White Colander Crime (5 page)

Jaymie smiled. She already knew Jakob was thirty-seven. “You were talking about your father selling land?”

“This was in the nineties just after I got out of high school. I said instead, why didn't I take over part of it and see how it went. I told him my idea for a Christmas tree farm. We always planted our own Christmas trees over the years, my brothers and I, and we competed for the honor of having one of our trees chosen to be the season's Christmas tree, so I knew what I was doing.” He shrugged and grinned. “Or I thought I did. It was a lot of work, and we knew it wouldn't pay off for years, but I was young and ambitious. I got a couple of my buddies and we planted ten thousand seedlings one April.”

He paused. Jocie was getting restless, kicking the leg of the table and shifting. “Let's have our dessert, the wonderful brownies Jaymie brought, in the living room by the fire,” he said to his daughter.

Jocie hopped down and helped her father clear the table, as he insisted Jaymie go make herself comfortable by the fire. Then the little girl raced around some with Hoppy, who began finally to lag a bit, sleepy after so much unaccustomed exercise. Jakob sat with Jaymie on his new sofa—he had replaced the two chairs he had in front of the fire with a red plaid sofa, and moved the chairs off to one side—and they watched Jocie lying on the rug by the hearth with Hoppy. They were playing some milder game that only the two of them understood, where she would put her hand on the rug and he would put his paw over it, then she would cover his paw, giggle and let go. They did it over and over, with Jocie laughing every time.

Jaymie sat with her feet curled up under her, completely content in that moment, at ease as Jakob turned the TV on and tuned it to
A Charlie Brown Christmas
.

“We watch this every year,” he confided, setting the remote down on the side table. “I hope you don't mind me putting it on?”

“Not in the slightest,” she said.

The cabin was comfortable, if a bit drafty. Jakob had explained that when he built it from a kit he didn't know as much as he should have. He was now having to correct the mistakes he had made in his youthful enthusiasm.

“Are you warm enough?” he asked, looking over at her.

She wondered what would happen if she said no. Would he move over and keep her warm? She smiled to herself. A bit too soon to be thinking things like that. “I'm good,” she said, watching him.

Jakob was a solidly built man, more substantial than Daniel, who was gaunt and bony, or Zack, who was lithe and fit. Jakob was strong, with broad shoulders and big hands, not too tall, probably five ten or so, with a hint of a paunch. His black curly hair was longish, just touching his red-and-black plaid shirt collar, and he had a bit of beard coming in. All in all he looked very much like a lumberjack.

“Jocie, Charlie Brown is on. Do you want your chair?” he asked.

Jocie turned from her game with Hoppy, smiled over at them, and Jaymie's breath caught in her throat. Jocie was a little person. Her face was round and her hair a halo of blond hanging in natural ringlets. Her eyes were a chocolatey brown, not quite as dark as Jakob's but with the same long lashes, and expressive, full of hope. She nodded, then turned to Jaymie. “Can Hoppy sit with me?”

“He can do whatever he wants,” she replied. “If he'd like to stay, he will.”

Jakob crossed the room to the toy trunk and picked up a small chair beside it that was actually in the shape of a big teddy bear. He plopped it down, pointed at the TV. Jocie gently picked up Hoppy and sat, carefully settling the little dog in beside her. Hoppy was sleepy and docile after two hours of excitement and play, and snuggled close to her with a little doggie sigh as she watched Charlie and the gang find the perfect Christmas tree, which turned out to be a straggly little thing that was beautiful in spite of its faults.

“I'm not sure the lesson from Charlie Brown is one a Christmas tree farm owner ought to embrace,” she joked, as Jakob sat back down just a little closer to her.

“But it's important. I tell folks, don't look for the
perfect
tree, because nature makes room for imperfection, just as we should. Not one of us is perfect.”

She put her hand on his arm and gazed steadily at him with a smile. “That is
so
the perfect answer!”

