Red Delicious Death (35 page)

“It looks terrific. I wonder why we didn’t think of this years ago—it looks like it’s always been here. Here we go,” he said, pulling into the already-crowded lot and parking. He hurried to open the door for her, and once again took a gentle grasp of her elbow to guide her up the walk and the front stairs. Was he worried that she might trip in her modest heels? Or was he staking a public claim to her, in front of what looked like half the citizens of Granford? Either way, Meg felt warmed by his gesture.

Once on the porch, they were approached by one of the young servers, dressed in a white shirt and dark pants, who proffered a tray laden with wineglasses. They each took one, but there was no time to drink before another server arrived with a tray covered with all sorts of bite-sized baked goodies. Meg said, “You know, I’m a sucker for these things. The problem is, they’re all so beautiful that I hate to bite into one.”

Gail Selden approached. “Hi, Seth. You look great, Meg!”

“What about me?” Seth asked in mock dismay.

“You?” Gail looked him up and down teasingly. “I’ll give you a B-plus. Anyway—Meg, did you hear about Caroline Goldthwaite’s will?”

“No. Why?”

“She left everything she had to the Historical Society! I doubt it’s a whole lot, but it means we might actually be able to install a decent heating and cooling system.”

“Gail, that’s great! I’m so glad for you.” At least one good thing had come out of the whole sad mess, but Meg wasn’t about to say that. It made sense: Caroline Goldthwaite had cared about Granford, or at least the Granford she had known throughout her long life, and she had left her estate to preserve its memory.

“Oops, gotta go,” Gail said. “I made my husband come, and he hates this kind of thing, so I’ve got to keep him company before someone corners him and wants to talk about sheep or chickens.”

“We can talk later.” Meg laughed. She turned to Seth. “Did you know?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Maybe Mrs. Goldthwaite wanted the Historical Society to clean up its act so the restaurant didn’t outshine it on the green.”

“Fair enough. The old and the new, sharing the space.”

There was a discreet tinkle of chimes, and people began drifting into the building. For the event this evening, Nicky and Brian had chosen to use the big room that had once been a front parlor. The fireplace with its ornate mantle was filled with a riotous bouquet of chrysanthemums and other fall flowers, matched by smaller bouquets on the table. Brian stood in front of the fireplace, looking surprisingly dignified—and nervous. “Please, come in, sit wherever you like.”

By some unspoken mutual agreement, Meg and Seth gravitated toward a table in the far corner, from which they could watch the other guests arriving. Meg did a quick count: the tables were clustered to provide seating for six at each. There was plenty of room to circulate between the tables; the tables were small enough to permit easy conversation. The crisp white tablecloths were accented with autumn-colored napkins, and the silverware, glassware, and simple white china gleamed.
Well done
, Meg thought.

Seth’s sister, Rachel, followed by her husband, Noah, appeared at the front door. They scanned the room and, spying Meg and Seth, made their way to their corner, although Rachel greeted several people along the way. She threw herself in a chair next to Meg. “Whew! The sitter was late, and I thought we wouldn’t make it. Isn’t this terrific? I love the look of the place.”

“I agree. It just feels right. I didn’t know you were coming, Rachel.”

“Didn’t I tell you? Nicky invited me—we’ve been swapping recipes.”

“I’ve been busy trying to get the harvest rolling, and I haven’t even talked to them for a week or two. I assume she’s invited all the growers in the partnership?”

“Of course. You know, I really love that idea—everybody’s in it together. Since it’s their investment, they’re going to have to come back and eat, right?”

“Yes, that was part of the thinking. That, and the quality of the food itself should keep them coming.”

Seth at her side gave Meg a nudge, and nodded toward the door. She followed his gaze to see Lauren Converse—with Detective Bill Marcus in tow, looking stiff and uncomfortable. Lauren spied Meg and dragged him toward them.

“I swear, she didn’t tell me she was coming,” Meg hissed to Seth, keeping a smile plastered on her face. “Well, hang on to your socks—this should be interesting.”

Seth stood up reluctantly, and Meg kept one hand on his arm.

Lauren and her companion had arrived at their table. “Hi, Meg, I thought I’d surprise you. And before you and Seth jump all over me, I’ve told Bill that he can’t talk business tonight, and he has to make nice and promise not to arrest anyone. At least until after dinner’s over.”

Marcus looked as though he’d rather be anywhere else. “Meg, Seth,” he said, his teeth clenched.

“Bill,” Seth replied in a similar tone.

“Please, sit down,” Meg said with as much grace as she could muster. “Later,” she mouthed at Lauren. Lauren smiled sweetly. “Bill, do you know Seth’s sister, Rachel, and her husband?”

The polite amenities carried them over the next few minutes, and Meg could sense Seth gradually relaxing beside her. She wondered if she would have to kill Lauren later. No, that would not be a good idea, since it would confirm Bill Marcus’s worst suspicions about her. She smiled at him, and received something resembling a smile back.

