A Scone of Contention Page 11

  Once we got to Ainsley and Dougal’s building, she unlocked the door and hollered behind her, “I am going to take the stairs, the elevator is so slow.”

  I vaulted up behind her, huffing and puffing and thinking I needed to up my exercise game. My gym trainer at home in Key West would agree. By the time we reached the fourth floor and burst into the hallway, I could already smell the scent of well-done, bordering on burnt, cake. Grace darted into the kitchen, slammed the oven door open, and grabbed the pan with two blue oven mitts. “I may or may not have saved it,” she said.

  She slid the cake on to the cooling rack that was waiting on the counter. Thin slices of sugared lemon covered the top, slightly caramelized by the heat. The crispy sugary citrus smell was incredible.

  “It’s stunning,” I said. “I think you got it out in the nick of time.”

  Grace went to the door and cracked it open to be sure no one was listening. “Sorry to bring you out this morning with my cloak-and-dagger act,” she said in a hushed voice. “It’s just that Blair reminded me that I told him I’d seen a man I didn’t recognize come out of the apartment the day I was preparing for the party.”

  Blair, I remembered, was the cheese vendor we’d met at the farmers market. I had wondered what their relationship was. “It wasn’t Blair who saw this man, it was you?”

  Grace nodded slowly but said nothing.

  “Okay, what did he look like? And did you get a sense of who he came to see? Why he was here?”

  She looked distraught. “Maybe medium height, reddish-brown hair, wearing tortoiseshell glasses. That’s hardly any help is it? It could describe fifty percent of Scottish men.”

  Including the dead man, I thought but didn’t say. “What do you think he was doing in the house? Any idea?”

  “After Blair stopped in the kitchen to deliver the cheese, I walked him out. On the way back, I saw this man rushing down the hall from Ainsley’s office, apparently in a big hurry to leave. I called to tell Blair about the party when I got home that night because I was so upset. And then I remembered this man, wondering if he had some connection to their book. But after that, I was worried to distraction about what happened at the dinner, and so busy that I never thought of it again.”

  “But you must have thought of it if you remembered to tell Blair.”

  She shrugged. “I tell Blair everything. Besides, you remember what a difficult night that was. With Glenda collapsing and then the accusations that someone had tried to poison her—it went by in a blur after that. It was a bad night to be the chef who’d catered the party. I was pure done in.”

  I nodded my agreement. “Have you asked Ainsley who this person was?”

  She shook her head. “She’s hardly speaking to me. She’s left a few notes about what to prepare for her husband while she’s away, but that’s it. I’m afraid she thinks I really did poison her friend.” Her lips quivered. “I know you’re wondering, but honest to gosh I didn’t. Not on purpose anyway.”

  Then I noticed the time on her kitchen clock. “I need to dash. I haven’t even packed. Please text if you remember anything else—I’m certain we’ll get this all straightened out soon.” I smiled warmly. “I think that cake will be perfectly lovely.” I started out of the kitchen but turned back halfway. “Does the name Joseph Booth mean anything to you?”

  “Sorry, no,” she said and returned to her stove.

  I hurried back across town to Vera’s home, puzzling over what could be going on with this group of friends. All three of them seemed on edge about something. The yearbook photo haunted me—the promise radiating from them compared with the horror of the past few days. I hadn’t had the chance to talk with Ainsley or Glenda, but hopefully I could get each of them alone over the next several days.

  My mother-in-law Helen had already arrived at Vera’s home, and was installed at the kitchen table having a cup of tea and reading the paper. Her suitcase waited by the door.

  “You’re up and about early,” she said, her eyebrows quirking with curiosity.

  “Yes, and I’m not packed so I better get moving. Have you talked to the police this morning?”

  “They came to the hotel,” she said. “I suspect they showed you the same photo, Joseph Booth?”

  I nodded. “Miss Gloria and I certainly had never seen him before, and Vera said she didn’t know him either.” I paused, biting my lip, wondering whether to tell her my concerns about her daughter and her friends. I hated to align myself too tightly with Helen because I was afraid that would sour things with Nathan’s sister. But I could ask questions.

