by Gayle Leeson
“Did Devon talk much to you about Florida?” Adam asked.
“No. I’m afraid I didn’t know Devon all that well,” I said. “We’d only spoken briefly on the few occasions he’d been into the café.”
“Right. I should ask Jackie,” he said. “She might know if he’d discussed wanting to return.”
“Why do you ask?” I found it bizarre that he would even care at this point whether Devon had ever wanted to go back to Florida. Unless... “Are you hoping Belinda will return home with you?”
“Uh, yeah. That’d be good...you know...for her to be with her family now that Devon’s gone.”
I saw our waiter approaching with our food and nodded to him. Adam turned to see what was going on and moved out of the waiter’s way.
“I’ll let you two fine ladies enjoy your meal,” he said. “Have a good one.”
“You too,” I said.
The waiter placed our food in front of us and asked if we needed anything further. When we declined, he said he’d be back to check on us later.
When he was out of earshot, I asked, “Was that encounter with Adam and—what was his name—Chris? —weird, or was it just me?”
“Oh, it was weird all right.” Sarah poured steak sauce onto the side of her plate. “They didn’t seem terribly broken up about Devon’s death. One acted like Devon’s death would’ve meant more to his wife had she gotten the necklace he’d enlisted Jackie’s help in finding, and the other was only interested in learning if Devon wanted to move back to Florida.”
“Maybe Devon and his brother-in-law didn’t get along and that now that Devon’s dead, Adam wants his sister to move back home,” I said. “That Chris guy gave me the impression that Devon and Belinda hadn’t been getting along. Why else would he have said what he did about Belinda being even more heartbroken now that she’s found out about the necklace?”
“I found that strange too,” Sarah said, cutting into her steak. “Didn’t Adam say Chris was Devon’s cousin?”
“Yeah, he did. And Jackie told me Devon moved here because Devon’s aunt left him some property.” My growling stomach prompted me to stop talking and start eating. But I couldn’t resist adding, “You know, inheritances have long been sources of family rifts.”
“You don’t have to tell me—I work in a law office.”
Sarah was the administrative assistant to Billy Hancock, Winter Garden’s one and only resident attorney.
I swallowed the bite of Parmesan crusted chicken I’d taken and wiped my mouth on my napkin. “You know, Belinda was acting kind of suspicious of Jackie when she was in the café today. Scott intimated that Belinda had probably thought something was going on between Devon and Jackie.”
“Dang! I hope she didn’t cut Devon’s brake lines thinking he was cheating on her with Jackie!” Sarah grinned to soften her words, but her smile quickly faded. “Look slightly to your left, but don’t be conspicuous.”
I gave a fake laugh and turned my head. Devon’s cousin, Chris, was sitting across the room staring at us. His expression was dark and calculating. It gave me chills.
{ }
Chapter Nine
O
n Saturday morning, Ryan brought his parents in for breakfast. I overheard Jackie ask Scott if he would wait on them.
“Sure thing!” Scott said, as he grabbed three menus and hurried over to their table.
“Gee,” I said quietly, “you really are upset with Ryan.”
“Actually, I thought that if Scott waited on them, I could man the grill so you could go say hello.”
“Oh...right. Sorry.”
She gave me a sheepish half-smile. “That, and I’m avoiding Ryan.”
Ryan’s dad, David, was a sweetheart. He smiled, rose, and hugged me when I approached the table. “How’re you doing, Amy? Ready for Christmas?”
In appearance and personality alike, David looked like an older version of Ryan. Both men had the same dark brown hair and eyes—although David had a smattering of gray in his hair now—and both were warm and generous. A lovely redhead, Ryan’s mom, Michelle, could be a bit cold, at least where I was concerned.
“Not quite. I think I might’ve bitten off more than I can chew,” I said. “Did Ryan tell you about the cake I’m making for the parade?”
I included Michelle in my question, and she responded with a tight smile. She hadn’t risen to give me a hug, and I’d have been shocked if she had.
