Nipped in the Bud Page 6

  “I can’t imagine why. He was raised in the country, so he must be used to the sound of gunshots, and using guns. Maybe he’s just confused about the idea. He thinks he should want to have a space of his own, but maybe he grew up with five brothers sharing one room and he’s never been really alone. I don’t know much about his history and personal life, and I certainly don’t know him well enough to get psychological with him. As you said, he’s my employee. Maybe you can get something out of him when you start building.”

  “Hey, I don’t want the burden of this to fall on him. It’s a long-term investment. It gives us a little extra living space—not to mention privacy—if someone wants it. If it doesn’t work out, we simply convert it into storage, or make it into a playhouse for Rachel’s kids. It won’t be expensive, except maybe for setting up the utilities.”

  “Seth, you’re acting like a kid with a new toy, but I agree with your reasons. One question, though—will you go ahead with it if Larry scrapes up the courage to tell you he’s not interested?”

  “Hey, am I really being that pushy?”

  Meg laughed. “I’m not going to get in the middle of that argument—and I don’t think you know what it means to be obnoxiously pushy. But you do seem to think your enthusiasm should be contagious.”

  “Fine, I won’t push Larry, but I still want to go ahead. I think I told you a while back, I can use it as a sample for potential customers, so they can see what kind of work I do.”

  “You can stop trying to convince me, Seth, I’m on board.”

  “Great! Now all we have to do is solve this murder.”

  “Seth, please don’t make light of it. Wait—do you think Larry knows something, or saw something? Is that why he’s uncomfortable about being so exposed?”

  “I suppose it’s possible, although I find it hard to picture. I mean, he’s been around this area for a while, but it doesn’t seem like he’s made many connections. Christopher, of course, but friends? I mean, buddies to hang out with? Or a girlfriend?”

  “Or boyfriend,” Meg added. “Maybe he’s just being discreet. Or maybe he’s simply not interested in a relationship with anyone. I’ve tried to give him his space, and it’s none of my business, as long as he does what the job requires.”

  Seth seemed to choose his next words carefully. “Will that change when he’s living twenty feet from the house? Do you think you have the right to know more about him under those circumstances?”

  “Like what?” Meg challenged him. “That he’s a serial killer? Or transgender? And isn’t it illegal to ask questions like that of a tenant?”

  Seth held up both hands. “Whoa! I wasn’t exactly serious. Look, I like the kid. He seems like he needs a break. His personal life is his own business, as long as it doesn’t endanger anyone or anything. But I’m not going to ask Art to run a criminal background check on him, or ask Larry if he likes to set fires for fun. Sometimes I like to rely on my own gut.”

  Meg smiled. “What women would call intuition. Do I think Larry Bennett is a threat to man or beast or property? No, I don’t. And I’m happy to leave it at that.”

  “Then we’re on the same page. Anything you need to do today?”

  “I told you, I want to bake cookies. Lots of cookies. So when family, friends and law enforcement officials show up at our back door, I’ve got something to offer them.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  Chapter 8

  As Meg had hoped, everyone in Seth’s family was available for dinner on Sunday. She was including Christopher in the mix, although he wasn’t quite officially family—yet. He was possibly the most likely person to have other commitments, since the spring semester at UMass had just begun, but his responsibilities were now more administrative than academic, so he could be flexible. And luckily, everyone in the family enjoyed his company.

  Such an odd in-between time February was. In New England spring was nowhere in sight, but the days were beginning to get longer. No sign of buds on her apple trees yet, but she didn’t want to hurry them along, because a sharp freeze at the wrong time could destroy the season’s crop. So everyone was waiting, fidgeting, until things warmed up and the yearly cycle could begin again.

