Scene of the Brine (14 page)

18

P
iper declined an offer from Aunt Judy to follow her back to the farm after the tea and stay for dinner. She'd come up with what she thought was a brilliant idea that she'd already put in motion. From her car, Piper called Amy, who was on duty at A La Carte.

“I'm leaving the Porters' place now.”

“It's ready,” Amy said, and within minutes Piper had driven to the back of A La Carte, past the Dumpsters, and come to a stop at A La Carte's kitchen door.

“Here you are!” Amy held out a large bag holding two delicious-smelling packed dinners. There were advantages to knowing a chef in a top restaurant.

“Thanks, Amy. You'll put it on my bill?”

“All taken care of. Enjoy!”

Piper braced the bag carefully in her front passenger well, then headed out of town toward the Burchett Christmas tree farm.

She was banking on Will being there, since her showing up would be a surprise, the idea having come to her at a free moment during the tea. So Piper crossed her fingers as she drove up the tree-flanked, graveled driveway, relaxing only when she spotted Will's green van parked in its usual spot. She continued on to the small brown house, set behind and slightly apart from the farm's outbuildings, then tapped her horn lightly as she came to a stop.

Will appeared at the doorway of the house, dressed in his usual jeans and flannel shirt. He looked both pleased and puzzled at her unexpected arrival, though Piper could see the scales tipped heavily toward pleased.

“Hope you haven't had dinner yet,” she called, lifting out Amy's sumptuous concoction.

“Uh, no.” Will ran a hand over his short blond hair, still perplexed but eyeing Piper's bag with great interest.

“Then you're in for a treat.” Piper slipped past Will into the house and headed straight for his kitchen. “We can eat now, while these are hot, or wait and warm them up in your microwave.”

“What is it?”

Piper pulled out one large Styrofoam box Amy had marked with a
W
, for
Will
. “Filet mignon medallions in cognac sauce.” Removing the second box, marked
P
, she said, “Chicken in Provençale sauce. Both, I think, come with roasted potatoes and a vegetable.” She peered back into the bag. “Looks like Amy threw in some rolls, too.”

“Amy?”

“She was on the job at A La Carte. I was at Lydia Porter's tea all afternoon or I might have whipped these up myself. Or,” she said, grinning, “maybe not. So, what'll it be? Now or later?”

“I can't believe you did this,” Will said, looking dazed. “It's terrific, and I'm more than ready to dig in. But what about you? Are you too stuffed with watercress sandwiches or whatever?”

“Uh-uh. I barely tried anything. Too busy snooping around. But I'll tell you all about that over dinner. Let's set the table.”

Will quickly shifted a pile of papers and his laptop off the dining room table he'd once told Piper came with the house, along with a sagging but serviceable sofa and a few other odds and ends. He'd talked about wanting to replace most of it, but Piper suspected redecorating wasn't high on Will's priorities list, which put his farm—and maybe her?—near the top.

Piper found plates and cutlery and passed them to Will. “I guessed that you might like the medallions. Was I right?”

Will's near-rapturous expression was all the answer she needed. They quickly transferred the still-steaming food from boxes to plates and Will found a bottle of wine to complete the meal. “Sorry, I don't have any candles,” he said, “except maybe fat red or green ones over in the Christmas shop. Shall I run and get them?”

Will's wry smile told Piper he was joking. “That's all right. Sit and start eating.” He did.

“To what do I owe this generosity?” he asked, after taking one bite each of beef, potato, and carrot. He reached for a sip of his wine.

“Well, it might have been inspired by the hours spent surrounded by the elegance of the Porters' mansion. Who can go home to leftover pizza after that? And there's also the countless meals you've treated me to since last August, getting mostly pickles in return.”

“But darned good pickles,” Will pointed out.

“Agreed,” Piper said, smiling. “But what man can live on pickles alone? I guess I mainly thought it would be a lovely way to end a not-so-fabulous day, despite all the polished silver, gleaming mahogany, and an endless array of pastries.” As she sliced into her perfectly seasoned chicken, Piper told Will about her encounter with Marguerite Lloyd, her chat with Frances Billings, and the time spent with Mallory Porter.

“Jeremy Porter popped in near the end, I think as a special treat for all of Lydia's guests.”

“Kind of him.”

“I can see why Sugar was dazzled. He's quite charismatic, which obviously has served him well in his business. His sister, Mallory, on the other hand . . . well, I feel sorry for her. She seems to have had all the decision-making ability drummed out of her. Except for picking out colors for her new bedroom.”

“Doesn't sound like Dirk's death has shaken any of them up.” Will mopped a piece of filet through his cognac sauce.

“It doesn't. Of course, putting on a good face for guests might have been the order of the day. But some people would have canceled or at least postponed an event like that.”

“You said Mallory claimed Jeremy didn't really like Dirk.”

“She did. I can believe that after meeting Dirk myself. But Jeremy seemed to keep him close at hand. Why would you do that if you didn't like someone?”

“To keep an eye on him?”

Piper considered that. “Could Dirk have had something on Jeremy and Jeremy finally got tired of having to keep him around?”

“Possible. The trouble with someone like Dirk Unger is that there's no shortage of people who'd be happy to see him gone.”

Piper nodded, then took a sip of her wine. “Tammy Butterworth said something to that effect. I thought at the time she might be exaggerating, but she was probably right. It doesn't make narrowing the suspect list easy.”

To move away from the grim subject, Piper asked Will about his latest work around his tree farm. He told her about the work he and his helper, Tomas, had been doing the last few days out in the fields. As he helped himself to one last roll, Will mentioned he'd heard from his friend Matt Fleming, who Will and Piper had dined with recently along with his wife.