“Are you talking about the gigantic fake cake you’re going to make for the parade?” David asked.
“Well, I don’t know that I’d call it gigantic,” I said.
“It’ll have to be pretty big to be seen in that parade.” David grinned. “Ryan tells us you’re going to put it on top of your car.”
“Yep. On a luggage rack.” I joined in David’s laughter as he sat back down and took a sip of his coffee.
“I’ve decorated a few cakes in my day,” Michelle said. “Let me know if you’d like any help.”
“I’d love some,” I said. “The cake dummies are scheduled to arrive today, and I plan on getting started here at the café tomorrow after lunch.”
Michelle’s face froze. I was guessing she wished she hadn’t said anything.
“That’d be great, hon,” David said. “You and Amy can work on the cake, and Ryan and I can hang out and watch the football game at home.”
“All right,” Michelle said. “Is there anything you’d like me to bring?”
“I believe I have everything we’ll need to get started, and that’s my main goal for tomorrow.”
Scott joined us then. “I heard you talking about working on the cake tomorrow. Can I get in on that?”
“Of course.” I smiled. “I’ll take all the help I can get.”
“Radical! This is gonna be awesome, dudes.” He winked at Michelle. She looked as if she’d caught a whiff of something foul.
“I’ll get out of your hair so Scott can take your orders,” I said. “See you in a bit.”
As I was walking away from Ryan’s table, Adam and Chris ambled in. I felt my face tighten with surprise before I recovered enough to welcome the pair to the café.
Adam merely nodded at my greeting, and Chris gave me one of those inscrutable looks he’d given me the evening before when Sarah and I had been at dinner. They sat at the counter.
“Coffee?” I asked.
“Please,” Adam said.
Chris shook his head. “Never touch the stuff. You got soft drinks?”
“Sure.” After providing their options, Adam went with the dark roast coffee, and Chris chose cola. I poured their drinks and handed them menus. “Take a look and let me know what appeals to you.”
“Thanks.” Adam sipped the coffee. “That’s good. It’s cold out there.”
“Cold?” I laughed. “It’s warm right now. Sometimes I don’t even have to wear a coat outside yet.”
“It’s cold here when you’ve recently come from Florida,” he said. “There, it’s balmy all the time.”
“I hadn’t considered that. How’s Belinda this morning?”
Shaking his head, he sighed. “Not great. We made Devon’s funeral arrangements this morning. She was lying down when I left.”
“If there’s anything I can do—” I let the hollow suggestion hang in the air. “As you mentioned last night, it would probably be nice for Belinda to go back to Florida where she can be around her family and friends.”
“I think so.” Adam took another sip of his coffee and then picked up his menu. “Nothing here for her anymore but sad memories, right?”
“I imagine so. Maybe she could sell their home and have enough to make a fresh start somewhere.” I glanced at Chris. “Don’t you think?”
Chris shrugged. “I don’t know why not. I don’t want her place. None of the rest of the family does either.”
“I heard that Devon’s aunt left him the property,” I said. “Was that aunt your mom?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Sure, we loved Devon. None of us cared that Mom left him that crummy little summerhouse that no one else wanted.” He scoffed. “We got the good stuff.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just that my friend works in a law office, and she’s told me horror stories about how greedy some people can be toward their family members.”
“Yeah, well, we’re not like that,” Chris said.
“Did Devon ever talk about his boat business while he was in here?” Adam asked. “I used to wonder if he missed it. Always thought he might come back to it, you know?”
“I bet he would have after spending a winter here, especially a winter working construction.” Chris nudged Adam with his elbow. “You Florida boys have thin blood.”
“Right—but you didn’t give Amy a chance to answer my question. Did Devon ever mention it?”
“Not to me.” I nearly let out a breath of relief when Homer entered the café. “Good morning, Homer. Who’s your hero today?”
“Hello, Amy. Gentlemen.” He took his usual seat which was two seats down from the one currently occupied by Adam. “My hero of the day is Alexander Pope, the English poet, who said, ‘No one should be ashamed to admit he is wrong, which is but saying, in other words, that he is wiser today than he was yesterday.’”
