Dyeing Season Page 7

  I explained the process, demonstrating the beautiful yellows and pinks you could get from turmeric and beets, and then got everyone started dyeing eggs. As everyone got busy dunking their eggs, I walked over to my former neighbor, who was staring blankly at the courthouse while the woman next to her maneuvered an egg into a cup of turmeric dye.

  "Are you doing okay?" I asked.

  "I'm holding up," she said dully. There was no sign of the sparkle I was used to seeing in her eyes.

  "I'm sorry I didn't get to say goodbye, by the way. I had no idea you had moved until I saw the 'For Sale' sign."

  Dottie blinked at me. "The what?"

  "The 'For Sale' sign," I repeated. "Faith Zapalac was putting it up when I got home yesterday."

  She paled. "He told me he wasn't going to sell it just yet. We were going to try out the home, see what I thought."

  "Well, then, just tell Faith you're not ready to sell yet."

  "I... I don't know if I can," she said. "There were some court things, and... well, he's managing everything for me now."

  "Court things?" I asked, feeling a pain in the pit of my stomach. "What kind of court things?"

  "He said it was all just too much for me to manage." Her voice was wobbly. "He told me he'd take care of me."

  As she spoke, an efficient-looking woman marched over to me. "Are you upsetting her?" she demanded.

  "I don't mean to," I said. "She's my neighbor. Her house went up for sale yesterday; she didn't know it was going to be sold."

  "We're taking good care of her at Sunset Home," the woman said briskly. "We take care of all our residents. Now, then, Dorothy, aren't you going to dye some eggs?"

  "It's Dottie," I said. "Or Ms. Kreische."

  The woman pursed her lips, and I caught a flash of irritation. "It'll be fun," she insisted.

  "I don't think so. I... I don't feel very well," Dottie said. "Can I go back to the home?"

  "I'm afraid not," the woman said cheerfully. "The outing lasts until two. You'll be just fine."

  "I need to call my son," Dottie said.

  "We can do that when we get back," the woman replied. "Now, then. Why don't you dye an egg like your friend, here?"

  'She's not my friend," Dottie said shortly; I could see just a glimmer of her former spark. "I just met her on the bus."

  "Well, I'm sure you'll be friends soon enough. I have to go check on everyone else, but you should be dyeing eggs," the caretaker said sternly, giving me a nasty look before she bustled off to help a man whose egg had ended up in the grass.

  "You can use my phone," I told Dottie quietly.

  "I know my son's number by heart."

  I unlocked my phone and handed it to her. She dialed it with shaking fingers, then held it to her ear. "Jessie, this is your mother. I... I heard the house is up for sale. I'm sure there must be some mistake. Can you call me, please, or come by?" She paused, and added, "I love you. Give the kids a hug for me," and hung up, looking forlorn.

  I put a hand on her bony shoulder.

  "What do I do?" she whispered.

  "Talk to him," I said. "What kind of 'court stuff' did he do?"

  "He's taken over my finances for me," she said.

  "Do you mean he has power of attorney?" I asked.

  "I think it's something different," she said. "I'm not sure."

  "Does Jennifer know what's going on?"

  "I don't think so," she said, shaking her head. "He told me not to mention it to her."

  "I think it might be time to talk to her," I suggested.

  She ducked her head. "She'll be mad at me."

  I didn't respond to that. "Do you have her number?" I asked.

  She nodded. "But I don't want to call her now. I'll do it when I'm back at the home."

  At that moment, the caretaker bustled back up. "I'll take care of Dorothy," she informed me.

  "Dottie," I corrected her again.

  "Dottie," she said. "Time to say goodbye. Let's go!" she said, turning Dottie's chair around before she had a chance to say anything else.

  I watched her go, feeling a sense of foreboding. What "court stuff" had her son put into place?

  And if Dottie didn't want to sell her house, why was it on the market?

  I stopped at the Blue Onion stall on my way back from the dyeing workshop. Quinn had set up a festive booth decorated with Easter bunnies and chicks. Even better was the array of fresh hot cross buns, maple twists, glossy rounds of homemade bread, pans of cinnamon rolls, and a variety of sandwiches and salads to go. I found myself transfixed by a cinnamon roll, and realized suddenly that it had been quite a while since breakfast.

