Death at the Day Lily Cafe (20 page)

I retrieved a bottle from the refrigerator and stood on my tiptoes to reach two glasses. I took off my apron, rounded the counter, and sat at the bar. “The view is different from here,” I said as I eased the cork out of the bottle.

“You open champagne now? What else don't I know about you?”

I looked over at him, feeling confused. “That's an odd question. And I have no idea how to answer it. How about you go first?”

He shook his head. “Okay, got it. We won't go there.”

I filled his glass and held it out for him. “I thought you were angry with me.”

“Once you told me about the infatuation, I realized what I was up against. I was about to let it go, until Annie invited me over.” He accepted the glass and sipped, his face relaxed immediately. “Did you tell her to do that?”

“No. It was her idea.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“You said something helpful to her. I know that. And after I read your e-mail, I realized you would never encourage Annie to stay away from me. Even after everything I've done. You don't have it in you.”

“Thank you for realizing that.” I lifted my glass. “Cheers. To Annie—our wonderful, sweet, precious girl.”

“I'll drink to that.” After a healthy swallow, Ed set the glass down. “I've really missed her.”

I thought for a moment. I didn't want to tell him what to do. He and Annie were making progress. But I still felt he was going to miss out on an opportunity. “Can I tell you a story?”

He cocked his head. “A story?”

“It's about my parents. I think it might be helpful. Or maybe not.”

“I always liked your parents, so … of course.” His face was peaceful, the worry lines less pronounced, as if he too was feeling a little nostalgic.

“You know how much I loved my father, but I'm not sure you knew that he always seemed just out of reach when I was growing up. It made him seem a little on the cold side to me.”

“Are you saying I'm cold?” Ed's posture stiffened.

“Just listen for a minute. One evening when my family was sitting down to dinner, I could sense some tension between my parents. I always picked up on their disagreements, even though they tried to keep them private. My mother would pick at her food or stare across the table at my father, her eyes betraying hurt or sometimes anger. Eventually, she would excuse herself and take a walk, or say she had a headache and go lie down.”

Ed rubbed his chin. “That's better than my parents. They said whatever they felt like anytime and anyplace. And often at a very loud volume.”

I gazed over at him. “So there's some insight into why you remain so measured, even when you're upset.”

“It is much more civilized. I think that's one of the reasons I was attracted to you. You rarely raised your voice.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway.”

“Right.” I sipped some wine. “So, on the evening in question, my mother was doing the ‘stare across the table' thing and my father was methodically chewing his food and avoiding her eyes. When my mom stood, we all tensed, knowing it was time for her pronouncement. But that night she stayed in place for a moment, then walked over to my father, stood behind him, and gripped the back of his chair. My brother and I worried what she might do. But instead of making a scene, she leaned down and whispered in his ear, loud enough that we could hear.
I'll let you in on a little secret, Charles. When a woman says she's leaving the room, most times she wants her man to come after her.
I swear, the way she sashayed out of that room was incredible. Grace Kelly couldn't have made a better exit.”

Ed's brows dipped. “So, what did your father do?”

“What would you have done?”

“I'm not really sure. I think I wouldn't have wanted to indulge the game-playing.”

“But you see, that's the thing. I don't think it was a game. I think she was communicating with him better than she ever did with her headaches and long walks.”

Ed fell back in his chair. “He followed her, didn't he?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Really?” Ed laughed. “That's a good story. So what are you trying to tell me?”

“I'm telling you to go after Annie. Help her to feel you want her company. And don't make her do all the work.”

Ed stared off as if considering my words. Eventually he sat forward and picked up his glass. “Tell me about this friend of hers. Where does he go to school?”

I hesitated. I wasn't prepared to describe Custer to Ed. I wanted Annie to do that. “He's taking a break from school.”

Ed set his glass down. “Wait, he doesn't go to Duke?” He scowled. “Is he from
Cardigan
?”

“He's my cook,” I said quietly.

“Are you serious? Rose, what are you doing? Our daughter goes to Duke University. She went to the Maret School in Washington, DC. If I have my way, her engagement will be featured in the
New York Times
. What do you mean she's dating your cook?” He emphasized the word
cook
, spitting out the consonants.

“It's not like I set them up on a blind date. Annie came to the café the other day, and they met. The next thing I knew, they were hanging out.” I started to defend Custer but stopped. Even I was worried about the relationship, but for different reasons than Ed.

“So this is what happens when she lives out here in the boonies with you?”

I slugged back the rest of my wine. “Honestly, Ed? It could have happened anywhere, and with either of us. In case you haven't noticed, she isn't quite as interested in pleasing us since the divorce.”

“What are you talking about? And can you please refill my glass?”

There were two empty seats between us, and I was glad of it. After shoving the bottle over to Ed, I clasped both hands around the stem of my glass. “It's not about who is to blame for our divorce. But it happened, and Annie took it hard. As any child would, no matter what her age. She's disappointed in us. And she sees us as having failed at something very important. And maybe, for the time being, she's lost a little respect for us.”

“I never thought about it that way.” Ed's head dropped forward. After a time he looked up. “So what's this guy like?” His voice had softened.

“Way too good-looking.”

“Oh, not good. Family?”

“He's Tyler's nephew—the man who leases my land, whom I admire and respect. But…”

Ed's shoulders slumped. “But what?”

“I don't know much about the rest. But Custer—”

“Wait, his name is
Custer
?”

“It's Cardigan, Ed.”

“Exactly.”

“Look, I'm not going to defend him. He's a good worker. That's all I know. And Annie seems smitten. We have to let her choose who she sees, whether we like it or not.”

“I don't agree,” Ed said flatly.

“Please judge for yourself. Why don't you include him tonight?”

“I haven't seen Annie in a month. I'm not going to share her with some native Cardiganite.”

