Scene of the Brine (20 page)

Their coffee arrived, and between sips Piper checked Jeremy and Mallory's table. There seemed to be little conversation going on, with Mallory looking down at her food or beyond Jeremy at the wall most of the time. Perhaps feeling somewhat anonymous in the small café, Jeremy had left behind his life-of-the-party persona and appeared glum. Piper couldn't help but think how much improved his life would have been if he'd kept Sugar Heywood in it.

Mallory either hadn't seen Piper or was pretending not to, but Piper wasn't going to let that stop her. When she and Will had finished and Will dealt with the bill, Piper headed over to the Porters' table.

“Nice to see you both again,” she said as Jeremy instantly rose. “I hope you're enjoying your dinner?”

Jeremy's public face flashed back into place and he raved about their meals, then held out his hand when Will joined them and was introduced. As Will and Jeremy engaged in small talk, Piper turned to Mallory.

“Mallory, I enjoyed our stop for coffee after the fabric shop the other day. We should do it again sometime, or maybe a lunch.”

Mallory's lips curved in a tentative smile. “I'd like that.”

“I also just found out something interesting about Frances Billings—the woman who used to own your house? Turns out she had been a librarian on the staff at your school, Tedbury Academy. Did you know her?”

Mallory looked at Piper as though she'd suddenly lost her mind. “Our school librarian was Miss Lucas!”

“Oh. Well, I guess Mrs. Billings must have been there at another time.” Piper smiled. “I don't want to hold you up from your meal. Good to see you.”

Piper and Will took their leave, Jeremy acting as though they were the best of friends, but Mallory simply nodding and picking up her fork. Piper sighed. Coaxing Lydia's daughter out of her shell was going to be two steps forward followed by one step back and would require patience. But with all that Piper had on her plate right then, any Mallory project would have to be put on hold.

24

S
aturday morning, Piper opened her shop again with faint hope of customers. She did, however, put the “gifts for Mrs. Tilley” basket back in place and hoped it and her sign would continue to draw people in. Within a few minutes, Aunt Judy called to report on her hospital visit.

“Joan was so pleased and touched by all the remembrances you gathered! Emma and I helped her unwrap them—she's still terribly weak—and we set your card on her table where she could see it.”

That reminded Piper to make a second card for that day's get-well wishes, and after they'd hung up she got busy on that, cutting and folding her card stock, then decorating it with colored pens and pencils. She had sprinkled a bit of glitter and was holding her finished product out to judge the effect when out of the corner of her eye she saw two figures approaching her door.
Just in time
, she thought, setting her card in place as she anticipated old customers or perhaps a couple of Aunt Judy's friends walking in.

To her surprise, one of the pair was Lydia Porter. But the other wasn't Mallory. Instead Piper saw another very well-dressed and coiffed woman. She stared for a moment, thinking that the second woman seemed vaguely familiar. Then recognition dawned. It was Gwen Smyth, Lydia's sister!

The transformation was nothing short of amazing. Gwen's straggly hair had been trimmed and styled, makeup glowed on her face, and either she'd been loaned one of Lydia's spring suits or they'd gone shopping in a hurry. The only thing that remained of the bag lady who'd been in her shop three days ago was the mischievous look in her eyes. Gwen, Piper saw, was greatly enjoying her astonishment. Standing half a step back from Lydia, she raised an index finger to her lips as her eyes danced.

“Miss Lamb,” Lydia said, “I'd like you to meet my sister, Gwendolyn. She's surprised us with a visit, coming all the way from San Francisco.”

“How do you do?” Piper said, avoiding a direct look at Gwen in an effort to keep a straight face.

“Delighted to meet you, Miss Lamb. What a charming shop you have!”

“Thank you. Will you be in Cloverdale long?”

“She's just here for a few days,” Lydia answered, “much to our disappointment, of course. But her many duties in San Francisco are calling her back.”

“Yes,” Gwen said. “My many duties.”

“I've been showing Gwendolyn our little town. At the gift shop over on Maple, we learned about your collection for that poor lady in the hospital and brought a little something to add.” Lydia pulled an elaborately wrapped box from the shopping bag she carried and plopped it on top of Piper's newly made card. “What a shame she got so sick from one of your homemade preserves,” Lydia added, though she didn't look terribly concerned.

