Yule Be Dead Read online

  “Hi, Francine. What can I do for you?” Katie figured she already knew, but she’d hear the woman out.

  Francine closed the door and took the seat Ray had so recently abandoned. “I didn’t open the tea shop today . . . not that it would matter all that much anyway, given how slow business has been lately. I think you could really turn the place around if you wanted to. Have you made your decision yet?”

  Katie decided to be frank with her. “I’m interested in acquiring the shop, Francine, but the first bank I approached wouldn’t give me loan terms I was happy with, and I’m afraid the terms won’t be any better from another bank.”

  “You don’t know that. Not without trying.” She straightened, to make herself even taller in the chair. “I know you’ve been checking up on me.”

  “What? Why would you think that?”

  “The receptionist at Thomason’s Funeral Home told me you’d asked her whether I was Vonne’s mother or her stepmother. She thought it was an odd question.” Francine narrowed her eyes at Katie. “If you’d wanted to know something about my relationship with Vonne, Katie, why didn’t you simply ask me?”

  “Um . . .” Katie faltered. The truth was that the nature of their relationship was none of Katie’s business. She just wanted to know why Francine was being so cold in the face of her daughter’s death. But she couldn’t very well say that to Francine.

  “It’s not common knowledge, but since it’s apparently so important to you, I’ll tell you. Vonne was my late husband’s biological daughter. My husband, Booth, and his . . .” She cleared her throat. “Distant cousin . . . were Vonne’s parents.”

  Feeling awkward, Katie decided to change the subject. “Francine, may I get you some coffee?”

  “No, thanks.” She was in the midst of her story now and apparently didn’t want to stop. “Booth and Nancy had grown up together and had always been fond of each other. They hadn’t seen each other in about ten years when someone in their family got married—I don’t even remember who. I was sick and didn’t make the trip to Ohio.”

  So, Francine and Booth were married at the time that he got another woman pregnant. Pregnant with Vonne. Katie felt sick in the pit of her stomach.

  “Francine, please, you don’t have to tell me this.”

  “No, I want to. I’ve been living with it for a long time,” she said. “I knew there was something different about Booth the moment he arrived home. He acted guilty . . . extra attentive to me. He’d get nervous every time the phone rang. He never did confess, though, until Nancy called and told him she was pregnant.”

  Katie took a peppermint from the jar on her desk, opened it, and popped it into her mouth. She didn’t bite it in two like she normally did. She was hoping the flavor would help settle her roiling stomach, and she wished she’d never poked this hornet’s nest.

  “Nancy didn’t know what to do,” Francine continued. “She wasn’t married, and she was afraid the family would disown her if they found out. That’s when Booth finally sat down and spilled it all to me. And I, of course, came up with the solution.”

  “You didn’t toss him out on his ear?”

  Francine shook her head. “No. I decided that Nancy would come live with Booth and me until after the baby was born. The story would be that I was having a difficult pregnancy, and Nancy was coming to help out. In fact, Booth and I had been trying for years to have a baby and couldn’t conceive. That must’ve been my fault.”

  “Oh, Francine—”

  “Anyway, once the baby was born, Booth and I would raise the child as our own and Nancy could go back home.”

  “What incredible strength you had,” Katie said.

  “Yeah, well . . . it was even harder than I’d expected it to be. And then seeing how much Booth adored Vonne when she arrived made it even worse. I’d hoped to love her like she was my own, but she looked so much like Nancy . . . and Booth doted on her so much. And when Booth died, Vonne began acting more and more like her willful, degenerate mother.” She shook her head. “And that’s why she wound up dead.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Well . . . it’s good to get that off my chest.” She rose from the chair. “I do hope you’ll consider trying again for a loan to buy Afternoon Tea.”

  “It’s a big decision, but I am interested. I need to do a little more research and talk with some people. You know, financing, et cetera.”

  Francine nodded. “I’d appreciate it if you could let me know sooner rather than later. I’d like to begin putting this entire twenty-five-year-long fiasco behind me.”

