A Killer Crop (14 page)

“Meg, I know you mean well, but I don’t want to talk about this anymore right now. If you don’t mind, I’m going to go to bed.”

“Of course. I’ll see you in the morning.” Meg didn’t even have time to get to her feet before her mother left—or more accurately, fled. Meg had struck a nerve, no doubt, but that had been her intention. Knowing her mother, she could understand why she had withheld certain details from the police. Unfortunately those were details whose concealment did not put her in a good light. Had Elizabeth finally realized that?

What now? Accepting that her mother was not a killer—not that Meg had any such suspicion—why would anyone else have wanted Daniel Weston dead? It made no sense to her. But, Meg admitted, she was exhausted, both physically and mentally, and tomorrow promised to be as demanding as today had been. Reluctantly she dragged herself out of the chair and trudged up the stairs to her bedroom. Her mother’s door across the hall was firmly closed.

When Meg awoke the next morning, feeling sluggish, she lay in bed listening to the distant sounds of voices. Bree and her mother were early risers and were chatting up a storm in the kitchen, and they sounded so normal. Meg sighed: what Elizabeth had told her the night before did nothing to eliminate her as a suspect in Daniel Weston’s death. Ignoring that was not going to make it go away. Did Marcus have any other suspects? Not that he’d share them with her, but clearly he would be annoyed at Elizabeth’s ongoing evasiveness. As was Meg. She could understand why her mother had been reluctant to tell the detective everything, but stalling had only aggravated the situation.

So what was she supposed to do? Harvesting her apples was at the top of the list. She had to ask Raynard if he could spare her long enough to put in an appearance at the Harvest Festival; if she didn’t, Seth’s feelings would be hurt, even if he didn’t say so, since he had done a lot of the planning for the event
and
specifically asked her to attend. Thinking of Seth made her wonder: Why hadn’t her mother ever told her that she thought Chandler was wrong for her? And what would she have done if she had? Had she gotten involved with Chandler because in the back of her mind she thought her mother would approve of him? And worse, was she putting off introducing Seth as her . . . whatever, because she was afraid her mother would disapprove of her dating a plumber?
Grow up, Meg!

To avoid any more unsettling thoughts, Meg hauled herself out of bed. When she made it to the kitchen, Bree and Elizabeth were seated next to each other at the table, and Bree was sketching on a piece of scrap paper and pointing with her pencil. “This area here was replanted a couple of years ago, so they won’t be bearing for another couple of years. Over at this end, we’ve got a bunch of heirlooms. Christopher Ramsdell—that’s the professor who’s kept the orchard going for years—he’s been trying to collect as many of the old varieties as he can, so we don’t lose them from the genome forever.”

“That’s fascinating. And I met Christopher yesterday at lunch in Amherst—he’s charming,” Elizabeth said.

“Hi, guys,” Meg said as she headed for the coffeepot. “Bree, what’s on the agenda for today?”

“Well, duh. Picking apples.” Bree grinned at her. “There are lots of Macs left.”

“I need to sneak off for a couple of hours—I promised Seth I’d stop by the Harvest Festival.”

“I think we can spare you. You know, you should have some T-shirts made up with your crate label on them—you could advertise that way.”

Was there anyone in town who didn’t know who Meg was already? Still, it was a cute idea. “I’ll think about it. Mother, did you see the label that Bree designed?” Meg rummaged through a stack of papers until she found a color computer image. “We used a historic example for the background but plugged in our orchard name.”

“Very nice. Eye-catching,” Elizabeth replied. “I never thought about how many details there are to growing and selling apples.”

Meg sat down at the table with her coffee. “Neither did I. But with Bree and Christopher helping, I’ve learned a lot since I arrived. Mother, you still want to go to the festival?”

Elizabeth nodded at Meg. “Certainly, if I wouldn’t be imposing on you.”

Bree burst out laughing. “Man, the two of you! You sound like something out of a Victorian novel. Meg, you gonna write an invitation? I can deliver it, if I can find a pair of white gloves.”

Meg smiled. “You’re right. Mother, you’d be more than welcome. Bree, I’m going to go up and check in with Raynard about what deliveries I need to make. I’ll come back and Mother and I can head over to the festival.”

Once outside, Bree asked as they climbed the hill, “You two working things out?”

“Sort of.” Meg hesitated for a moment, wondering how much of her mother’s confidences she could share with Bree. “Let’s say that the reason she’s been ducking Detective Marcus is embarrassing rather than criminal.”

“I couldn’t exactly see your mother whacking someone. How did the guy die again?”

“Marcus didn’t share, but he knows it wasn’t natural, which makes it a murder investigation now.”

“Ouch. Just what we need.”

Raynard was waiting at the top of the hill, and Meg could see pickers already dispersed through the orchard. “Hi, Ray,” she said. “Listen, do you think you could spare me for a bit today? I’d like to take my mother to see the Harvest Festival.”

“I think that would be fine—if Briona agrees,” he said with a sly smile and a nod toward Bree.

“I’ll let you go, Meg, if you’ll take care of today’s deliveries later. I’m not supposed to do stuff like that with this arm, remember.”

“Deal!” Meg responded. “You just let me know who gets what. We should have plenty of time.”

“Six crates of apples to deliver to Amherst,” Bree said promptly. “They’re in the cooler, and they’re all labeled. You’ll be okay with the truck?”

“I’ll manage. If I can handle a tractor, I’m sure I can handle an old pickup. You don’t want to go to the festival?”