He met her gaze. “It's what I believe. I like to give folks second chances, you know? And let things go that aren't perfect. Even if you once believed in perfection; that goes out the door when you have a kid.”

She glanced around at the faintly shabby room, toys piled on a chest by the bookcase, where kids books were jumbled in with old texts, battered paperback fiction and one whole shelf of books on arboriculture, which Jaymie didn't even know was a field of agricultural study until she met Jakob. “Perfection is highly overrated,” she said softly. She squeezed his arm and released, feeling just a little self-conscious and knowing she was blushing.

They chatted quietly as Hoppy snoozed, kicking at Jocie with his hind legs as she giggled and made more room for him on her comfy chair. The Peanuts gang put on the nativity play, and Snoopy decorated his doghouse with glowing lights. They ate brownies, which Jakob declared were the best he had ever eaten as he licked his fingers. Jocie nodded in enthusiastic agreement, brownie crumbs on her pink bow lips, before her gaze returned to the TV, as the gang sang together around the now beautiful Christmas tree.

“So did you finally find someone to work the tree farm?” she asked, as the show went to a commercial. Jakob had almost despaired of finding anyone who could work the farm and help folks cut down trees in the daytime while he took care of the junk store. He had one fellow, but needed a second.

“I finally did. As a matter of fact, his mom is the editor at the
Wolverhampton Weekly Howler
, the one who hired you for Vintage Eats.”

Five

“D
O YOU MEAN
Cody Wainwright?” she asked.

“Sure. He came out in response to my help-wanted ad in his mom and stepdad's paper, and I told him I'd give him a shot. He's already worked all week for me. Great worker, very energetic.”

She was silent, staring at the fire and biting her lip.

“I thought you'd be pleased,” he said, watching her. “I know how you feel about Mrs. Goodenough.”

She had to tell him, and explained what she had witnessed just that day and what she had seen before, of his confrontation with Shelby Fretter.

Jakob shoved his fingers through his thick hair and sighed, shaking his head. “
Gott im Himmel
,” he muttered, staring into the fireplace. He often sprinkled his speech with phrases in German, which was spoken in his home growing up.

“What are you going to do?” she finally asked.

He took a moment, frowning down at his hands, which were now folded together, the fingers interlaced. Jocie yawned and he said quietly, “I'll put Jocie to bed, and then perhaps we can talk more. I'm not keeping you, am I? I know you're busy tomorrow.”

“I have time,” she said.

He picked up a snoozing Jocie. She awoke enough to say good night to Jaymie, then he carried her upstairs. Jaymie retrieved her dog and set him on the rug by the fire, then moved Jocie's chair back in place and decided to do the dishes. It was the least she could do. She stood by the kitchen counter staring out into the dark and waited for the sink to fill with hot soapy water. Oddly enough, she was overcome by a feeling of déjà vu, and yet she had never done this exact thing before, washing dishes alone in Jakob's cabin.

She shook herself and started. By the time he joined her she was done and hanging up the tea towel on the rack by the stove.

“You didn't have to do that,” he said.

“I know,” she answered, turning and looking up at him. She felt a moment of intent, like he had an impulse to kiss her, but then it was gone and instead he took her hand and pulled her toward the living room. “Jocie said that she forgot to kiss Hoppy good night.”

“Tell her tomorrow morning that I kissed him good night for her.”

They sat facing each other on the sofa. Jaymie brought her knee up onto the cushion and examined his face. He was troubled, his eyes shadowed with his dark brows.

“I was so pleased about Cody,” he started. “I know how much you like his mother.”

“I'm sorry,” she said reflexively.

“For what?”

She thought a moment and shook her head. He was right; she had nothing to apologize for. It was information he needed to have about an employee.

“I guess I'm disappointed,” he said. “He seems like a nice fellow, eager to work. I've hired a lot of kids his age over the years and I can't be fooled by that.”

“But those things aren't mutually exclusive,” she commented. “An eagerness to work and anger control issues, I mean.”