“Guru Guy!” Scott called. “Good to see, man!”
“And you as well, Scott.”
“I’ll have your sausage biscuit out in just a minute,” I told Homer. To Adam and Chris, I added, “Let me know when you’re ready to order.”
“Will do,” Adam said, turning toward Homer. “Do you come here every day?”
“Yes, sir, I do,” Homer said.
“Did you know Devon Carpenter?”
I wanted to linger to see what Adam wanted with Homer, but I knew Homer was ready for his biscuit. I hurried into the kitchen and asked Jackie to get the biscuit ready. “I’ll be back as quickly as I can.”
Pouring Homer a cup of coffee, I overheard him say, “He once mentioned sailing to the Bahamas. My hero of the day was the musician Lenny Kravitz, who has a home in the Bahamas. Devon said he’d traveled there and had hoped to meet Mr. Kravitz but that it wasn’t in the cards for him.”
Adam nodded slowly. “I remember hearing him talk about that now. Too bad he never got to meet the guy. What else did Devon say about the Bahamas?”
“Only that I should visit there,” Homer said. “Although I’m a creature of habit and not one prone to wander from home, I promised Devon that should I ever be bitten by the travel bug, I’d add the islands to my itinerary.”
“Did he tell you where you might want to go or give you a list of must-sees?” Adam asked.
“No.” Homer chuckled. “He knew I wasn’t likely to ever travel, and he never struck me—on the few occasions we spoke—as a man who dwelt overmuch on the past, including the places he’d been. He seemed to realize—like Alexander Pope—that fish tales are like this: ‘And all who told it added something new, and all who heard it, made enlargements too.’”
“Huh?” Chris asked, wrinkling his brow.
“I suppose I’m trying to say that Devon seemed to be a man who lived in the moment,” Homer said.
“We should all be blessed with that mentality,” Adam said.
“That’s the truth,” Scott said. “I’m sure that’s the credo Homer lives by too. Correct me if I’m wrong, Guru Guy.”
“You’re not wrong,” Homer said.
AT THE END OF THE WORKDAY, Jackie and I divvied up the desserts. We took the remainder of the pecan pie to serve at Sunday lunch—each Sunday we meet at the big house and make lunch for Mom and Aunt Bess—and she took some snickerdoodles. Luis took cupcakes and brownies, Scott took chocolate chip and sugar cookies, and I took the remaining oatmeal cookies. I thought I could serve the cookies if we started running low on pie at tomorrow’s lunch. And, if not, they’d be awfully good with some hot cocoa on Sunday evening.
As we boxed up everyone’s desserts, Jackie asked me, “What are we planning on making for lunch tomorrow anyway?”
“How about roast chicken, green beans, mashed potatoes with gravy, and rolls?” I asked.
“That’ll work.” She handed Luis a white bakery box. “Anything we need from the grocery?”
“No. I believe we have everything we need.” I stifled a yawn. “I’m glad. I definitely don’t want to go shopping after work today.”
“Looks like maybe you could use a nap, Amy-girl,” Scott said.
“I could.” I smiled and handed over his box of cookies. “But I’m afraid if I close my eyes, I won’t wake up until morning.”
“Would that be so bad?” he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he addressed Jackie. “I know Roger is short a man, so if he needs any help with the big house roof, have him give me a call.”
“Have you done that sort of work before?” Jackie asked.
“Not roofing, but I’ve done handyman work. I’m confident I could figure it out.”
“Hey!” I decided to mockingly chide him. “Don’t go volunteering your services all over the place, mister. We need you here. You’ve already said you’d help with the cake tomorrow.”
“Really?” Jackie squinted at Scott. “You’re going to help decorate the parade cake?”
“You bet.” He grinned.
“And have you ever decorated a cake before?” she asked.
“Jackie, Jackie, Jackie—things you’ve never done before are merely opportunities to learn and grow.” He spread out the arm in which he wasn’t holding the box. “Spread your wings!”
