Assaulted Pretzel (27 page)

The addition of Virginia and Wayne several minutes later did nothing to change the dynamic around the table. If anything, the added conversation and friendly smiles they offered Ann lightened the atmosphere even more.

Blinking against a sudden and unexpected threat of tears, Claire followed Diane into the kitchen, where two serving
bowls of stew waited. “You always have the nicest people staying here, you know that?” she whispered.

Diane beamed. “God is good, isn’t He?”

She took hold of both bowls and stepped through the swinging door Diane held open. “I think Ann needs a night like this, you know? I mean, I know it won’t make her forget, but just to hear laughter and feel like a person again for a little while has to help.”

“I agree.” Diane came around Claire as they reached the dining room’s wide entrance and brought her hands together in a quiet clap. “The stew is still quite hot. So enjoy your salads and Claire and I will take care of ladling the stew into your bowls. We’ve got plenty so please don’t be shy asking for seconds or thirds.”

Slowly, they made their way around the table, stopping at everyone’s place to put two or three heaping ladlefuls of stew into each bowl, the pleasant aroma the meal emitted making Claire’s stomach rumble in hunger.

“I’m sorry I’m late.” Melinda breezed into the room in a formfitting running suit, stopping midway to the table as Ann looked up. “Oh…Ann. I didn’t expect you to be here.”

“So sorry to disappoint, Melinda.”

The slight snap in Ann’s voice earned more than a few passing glances in her direction, including one from both Diane and Claire that subsequently ended with them looking at each other.

Yanking her chair back from the table, Melinda slid into it and pulled her napkin onto her lap. “I’ve been working on the formal press release that should go out to the media as well as our shareholders tomorrow morning. The time for damage control is now.”

The timid smile that had graced the widow’s face prior to Melinda’s arrival disappeared in a cloud of anger. “Don’t
you think your damage control is coming a little too late,
Melinda
? After all, my husband is dead. No press release is going to change that.”

Melinda speared a piece of cucumber onto her fork only to let it go uneaten as she braced both hands on the edge of the table instead. “I’m not trying to change anything,
Ann
. I’m just trying to keep the company Robert built afloat. Talking about this company as his dream, and the toys it makes as his legacy, will keep the focus where we want and need it to be for our continued success.”

“I repeat, don’t you think your damage control is coming a little too late, Melinda? Because if you’re doing your job the way it should be done, there shouldn’t be any damage to control.”

Melinda’s long lashes mingled above narrowed eyes. “Excuse me?”

“This stew is especially good when it’s warm,” Diane offered in her cheery voice. “And the bread is wonderful for soaking up the leftover gravy base.”

Wayne reached for a piece of homemade bread, dipped it into his bowl, and took a bite, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head as he did. “Mmmm. Diane is right. This is really, really good.” He waved at the couple to his left. “Doug? Kayla? Give it a try.”

Before they could echo the man’s attempt at diverting the brewing argument between Ann and Melinda, Ann smacked her hand on the table. “There would be no need for damage control, Melinda, if there was no death. And there would be no death if you hadn’t come up with the idea of an Amish toy line—an Amish toy line that brought us here…to the place where he was murdered!”

Claire tightened her grip on the serving bowl and tried to think of something to say, but there was nothing. The
venom in Ann’s voice, coupled with the bitterness behind her words, brought a hush to the room.

“My suggestion is not what brought him here,” Melinda hissed.

Warning bells sounded in Claire’s head. If the argument continued, Melinda was going to divulge the kind of news no woman wanted to hear in front of a tableful of strangers.

“Perhaps we should table this discussion until—”

“Oh no? It was
your
idea to make an Amish line, wasn’t it?” Ann challenged before casting an exasperated glance in Doug’s direction. “An Amish toy line, can you believe that?”