“Yes,” Piper said. “It was from a jar of my brandied cherries.” Then she couldn't resist saying, “I do hope that you didn't get ill from your jar.”

“Fortunately, Mallory had only tasted it. I, of course, disposed of the jar the minute I heard.”

“Really?” Gwen piped up. “I love brandied cherries. Do you have any more?” she asked Piper.

“I'm afraid not.”

“Then”—Gwen headed over to Piper's shelves—“let's see what else looks good. Ooh, Lydia, we should get the blueberry jam.”

“I don't—” Lydia began, frowning, but Gwen cut her off.

“And these bread-and-butter pickles. Don't they look great! Oh, she has sweet red pepper relish. That sounds yummy!” Gwen scoured through Piper's shelves, loading her arms with as much as she could and bringing all to Piper to ring up.

“You're sure?” Piper asked, and Gwen nodded brightly.

“You have your credit card, Lydia, don't you? I left mine at home.”

Lydia, after a significant pause, reached stiffly into her purse and handed Piper her credit card. Piper made the transaction and pulled out a bag for Gwen's purchases.

“I ran into your son and daughter last night,” Piper told Lydia as she began wrapping protective paper around the jars. “At the Elm Street Café.”

“Really? Neither of them mentioned seeing you.”

“I thought Mallory might have known Frances Billings from the Tedbury Academy.”

“Frances Billings? At Tedbury?”

“I understand she ran the school library, though I don't know exactly when. I guess that didn't come up when you spoke with her?”

“There was no reason for it to come up.” Lydia sniffed. “Our interaction with Mrs. Billings was totally house-related during the very brief time she was here.”

“Actually, I hear she's still in town,” Piper said. “Staying at the Cloverton.”

“Ah, those happy golden days at Tedbury,” Gwen put in. “Remember the headmistress, Mrs. Walters?” she asked Lydia. “She—oh, wait, that was after your time, wasn't it? Hilda Walters took over as headmistress when I was there,
six years
later.”

Lydia shot a steely glare at her sister. “We'd best be going. There's so much more of Cloverdale I want to show you, Gwendolyn, dear.”

Piper handed over the jars—packed in a large bag with “Piper's Picklings” in bright, bold letters on both sides for all to see—and thanked them for coming, looking mainly at Gwen as she said it. The two left, with Piper sure that Lydia's face ached from all the forced smiles she must be pulling up that morning. The woman was surely counting the seconds until her “dear” sister would take off.

. . .

A
couple of ladies dropped off gifts for Mrs. Tilley and hurriedly signed Piper's card before leaving empty handed.
At least I'll have had one good sale for the day, thanks to Gwen Smyth
, Piper thought, and busied herself with dusting her shelves until Amy arrived.

“Hey, that's my job,” Amy protested smilingly as she walked in.

“I probably should have told you not to come in,” Piper said, setting a steel canning pot back in place. “There's nothing much to do.”

“No pickles to make?”

Piper sighed. “I didn't pick up the sugar snap peas I was going to. Frankly, I just can't bring myself to do any pickling. I'd be just going through the motions. Pickles should be made with joy.”

“Things will get better,” Amy said, doing her best to look optimistic, and Piper nodded without really believing that oft-repeated encouragement.

She was telling Amy about Lydia's visit with her sister when she spotted Sugar Heywood heading toward the shop, wearing the same drooping gray sweater she'd had on during the sheriff's search of her house, her once-lovely silver blond hair appearing unwashed and straggly. Piper reflected how less than two weeks earlier Sugar had been happily planning to cater Jeremy Porter's dinner and Piper had been anticipating the installation of Ralph's beautiful door with excitement. How drastically things had changed in that short time. Would either of them totally recover? At the moment, that seemed highly questionable.

As Sugar walked in, Amy greeted her brightly with, “Hi, Ms. Heywood,” clearly doing her best to add a bit of cheer.

Sugar smiled gamely, though her eyes remained sad. “Hi, you two. I got tired of sitting in the house and worrying and decided I could worry just as well here.”

“Ralph hasn't been with you?” Piper asked. The two had seemed inseparable since Zach's troubles first began.

“He's off somewhere. I told him he should look after his own affairs once in a while and I guess he took me up on it.” She smiled wanly. “I miss him.”

“Ralph's been amazing,” Piper said. “Stepping right in to help.”