  Meg had polished all the downstairs surfaces—amazing how much dust accumulated over the winter, thanks to a busy furnace. When days were short and often dark, it was easy to ignore, but once she pulled back the curtains and threw up the blinds, it was painfully obvious. She made a note to herself to wash the curtains too—she had inherited them and wasn’t even sure they were washable, but they definitely attracted and held the dust. Why was it women were so concerned about keeping a house clean? She counted herself as one of a long line of farm women, who were responsible for keeping the families—and possibly the hired help—fed and clothed and healthy, and most likely raising chickens and tending to the garden that was a primary food source for the family. Oh, and birthing the babies, and taking care of the aged relatives. Why had they decided that dusting and scrubbing should be added to that list? Or was that what the “hired girl” was for? A young girl from the neighborhood, or maybe a distant relative that was one mouth too many for her family to feed, would learn the skills she’d need for her future role as farm wife by starting with the basics. At least Meg had a dishwasher and a washing machine and a vacuum cleaner. She should count herself lucky.

  And, she reminded herself, she was the one who had suggested this get-together. The gathering of the clan. Celebrating the vernal equinox, just a bit early. The blessing of the apple trees. Whatever.

  The cleaning took no more than half the morning, so Meg put together a hearty stew and set it on the back of the stove to simmer slowly. She hoped Rachel’s two older children would eat it—she made sure there were plenty of potatoes in it, if they didn’t want to chew on meat. Then she rummaged in her refrigerator and discovered that she still had a few of the late-ripening apples from her own orchard: Northern Spy, notoriously finicky about producing at all, but when they did they went all out, which was why she still had some on hand. Apple cake, then, with plenty of caramel drizzle, one of her favorite recipes.

  Seth had absented himself from her manic preparations. Not that he wasn’t good at cleanup around the house, but he was really fired up about this tiny house idea, and now he and Larry were out back taking measurements and trying out bits of lumber to see what would work. She’d included Larry in the dinner invitation, mainly because it seemed rude not to. She’d always included her former orchard manager, Bree, in gatherings like this, but then, that was when Bree was sharing the house with Meg. Now Bree was off learning new techniques and ideas in Australia, of all places, thanks to a contact of Christopher’s. Whether she’d be coming back—and in what role—was unclear, so Larry was filling her place, at least for now. Bree and Larry came from very different backgrounds and had their own ideas about how to run an orchard, but since Meg had started with zero experience in or knowledge of agriculture, she was grateful for any help she could get. And she thanked the heavens regularly that Christopher had come with the package, since her trees had once been the experimental and teaching orchard for the university’s agriculture program. How quickly things had changed!

  Lydia and Christopher were the first to arrive—not a surprise since they’d come on foot. “We’re early, I know,” Lydia apologized to Meg, “but we decided to walk over and wanted to get here while the light held. We’ll cadge a ride home from Seth, if you don’t mind. Do you need any help?”

  “I think it’s under control. I was complaining to Seth that without all the demands of the orchard I don’t know what to do with myself, so I decided to cook. I may have made enough for an army. And I realized that we hadn’t seen much of each other since the holidays. Are you keeping busy?”

  Was Lydia blushing? “We’ve been cleaning out the attic recently. It’s amazing how much stuff accumulates in a house over time. It seemed like so much space when Seth’s father and I got married, and now it’s c
rammed to the gills. But every time I start sorting something, I get sidetracked by memories, or I find something I had forgotten I had, so it’s not going very quickly.”

  “There’s no rush, is there? Heck, I’ve never really dug down to the bottom of the piles in the attic here. Who knows what treasures lurk? My mother was more the ‘let’s get rid of it now’ school, although sometimes my father restrained her.”

  “What’s going on out back?” Lydia asked. “Seth seems to have grabbed Christopher to explain it all to him, whatever it is.”

  “What, we haven’t told you about Seth’s latest project? He’s at loose ends too, which is dangerous, so he decided that he wanted to create a tiny house, using the old foundation from the chicken coop. He figures Larry can live there, at least for now.”

  “Oh, right—I think he mentioned something about that. It won’t be very big, will it?”

  “No, but Larry’s wants are simple. By the way, I invited him to come to dinner—it seemed unkind not to.”

  “How are things working out with him?”