“How is he?”

“He's fine. He and Jen are on the verge of buying a house in Albany.”

“Great! Wish it were in Cloverdale. I liked both of them.”

Will smiled at that. “He said we should come visit once they're settled in.”

“That'd be fun. And I could show you my favorite haunts from my time there.” Piper saw a hint of a shadow cross Will's face and realized he might be wondering if those were places she'd visited with her then-fiancé, Scott.

Piper reached for Will's hand. “I had more friends than Scott in Albany, you know.”

Will nodded. “I know. But he's the only one who's followed you here.”

Piper took a deep breath. “This might be a good time to tell you I was with Scott last night. But,” she hurried on, “it was because of Zach. I'd learned that Zach got into some trouble when he was at school and I thought Scott, as his lawyer, should hear his explanation. We had a quick dinner—the three of us—and that was it.”

Will nodded several times, taking that in. “Is Zach's trouble going to affect his standing with the sheriff now?”

“I don't know. Scott will be talking with Zach and Sugar tomorrow.”

“Well, let's hope for the best.” He cocked an eyebrow at Piper. “Was last night another motivation for this fabulous dinner?”

“How could you think that?” Piper asked, feigning shock, then grinning sheepishly. “Did it work?”

In answer, Will rose from his seat and took Piper's hand, pulling her upward. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, gently at first, then more urgently. “You could say that,” he murmured, finally releasing her.

Piper took a moment to catch her breath. “Then,” she said, “definitely worth the price.”

. . .

M
onday morning, all Piper's customers could talk about was Lydia's tea.
The house! The food! The decorations!
She'd agreed on as many points as she could but quickly grew weary of it. She found herself longing for Aunt Judy or Emma to drop in for a bit of relief. To her great surprise, the person who eventually showed up offering a change of pace was Mallory Porter.

Amy had arrived and was in the back room working on a pickled parsnip and carrot mix when Mallory walked in. She was dressed much more casually than the other times Piper had seen her, and the simple hooded sweater and jeans became her more than the expensive-looking dresses. Piper couldn't help wondering if Lydia had approved—or even seen—this outfit.

Though dressed comfortably, Mallory looked less than at ease as she glanced around Piper's Picklings. A casual observer might wonder if she'd just arrived from some far-off land where small shops of that sort didn't exist. Or perhaps, Piper thought, this was one of Mallory's rare ventures out on her own, without
Mother
leading the way. The idea was a disturbing one and Piper determined to smooth the way for the woman as best she could.

“How nice to see you, Mallory,” she said. “All recovered from your busy day yesterday?”

Mallory's shoulders gave a little jump but she then smiled tentatively. “I think so. I had a good night's sleep.”

“Great!” Piper waited but when Mallory didn't add anything more, she said, “Are you out getting to know the town?”

“No. I, um, we found this on one of the chairs. It must have fallen off someone's dress yesterday. I wondered if it was yours?” Mallory dug into her purse and held out a large, somewhat garish brooch in the shape of a butterfly. It was dotted with colored stones that might have been real or more likely were rhinestones and colored glass. Either way it was nothing near what Piper would have worn on her printed cotton dress. Even Mallory would have seen that. Had it simply been an excuse to stop by?

“It's not mine,” Piper said. “I don't remember seeing it on anyone yesterday, either. Perhaps the owner will miss it and call.”

“I guess so,” Mallory mumbled and dropped the pin back into her purse. She looked around. “So, you make pickles here?”

“I do! We're in the process of making some right now. Would you like to come back and see?”

“Uh, no. I wanted to, that is, I wanted to find fabric for my bedroom curtains. There's a place in Cloverdale that has things like that. But I don't know it. Do you?”

Piper thought a minute. With what she'd brought with her from Albany, along with contributions from Aunt Judy, Piper hadn't needed to shop much for her apartment. But she knew there was a fabric shop a few blocks down off Beech. What was its name? Then she remembered. “Jeanine's?”

Mallory nodded. “That's it. Do you know the place?”

Piper was puzzled for a moment. Was Mallory asking for a reference? A confirmation of Jeanine's good service? Directions? Then it dawned on her. “I've never been to Jeanine's shop. But I've always meant to stop in. Would you mind if I came along? I love looking at fabrics.”

Mallory's eyes lit up. “Okay. Can you come now?”

“No problem.” Piper began untying her apron and leaned into the back room. “Amy, I'm going out for an hour or so. Will you be all right?”

Amy gave a thumbs-up, and Piper reached under her counter to grab her purse. “We can walk there if you like. It's not far.”

“Okay,” Mallory said again, making Piper think it was the woman's favorite word. But once they got outside, Mallory came up with many more. It was as if the relief of having someone accompany her to the unknown and therefore frightening fabric shop—someone other than her mother—had unleashed a stream of chatter that had been held in tightly up until then. Since the chatter was mostly about decorating ideas, Piper just smiled and listened and indicated right or left turns as needed.

“Here it is,” Piper said when they'd arrived at Jeanine's.

“Oh. It isn't very big. Do you suppose she'll have much of a selection?”

“Let's go in and see.”

Piper led the way inside and they were greeted by a stout woman, a pencil stuck in her short white hair and a flip-packet of swatches in her hands.

Piper introduced herself and Mallory and explained what Mallory was interested in.

Jeanine quickly took over, asking Mallory a series of questions to narrow down her search. Mallory explained what she wanted articulately, showing a side of her that had not been at all apparent at the tea. Seeing the initial ice broken, Piper stepped back to wander around the shop, fingering an occasional upholstery swatch. Would Will's old sofa look better in a bright tweed, she wondered, then remembered the sagging springs. Will's living room would look better with a new sofa, period.