by Wendy Tyson
Bibi leaned against the wall and called Megan’s name. “Time to go.”
Megan held up a hand. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said to Veronica, “but David’s death…well, I don’t think karma is that heavy handed.”
Veronica’s eyes widened in surprise. “His death?” Her laugh was shrill and mean. “No, not that…his death was due to too many hamburgers and late-night gin and tonics. I’m talking about Claire,” she whispered.
“Claire?”
“It takes two to tango. And tango with a married man she did.”
Megan and Bibi were silent for the first five minutes of the trip back to Washington Acres. Megan ran through her conversation with Veronica in her head, organizing her thoughts. She assumed the married man Claire had been tangoing with was David. Why would Veronica share something so intimate about her son-in-law and Claire? It was clear Veronica didn’t like David, nor did she seem to approve of the big house or the move to Pennsylvania. Was it just the booze talking…or was there more to her behavior?
Bibi seemed to be jotting notes in a notebook she kept in her bottomless bag.
“I’ll start,” Bibi said when she’d finished writing. “It’s obvious Ms. Veronica Maplewood does not like the von Tressler home.”
“I don’t think she was too crazy about David, either. She basically called him egotistical and snobbish. And an adulterer.” Megan shared what Veronica had said right before they left. “So David and Claire were having an affair. I thought so, but Veronica basically confirmed it.”
“Did she talk about Claire?” Bibi asked.
“Only to deny seeing her at the memorial.”
“What did you think of Veronica?” Bibi asked. “Reliable?”
“I guess—other than the booze. After you left the room, she opened up a bit more. She seems bitter and not particularly nurturing toward her daughter.” Megan turned onto the road that led to Washington Acres. “She painted Melanie as another woman who makes questionable choices. Her attitude toward her daughter’s choices seemed cold and pragmatic.” Megan flashed back to the wedding photos. “It seems that David and Melanie got together while David was still married.”
“Adultery runs in the family?”
“Perhaps.” Megan slowed to honor a stop sign. The evening air had grown heavy with dark clouds sullying the sky. An evening thunderstorm seemed likely. More rain, more mud. “Other than that—and a glimpse of the inside of the mansion—it was kind of a wasted trip.”
“I’m not so sure about that. When I went to the bathroom, which was a ruse by the way, I didn’t have to go, I looked out back through the kitchen window. And what a kitchen, Megan. Two islands. Two. Who needs two islands?”
“The window, Bibi. What did you see?”
“Melanie. She was sunbathing in the backyard.”
“Maybe that’s how she rids herself of a migraine.”
“I guess.” Bibi made a tsk, tsk sound. “Did taking her top off help her, too?”
“I guess we won’t know since she wouldn’t talk to us. We can’t really go and give our condolences again.”
Megan pulled into the driveway and cut the engine.
“I took care of that.” Bibi smiled slyly.
Megan’s heart beat a little faster. “What did you do?”
“I’m so forgetful, Megan. I left my good pearls in their bathroom.”
Megan patted her grandmother’s leg. “You’re a genius. Now we have an excuse to go back.”
Bibi nodded. “But not right now. Right now you need to start the truck and turn around.”
Megan rolled her eyes, a gesture she’d been holding in for hours. “For what?”
“Ice cream. You promised.”
Ten
Megan didn’t have to go to Melanie von Tressler; Melanie came to her.
Late Sunday mornings at the café were the busiest time of the week. Locals and visitors alike came after church, doctors and nurses and night-shift workers from the local factories came after work, and the few partygoers who had stayed up all night joined for a hangover special. Megan had all hands on deck to handle the crowd—Bibi and Alvaro in the kitchen, Emily at the register, and Megan and Clover handling orders. The café didn’t really offer a brunch menu; it was more of a lunch or breakfast menu, and in the heat of this early July morning, Alvaro’s chilaquiles paired with a soothing breakfast smoothie were all the rage.
So when someone at the copper-topped counter ordered a single piece of rye toast and a cup of coffee from behind a newspaper, Megan took notice.
A slim, pale hand slid Bibi’s necklace across the counter before dropping the newspaper.
“Melanie. Thank you.”
Melanie regarded Megan coolly, and Megan returned the stare. Melanie was a slim woman of average height. White-blond bangs framed a round face. Her round, full mouth was pressed into a pout, green eyes narrowed in anger. Up close and in person, she looked even younger than her forty-ish years—younger and less friendly. “My mother said you were looking for me?”
“We came to give our condolences.”
“Is that right?” Melanie tilted her head. “I saw your grandmother staring at me through the kitchen window.”
“Your mother told us you had a migraine.”
“My mother exaggerates.” Melanie tapped at the countertop with a French-tipped nail. “Thank you for the basket, but I wasn’t born yesterday. Everyone in this town resents us being here. The only person who came to David’s memorial was that woman from the flower shop, and I know she was just being nosy.” Melanie sniffled. “You too? Were you and your grandmother trying to get a glimpse of the house? Wanted to see the weirdos who had moved to the top of the hill?”
“That’s not it at all,” Megan said truthfully.
“I know about Penny, Claire’s sister. The police practically barged in to talk to me. I know she was found on your farm. That was awful, but if you came about that, I had nothing to do with it.”