  “Pretty well, I think. He definitely knows his apples, but he’s not terribly sociable. Not that that was a job requirement. He kind of seems younger than he is—I gather he spent much of his early life working on the family’s farm.”

  “Well, as long as he gets the job done for you, it’s fine, right?”

  “It is. What about you? Are you working at all now, or are you a lady of leisure?”

  “A bit of each. I still take on a few accounting jobs now and then, but only if I want to, and I keep my own hours and can work from home. I guess we’re alike that way—if all I had to do was sit around the house and read books, I’d go mad fairly quickly.”

  The menfolk came bustling in then—Seth and Christopher had been joined by Larry, and even as they came in they were debating the pros and cons of various heating systems and construction materials. Larry was as animated as Meg had ever seen him, which was a good sign.

  Seth greeted his mother with a hug. “Did Meg tell you about our project?”

  “She did. Sounds like you’re having fun.”

  “I think we are. It’s kind of like a large toy, or a model. Did I make stuff like that as a kid?”

  “I think so. You’re welcome to rummage around the attic and see if any of it survived—as long as you promise not to make a mess, and to take away whatever of yours you find. You’ve got more space than I do now.”

  “I’ll put it on my to-do list. Meg, you need any help with anything?”

  “Cooking’s under control. You can set the table, and maybe somebody could build a fire in the parlor?”

  “Coming up!” Seth led his troops toward the front of the house, and Meg and Lydia smiled at each other.

  “Since you’re not driving, would you like a glass of wine or something?”

  “That sounds lovely. If my nose doesn’t deceive me, we’re having something with beef and something with apples for dinner.”

  “Bang on. Red or white?”

  “Red, please. I drink white in summer.”

  Meg had finished pouring two glasses when there was a commotion at the front of the house. From the sound of youthful voices, Meg deduced that Rachel and her family had arrived. From the sound of enthusiastic barking, she knew that Max had joined the fray.

  Rachel’s older children, Chloe and Matthew, came racing into the kitchen. “Can we go see the goats?” Matthew demanded breathlessly.

  “Sure, as long as your uncle Seth goes with you. And he might have something else to show you out back.” Meg glanced at Seth, who looked pleased by all the ruckus.

  “Sure. How long until dinner?”

  “No rush—stew can wait.”

  “Then we’ll set the table when we come back in. Come on, guys—the goats are waiting.”

  “Put them in the barn before you come in!” Meg called out to Seth’s retreating back. The door slammed behind them all.

  Rachel peeked in. “Is the coast clear?” she said in a stage whisper.

  “The kids are going to go harass the goats. Want me to hold Maggie while you take your coat off?”

  “That’d help.” Rachel disentangled baby Maggie from her carrier contraption, which seemed to involve a lot of straps, then handed her to Meg. Maggie studied Meg’s face, then reached out and grabbed Meg’s nose. Meg smiled at her and made a silly noise, which made Maggie smile back.

  “She’s grown so much!” Meg said.

  “Yeah, they do that. You two given any thought to having one of your own?”

  “Thought is about all we’ve given it—it’s still an open question.”

  “Try it, you’ll like it. But I promise I won’t nag you about it. And you can borrow Mags any time you like.”

  Rachel draped her coat over the back of a chair and dropped into the chair. “So, anything new? How’s the new guy working out?”

  “So far, so good. He know his apples, but he’s still kind of shy around people. I figured I’d stick him in the middle of dinner tonight and let him sink or swim. He knows Christopher already, and he’d better get used to the rest of you. You want something to drink?”

  “Nonalcoholic, please. I’m still nursing Maggie.”

  “Well, I’ve always got cider,” Meg told her, smiling.

  “Fine.”

  It took the better part of an hour before everyone was gathered around the table in the dining room. Meg realized that hadn’t bothered her a bit: everyone was happy, the food was cooked but not overcooked, and she reveled in being with family and friends. This, apparently, was one of the pluses of having free time. Not a lot, but enough to create a warm and welcoming atmosphere—and some hearty food. Maybe going back to simpler ways was a good thing.