“You're right, of course.” He reached for her hand absentmindedly, and sat looking down at their two hands together. “I had thought better of him. Especially regarding his mother; he seems to truly love her.”

“I didn't actually see what went on between him and Nan. I'm just guessing,” she said about her comment on the scuffle she overheard. “Nan is intense, and she says Cody takes after her.”

He nodded. “I'm going to keep him on for now. It's just seasonal work ending Christmas Eve day. I'd like a chance to talk to him.”

“Talk to him? Why? What do you mean?”

He looked up and met her gaze, stroking her palm with his thumb. “Remember I told you about my brother, Manny, the globetrotter?”

She nodded.

“He was troubled when we were young. I don't know why; I've never known. We were all raised in the same house, so why one should have troubles and not the others I can't say. But he got in with a crowd of stoner friends and started smoking weed. That wasn't so bad—he was just kind of mellow and disassociated when he smoked—but then he got into harder drugs. He had a girlfriend, a nice girl. Young. Scared all the time. He hit her; I saw it and was shaken to the core. That's not how we were raised. He was sorry after, but they always are, aren't they, men who hit women? And maybe women who hit men, I don't know.”

Jaymie was sad for him, he looked so troubled. She put one hand over their clasped hands, but didn't say anything, not wanting to interrupt his deeply personal story.

“My father tried to talk to him—so did my brothers—but nothing worked. He was angry, said we were taking everyone else's side and not his. He took off and went away for a while, a couple of years, actually. My mama was so afraid for him. Papa thought he'd get himself killed.”

“I'm so sorry, Jakob.”

“But he didn't end up dead, thank God. And when he came back he was different. Still troubled, but . . .” He shook his head. “It was like when he would have one of those moments of rage, he would pull back into himself and stop, just . . . stop. I heard him talking to Mama one night. I remember it so clearly; I was sitting in the living room fuming that he was back, because Mama and Papa were so happy, and I thought, why?”

“You mean, why were they happy?”

He nodded. “He had caused them so much pain and I was so angry at him for that. It took me longer than anyone to get over his behavior; I think maybe because we had once been so close. The closer you are to someone the more they can hurt you. But anyway, Mama asked him what had changed. He told her that a man gave him a job and talked to him. Not all the time, and he didn't preach. He just . . . talked. The guy must have been a miracle worker. Manny thought about things, and got the idea that he wasn't taking responsibility for his own behavior. Which was exactly what Papa had told him years before, but I guess he had to hear it from someone else. From then on he said he felt changed. He went looking for help and got it. It didn't happen overnight, but it happened.”

Jaymie didn't say a word, knowing he wasn't finished. She should get going, she supposed, but she was in no real hurry. This felt important, the sharing of difficult stories from their families. It was what had been missing in her relationship with Daniel.

“I'm grateful you told me about Cody,” Jakob said. “I'm going to keep him on. Do you mind if I call Nan and talk to her about her son?”

Jaymie thought for a moment, feeling a thread of trepidation. Nan was a very private woman. But Cody needed help and if Jakob could offer it, then it was important. “What would you say?” she asked, hedging.

He paused. Jaymie had noticed this about Jakob; he never spoke in haste. When she asked a question, he often took time to form an answer.

“I suppose I'll let her know that I did hire him, and ask if he's spoken about it. I'll look for an opening, perhaps say that I've heard he's troubled by his dating life, or something like that. I'll try not to be intrusive, but maybe I can ask if she knows anything that's bothering him.”

“I'm not sure she'll talk to you. I hope she does. You're a good man, Jakob Müller.”

“I've been blessed in life.”

She knew, though, that all had not been sunshine and roses for Jakob. His wife, deeply unhappy, left Jakob and Jocie, fleeing the US for her homeland, Poland. Once there she fell back into old ways and took an overdose of prescription medication, either accidentally or on purpose, no one knew for sure. Tragically, she died. It was a terribly sad thing for Jocelyn to have lost her mother when she was just three.