  "Um... can I help you?" Quinn asked with a grin.

  "I'll take six of each," I said.

  She laughed. "How about a sandwich and a mazanec to go?"

  "A what?"

  "Czech Easter bread. It's my grandmother's recipe."

  "I'm game," I said. "Those grandmothers really knew what they were doing in the kitchen, didn't they?"

  "We're none too shabby ourselves," she reminded me. "How did your workshop go?"

  "It went well, except for Dottie," I told her, and relayed what Dottie had said about her son having legal rights.

  "So her son put the house on the market?"

  "Apparently."

  "What kind of leverage does he have?"

  "That's what I'm wondering."

  "I know you mentioned Dottie talking about maybe selling the farm before the tornado, but Jennifer didn't say anything about it or her brother taking things over when she was here. I'm going to give her a call after the Market."

  "I hope everything's okay," she said.

  "So do I," I said, but I knew that everything wasn't. Not at all.

  10

  "What's wrong?" Brittany asked when I got back to the stall.

  "Is it that obvious?" I asked.

  She grinned. "You're like my mom. You always get a groove between your eyebrows when you're worried. Did the workshop not go all right?"

  "No, it went well, in fact. I sold about fifteen dyeing packets."

  "I sold about five here while you were gone," she said. "The egg soaps are popular, too."

  "I'm glad they're selling," I told her. "I was a little bit worried I'd be stuck with several egg cartons of soap."

  "So if the workshop went well, what's wrong?"

  "I'm just worried about my neighbor, is all. I have a few things I need to check out."

  "Like Mom's worried about Ethan," she said. "Speaking of which, she wants you to come to dinner soon."

  "I'd love to!" I said. "When?"

  "I don't know, but soon," she said. "I'll tell her to call you. She's hoping you can help her figure out what to do with Ethan, I'm guessing."

  "I've heard things have been tough," I told her. "Between you and me, do you have any insight into what's going on with him?"

  "I don't know," she said. "He used to tell me things, but recently, he's kind of clammed up. I'm worried about him, though."

  "Why?"

  "Well, I guess Mom told you she caught him smoking. And I found a whiskey bottle in the back of the barn a couple of days ago."

  "Does your dad drink whiskey?"

  She shook her head. "I don't know if I should tell Mom, or if it's just going to stress her out more."

  "I think you should probably show her," I said. "What do you think is causing all the trouble?"

  "You know Ethan's never been superpopular at school," she said. "When a new neighbor and his daughter moved in down the road, Ethan started spending a lot of time over there, and he... well, he changed."

  "What do you know about them?"

  "Not a whole lot," she said. "I know June's dad works at the wool shop part-time."

  "Wait. Her dad is Edward Bartsch?"

  She nodded. "He's an artist, Ethan told me. I think he wants to be like him when he grows up. I saw some of his painted eggs for sale over at the wool shop stall; they look pretty good." She paused.
"Do you think maybe that's why Ethan is hanging out with June so much? Because of her dad?"

  "It's a possibility," I said. "Do you know what he's up to when he sneaks out at night?"

  She shook her head. "I tried to catch him once, but I fell asleep." She cocked her head. "He did come back with some white stuff on his jeans the other day."

  "White stuff?"

  "Yeah," she said. "He was doing his own laundry, which I kind of thought was weird. When I went to ask him why, he shoved it into the washer fast, but not before I noticed it."

  "Did you ask him about it?"

  "Not yet," she said. "It wasn't the time, if you know what I mean. He was in a mood."

  "Tell your mom," I suggested.

  "I will," she promised. "In the meantime, if it's okay with you, I'm supposed to meet a few friends. Is it all right if I go?"

  "Of course," I said. "Thanks so much for your help." I paid her for her time and sent her off, then turned as the mayor walked up to the booth. She wore jeans and a cowboy hat, as was her habit, and picked up one of my soaps in a weathered hand.

