Olivia wanted to press for more information, but voices announced the arrival of visitors to the Food Shelf. Polly glanced at the family and reached into Olivia’s package for three decorated cookies.
“Thank you so much, Olivia, and thank Maddie, too,” Polly said.
She shifted into her role and greeted the family of five, who looked tired. The young woman, who held a toddler in her arms, gave Polly a brief smile, then glanced sidelong at the man. The toddler leaned away from his mother and reached for a cookie with both hands. Olivia slipped away before Polly could introduce her as the treat provider.
Olivia stood outside her mother and stepfather’s front door, trying to quiet her mind, which roiled with questions. Was Clarisse’s grandchild a girl or a boy? Was Hugh the father? Was Jasmine Dubois the mother? Where were Jasmine and the child? Were they even alive?
How much, Olivia wondered, could she trust Sam’s account? He had a reputation for inflating a kernel of knowledge until it popped, especially when he perceived a rapt audience.
Olivia shook her head to clear it, but another idea intruded. What if Clarisse had been searching for Jasmine? From the conversation Olivia and Maddie overheard, Clarisse was determined to keep Hugh from marrying Tammy Deacons. Maybe she hoped Jasmine’s reappearance would break Tammy’s hold on her son? Something Polly had said flashed across her mind—that once Clarisse made up her mind, she never changed it. But she did change her mind about Tammy. Why?
And then there was Edward, who sounded more ambitious than she’d realized. Had Clarisse decided to change her will and leave the leadership of the Chamberlain businesses to one or the other son? Had she been overconfident enough to tell them—and then unyielding when the one left out objected?
Red gingham curtains covered a small window in the Greyson-Meyer front door. When the curtains twitched, Olivia pasted on a smile and pressed the doorbell. Temple bells rang as the door opened.
“Livie dear, I was beginning to wonder if you’d forgotten our brunch today, which would be so unlike you.” Ellie had twisted her hair into a loose braid intertwined with a gold ribbon. She wore pantaloons of gold silk with red threads woven throughout. Over her red silk tunic, she’d thrown a stunning shawl made of a shimmery metallic yarn.
“Mom, you look amazing.” Olivia gave her a quick hug. “I suppose you made this . . .”
“Ensemble?” Ellie said with her tinkling laugh. “Only the shawl. I saw the rest online and couldn’t resist. Come along now, time’s a-wasting.” She wrapped her arm around Olivia’s waist and guided her toward the kitchen. “The clothes discussion can wait. Allan is making his special pancakes.”
Olivia caught the rich, smoky smell of bacon frying and the cakey aroma of pancakes as they arrived. On the stove, a jar of Vermont maple syrup warmed in a pan of steaming water. Olivia wished she could simply relax, laugh and eat with her family, and stuff all her thoughts and feelings about Clarisse’s death into a drawer.
“Jason might stop by later,” Ellie said. “He has a late lunch break.”
Olivia didn’t get many chances to see her younger brother, but his presence might be a hindrance. She figured Jason was too young to know the Chamberlain family well. He’d probably get bored, and boredom made Jason testy. He wasn’t known for his patience. She’d better find out what she could from her mom and Allan as quickly as possible.
“Livie, welcome,” Allan boomed as Olivia entered the kitchen. “How about a hug for the cook?” He gave her a firm, one-armed squeeze while he flipped a pancake with his free hand.
Allan Meyers wasn’t more than a few inches taller than Olivia, and he tended toward hefty, though she had to admit he was solid muscle.
It had taken Olivia some time to accept Allan’s appearance in her mother’s life. She had been fifteen when her father died, old enough to be in the throes of teenage angst, rebellious yet in need of her father. Right when she needed a stable place to struggle toward adulthood, she found herself at her father’s funeral. For years afterwards, he’d retained an almost mythical perfection in her mind. He’d been tall and thin. She remembered him as someone who listened with his full attention, who watched with gentle curiosity as life swirled around him. He had loved to grow vegetables and write poetry, and he had achieved unexpected success as the author of a book on ornithology. The book’s popularity was due in large part to her father’s insightful observations of bird behavior. And his photos—he’d had a gift for capturing heartwarming moments and hilarious antics in the bird world, from the vivid red cardinal feeding a sunflower seed kernel to his chosen mate to a nuthatch hanging upside down from the bottom of a bird feeder.
Next to Olivia’s memories of her father, which she now admitted were romanticized, Allan Myers had seemed rough-edged and loud. She’d tried to accept him early on because she could see how happy he made her mother, but she didn’t get it. Once she had grown up, and especially after experiencing the realities of marriage, Olivia began to perceive and appreciate Allan’s better qualities. Like her father, Allan was thoughtful and kind. He simply displayed these qualities at a higher decibel level.
“Come and get it while it’s hot,” Allan said. With a flourish, he flipped a pancake into the air and held a plate underneath, shifting it quickly to catch the pancake. The first two slapped on target, but the third hit the edge of a plate and broke in half. “Two out of three,” Allan said. “I’m ahead so far.”
Olivia hovered between amusement and anxiety as she watched the performance. She was relieved when most of the pancakes had made it to plates and they could sit down to eat. She had missed breakfast, resisted sneaking a cookie from her Food Shelf package, and the sweet smell of maple syrup made her want to stuff an entire pancake in her mouth.
Half a stack of pancakes and two slices of bacon later, Olivia felt much better.
“Are you eating regular meals, Livie dear?” Ellie asked. Her expression was gently bemused. “Should I be sending over hot casseroles?”
Olivia looked at their plates and realized she’d already gobbled twice as much as her mother and stepfather. “Now you mention it, I have been missing meals lately. I’ve been so busy with the store. And I do have a lot on my mind.”
Ellie passed the bacon, pancakes, and syrup in her direction. “How can we help?”
“Your mother tells me you’d like to pick my brilliant business brain about the Chamberlain clan,” Allan said. He leaned across the table and filled Olivia’s coffee cup to the brim. “She said you’re having trouble believing Clarisse’s death was an accident. I’d have to say, it’s the last thing I would have expected, especially the way it happened.”
Allan leaned his beefy arms on the table and frowned at the coffeepot. “Over the years, I’ve worked on deals with Clarisse, haggled over prices—you remember when she bought my printing business a few years back? I’d expanded right before a downturn in the economy. Clarisse offered to buy, and I was getting bored with printing, anyway, so I was ready to sell. But I owed a lot to the banks. Clarisse could have put on the screws, but she didn’t. Mind you, she insisted on a good deal, and she got it. She was tough and fair. And smart. Too smart to mix a bottle of sleeping pills into a full wine bottle and drink the whole thing.”
“Not even if she were very upset about something?” Ellie asked.
“Nope,” Allan said with a firm shake of his head. “Clarisse had a heart, but she was no delicate flower. She’d tough it out, whatever it was.”
“I think the sheriff is afraid Clarisse might have killed herself,” Olivia said.