“I don't know what I would have done without him,” Sugar said, agreeing. “You heard about Stan Yeager disappearing?” Sugar asked, and as Piper and Amy nodded Sugar's voice rose in frustration. “I'm positive that man has something to hide! Why isn't
his
house being searched? That's what I'd like to know.” She glanced at Amy and took a deep breath. “No offense.”

Amy waved off the half apology as Piper said, “I'm sure Sheriff Carlyle is doing exactly what the law allows him to do. He must not see any probable cause for getting a search warrant on Stan's place. What's going on with Stan's wife? She's been away since before all this began.”

Sugar's eyes flashed. “She probably knew what Stan did—which was to murder Dirk Unger—and she either left Stan or took off first with plans for him to join her in hiding.”

Piper wasn't so sure about that somewhat dramatic scenario, though she'd already admitted—to herself and to Will—that people weren't always what they seemed.

“Coffee?” Amy asked, offering the only comfort she could, and Sugar nodded.

As Amy hurried back to get it, Sugar pulled out a stool, taking in the signs of Piper's Tilley Project. “Ralph told me about Mrs. Tilley and your brandied cherries. I'm so sorry. How is she doing?”

“Recovering.”

“And you?” She took the steaming mug Amy brought back, Piper gratefully accepting a second one Amy held out to her.

“I'm hanging in there,” Piper said. “It's about all I can do—for the shop, that is. The drop in business at least gives me more time to work on the murder.”

Sugar covered Piper's hand with her own. “We'll get through this. The truth will come out and your shop and my catering business
will rise again
.” She smiled weakly. “As I believe someone named Scarlett O'Hara once said.”

“She might have been talking about the South,” Piper said.

“Well, she was right, wasn't she? The South got back on its feet, and so will we.” Sugar's face crumbled again. “But first Zach needs to come home.”

Piper silently squeezed Sugar's hand, having no idea what to say. They sat, each sipping their coffee as Amy looked on unhappily, until Amy's friend Megan breezed in, a gust of wind sending her blond hair flying along with some of the surrounding gloom. “Hi there!” she cried, reminding Piper what a contrast Megan's lively personality was to that of her brother, Ben, who took all things, especially his auxiliary police officership, extremely seriously.

“Have you seen Lydia Porter's sister today?” Megan asked. Seeing Sugar's questioning look, she launched into a gleeful description of Gwen Porter's jaw-dropping transformation from when Megan first encountered her outside the library. “She was double-checking her directions to the Porters' place. It turned out she was dropping in unannounced on her sister, Mrs. Porter. I'll bet
that
was a surprise!

“Jeremy's aunt?” Sugar asked. “I hadn't heard. You say she appeared down-and-out?”

“Definitely not up to Lydia's family standards, presencewise,” Piper said, “though I found her very likable. The two stopped in here this morning. Gwen was enjoying herself—and I'm sure it wasn't because of her fashion makeover. It's hard to believe they're sisters, though Lydia would probably be the first to deny it if they weren't.”

Sugar actually chuckled, the first Piper had heard from her in a long time. Unfortunately, Scott chose that moment to stop in, which instantly turned Sugar's thoughts back to her worries.

“No word from Zach?” he asked, and when Sugar dejectedly shook her head, said, “I've contacted a few people I know from my time as an ADA. They've promised to do what they can to help locate him.”

“It's getting to the point,” Sugar said, “that even if Zach ends up being arrested, I'll be glad to at least have him back. Not knowing where my son is or
how
he is, is horrible.”

“I'm sure he doesn't realize what he's putting you through,” Piper said, while at the same time wishing heartily that Zach
did
realize and put an end to it.

“He's twenty,” Megan said. “Guys that age have mush for brains. Some,” she said, “still have mush at thirty. Present company excepted, of course,” she added, glancing at Scott.

“What Megan means,” Amy said, “is Zach is bright—we all know that—but like most guys his age he's probably letting his emotions blot out any clear thinking.”

Piper saw Scott wince at Amy's well-intentioned words, which might describe exactly what Amy's father—Sheriff Carlyle—had in mind: that Zach had acted emotionally and overridden his normal good sense to murder Dirk Unger.

Piper didn't want to believe that herself, though Zach's continued disappearance made that more difficult by the hour to hang on to.