“I’m going to meet Michael later and we’re going to hit up some of the bigger festivals in Amherst and Belchertown. It’s a pain that they all seem to happen on the same weekend.”

“Then I’ll be back in a couple of hours to pick up the apples.”

Back at the house, Meg found her mother in her once-again spotless kitchen, wearing practical shoes and a light sweater draped over her shoulders. “So tell me, what goes on at this fair of yours?” Elizabeth asked.

“I have no idea—this is my first one. But it’s also the official opening of the new strip mall on the highway—it’s called Granford Grange—and I’d like to stop by. I’m going to make the wild assumption that there will be various food products at the festival today, so we’ll have plenty of opportunity to eat later. Are you ready?”

“I am.”

Meg led her mother out to the car. When they were settled, Elizabeth asked, “What sort of mall is this Grange?”

Meg started the car and headed out the driveway. “That’s probably kind of a grand term for it—it’s a row of shops along the highway, but it
is
new, and sorely needed in Granford. The original plan was to put it where the orchard is now, but luckily the design was cut back and the whole thing got shifted closer to town.” She realized once again she had omitted to mention Seth’s role, which had been crucial in that process.

“From what little I’ve seen of the town, there isn’t much commercial development here. Downtown Granford looks just like I remembered it, even after all these years.”

“Yes, Granford doesn’t change much. Mostly because it can’t—no income, dwindling population, and so on. Though that keeps the tourists happy.” Meg laughed. “There’s the general store in town, and of course, the restaurant now, and some feed stores along the highway, but most people have to leave town to do any shopping. It does take getting used to.”

“So what does this little mall offer?”

“A sandwich shop, breakfast and lunch only. My veterinarian, Andrea Bedortha. A card-and-gift shop, and I think an accountant. Plus a couple of others—I haven’t kept up lately. The town tried to avoid chain stores, not that we were really big enough to interest them, and stick to those that will benefit the local community. Anything exotic you can find somewhere else around here, like Northampton.”

“I will say that the area seems relatively unspoiled, by contemporary standards.”

“It is,” Meg agreed, “but not because of any sort of agreement or long-range plan. People around here just haven’t had much money for a long time, so it’s pretty much no-frills. And I think that rural character is probably a plus—we get a lot of tourists passing through, and quite a few stop to take a picture of the church. It’s what everybody wants to think New England looks like. Now there’ll be a place for them to stop and get a good meal, too, at least.”

“This looks festive,” Elizabeth said as Meg guided her car into the crowded parking lot at Granford Grange. Not crowded with cars, but overflowing with tables filled with food and other products. Brightly colored balloons billowed, tied in clusters to every possible point, and Meg spied a pony ride in one corner, with a waiting line of small children. The mall’s launch certainly appeared to be a rousing success.

“Oh, my,” Elizabeth said. “Is this what was going to go into the orchard?”

“Sort of,” Meg replied, scanning the crowd. “Only that version was going to be a lot bigger—they were planning to raze the orchard for a parking lot.”

“Well, I’m glad that didn’t happen.”

“Amen.” Meg hesitated a moment. “But Seth had to give up a chunk of his family’s land for this one.” There, she’d said his name. “He lives on the adjoining property, although you can’t see it from our house. And I think I told you how he’s using part of the barn, or rather, what used to be a carpenter’s shop next to the barn in the nineteenth century, as his office, and storing his renovation salvage in the barn.” Meg was blathering on, and she knew it. Why couldn’t she just tell her mother that she was dating him? Involved with him? She was, after all. Meg searched the crowd and finally spied him—deep in conversation with veterinarian Andrea Bedortha. While she watched, Andrea leaned closer and laughed, laying a hand on Seth’s arm. He didn’t back away. In fact, he looked as though he was enjoying their conversation. Meg felt an unexpected wash of jealousy, which was immediately followed by annoyance—at herself. Seth had every right to chat with Andrea: he’d known her for years, and he was the one who had persuaded her to set up her own practice here in Granford. He was just being . . . welcoming, right?

“Come on, Mother, and I’ll introduce you around.” Meg grabbed her startled mother’s arm and waded through the crowd to where Seth and Andrea stood. “Hi, Seth, Andrea. Mother, this is Andrea Bedortha—she’s the veterinarian I mentioned, and she’s checked out Lolly and the goats. And you’ve met Seth Chapin.” She met Seth’s eyes squarely.

“Nice to see you again, Mrs. Corey,” Seth said politely.

Elizabeth smiled. “Elizabeth, please. ‘Mrs. Corey’ makes me feel old. Although longevity apparently runs in our family. I was reminding Meg that we knew the Warren sisters years ago, and they were close to ninety then.”

“Did Meg mention Ruth Ferry?” Seth asked. “She knew the sisters, too, when she was a child.”

“How interesting. I hope I’ll have a chance to meet her while I’m here.”

Meg watched the exchange silently, very aware that Andrea’s hand still lay on Seth’s arm. Did they have a history? She had never asked.

“I’ll tell Rachel. She sees more of her than I do. Did you enjoy the bed-and-breakfast?”

“I did. You know Rachel?”

“She’s my sister.” Seth glanced quizzically at Meg, who shrugged—now was not the time to try to explain.

“Oh. Meg didn’t mention that. What a lovely home she has! And her breakfasts were outstanding. So, Meg tells me you’re a near neighbor?”

“I am, right over the hill from you. In fact, you’re standing on what used to be a piece of our property. My father had a plumbing shop here.”