“Ed?” I took a yoga deep breath. “The situation is what it is. But maybe having you around will help her make smarter decision. Remember my story?”

“Go after her.” Ed passed his hands through his hair. He picked up his phone from the bar and glanced at it. “I need to go.”

“Of course,” I said. “I hope you have a nice dinner with Annie.”

Ed stood and faced me, his head dipped a little. “I hope I do, too.”

“I appreciate you stopping by. The café is a humble little place but it means a lot that you like it.”

“I do. I like it a lot.” Ed huffed out a sigh. “You look good, Rose. Really good.”

“Thank you.” I let go of my glass and placed my hands in my lap. “I guess I've finally found a new normal.”

“Oh. Well, good for you.” Ed eyed the room again. “I would definitely come here.” I watched as he walked to the door. “Say, how the heck do I get to the Crab Shack?”

“Take a right and keep going until you reach the river. Oh, and don't order the crab cake. All filler. But the fish and chips are to die for.”

He studied me. “Take care, Rose.” He lingered a moment, as if memorizing my face, then turned and made his exit. The
CLOSED
sign bounced on the glass as he shut the door.

 

T
HIRTY
-
FOUR

On Monday I spent most of the morning at the house, getting organized, paying bills, and placing orders for the café. Sunday's brunch had been sublime. Something about serving sparkling wine brightened the mood of the day, as if it had instantly become a special occasion. Instead of the raised voices and angry retorts of the previous afternoon, the patrons spoke in hushed tones. Napkins were placed neatly in laps; parents smiled at their children; coffee was sipped delicately, a raised pinky or two in the air. It was as if Miss Manners were overseeing the room. There is something to be said for civility. I had always thought Judith Martin should have run for president.

My stomach growled, reminding me I hadn't eaten anything more than a cup of yogurt four hours earlier. I stood from my desk, stretched my back, and headed for the kitchen. I found Bini seated at the table in her Barclay Meadow T-shirt. She stared out the window, chin propped in her hand. I'd never seen her idle before.

“Hey,” I said as I headed for the refrigerator. “You okay?”

She looked over at me, her forehead deeply furrowed.

I started to open the refrigerator but stopped. “Is everything okay, Bini?”

She shook her head. “Tyler is mad at me.”

“That doesn't sound like Tyler. Are you sure you didn't misunderstand him?”

“I'm sure. He's mad.”

“How do you know?”

“We were fertilizing the tomatoes, and he told me to take a break.”

“Maybe he was just being kind.” I smiled. “You do work awfully hard.”

“No,” she said, still looking puzzled. “He's never said that before.”

“I wonder what happened.” I crossed my arms and thought for a moment. “Bini, would you like to take a walk with me?”

“Why?”

“It's such a pretty day. I think it's finally cooled off a little. And walking has a way of bringing things into focus. Don't you think?”

“We're just going to walk? We aren't going anywhere?”

“Maybe we could stroll around the fields. You could show me what's been planted.”

Bini finally stood, and we walked outside together. We rounded the house and followed the tractor path toward the vegetable gardens. Although Tyler still grew the major crops—wheat, soybeans, and corn—he now reserved several acres for produce including fruit trees, vegetables, and herbs.

Bini walked with purpose, and I had trouble keeping up. In an attempt to slow the pace, I broke off a wheat tuft and popped it in my mouth. “Want one?”

She stopped and looked at me. “I guess.” She watched as I snapped another one off for her.

I chewed on the stalk while we walked. Eventually Bini slowed. “So, what on earth makes you think Tyler is angry, Bini?”

“Simple. He told me to go away.” Bini's tone was without affect, but her face looked pinched, her eyes tensed.

“Did he say take a break or go away?”

“Same difference.”

“And he never said that before?” I said, trying to match her demeanor. “That must be perplexing.”

Bini walked on, chewing on the stalk of wheat as if it were her last meal. “He was doing it wrong.”

“I'm sorry?”

“Fertilizing the tomatoes. He had the chicken compost too far away from the plants.”

“And you told Tyler this?”

“Of course. That's why he hired me. Because of what I know.”

My mind raced with possible responses. But Bini and I hadn't really figured out our common ground. “You are very smart,” I said.

She eyed me, as if checking to see if I was being sarcastic. “Most people don't care.”

“And yet, when you know something that someone else doesn't, it must feel like a duty to tell them they're wrong.”

“I guess that's right.”

“As a woman, you certainly don't want to fall into the trap of taking care of a man's ego.”

“I've never done that in my life.”

“Good for you.”

We were walking along the river, where trees and shrubs lined the banks in order to prevent runoff. I heard the high-pitched cry of an osprey. I watched as it dived out of sight, emerging soon after with a wiggling fish in its talons. It flew away with labored flaps, the fish heavy and struggling in its grasp.

“You know, Bini, I hope you don't mind, but I want to share something with you. I mean, we're walking, right?”

“I don't really have a choice if you do or don't.”

I took and deep breath, trying not to react, and decided to continue. “I've been thinking a lot about my father lately. He died almost twenty years ago, and I can't stop wondering if our relationship could have been closer.” We had fallen in sync, left foot then right. “And I wonder how it affects my relationships now. For instance, I wonder if I am always trying to please people because I never seemed to be able to please him.”

“My daddy and I get along just fine.”

“Lucky you.” I smiled over at her. “Do you have siblings?”

“Older sister. She's married. Too many rug rats.”

“Is she close with your dad?”

“More my mom. She's over there all the time with the kids. The mess drives my daddy crazy.”

We rounded a corner, and I admired the neat rows of small apple trees, their foliage a deep forest green. “Is he as smart as you?”

“Smarter.”

“So what do you do when you think he's wrong about something?”