A Spoonful of Murder (5 page)

L
UCKY PICKED UP
two soup and bread bowl orders from the kitchen hatch and placed them on the service area at the end of the counter. Janie grabbed the plates and whisked them to her waiting customers. Lucky glanced down at her hands. A few stubborn speckles of paint remained on her fingernails from the night before. She quickly washed her hands at the small sink behind the counter, scrubbing with a stiff brush until her hands were completely clean. When she turned back, Elias was seated on a stool, smiling in her direction. She hadn’t seen him arrive. Her heart beat a little faster. Several days had elapsed since she had slipped on the ice in front of the Clinic. Every day since then she had wondered when she might see him again. Today he wore a dark green jacket. A soft plaid scarf hung around his neck. Lucky smiled in response and nervously pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. This was the second time Elias had caught her unaware, although this was a far less embarrassing situation.

Cecily, sipping tea at the counter, glanced up sharply and then craned her neck to look at Elias. Lucky was sure Cecily had picked up on her nervousness. She cursed herself for
having a complexion that betrayed every emotion. She took a deep breath and approached him.

“What can I get you?”

“How ’bout a bowl of chili and half a BLT, please, miss.” Elias smiled provocatively.

“Coming right up.” Lucky ignored his smile and placed the order on the clip above the kitchen hatch. There were nervous flutters in her chest as she turned back to him.

“On your way to the Clinic?”

“Yes. But we might close early tonight. Have you seen the weather report? There’s a bad storm blowing down from Canada. Supposed to bring high winds and three more feet of snow.”

Lucky nodded in response. It didn’t surprise her. Thick white clouds had turned dark gray, blotting out the sun. The wind had picked up and the snowflake lights shivered and wriggled on the lampposts. The barometer was dropping.

The bell over the door rang as Susanna Edgerton, the wife of the Snowflake Chief of Police, rushed in. Her cheeks were bright red and almost matched the scarf around her neck. She was carrying a small tote bag and quickly grabbed a stool next to Marjorie.

“Ladies.” She nodded in the direction of the sisters. “My, it’s really getting cold out there.”

“What can I get you, Susanna?” Lucky asked.

“I’d love a bowl of that wild mushroom soup if you have any today.”

“We sure do. You’ve been out doing errands?”

“Yes. I needed to pick up my prescription at Flagg’s and a few other things, but I’m heading home after this and waiting out the storm. I just hope we don’t lose power.”

Lucky stuck a slip for Susanna’s order on the clip, and Sage reached out and grabbed it. She picked up Elias’s order and carried it to him.

The door flew open once again, and a blast of cold air hit Lucky. She shivered. It was Patricia Honeywell, the blonde who arrived almost every day. Several heads turned to stare.
Elias looked up and returned to his chili. Susanna, Marjorie and Cecily exchanged looks and fell silent.

The tall blonde woman had called her order in this time, and it was waiting on the counter. Lucky carried the heavy paper bag straight to the cash register.

“Thank you, dear,” the blonde replied, and dropped a twenty-dollar bill on the counter, several dollars over and above the cost of her meal. Jack made change, but before he could hand it to her, she turned and walked out the door. Jack raised his eyebrows and shrugged, putting her change into the tip jar. Lucky returned to the counter and refilled Elias’s coffee.

He looked up and smiled. “So, how’s your schedule this week?”

Lucky couldn’t believe her ears. Was he referring to the promised dinner? Was he really asking her to dinner in front of the biggest gossips in Snowflake? She was dumbstruck.

“Uh, well…” She decided that perhaps it was best to treat this lightly. “You know how busy my social life is. I’ll have to check my calendar,” she said, all the time wishing he had picked a more private place to speak to her. Lucky glanced quickly at Marjorie and Cecily. They were staring unabashedly.

“How about Friday? I’ll pick you up here if you like.”

Lucky knew without checking the mirror that she was blushing. “Oh, no need. I’ll come over about seven thirty.”