Clover walked behind Megan and tapped her on the shoulder. Megan nodded. A line had formed outside the café, and Clover couldn’t handle the influx of customers on her own.
“Look, Melanie, let me get you some food. I can’t talk now, but—”
“There’s nothing else to say. You came, you had your reasons, your grandmother left her necklace, and I’m returning it.” She ran a hand through her bangs. “I’ll still take that toast and coffee.”
“How about the chilaquiles? They’re a little more substantial.” Megan smiled. “On the house.”
“Just toast. But on the house would still be nice.” Melanie picked up the newspaper. “And maybe we can go for a walk after your shift is over. I’ve changed my mind. A talk might be good after all.”
Megan walked away wondering what had just happened.
By one thirty that afternoon, the lunch crowd had gone and only one table was still occupied. Clover and Megan had the dining area cleaned up for dinner, and Bibi and Alvaro were rearranging the kitchen for the evening regulars. Sunday nights weren’t generally crowded, but the café had its regular Sunday set, mostly singles and couples who didn’t feel like cooking. Alvaro normally made comfort food on Sundays, and tonight’s roast chicken was perfuming the air and making Megan’s stomach grumble.
“I heard that,” Clover said. “Eat something, please. In fact, why don’t you pack up and head home. It’s late, and I know you have stuff to do at the farm.” She stole a surreptitious look back at the kitchen. “Or maybe you could spend some time with Denver. Haven’t seen as much of him lately.”
“As a matter of fact, Denver and I have plans for tonight. He’s taking me to the city for a concert and dinner.”
“Ooh, that sounds like fun. That little farm to table place on the Parkway?”
“Nope.” Megan finished wiping down the last of the counter. “I’ve been craving seafood,
so we’re going to a little hole in the wall. Fish and chips, that sort of thing.”
“Sounds good.” Clover’s attention wandered to the front of the store. “Speak of the devil, look who just walked in.”
Megan looked up in time to see Denver heading their way with Roger Becker, the town’s zoning commissioner. Denver grinned when he saw Megan. Roger waved.
“Go,” Clover said. “We’re good here.”
Megan grabbed her purse from under the counter, bid Bibi and Alvaro good-bye, and met Denver by the store’s cash register, where he was a captive audience to Roger’s chattiness. Megan caught the tail-end of what he was saying.
“I just don’t understand it. It’s barely been any time at all.” Roger, a tall, lanky man with a ring of dark hair, knew everyone and everything that was going on. He liked to tell people that he was in the business of knowing the whole town’s business. “I guess you heard, Megan.”
“Heard what?”
“The von Tressler home is going up for sale.”
“But they just built that thing.”
Roger nodded solemnly. “I was just telling Denver here that Melanie isn’t staying in Winsome. Her mother wants her to move back to New Jersey with her.” His eyes grew round behind his glasses. “Have you met that mother, Megan? Whew. Wouldn’t want to meet her under an overpass.”
Not quite the saying, Megan thought, but having met Veronica Maplewood, she knew what he meant. “Does Melanie want to leave?”
“Does it matter?” Roger whistled. “I heard they spent over three million building that house—more if you count the money their contractor absconded off with. It’s a fine house, but people who can afford a three-million-dollar house either want a piece of restored history or they want to design their own oversized money pit. She’ll never get their money back out, not if they sell now.”
“It sits on a pretty piece of property high up on that hill,” Denver said. “Who knows what city person will come along and want a view like that.”
“Maybe, but I bet it stays for sale for a long time. Unless she’s willing to sell it at a significant loss.”
“I hate the thought of it being abandoned,” Denver said. “That’s not good for the owner, and it’s not good for the town.”
“Right,” Roger said. “Look what happened to von Tressler Senior’s house.” Another head shake.
“You mean Martin von Tressler’s house? What happened?” Megan asked.
Roger leaned against the checkout counter as though settling in for a long story. He folded his arms over his chest. “The old man died, and no one wanted to live there. It just sits there decaying. A gorgeous property, from what I hear. Not sure why the old man’s wife doesn’t move back in.” Roger leaned in and lowered his voice. “Did you know she’s missing? I heard she never made it to the memorial. Just ran off.”
“I’ve heard similar,” Megan said, not wanting to get into the details.
“And then her sister was murdered. What is the world coming to?” Roger shook his head slowly back and forth.
“Maybe it makes sense that Melanie wants to sell,” Denver said. “She lost her husband, her mother-in-law is missing, and then the murder.”
“Maybe she’s afraid she’s next,” someone behind them said.
They all turned to look at the source of the voice. Melanie was standing in between a shelf of organic canned goods and display of flours and baking ingredients. In jeans, a tank top, and sneakers, with her hair in a ponytail, she looked more like a teenager than a recent widow.
“She’s right,” Denver said, turning to acknowledge her. “Hello, Melanie. I can understand that you would be worried given all you’ve been through with your family.”
“Family is kind of a stretch,” Melanie said. “Penny hated me. She hated David, too.” Quickly, she added, “That doesn’t mean I wanted her dead.”