“No, thank you. As much as I’d like to see you covered in cake icing, I’ll pass. After Sunday lunch, I plan to kick back on the sofa and binge watch TV until bedtime.”
“Ah, she doesn’t know what she’ll be missing, does she?” Scott asked me.
I managed a smile. I didn’t know what Jackie would be missing, and I was leery of finding out.
{ }
Chapter Ten
B
efore going home, I went to the big house to see how things were progressing on the roof. Roger was there working alone. I waved to him before noticing Clark Bennett’s SUV in the driveway. Clark was Winter Garden’s only resident physician; and although he and Mom had begun dating, I was mildly concerned to see his vehicle here so early. If he and Mom had a date, he shouldn’t be here until later in the evening. I hurried inside.
“Is everything all right?” I asked when I saw Clark listening to Aunt Bess’s heart. Placing the dessert box on the coffee table, I berated myself for asking such a stupid question. Of course, everything wasn’t all right. “What’s wrong with Aunt Bess?”
“Oh, now, don’t worry about me.” Aunt Bess winked. “I’m still kicking—for the time being anyhow. But I am thinking of making a new Pinterest board called Things That’ll Probably Kill Me. I’m putting mold and mouse diseases at the top of the list. Do you think anybody has made pictures of mold and mouse diseases?”
“I’m sure someone has, Aunt Bess.” Mom’s exasperation was evident in her voice. “But, once again, those were not mouse droppings on your bed—those were cookie crumbs.”
Aunt Bess harrumphed. “I reckon I’ll have to add you to my board of things that’ll probably kill me, given your hateful tone. Do you have a nice photo of yourself you can email me?”
“Yes,” Mom said. “And you can make it the cover image for the board!”
“Mom, let’s take this pie into the kitchen and give Aunt Bess some privacy with the doctor.” I picked up the box.
“Pie? What kind of pie?” Aunt Bess asked.
“Pecan. And I promise it won’t kill you.” I bent and kissed her cheek.
“It might. I could eat it all and explode.”<
br />
I was still trying not to laugh as I followed Mom into the kitchen. I knew Aunt Bess was on Mom’s last nerve, but she certainly was a character. I made a mental note to remind myself of this day when sometime in the future Mom would be old and driving me up the wall.
After putting the pie into the refrigerator, I took Mom’s hand and led her into the dining room. Although there was a small Christmas tree on a table in the living room, the main tree had traditionally been placed here in the dining room. Nana had liked it that way. There was plenty of room for everyone to get onto the floor and unwrap presents, and the tree could simply “spread out.”
I’d helped Mom decorate the tree last week, and it was nice to take a minute now to revisit some of the ornaments—some of which had their better days behind them. The base of the tree was inside a red and gold box that looked like a toy drum.
I lightly touched a crocheted snowflake. “I remember the year you and Nana made these. They’re so pretty and delicate.”
“Yeah.” She pointed out a dove. “I remember when Daddy carved this. I was just a little girl then, but I sat and watched him whittle it.” She laughed as she took a lopsided Christmas tree ornament off the tree. It had been made with a popsicle stick painted green and a green pipe cleaner. Beads of various colors had been glued onto the tree. “You were so proud when you brought this home. Remember?”
“No.” But I got reminded of it every year. Mom loved that ornament, as I was sure I’d love whatever ugly little trinket my child happened to bring home, if and when I had a child.
“What are you all looking at?” Aunt Bess asked, as she and Clark joined us in the dining room.
“This ugly little tree I made when I was in first grade,” I said.
“Oh, now, don’t feel bad,” Aunt Bess said. “Jackie made her share of ugly stuff too.” She walked around the side of the tree until she found a wreath my cousin had made. It was a wooden ornament she’d painted green, and there were three red dots on it—representing holly, I supposed. “Look at this. She got tired and quit. Blasted thing has three holly berries or red ornaments on it.” She shook with laughter.