  “Did you meet Vera’s friends when they were all in college? They seem lovely, Ainsley especially.”

  Helen looked pained. “We came over to visit twice a year—that’s all she allowed. It was so hard to have her far away and wonder how she was coping. She was holding us at such a distance that I didn’t dare ask too many questions. We took those girls to dinner each time we visited, at Vera’s request. I think that was another way of keeping us away. We couldn’t very well quiz her about personal issues with guests at the table. And Nathan’s father and I weren’t getting along well, so I suppose dinner with us must have felt a bit like living through a cold war.”

  A nightmare, I thought, imagining his father—a man like Nathan, but more intimidating, because he’d be even more distant and cool—sparring with Helen. Helen had opened up to me after the trauma we’d suffered together, but sharing difficult emotions wasn’t her natural inclination. “That must have been so hard.”

  “Indeed. Vera insisted she was fine,” Helen continued, “but she struck me as so fragile still. She was very sensitive to us hovering, and always scanning our faces and voices for a reason to shut down. That’s why I hate so much to see this sort of thing happening. Again.” She sighed, her shoulders drooping.

  “We’ll figure it out together,” I said, smiling with encouragement.

  Miss Gloria clattered into the kitchen, dragging her wheeled suitcase, with the two tiger cats tagging behind. She would always be the Pied Piper of pets. “Ready to rock and roll. And ready for a second breakfast,” she said, glancing at the scones and teapot on the table.

  “Yikes, it’s late. I better get ready.”

  I retired to our room and took a quick shower and then threw some clothes into my small bag, thinking over the events packed into the last couple of days. Something definitely felt off with Vera. She felt brittle, in the way her mother had described her in her college years. Was the problem really with the book project?

  For an instant, I wondered if she was having the same problem with me that I suspected her mother had faced when she first heard of Nathan’s plan to marry me. Was she still close to Nathan’s first wife and not eager to welcome number two? I pushed that thought away; it didn’t fit. It felt more like Vera was reacting badly to the weight of her project, the events of the last two days, and maybe recurring themes in her history with her mother.

  Maybe they were simply different animals—her mother had a backbone of steel, while Vera was a reed.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Her idea of fun was putting cake frosting on a bran muffin.

  —J. Ryan Stradal, The Lager Queen of Minnesota

  Exactly at noon, we all met in the kitchen, then trooped out to Vera’s car and loaded our bags in the trunk.

  “Hayley,” Vera said, “Why don’t you ride in the passenger seat next to me so we can have a proper chat?”

  I turned to my mother-in-law to be sure I wasn’t stepping on maternal toes. Helen insisted this seating arrangement was fine, but based on the expression on her face, I suspected her feelings were a little hurt about the backseat assignment.

  Vera turned the radio to a station playing Scottish folk music, and we set out north through the rolling hills. “You’re going to love Peebles,” she said. “The town sits along the banks of the River Tweed and Main Street is just adorable. The hotel we’re staying at is a bit dated but within walking distance
of town.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at Miss Gloria. “I hope you all don’t mind sharing a room. Because the town is flooded with tourists who come in for the solstice, there were only two rooms left. We’ll have more space to spread out when we get to the Highlands and the islands.”

  It took me a minute to realize that she had arranged for the two of us to be in one room, and Miss Gloria and her mother in the other. She really did not want time alone with Helen. And that made me feel a little sad for her, and grateful for my own mom too. I’d felt a teeny bit crowded when she first moved to Key West, but now she had her own catering business, her own husband, her own life. Now it was more a matter of making sure she could fit me into her busy schedule.

  “We are not fussy,” said Miss Gloria. “We’re used to the tiny spaces on our houseboat. And we sure hope you and William will be visiting us soon so we can show you around properly. It’s honestly hard to understand Key West until you’ve been there. Isn’t that right, Helen?” she asked my mother-in-law.

  “That’s for sure,” said Helen, with a bit too much heartiness. “And I was there at what Hayley says is the busiest time of year and not exactly representative for visitors. You wouldn’t believe the Christmas decorations. That town does not hold back.”

