, the task made easier with another pair of hands.
After, as they walked toget
her to the front of the store, he lingered and shuffled his feet, picking up candy bars and putting them back, then tidying a plastic tub of child’s hair ornaments. Finally, he looked her in the eyes and said, “Look, I’m sorry about what happened between my mom and me, but it’s not what you think. I didn’t . . . I mean she . . .” He sighed and shook his head. “I didn’t hit her or anything. I would never do that.”
Jaymie watched him. He was young, a good ten or more years younger than her, his face just beginning to thin out into the planes of manhood. He was good-looking but unkempt, with a shaggy mane of hair that looked like it hadn’t been combed or washed in a few days.
“It’s not for me to judge,” she finally said. “Your family is your business.”
He nodded.
“I know that my friend Jakob Müller has hired you. He’s a good guy, and he likes you.”
“I love working with the Christmas trees, and I like helping folks cut them down. I’m going out there to work after I finish with Mr. Waterman.”
The bells over the door chimed and Shelby Fretter entered and started down the baking aisle. Jaymie felt rather than saw Cody stiffen. She hoped he wouldn’t accost the girl, but he followed her down the aisle and grabbed her coat sleeve as she was reaching for a pound of shortening. Jaymie watched, holding her breath, as he said something and Shelby snatched her arm away.
“Leave me alone, Cody Wainwright,” she said loudly, her voice echoing in the upper reaches of the Emporium.
He stared at her in puzzlement.
Her gaze slid over to Jaymie, then away, as she turned to face him. “I told you never to talk to me again, and I meant it. You leave me alone or I’ll have the cops on you so fast you’ll spin like a top.”
His eyes wide, he stared at her then muttered, “You can’t treat me like this, Shelby! You can’t jerk me around and then expect me just to slink away like some dog you’ve kicked.”
Jaymie decided she had better intervene. She was coming round the corner of the aisle when Shelby tumbled to the floor and screeched.
White Colander Crime Page 5