  The kids were excited by the plans for the little house that Seth had shown them. “It’s so cool!” Matthew exclaimed. “It’s like a real house but for small people. Like Chloe and me. Uncle Seth says that Larry’s going to get to live in it! Can we have one, Dad?”

  Noah laughed. “There you go, Seth—your first customer. But you’d better start saving your allowance now, Matt.”

  “Okay,” Matthew said calmly. “You think we’ll have enough saved up by summer, when school’s out?”

  “We’ll see,” Seth said. “I’ve still got to figure out how to make the first one.”

  While Maggie slept in a lined basket, the talk around the table ranged widely, from weather predictions to politics to the orchard business. By the time everyone’s plate was cleaned, Meg realized that nobody had mentioned the murder in the backyard. Probably out of consideration for the kids, although Meg suspected that they would have heard something about it at school. But probably not exactly where it had happened. She hadn’t thought to ask Rachel or Noah whether it would be all right to talk about it in front of them, but she realized that she wanted to clear the air—and to talk with Christopher.

  “We’ve got apple cake for dessert. Kids, would you like to take yours into the front room and watch a video or something? We grown-ups must be boring you by now.”

  “Okay,” Chloe and Matthew said, nearly in unison.

  “Take your plates out to the kitchen, then, and I’ll cut the cake.”

  Rachel was eyeing Meg oddly. “What’s up?”

  “I wanted to talk about the shooting,” Meg said in a low voice, “but I wasn’t sure that the kids need to hear it. It won’t take long, but you need to know that it took place only a few hundred yards from here, out back.”

  “Oh, God,” Rachel said. “I’m so sorry to hear that. But you’re right—the kids don’t need to be part of this discussion, although no doubt they’ve heard some rumors.”

  “So let’s dish up dessert and Seth and I can tell you what we know, and what’s going on.”

  Chapter 9

  In the kitchen Meg doled out slices of cake, and added some ice cream to the children’s pieces. They retreated happily to the front room, where they wouldn’t be likely to overhear a
dult voices. Rachel checked on Maggie, who was, for the moment, sleeping peacefully. “I won’t guarantee that she won’t wake up in the middle of all this,” Rachel told the group around the table. “You’d better talk fast.”

  “Don’t worry. As I said, we won’t take long,” Meg replied.

  Larry had been hovering on the fringes of the group, but now he said, “Do I have to stay for this? I don’t know anything that you don’t, and I’ve already heard it all.”

  “Go ahead, Larry,” Seth said. “I only wanted to make sure that my family knew what was going on, rather than be surprised. See you tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, sure.” Larry ducked his head by way of farewell, then grabbed his coat and headed out the back door.

  When everyone was settled around the dining room table, with cake and coffee in front of them, Meg looked at Seth and said, “You should start this.”

  “I know,” he said. Then he turned his attention to his family members. “Maybe I should start by asking, what have you heard, on the news or in the paper?”

  Rachel snorted. “Sorry, but with three kids, one an infant, who the heck has time for the news?”

  “Okay, fine,” Seth said. “Please don’t be hurt that I told Mom first, but she was bound to notice the police activity, and I didn’t want her to worry. So, Meg and I were out walking around dusk on Friday and we heard a shot in the woods to the east. We didn’t think a lot of it, since it is hunting season, although it sounded like it was pretty close to populated areas, which isn’t legal. I was thinking about mentioning it to the Town Council, and then Max took off like a shot toward the woods, and I had to follow. Bottom line, I found a body in the woods. I’ll skip the less-than-pleasant details, but it was a woman about my age who appeared to have been shot in the back. I never saw—or heard—anyone who might have shot her, and it had just begun to snow, so it was unlikely that there would be much in the way of physical evidence. Of course I called Art and waited for him to arrive, and he and his crew spent a lot of the night there. He called the state police, but they didn’t get involved directly until the next morning. Meg and I came back here after Art arrived, and then Art and Detective Marcus dropped in the next morning and took my statement—Meg didn’t have a lot to add, except for confirming the timing. After they left, we went over to Mom’s to tell her.”