  Katie nodded and watched the older woman leave.

  Francine considered Vonne’s birth mother degenerate? She had only hoped to love Vonne?

  Vonne was not one of Katie’s favorite people, but she felt yet another pang of sympathy for the poor dead woman. She’d apparently been unloved and possibly unlovable.

  And where did Katie stand? Was Andy up to something with Erikka? Had Ray taken a shine to her?

  She felt more confused with every passing hour.

  Ten

  Francine had been gone less than a minute before Katie closed her office door and was on the phone calling Nick Ferrell.

  “Katie, what’s up?”

  “Francine Barnett’s hackles—that’s what’s up.”

  “Oh no. What did you do?”

  “I did what you told me to do. I called Thomason’s to order flowers and asked the receptionist whether Vonne was Francine’s daughter or stepdaughter.”

  “So, what did she say?”

  “Nothing to me. But she certainly clued Francine in that I was—in Francine’s words—checking up on her.”

  “Ugh.”

  “Ugh is right. She just stormed out of my office.”

  “Are you angry with me?” Nick asked. “Because you sound angry.”

  “I’m not angry with you. It was a great suggestion. I thought it would work. I just wasn’t prepared for how well it did work.”

  “Spill.”

  Katie made Nick swear to the strictest of confidences, and then she told him the tale Francine had relayed to her.

  “Oh my gosh,” Nick said. “That’s horrible. I admire Francine’s ability to put the past behind her—although it doesn’t sound as if she entirely did—but I wonder if Vonne might’ve been better off with her birth mother.”

  “She very well might have been. In fact, Francine said she was just like Nancy and that she became more like her mother after Booth died. She said that’s why Vonne wound up dead. She never did say what happened to Nancy, though.”

  “If only we knew Nancy’s last name,” Nick began.

  “No. I’m staying out of it. I think I’ve done enough damage.”

  “I don’t know that you did any damage at all, dear. It must’ve been horrible for Francine to have Nancy live with her and her husband while Nancy was pregnant with Booth’s child,” he said. “Francine would have been watching them every day, gauging their behavior, knowing Nancy was giving Booth something she never could.”

  “I’m not sure I could’ve done what she did,” Katie said. “Had I been in Francine’s shoes, I think I’d have kicked both Booth and Nancy to the curb.”

  “I wonder why she didn’t. Did she love Booth that much? Did she want a child that badly?” He sighed. “And then to have little Vonne be born and cherished by Booth—maybe more so because she reminded him of her mother.”

  Katie chuckled. “Nick, you should be a novelist.”

  “Maybe I will write a book. I could change the names and dramatize Francine’s story. It’s like something right out of a Tennessee Williams play. By the way, did Francine mention the fact that Vonne was pregnant?”

  “No. We didn’t talk that much about Vonne—our conversation was more about Francine. And it was a fairly one-sided conversation at that—I mostly listened.”

  “Hmm. Do you think Francine even knew Vonne was pregnant? Maybe she did know her stepdaughter was pregnant and refused to help raise another child that wasn’t her own.”

  “What are you saying?” Katie asked. “Surely, you don’t think Francine—” She stopped, unwilling to put the dire thought into words.

  “No, no, of course not. I’m just working on my novel now.” He chuckled.

  “Are you seriously going to write one?”

  “I might,” he said. “What else do I have to do during the winter when Sassy Sally’s is having its slow season?”

  A knock on Katie’s office door interrupted her conversation. A second later, Andy poked his head inside.

  “I’ll look forward to reading that novel, then,” she said. She told him she’d see him at the tree-lighting ceremony later that evening before she ended the call.

  “Who’s writing a novel?” Andy said.

  “Nick. Maybe.” She nodded toward the box he held. “What’s that?” She could guess by the tantalizing aromas drifting her way, but she wanted to be as difficult as she could be.

  “Peace offering.” He pushed the door closed and placed the box on the desk.