Small talk established, Meg kept an eye on new arrivals and observed Frances Clark walk in—with Christopher Ramsdell? How did the realtor and the professor know each other? She was going to have to ask Frances about that later. Jake Kellogg came with his wife, as did Tom Moody. She saw Bree slip in, followed by a sheepish Michael in a slightly shabby corduroy sports jacket. The room filled quickly, and when all the guests had found seats, Nicky emerged from the kitchen, looking flushed and joyous, and Brian went over to stand by her. They exchanged a look, and she nodded.

Brian cleared his throat, and gradually the hubbub subsided. “Welcome, and thank you all for coming. We wanted to bring you here this evening to thank you for helping us every step of the way. Without you, we wouldn’t be standing here tonight. We owe special thanks to Meg Corey and Seth Chapin, who dreamed up this idea of partnering with you, but you’re all important to us and to the success of the restaurant, and I hope we’ll be seeing you again and again, at both the front and the back door. Tonight’s meal is made entirely from the food that you’ve brought us, including the first Warren’s Grove apples—although maybe we cheated a little on the wine, but we’re working on that, too. And if Seth Chapin didn’t actually grow anything, well, he made sure we had water and fuel to cook it all.”

A laugh followed this comment, and with a smile, Seth raised a hand to wave at the crowd.

Brian went on, “One more thing. You might have noticed we haven’t put up a sign for the restaurant, because we hadn’t decided on a name for the place until recently. We’ve decided to call it Gran’s, first of all because it’s Granford’s restaurant, second because it suggests good home cooking, and third because it’s short and easy to remember.” Another laugh followed, and Brian smiled. “Nicky, you want to add anything?”

Nicky stepped forward shyly. “I want to welcome you, too. I’m much more comfortable in the kitchen than out here talking to people, but I need to thank all of you for helping us. You’ve taught me something very important about what it means to be part of a real community, and I hope our food is everything you hoped it would be. And if it isn’t, tell me and I’ll fix it! Thank you again!” With a duck of her head, Nicky retreated to the kitchen.

“All of you, our partners and our friends, please enjoy your first meal at Gran’s!” Brian said, beaming, and signaled to his wait staff, who poured out of the kitchen like a flock of swallows bearing trays laden with the first course.

Three hours later, the crowd reluctantly rose from their tables in ones and twos and drifted toward the doors, looking somehow plumper than when they had arrived, and thoroughly pleased. Meg and Seth remained in their corner, waiting for those nearer the front to clear out.

“Lauren, you have a place to stay?” Meg asked, hoping silently that she did.

Lauren winked at her. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll give you a call in the morning, okay?”

“Fine.” Meg didn’t want to know anything more about Lauren’s plans, especially if they included Bill Marcus. Although, Meg had to admit, he had been surprisingly pleasant for the entire evening.

Rachel stood up and dragged her drowsy-looking husband to his feet. “Great food, great company. I’ll be sending all our guests here, believe me. Talk to you soon, Meg. Come on, Noah—home.” And they, too, swept out the door.

“Should we say good-bye to Brian and Nicky?” Meg asked, reluctant to move.

They had managed to get to their feet when Nicky appeared at the doorway to the kitchen and searched the room. Finding them, her face lit up and she hurried over, trailed by Brian, and flung her arms around Meg. “Oh, Meg, it was everything I hoped it would be. Wasn’t it great? Didn’t everybody look happy? And they ate everything! I don’t know how I can ever thank you. And Seth. We couldn’t have done it without you.” Out of the corner of her eye, Meg noticed Brian and Seth swapping manly handshakes and back pats, but they looked happy, too.

Meg laughed and returned Nicky’s hug. “You two did a wonderful job. The food was terrific, and I think everybody was impressed. I’m proud to be a part of it. Well, we should let you relax—it’s been a long day.”

“But a good one. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

It took a few additional minutes before Meg and Seth could extricate themselves, and make it out onto the now-empty porch. The air was cool, with a suggestion of fall, and a few lights glinted from across the green.

“I wasn’t just being polite, you know—I think they hit just the right note: perfect food, plenty of it, and not too fancy. I didn’t see a single unhappy face in the room.” Meg leaned back against Seth. “We did something good here, didn’t we?”

“That we did. I think you can be proud of what you started. About this, and a lot of other things.”

“Mmmm?” Meg said vaguely. She felt far too good to ask for details, especially while Seth was nuzzling her neck.

“Look what you’ve accomplished in the last eight months. Look at how far you’ve come.”

“You’ve been a big part of that, Seth.”

“Happy to help, lady. We make a good team. Shall we head home?”

“Yes. I think Bree said something about staying with Michael . . .”

The drive home was short, made in comfortable silence. But when they pulled into Meg’s driveway, she laid a hand on Seth’s arm. “Seth, there’s somebody in the front.”

He pulled forward and stopped the car. “Stay here, I’ll check.”

Meg ignored his instructions and got out of the car— after all, this was her place, and her trespasser. By the time she had made it around the car, the intruder had stepped forward, followed by a bewildered Seth.

“It’s about time! Your cell phone’s off, you know.”

“Mother?”

If you’re tired of the same old cabbage slaw, apples go surprisingly well with other vegetables in this crunchy, colorful dish.