  "These smell good, but I sure would hate to mess 'em up by using them!" she said, sniffing one of the pale purple lavender egg soaps.

  "You can always tuck them into a drawer," I suggested. "Or leave them out, like potpourri."

  "Not much of a potpourri type of gal, but I might do the drawer thing." She rolled the soap around in her palm for a moment, then looked up at me with sharp blue eyes. "How are things at the farm? I hear you got hit by the tornado."

  "I did," I said. "The house is okay, but the little house and my garden took a hit, and I'm still missing one of Carrot's kids... Cinnamon."

  "Insurance taking care of you okay?"

  "I don't know yet." I'd called, but hadn't heard back from the adjustor. "How's your mom doing?"

  Mayor Niedermeyer grimaced, still rolling the soap around in her hand. "She's not so hot. She misses Eva... I do, too. That woman was a godsend; I've never seen my mother happier. Eva was a big help to her."

  "I'm so sorry," I said.

  "You found her, didn't you?" she asked. "Down by the creek."

  "I did," I confirmed.

  "There are a lot of sad people, and I don't mind sayin' I'm one of them," the mayor said. "She touched a lot of lives."

  "That's what I'm hearing. I just can't figure out who would have killed her."

  "She must have made an enemy somewhere down the line," Mayor Niedermeyer said. "I don't know who, though; and usually, in a town like this, word travels pretty fast."

  "Dottie said something about Eva having boyfriend problems... did she ever say anything to you or your mother about that?"

  "Not to my knowledge," she replied, looking thoughtful. "She did have a beef with Sunset Home, though. Talked about 'those poor people in the home' all the time. That was really the only issue Eva and I had... now Mother's taken that right off the table as an option."

  "I heard Eva got fired from there a while back," I said.

  "She did," the mayor said. "I heard an earful about that, I'll tell you. Said they weren't taking good enough care of the folks who lived there. She wanted me to go to bat for her, but I wasn't sure how I could help."

  "Did she say why she was fired?"

  "She said it was for caring too much," the mayor said. "I called to check up; she treated the patients well. They said it was just a personality conflict. Word is she had some issues with one of the directors at the home."

  "What kind of issues?"

  "I think she thought some of the residents were being neglected. That they were simply 'cash cows,' as she put it. And I heard a lot about some woman named Jerri."

  "Jerri?"

  "Yeah. She was talking big about some kind of lawsuit. I don't think anything ever came of it, though."

  I glanced over to where the woman from Sunset Home was herding her charges, over near Gus Holz's stand. And then I started wondering about Gus. Since he'd started dating Flora, he'd begun painting his birdhouses a variety of rather bright colors. I suspected Flora had had a hand in that, and I was curious if they were selling.

  I was also curious about what he and Eva had been doing dining in La Grange.

  I turned back to the mayor. "Dottie mentioned something about Eva having multiple boyfriends," I said. "Did she ever mention who she was seeing?"

  "Last we talked, she was spending a lot of time with that artist fella who moved to town not long ago... the one who works at Buttercup Weavers and Knitters."

  "That's what I heard, too," I said. "Did she ever say anything about anyone else?"

  "Not that she told me. She seemed excited about him," the mayor said. "That's the only one she ever talked about. But now that you mention it, she did seem... distracted during her last days."

  "Distracted?"

  "Just not her normal self. Preoccupied. Leaving the kettle on the stove too long, burnin' the toast..."

  "Did she say why?"

  "Come to think of it, she did want to talk to me about somethin'," she said. "We never did have a chance to chat, though... She caught me just as I was late for a meetin'. I told her we'd set something up, but it slipped my mind and she didn't bring it up again."

  "When was this?" I asked.

  "Last week sometime," she said. "Why? You lookin' into it?"

  I shrugged. "I'm just wondering what happened to her. Plus, I'm worried about Dottie."

  "I am too," the mayor said. "I had no idea she was fixin' to sell up and move to the home."

  "I think it may be her son driving the decision," I said.

  "Some days, it doesn't seem like a bad solution. I don't know what I'm gonna do now that Eva's gone." She sighed and adjusted her hat. "In the meantime, I'll get a few of these soaps for my mother. And maybe one of those cheeses for me? I like the rosemary."