  Katie opened it to see . . . Actually, she wasn’t sure what it was. It appeared to be meat stuffed into a pale green, elongated roll. She looked up at him. “What is this?”

  Andy grinned. “It’s a Yule log. I used food coloring to dye some pizza dough green—we have red, too—for this limited-time-only holiday treat. After turning the dough a festive color, I roll it out, fill it with sauce, pepperoni, sausage, mushrooms, and peppers. Then I roll it up, bake it, and cut it into six-inch Yule logs.”

  “Was this another of Erikka’s ideas?” Katie asked.

  “Nope. This one was entirely my own. Clever, huh?”

  “It does look . . . interesting.”

  “Taste it,” he urged.

  Katie was more in the mood for an apology than a pizza Yule log. “In a minute.” She closed the box. “Did Erikka get her car fixed?”

  “It’s in the shop right now getting a new ignition switch,” he said.

  She lowered her eyes to the box.

  “Katie, you have to believe me, nothing happened between Erikka and me last night.”

  “You shared a bottle of wine.”

  He sat on the chair that had seen its third visitor in less than an hour, turned her chair to face him, and took her hands. “Yes, we had some wine. And we talked. That’s it.”

  She was stubbornly silent.

  “Katie, I’m sorry.”

  She still had no words. All she could do was imagine Andy and Erikka sitting on a sofa drinking wine and engaging in intimate conversation. Lovely Erikka, tossing back her wavy hair, laughing, wetting her lips in an invitation for Andy to kiss her.

  Andy squeezed her hands. “I’d like to take you and Margo out to dinner after the tree-lighting ceremony if that offer is still on the table.”

  “I’ll need to speak with Margo to make sure she hasn’t already made plans with Ray.”

  “If she has, could we have dinner alone?”

  She shrugged. “I guess so.”

  “What’s it gonna take to get you over being angry with me?” Andy asked.

  Katie finally met his eyes. “Maybe a bottle of wine and intimate conversation until the wee hours of the morning.”

  Missing her barb, or ignoring it on purpose, Andy said, “I’ll look forward to that as soon as Margo leaves. How are you two getting along, anyway?”

  “Better than I expected. Margo is being nicer to me now—for the most part—than she ever was when Chad was alive.”

  “What else is going on in your life? Have you come to a decision about the tea shop?”

  “If it were an ideal world, I could assume ownership of the shop and put someone else in charge of the day-to-day operations. But the world isn’t ideal, and thanks to the bank, that may never happen.”

  “Let me float you a loan.”

  “I appreciate the offer, but I feel it’s best that you and I not mix business with pleasure.”

  Andy rolled his eyes. “I’m already your landlord.”

  “See? That’s plenty of business between us. Maybe on Monday, I can try another bank.”

  “Don’t push me away,” he said. “I’m here if you need me.”

  Or until you decide you’d rather be with Erikka?

  Katie looked away, hating herself for having such thoughts . . . but they wouldn’t go away, either.

  “Come on. Try the Yule log. I want your honest opinion.”

  She blew out a breath and opened the box. It really did smell divine. “Do I pick it up, or should I get a fork from the vendors’ lounge?”

  “You might prefer a fork,” he said. “Be right back.”

  When he returned, he had a plastic fork and some paper towels. “Here you go.” He wrinkled his brow. “I should’ve brought Margo one, too. I’d like to get her opinion on the Yule log. I’m guessing she has a refined palate.”

  Katie gritted her teeth. He wasn’t helping his cause by insinuating that Margo’s palate was more refined than hers. Of course, it was possible he hadn’t meant that at all and that everything Andy said today was being sifted through Katie’s anger, but still . . .

  She took the fork and cut into the pizza Yule log. As unflattering as it was to admit—even to herself—Katie hoped she wouldn’t like it. No such luck. The thing was delicious, and she couldn’t help her appreciation for the taste from showing all over her face.