  “Not in any way, not ever.” I laughed. “We’d love to have you and William for the holidays soon.”

  Vera nodded as if they’d consider it, but we shouldn’t hold our breath. “This town was built at the confluence of two rivers,” she continued as we drove. “The River Tweed and the Cuddy. I wouldn’t describe Peebles itself as a thin place, in spite of the battles which were fought here. But it is a glorious place to watch the solstice festivities. Fun fact: the coat of arms of the Royal Burgh of Peebles shows three salmon on a red background, two facing one direction and the one in the middle facing the other way. The motto is Contra Nando Incrementum, meaning ‘there is growth by swimming against the stream.’”

  “Could just as well be your motto,” Helen grumbled.

  “Will you tell us about what we’re going to see?” I asked.

  “It’s the festival of the summer solstice—the longest day of the year. The solstice is the moment when the sun is closest to the earth, so it’s a festival of fire. Like the sun. The big event is the parade through town, with bagpipe bands, and kids singing and dancing, and special flags hand-sewn by local women. It’s hard to describe, but it’s all very quaint and very Scottish, and I know you’re going to love it.”

  She glanced over at me, and I imagined she was going to talk about the spiritual meaning of the festival. Maybe she was sizing us up to see how much of that talk we could handle.

  “I’m dying to hear how you met my brother,” she said.

  I heard Miss Gloria snicker in the backseat.

  “It’s not a pretty story,” I said, twisting my wedding band around my finger and looking out the window. “I’ve grown up a lot since then. And he has too.”

  “He’s still Nathan, but he’s not emotionally impenetrable the way he used to be,” said Helen. “I would say you’ve worked a miracle with my son.”

  “Don’t tell him that.” I laughed. “He thinks he was just fine before I met him. Anyway, I had recently moved to town and was living in a tiny houseboat with my college roommate, Connie, and working in her cleaning business. My room had been her storage closet, so it smelled like bleach.”

  “Tell her the dirt, not the boring facts,” said Miss Gloria, leaning forward to poke my shoulder blade with her finger. “She might as well hear it now.”

  I could feel my face color. “I met a guy in a bookstore in New Jersey, and we kind of fell for each other. Though since we didn’t know each other, we fell for the idealized version of what we hoped each other would become. Not the best way to choose a mate,” I added. “Anyway, that lasted about ten seconds and Connie took me in. End of story.”

  “Except,” said Miss Gloria, “there was a murder, a poisoning by key lime pie. And Hayley was a logical suspect, since the victim was her former boss who also happened to be the woman who stole her boyfriend away.”

  “That’s awful,” said Helen.

  Miss Gloria nodded. “The murder was tragic, but on the other hand, we’re grateful that woman did steal Hayley’s boyfriend, because he was a loser, and my friend didn’t have enough sense to notice that at the time.”

  Everyone laughed. “Whose story is this?” I asked. “Anyway, because of those connections, as Miss Gloria said, I became a suspect. And Nathan came to Houseboat Row and questioned me. Over and over, I might say, in a very fierce manner. I thought he was utterly gorgeous, but also a major asshat.” I glanced over my shoulder at Helen. “Oops, sorry.”

  Miss Gloria was giggling hysterically by now. “You’re probably wondering how Hayley and I became family,” she said, leaning forward again to be sure Vera could hear every word. “The real key lime pie murderer conked me on the head and left me on the dock like a piece of trash. Hayley found me in a crumpled heap and sized me up as an old lady, one foot on the proverbial banana peel, the other buried deep in the Key West Cemetery. But she was W-R-O-N-G, wrong! The closest I have come to that location is giving historical tours of the most interesting gravestones.”

  Vera looked a little stunned by the onslaught of Miss Gloria’s storytelling.

  “That’s hardly a fair description of what I thought,” I said. “And once I got to know you, I discovered what a tough old bird you are.” I reached back to squeeze her hand. I loved this woman to pieces—she’d brought so much vibrant color to my pastel life.