  "Of course," I said, and wrapped up her purchase. I felt a rush of satisfaction as I pulled one of the creamy white rounds decorated with sprigs of rosemary from the cooler; I'd gotten better at cheesemaking with practice, and my product not only tasted divine, but was pretty to look at, too. "If you get a chance to talk to your mother, could you ask her if she has any ideas about Eva?" I asked as I handed her a small bag.

  "I will," she told me. "And thanks for these," she said. "I'm addicted to your goat cheese. If I don't cut back, I'm going to have to go up a jeans size."

  I laughed. "Cheese is good for you. Just don't overload on maple twists and Easter Bread from the Blue Onion, and you'll be fine!"

  "That mazanec is addictive, isn't it?"

  "Weird name, but I hear it's yummy," I said. "I haven't tried it yet, but I've got a loaf of it tucked under the table for later."

  "Lucky you," she said. "If I were you, I'd avoid that candy booth, too."

  "I saw that," I said. "Those chocolate bunnies look exquisite."

  "I had a sample. They taste even better than they look. She may be openin' a store in Buttercup, she said."

  "Is there enough local business to support a fancy chocolate shop?"

  "I know I'll be supporting her," the mayor said. "She gave me a sample of hot chocolate that was life-altering."

  "I'll definitely have to check it out, then."

  The mayor peeked into her bag and touched her hat. "Thank you for the cheese, ma'am. I'll let you know if Mother comes up with anything on Eva."

  "Thanks," I said. "And let me know if anyone finds a homeless kid!"

  The mayor's blue eyes twinkled. "Of the caprine variety, you mean?"

  I laughed. "Definitely."

  As she strolled toward the next booth, I spotted Gus trotting back to his birdhouse booth with one of Bubba Allen's barbecue sandwiches in a paper tray. It looked good; I might have to dart over and pick one up, myself. His brisket was melt-in-your-mouth tender.

  "Gus!" I called. He turned, surprised, and his face broke into a smile when he saw me.

  "Howdy, Lucy!"

  "How're the new birdhouses selling?" I asked.


  His smile dimmed a bit. "Not as well as I'd like, to be honest, but Flora wanted me to give it a shot, so..."

  "I understand," I said. "Hey," I added, "did you hear about Eva?"

  "Whole town heard about Eva," he said.

  "Did you know her?" I asked.

  His eyes darted away from me, and my stomach sank. "Not really," he said. "Anyhow, I'd best get back to my booth." He seemed in an awful hurry to get away all of a sudden.

  "I'll stop by in a bit if I can get away," I said. "I hope you move some birdhouses!"

  As he hurried away, a gaggle of Austin shoppers descended on the booth, oohing and aahing over the blown eggs and the herb starts. I gave out several samples of cheese, and spent the next two hours selling and wrapping my wares. I was down to the last three cheeses when Quinn stopped by the booth.

  "Hey, are you around later on?" she asked.

  "I'm headed home after the Market," I said. "Why?"

  "I want to show you some of that stuff I found in the boxes from my mother's."

  "That's right," I said. "I totally forgot."

  "There's something weird about it though," she said. "I keep putting the box away, and it keeps on turning up in the middle of my closet."

  "That is weird," I said, and again, I felt goosebumps rise on my arms. Out of the blue, what my grandmother had said in my dream—about mending things—or fixing things, popped into my head. There were too many odd things going on lately, if you asked me. Murders, old lockets, missing kids, boxes that moved themselves, strange dreams... I was ready for some normalcy.

  "Come on over whenever," I said.

  "Are you free for dinner? I could bring some leftovers from the cafe."

  "That would be great," I said.

  Quinn smiled. "See you soon, then!"

  11

  Brittany came back for the last hour of the market, and I took the opportunity to walk around a bit. The folks from Sunset Home had been loaded back into a bus and headed back to La Grange, and the traffic was starting to wind down. I took my time walking around the booths, checking out the wool shop's knitted egg aprons and Peter's produce booth, and then caught a whiff of the most divine chocolate scent I'd ever smelled.