  Andy gave a triumphant bark of laughter. “That good, huh? Yeah!”

  Katie swallowed and wiped her mouth with one of the paper towels. “Yes. It’s wonderful. You’ve got a hit on your hands.”

  He kissed her cheek. “Thanks, babe. Later you can try the apple cinnamon rolls and pumpkin cinnamon rolls and tell me what you think of those.”

  * * *

  • • •

  After Andy had gone back to the pizzeria, Katie ate the rest of the pizza Yule log. It really was delicious. She’d help spread the word about them to the Artisans Alley vendors. Maybe Andy could make up a flyer describing the holiday treat and place it in the vendors’ lounge.

  She dismissed that idea for the time being and allowed her thoughts to turn to the tea shop. What if she called it English Ivy Tea in honor of her dream bed-and-breakfast, the English Ivy Inn? At least, that way she could retain some small portion of her dream. But no, that ship had already sailed without her.

  And she couldn’t see herself simply giving up Artisans Alley completely. Sure, the vendors and artisans were capable of overseeing themselves for the most part, but Katie still liked to think it was important for her to be there.

  Still, if she could hire someone to handle the daily operation of the shop with Katie acting as supervisor, then it might just work. And Janine could be the perfect person for the job. She already had experience at Afternoon Tea, and she didn’t seem happy with her job at the grocery store, but it was a two-or-more person operation. What about the daily paperwork? They had a lot to talk about.

  Katie opened her desk drawer where she’d stored the slip of paper Janine had given her with her cell number on it. She considered calling the young woman, but she didn’t want to get either of their hopes up . . . not just yet. Still, it couldn’t hurt to get Janine’s take on her idea. If she turned Katie down flat, then Katie would know that wasn’t an option.

  She dialed the number and was pleased when Janine answered right away.

  “Janine, this is Katie Bonner. I’m considering assuming ownership of Afternoon Tea. Nothing is final yet, and I’m not even certain I can manage the buyout at this time. But if I can, I wanted to see if you’d be interested in supervising the day-to-day operations.”

  “Oh, I’d love that!” Janine squealed. “It would be the next-best thing to owning it myself.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. I was going to wait to talk with you because I didn’t want to get your hopes up in case the deal falls through, but then I decided I should see if you could do it because I think you’re the perfect person for the position.”

  “I truly appreciate the confidence you have in me,” Janine said. “As you know, I already have experience working at Afternoon Tea, but I don’t know if you’re aware of my educational background.”

  “Refresh my memory please,” Katie said.

  “I’m at the top of my class at Monroe Community College working toward an associate’s degree in hospitality management and certificates in food management and culinary arts.”

  “That’s impressive.”

  “Thank you,” Janine said.

  “Would working for me hinder your education?”

  “Not really. A lot of my classes are at night anyway. “I’d be happy to drop my résumé off to you at your office in Artisans Alley.”

  “That’ll be fine,” Katie said. “But it isn’t necessary. If I do assume ownership of Afternoon Tea—which, of course, I’d change the name—you’re my only choice for supervisor.”

  “Wow, Ms. Bonner, that means so much to me!”

  “Please call me Katie. Hopefully, we’ll be working together soon.”

  “I hope so.” She paused. “How soon will you know?”

  “Within the next week or two,” Katie said.

  “I’ll be crossing my fingers.”

  “I’ll let you know as soon as I’m able to do so.”

  Things might still be up in the air for a few months, giving Janine more time for her studies before Katie revamped and reopened the tea shop. The idea made Katie feel invigorated and she got up, closed her office door behind her, and went to see if Rose and the other cashiers needed any help ringing up sales. Since there was a lull and they didn’t seem terribly busy, Katie decided to walk security.

  When she got upstairs, she noticed Godfrey diligently working on a canvas. Since no one was in his booth, she stepped inside to talk with him. Though sweating profusely as he worked, he didn’t smell as bad today. But he wasn’t wearing his Dickens costume, either.