  “And then, to continue with the rocky path of their love story,” Miss Gloria added, mimicking a drum roll by slapping the back of the front seat with her palms, “Nathan and Hayley had a date. However, he stood her up because of the murder of someone dressed as a drag queen—this is Key West after all, and then his former wife came to town and swept him off his feet for another go at their marriage.”

  “Aha,” said Vera. “The effervescent Trudy.”

  “Were you and she close?” asked Miss Gloria. I could have kissed her, because that was exactly one of the things I wanted to know.

  “Not really,” said Vera. “Their romance began after I moved to Scotland, so I never got the chance to know her well.” From the set of her jaw, I suspected that was all she intended to tell.

  “She was a nice enough girl,” Helen said. “She was lively and attractive, but not a spark plug like you, Hayley.”

  Which was probably as close as she was going to get to telling me she preferred me as her daughter-in-law, though I’d come to believe that was true.

  We left the countryside and Vera drove us into town minutes later. It was just as charming as she’d promised. The brown and white stone buildings of Main Street showcased small shops with window dressings that made me want to visit each one. There were turrets on the rooftops and flowerbeds along the sidewalks in front of the shops. Banners made of red and white cotton cut into triangular pennants floated above the street, part of the solstice celebration, as Vera told us. “We’ll come back for lunch, and you’ll have a chance to stroll the shops,” she added.

  The Peebles Hydro Hotel, a sprawling white brick structure with a red roof, had stunning views from its high vista looking out across the rolling hills and forests of the borderlands. Flat gorgeous, and a world away from the palm trees, busy streets, and ocean-hemmed Key West.

  “They are in the process of renovating this place,” Vera said after she parked in front of the steep steps leading to the lobby. “We can leave the luggage here and get some help once we have our keys. Please excuse any worn velvet. I think you’ll find the hotel magnificent, but parts of it are still slightly shabby.” She smiled. “I suggest that we check in and wash hands and faces, and then pop into town for a bite to eat. That will leave us time for a rest or to catch up on some work before the parade starts.”

  A soaring portico with white columns and dentil mold
ing details led to the reception area, which bustled with customers. Under tall white ceilings in the foyer, a collection of tufted furniture was covered in red and gold velvet. We signed in for our rooms, with a plan to meet back in the lobby in fifteen minutes.

  Vera and I walked to the end of the left-hand hallway, and she inserted a key card into the slot and pushed open the door. The room was papered in gold and had red curtains and bed covers on the twin beds pushed close together. It had been a while since I had roomed with anyone other than my husband. I hoped I didn’t turn up with snoring or other unpleasant habits.

  “Do you want to go first in the bathroom?” she asked.

  “Go ahead,” I said. “I’ll stretch out here for a few minutes and try to do some thinking.”

  She looked puzzled but did not inquire any further. Why did I have the sense that she didn’t want me to press on any of her mysteries? That impression of course made me all the more curious.

  Half an hour later, we met up with the others and hiked down a short hill that led into town. The most adorable shops mushroomed alongside the road as if we were in an Agatha Raisin mystery. We settled into a small coffee shop on the edge of Main Street. Within minutes, a waitress in a frilly white apron and red hair pulled into a ponytail bustled over to our table to welcome us.

  “If you haven’t been here before, and from the looks of you, you haven’t, we’ve two local specials on our luncheon menu. Our coronation chicken consists of roasted chicken dressed in a sauce of mayonnaise and whipped cream with curry spices, mango chutney, and apricots mixed in. And our Scotch pie was a runner-up in the World Scotch Pie championship. Questions?” She held her order pad up with pen poised.

  At her suggestion, I ordered the coronation chicken over a jacket potato, aka baked potato, which would not be on anyone’s diet list. But what was the point of vacation if a girl didn’t splurge? Miss Gloria chose the prize-winning Scotch pie stuffed with meat, promising that I could taste it.

  “Kitchen’s a little backed up as you can see. I’m guessing it might be fifteen minutes until lunch is on the table.” The waitress gestured at the other tables filled with diners and then buzzed away to get our drinks. I quizzed Vera about the roots of the chicken dish.