“Of course not,” Roger said. “We’re sorry about your husband. We’re sorry for what your family is going through.”
Melanie’s face remained blank. “Megan,” she said. “That walk?”
Megan glanced at Denver. To Melanie, she said, “I’m afraid I need to take a pass—”
“Actually, Megs, I swung by to tell you I have a sick mare I need to see to. How about if I call you when I’m done and we’ll head downtown. We have some time before we need to get on the road.”
Megan nodded slowly, unsure if he actually had a sick mare or if he was buying her the ability to talk to Melanie.
Melanie clapped her hands. “Great. Let’s go then.”
Roger, clearly unwilling to end his audience with Winsome’s most ostentatiously wealthy resident, said, “How is the house sale coming along?”
“I’m not selling.”
“I heard that your mother—”
“My mother doesn’t make decisions for me,” Melanie said. “David and I built the house, and I intend to stay here. I just have some things I need to work out.”
Roger looked like he’d just been slapped. He put a hand on his reddened cheek and said, “Great. We’re happy to hear that.”
“Are you?” Melanie looked from Roger to Denver to Megan. “Can we go?” she said to Megan.
Megan hesitated, but only for a second. Her curiosity about Melanie von Tressler and her odd family—and their potential connection to her—outweighed her annoyance at Melanie’s petulant tone.
The air outside felt hot and oppressive compared to the coolness of the café. Megan regretted her decision not to change before leaving—her work clothes felt sticky and cloying. She walked alongside Melanie for a few minutes, watching the other people walking along the canal as her brain spun with questions.
She was thinking about Penny Greenleaf when Melanie said, “Your farm manager, Clay. Could I borrow him for a while?”
Megan could not hide her astonishment. “Borrow him?”
“We have so much work that still needs to be done around the house. That’s one of my mother’s issues. She thinks I won’t be able to handle it. I thought with someone who knows Winsome at the house, I could take care of the remaining to-dos.” She glanced at Megan. “You and I are about the same age. It can be hard to get contractors to take you seriously. A guy would help.”
Megan was too stunned to speak. Melanie seemed completely tone deaf to what she was asking for. And this after she and her late husband pulled Megan’s contractor away from the Marshall house project—some nerve, Megan thought.
Megan was trying to choose words that didn’t have only four letters, when Melanie said. “Or the other one. The other guy at your farm? I could borrow him. Is he handy?”
Megan stopped walking. Hands on her hips, she said, “His name is Brian. You do realize that it’s the middle of growing season, and I need my farm manager and my farm hand.”
“It would just be for a few weeks. Even a few days would help.”
“Even if I said okay—which I am absolutely not doing—they’re capable of making their own decisions. And anyway, you don’t need a man around to find contractors, Melanie. You’re capable of doing that yourself.”
“I’ve offended you.”
Megan took a deep breath. “Yes, you’ve offended me.”
Melanie hit her head lightly with the palm of her hand. “My mother always tells me I’m terrible with people. That’s why she didn’t want me to greet you and your grandmother. Thanks for the basket, by the way.” She grimaced. “I tried to be friendly toward Claire, and look how that turned out. You and I are near the same age—right? This should be way easier than it is.”
“It shouldn’t be easy to ask another person for their loyal employees, Melanie. That’s not how the world works. Like Duke, your contractor. I had already signed him for a project. I’d given him a deposit. You and David came along and outbid everyone in Winsome. I—many of us—had to pay a p
remium to go outside our area for help.” Megan fought to keep her voice under control. She hadn’t realized how much their actions had infuriated her. “You swooped in, didn’t speak to anyone in town, not really, and pulled that stunt. You wonder why you got the cold shoulder from the good people of Winsome. Maybe that was why.”
Melanie regarded Megan, unblinking. It’s never occurred to her that her actions had consequences for other people, Megan thought. She really is that self-absorbed.
“I don’t know what to say.” Melanie glanced around, not meeting Megan’s gaze. A child on a tricycle zoomed past them. Melanie watched her pedal down the pathway, a frown marring pretty features. “Forget I asked. Can you do that? Can we start over?”
Megan sighed. Could she do that? She wanted answers, so she supposed she needed to. At least a little.
“Do you have a job?” Megan asked. “Something that keeps you occupied during the day?”
“Not really. I used to be in sales. That’s how I met David. We worked together and went to the same country club.” She perked up. “Do you have a country club in Winsome?”
“No. You’d have to go to a nearby town for that.”
“Oh.” Her face fell. “David had things planned for us. Travel. The house. He was semi-retired, so we could spend time doing other things.”
“Semi-retired? I thought he worked for his father’s business?”
“Oh, he did. You may have heard of it? Von Tressler Investments.”
“I have.” Megan started walking again, away from the café. She wanted to keep Melanie talking. “What did he do there?”
“Everything at one point or another. Chief Operating Officer overseeing the furniture business—that’s how they got started, selling furniture. Before his father died, he became CEO for a bit.”
“Before he semi-retired?”
Melanie was quiet for a moment. They were passing a shady spot by the canal, where a large maple tree intersected the path. A bench had been placed underneath the tree by the town’s Beautification Board—a bench that was currently empty. “Want to sit?” Melanie asked.