“Great,” Elias replied, taking a last sip of coffee. “I can pick up some groceries and get cooking early. See you then.”

Lucky struggled to hide the foolish grin spreading over her face. “That’s so kind of you to offer to cook for me.”

“
Kind?
“Kind” sounds rather boring—like something a doddering aunt might do. I certainly hope my company’s more exciting than that.” When Elias smiled, dimples formed on his chin. “Sorry I have to rush off. I need to get back to the Clinic. Jon’s anxious to get home.”

“Jon?” Lucky was momentarily confused.

“Jonathan Starkfield—my partner at the Clinic. Oh, I
forgot. You’ve probably never met him. When Dr. Stevens retired, Jon joined the practice. You’ll have to stop over sometime and I’ll introduce you. He’s a family specialist as well. Great guy. Been in practice many years—lots of experience.” Elias placed some bills on the counter, rose and waved as he went out the door.

Lucky felt she could breathe again. She hadn’t forgotten Elias’s invitation. To tell the truth, it had been on her mind since the day she had slipped on the ice. Part of her had pushed the idea away, too afraid it was something offered in the moment and not genuine at all. She half expected that when she saw him next, he would have forgotten. She mentally shook herself.
He’s just being nice because you’re an orphan now. He wants to make you feel at home, as if you have connections again. Keep it together. Don’t let a schoolgirl crush put ideas in your head,
she told herself fiercely.

Lucky carried Susanna’s order to her and busied herself picking up dishes and wiping down the counter, studiously avoiding the stares of the ladies. When they realized Lucky was not about to join them, they returned to their conversation. Lucky knew her dinner date with Elias was now grist for the gossip mill.

E
LIZABETH STOOD AT
the kitchen counter, carefully wrapping the pottery dishware in stiff paper and stacking each piece in a box. Lucky was busy going through the bookcases and bureaus for personal items she intended to box and store for now.

The Jamiesons’ home was a modest farmhouse, a mile out of town. No one was very sure how old the building was, but originally it had been a barn, later converted to a home. Its clapboard siding was painted deep red, and a large peaked dormer dominated the center of the structure, part of the original barn. A pine wreath still hung on the front door, its needles and pinecones frosted with ice. Martha Jamieson loved decorating for the holidays, and Lucky imagined her mother struggling to get the wreath placed just so.

“What did the Realtor say?” Elizabeth called out.

Eleanor Jensen was the only Realtor in Snowflake. She had no competition in town but was savvy about the marketplace and knew what property was worth to the last dollar. Lucky halted in her task and rose from the floor. “Haven’t
had a chance to talk to her yet. She’s going to stop by today. I’ve given her a key in case I’m not here. She’ll give me an idea what the market will bear right now.”

Elizabeth turned to her. “Are you sure you want to do this? You might really regret selling your parents’ home—your home—someday.”

“I don’t know what else to do. I don’t have time to take care of a house, nor the money. There’s a second mortgage, by the way. I suspect my parents borrowed against the house to keep the business afloat.”

“They surely had life insurance policies?” Elizabeth questioned.

“I still have more papers to go through, and to answer your question, yes, they did. But it’s not a lot in today’s dollars. It really would be a relief for me not to be worrying about the house on top of everything else.”

“I understand, dear, but let me know if you change your mind, or if a loan would help you out. I can help you. The Spoonful will do fine, I’m sure.”

Lucky wasn’t so sure about Elizabeth’s confidence in her. She had moments when she thought that maybe the best thing would be to sell everything—the furniture, the house, the business—and pick up and start fresh somewhere else. But where? And there was Jack to consider. There was so much to do and so many things to take care of, every day felt like a long list of chores, with no end in sight.