Melinda leaned her face across the table. “An Amish toy line—pitched to the purchasing public as a way to acquaint kids with the kind of simpler toys their grandparents played with—was a genius idea, Ann.
Genius
. The problem came when Robert gave my idea to you.
You
, Ann—the woman who couldn’t find her way around a toy store without a personal shopper if your life depended on it!”

Pulling her focus from Melinda, Ann fixed it, instead, on Claire. “Should I tell her?”

Claire swallowed.

“Tell me what?” Melinda challenged.

“Maybe now isn’t the time,” Claire mumbled. “Maybe the two of you should talk…after dinner.”

But it didn’t matter. Ann was already on a roll and she wasn’t about to wait. “Not only can I find my way around a toy store, Melinda, I could give you and everyone else at Karble Toys a crash course.”

Melinda’s laugh echoed across the room. “Please. You expect me to believe that?”

“I don’t care if you do or not. But the fact remains that
Karble Toys is
my
company, Melinda. I
allowed
Robert to run it because I loved him. That said, I knew the ins and outs of every decision that was made in every meeting he ever had. Did I make them all? Or course not. I trusted Robert. Though, between the two of us, I never would have hired you for that job even if you were brought in at half the salary of your predecessor. You get what you pay for as far as personnel are concerned.”

“D-did you say half?” Melinda croaked.

“Actually, if I remember correctly, you came in at a little less than half, but who’s counting? It was still more than I would have paid.” Ann scooted her chair back a few inches and then tossed her napkin onto the table. The anger she’d exhibited only seconds earlier was suddenly gone, in its place a resurgence of grief. “Diane, I’m so sorry for—”

“Assuming what you say is true, Ann, how does it make you feel to know that you stepped in on a project that meant the world to Robert only to mess it up?”

“Mess it up?”

“He wanted those toys to be made here. In Heavenly. By the Amish. It mattered to him more than any other business decision he’d ever made. He gave these people his word and you—in all your supposed business experience—made his word mean nothing.” Melinda’s attempt at a rapid departure from the table landed her chair against the wall with a thud. “Live with that, Ann.
Live…with…that!
”

*   *   *

F
or the second time that week, Claire found herself sitting on the edge of Ann’s bed, trying desperately to find just the right words to soothe away a hurt she could only imagine. It was one thing to lose your husband in such an unexpected way as murder; it was quite another to forgive
yourself for any angst experienced by the victim prior to the crime.

“Do you think she was right?” Ann asked in a halting voice. “Do you really think my decision to produce the Back to Basics line in-house hurt Robert the way she said?”

Oh, how she wished she could refute Melinda’s statement, chalking it up to the woman’s youthful ignorance. But she couldn’t.

Not with everything she knew about Robert and Isaac.

Still, she had to say something to ease the widow’s pain. “Did you love him?” she finally asked.

Ann peeked up at Claire through tear-dappled lashes. “Robert? Of course I did. He was the love of my life.”

“Did you tell him that?”

“Every day.”

“Then take comfort in that.” She tugged the soft fleece blanket up higher on Ann’s shoulders and hoped the added warmth would make a dent in the woman’s near-constant shivering.

“It’s hard. Even before Melinda said what she said, I’d replayed our last argument again and again.”

Claire pushed off the top edge of the bed and wandered over to the window that overlooked the inn’s extensive and tastefully landscaped backyard. “Ann? Can I ask why you were so adamant the new toy line be manufactured in-house?”

“Cost. Convenience. Liability. All of it.” Ann struggled up onto her elbow as she continued. “Robert was at the Grand Rapids plant twice a month checking in on everything. The people on the line up there know what Karble Toys is looking for in terms of quality and durability. The Amish don’t.”

She turned from the window. “Have you ever seen an
Amish-made toy, Ann? There is no better quality or durability.”

Dropping back down to the bed, Ann closed her eyes and moaned. “That’s exactly what Robert said. Like he was suddenly an expert on all things Amish.”