She felt a yawn rising and sighed deeply instead. “I had better go,” she said. “I do have a long day tomorrow. Will you and Jocie be able to come to Dickens Days in the evening? Can you get away from the tree lot?”

“I hope we will. Gus, my buddy and partner, is looking after it tomorrow afternoon and evening, while I work all Saturday.”

Jaymie stood, as did Jakob. He hugged her close and she felt cocooned, sighing against his chest. They hadn't kissed yet. She hoped they would, but when they both felt the time was right.

He carried Hoppy out to the van for her and helped her in, then handed her the sleepy dog. “Good night, Jaymie.
Träum was schönes
.”

“What does that mean?” Jaymie asked, pausing in the act of putting her key in the ignition. His face was shadowed and she couldn't see his dark eyes.

“Sweet dreams,” he said, his voice husky.

“I will surely have those,” she said softly, her breath puffing out in steam in the frigid air.

He closed the van door for her and retreated to the porch, where he was illumined by light from the kitchen window. He waved, and she backed out as Hoppy snuffled and snored on the passenger side.

Home, bedtime routine and bed, no time to even read before turning out the light. She didn't need a romance novel to guarantee sweet dreams, featuring her and Jakob's first kiss. She could only hope it was as lovely in real life.

•   •   •

M
ORNING
CAME
TOO
quickly, as usual. She raced around the house making breakfast and getting her stuff together. It was Friday of the first official weekend of Dickens Days. The next day would be the grand opening of Queensville Historic Manor, with the mayor of Queensville presiding at the ribbon cutting. But first Jaymie had a morning of work at the Emporium.

She felt like she was floating as she speed walked to work, arriving ahead even of Valetta. Her friend, key out, joined her on the board porch of the old general store, but stared at Jaymie for a moment. “There's something different about you,” she said. “You'll have to fill me in. Something tells me you spent the evening with a certain junk man.”

“We had dinner, which Jakob cooked, and my own brownies for dessert, and we watched
A Charlie Brown Christmas
while Jocie cuddled with Hoppy. We talked, and I went home.”

“He cooked
dinner
for you?” Valetta asked, as she unlocked the Emporium and let Jaymie in ahead of her.

“Meatloaf and mashed potatoes. It was awesome!” Jaymie said, turning on lights and shrugging out of her coat.

“Does he have any unwed brothers?” Valetta asked, before she headed back to her pharmacy counter.

“As a matter of fact he does, one or two.”

“If they're all as domesticated as he is, send one on over to me. I never could find a man who was good for anything, but maybe there's hope yet.”

They went about their business with a flurry of early shoppers and met up, as usual, at eleven for tea. Elevenses, as Mrs. Bellwood, the town's resident who played Queen Victoria, called the midmorning tea break.

“Come on out to the porch,” Jaymie said, as Valetta carried her steaming mug of tea toward the front. “I want to scope out the town and see where I'll stroll this evening.”

Valetta grabbed a heavy sweater from the hook behind the cash desk and pulled it on, then followed Jaymie outside. “I'll be here this evening. I caved when Haskell called, and so I'm working here on the porch as kind of an information center for visitors. He doesn't trust the Snoop Sisters.”

She was referring to Mrs. Imogene Frump and Mrs. Trelawney Bellwood, the two Queen Victorias, who had mended a longtime rift and were now inseparable. The ladies would be taking care of the booth where warm cider and information about Dickens Days and the Queensville Historic Manor would be dispensed to tourists.

Jaymie and Valetta huddled on chairs on the wide-board porch and sipped their tea, which steamed in the chilly air. Bill Waterman and a couple of young fellows wheeled a heavy wooden structure on a dolly cart down the street from his workshop. Jaymie recognized one as Cody Wainwright. Odd, because Bill had been emphatic about not hiring him, but there weren't many day laborers available for work in Queensville, so maybe that had changed his mind. The teenage boys who would be helping later were in school, and fellows like Johnny Stanko, who used to take odd jobs whenever he could, now had a steady gig bussing tables, washing dishes and tending bar at a place out on the highway.