Lucky finished with the bookshelves and moved on to the bedroom. She pulled open the top bureau drawer and took out her mother’s small collection of jewelry, piece by piece—none of it valuable, but treasured because they were gifts from the people her mother loved most in the world. She had even kept the purple plastic earrings in the shape of pansies that Lucky, at age ten, had given her as a birthday gift. She came to realize as she grew older that her parents had expected their little girl to be feminine, all ruffles and frills, certainly not the tomboy she grew into. Her mother bought her dolls and sewed tiny handmade outfits, while Lucky came home with a broken arm and a jar full of spiders.
She hoped her mother would think the pansy earrings the most beautiful things in the world. And as far as her mother was concerned, they were priceless—treasured because of her love for her daughter. Lucky smiled, remembering her mother’s reaction at the time to the peculiar pansy earrings. She wrapped each piece of jewelry in tissue and laid them in a small box.

Lucky opened the second drawer in the bureau and gasped. It was full of letters and cards bound with pink ribbon. Her mother had saved everything Lucky had sent to her during all the years she had been away. She couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. She sat at the foot of the bed and wept quietly, hoping Elizabeth wouldn’t hear her from the kitchen. When her tears subsided, she wiped her eyes and blew her nose. She placed all the letters and cards in a second box. This cleaning out project was much harder than she had anticipated.

Elizabeth hesitated at the door of the bedroom. She could tell immediately that Lucky had been crying. “I’m so sorry, honey. Maybe it’s too soon for you to have to deal with all this—a lifetime of memories.”

“I knew it would be, but it’s got to be done somehow.”

“That’s true, but it’s too much to do in one day. Just chip away, a little at a time. Let me know what heavy pieces you don’t want to keep, and I’ll have my handyman come by. We can donate them to a charity or a thrift shop—whatever you’d like to do.”

The doorbell rang once and a woman’s voice called out, “Hallooo.” Lucky wiped her nose. “There’s Eleanor now.”

Elizabeth leaned over and gave her a quick hug. “I’ll be on my way. Oh, one more thing. Don’t forget to leave a faucet dripping—might keep the pipes from freezing. I’ll leave you to Eleanor’s clutches.”

Lucky heard Elizabeth greet Eleanor and then felt the front door slam as Elizabeth left. Lucky returned to the kitchen just as Eleanor entered with a clipboard tucked under her arm.

“I’m glad I caught you. You have time to go over things with me?” Eleanor asked.

“Sure,” Lucky replied. Eleanor reminded Lucky of a small, furry mammal, always bustling, always rushing. She had an unruly mop of curly brown hair and walked at a slightly forward tilt.

With Lucky following in her wake, Eleanor progressed quickly through each room, jotting down notes. “I’d say the square footage is probably, what, eighteen hundred?”

“I don’t know for sure. My Dad would have known.”

“How old is the roof, do you know?”

“I remember my parents talking about it. I think they replaced it about five years ago.”

“That’s good news. And do you know anything about the plumbing?”

Lucky shook her head. “Sorry, no.”

“That’s all right, dear. We’ll have an inspection set up to go over everything before we set a price. Now, that’s something I have to talk to you about. The market is down right now, as I’m sure you know. It’s the economy in general, but also the plant closure and the layoffs, and even the second-home market is a disaster. Your house isn’t going to appeal to the ski crowd, too far from the Resort. So…given that we’re in the worst time of year to sell, I don’t think you’d get very much, that’s assuming it would even move at all. Do you know how much is left on the mortgage?”

“Not exactly. I have to go through some papers. I do know there’s a second to be paid off.”

“Oh. Well, then. Maybe you might want to reconsider trying to sell right now.”

One more stone in her path, she thought. Maybe she’d be forced to live here and hope to make enough money to pay the mortgages. She felt a deep connection to this house, but to live here now, so soon after her parents’ death, wouldn’t be the best thing for her spirits.

“I’ll look at the comps and get back to you with an asking price. Do you want me to schedule an inspector to come and check things out?”

“Let’s talk again before you do that, okay? In the meantime,
I’ll talk to my Dad’s accountant and find out exactly what it’ll take to keep this house up and running.”