Unsure of what to say, she, instead, said nothing. She was on a slippery slope as it was. If she continued down the current path, she was likely to stir up Ann’s guilt once again. And that wasn’t Claire’s intention.

“But even if they’re the most durable toys on the face of the earth, there’s no way the Amish could do it as cheaply as we could in a factory. And no matter how you dress it up, Karble Toys is a company. We are in business to make money.”

“It must have been hard, though, for your husband to sign his name to that last memo if he was so passionate about the Amish crafting the new line.” The second the words were out, she wished she could recall them. But it was too late.

Ann sat up and swung her legs over the edge of her bed. “He didn’t sign it, Claire.
I
did.”

She stared at the back of the woman’s head as she worked to make sense of what she was hearing. “I saw the memo, Ann. Or, rather, a copy of it, I should say. Either way, his signature was at the bottom of it.”

“His
signature
, yes. But he’s not the one who signed it, Claire. I did.” Drawing the blanket around her body like a cape, Ann sighed. “I showed him numbers, I explained my reasons, but he still wouldn’t sign. It was like everything he’d learned since taking the helm of the company had just disappeared in a cloud of…I don’t know. I just don’t get what he was thinking. Or what was driving him to make the choices he was making.”

There was a part of Claire that wanted to blurt out the obvious answer, but to do so would mean ripping all remaining ground out from under Ann’s feet. That, she couldn’t do.

“Part of me wonders if there was something going on between him and that little diva down the hall from his office—”

“Diva?”

Ann bobbed her head ever so slightly. “From the moment Melinda strutted herself in for that first interview, I knew Robert would be pressured to hire her by the single men in the office. But Robert loved me. I saw it in his eyes every day. A person can’t fake that.”

No, they can’t. Not for long, anyway.

Closing her eyes against the image of Peter, Claire willed herself to focus on the here and now. “Tell me about his eyes,” she finally managed to say.

The underlying tone of sadness that had lapped at every word the woman uttered all evening disappeared in favor of a wistful quality that had Claire blinking back tears. “Robert had the most beautiful emerald green eyes I’ve ever seen. So many things pulled me in when we first met—his laugh, his easygoing personality, his intelligence, et cetera. But it was his eyes…and the way they sparkled liked gems when he smiled…that I’ll never forget.” In an instant, the sadness was back along with the teeth-clattering shivers. “I…I can’t imagine living the rest of my life never being able to look into those eyes again.”

C
laire’s head was pounding by the time she stepped out of Ann’s room and headed toward the parlor where she knew Diane would be waiting. So many times over the past thirty minutes, she’d contemplated telling the widow about Isaac, but every time she opened her mouth to do so, the little voice inside her head she equated with good judgment would tell her to keep quiet.

Besides, it wasn’t her secret to tell. It was Robert’s.

And Isaac’s…

Step by step, she made her way down the hallway, Diane’s hushed voice interspersed with that of a male, propelling her feet forward and into the cozy sitting room.

“Oh…” She stopped just inside the doorway at the sight of the tastefully dressed man sitting on the couch beside her aunt. “Jakob. I didn’t know you were here.”

“He just arrived. To see you.” Diane’s smile dimmed
momentarily in conjunction with a gestured hand toward the hallway. “How is she, dear?”

Caught between uncertainty over Jakob’s presence and exhaustion in the wake of her talk with Ann, she opted to slump against the wall rather than join them on the couch. “She’s hurting as much as ever. Only now, she’s second-guessing things she said and did as well as Robert’s true motivations behind the Amish-inspired line.”

Diane tsked softly under her breath. “I imagine that’s one of the hardest parts of an unexpected death. All those should-haves and could-haves.” Pushing off the couch, Diane rested a brief hand on Jakob’s shoulder then came around the back of the couch to dispense a good-night kiss on Claire’s forehead. “I’m going to head upstairs to bed. The Grandersons are heading out first thing in the morning and I want to make sure they have a hearty breakfast before they leave.”