I rarely overslept. It hadn’t happened in ages. So, I was all the more surprised when I squinted at my bedside clock and saw that it was after nine a.m.
“Gus! Why didn’t you wake me up?”
The corgi perked up his head but remained spread out on his blanket at the foot of my bed. He was in no hurry to get up. The slate gray sky outside didn’t help matters.
I rolled out of bed and padded to the kitchen to start the coffee maker. Then I brushed my teeth and took a quick shower. I was still in my robe when I returned to the kitchen to have breakfast. I’d just taken my first sip of coffee when my cell phone rang. It was Deena.
“Hey, sorry,” I said, as soon as I picked up. “I haven’t left home yet. I’ll be in soon.”
“You might want to reconsider that idea,” she said.
“What? Why?”
Deena’s voice was grim. “There’s a line of satellite vans on the street in front of the shop. All the area TV stations finally caught wind of the murder. Turns out the brutal killing of a university professor is big news.”
“Ugh. Of course it is.” I should have anticipated this. Aerieville, sadly, had lost its local newspaper years ago, and the nearest TV and radio stations were based in bigger cities miles away. But the murder of a Knoxville college professor was definitely significant enough to warrant the trip.
“I didn’t think I should talk to any reporters without clearing it with you,” said Deena. “What should we say?”
“I have no idea.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. What did one say in such situations? No comment? Condolences to the family of the deceased? Buy our flowers?
I shook myself. Definitely not the last thing. “Where are you?” I asked. “Have you talked to Calvin?”
“I’m at Coffee Art Café, trying to keep a low profile. I called Calvin first, because I thought he might have heard from you. He’s basically hiding out in his apartment.”
“Oh, jeez. I guess I’d better get over there and rescue him.”
I heard voices in the background, before Deena responded. “Uh, yeah. You might as well give a statement. Then maybe the TV stations will stop replaying Flo’s comments over and over again.”
“What? Flo’s been on the news already?” It just figured. The one day I oversleep is when the news vultures descend. And with Flo already primed to badmouth Flower House.
“It’s pretty awful,” said Deena. “She brought up the other murder.”
“Of course.”
“And she said Flower House ought to be called ‘Poison House.’”
“Oh no! The nerve of that woman.” I was fired up now. My annoyance with Flo overshadowed my usual shyness when it came to anything but my music. “I gotta go. I’ll call you later.”
Spurred to action, I dumped out my cereal, flew to my room, and threw open my closet. What to wear? Easy. I needed to dress for success. I needed to clothe myself to match how I wanted to feel. And, well, I needed to work with what I had. That meant off-white trousers and my one and only summer blazer over a floral-print satin top. With a touch of hair gloss and a dab of makeup, I was ready to face the masses. Or, at least, the TV cameras.
Calm, cool, and collected, I said to myself, as I leashed up Gus and shouldered my purse. I am a confident businesswoman. I am composed and trustworthy and …
My thoughts trailed off as I picked up my phone and saw a dozen missed calls. Dang it.
I dropped into a chair and began playing the messages. Knowledge is power. I needed to know what folks were saying.
A few of the calls were from reporters and busybodies. (How did Nell Cusley even get my cell phone number?) Two of the calls were hang-ups from unfamiliar numbers. But the rest were from people who were looking out for me, including my mom; Byron Atterly, Flower House’s bookkeeper; and Calvin. The message from Calvin made the most sense.
“Hey, Sierra, listen up. If you’re approached by any media people, you should say ‘no comment.’ Or, at least, say as little as possible. I spoke to a lawyer this morning, and that’s what she advised me. If any of us ends up in court, our public statements will be picked apart and held against us. Sorry.” With that, he hung up.
Gus, confused that we weren’t leaving the house, whimpered at my feet. I absently patted his head, lost in thought. I needed a new plan.
Two hours later found me on the front steps of Flower House, facing a cluster of microphones and a horde of scary-looking video cameras. After hearing Calvin’s warning, I’d called Deena back. “You were a communications major,” I said. “What can we do that will paint us in the most favorable—or least damaging—light?”
“We take control,” she said, after a moment’s thought. “We schedule a press conference and give a prepared statement. Something short and sweet.”
So, that’s what we decided to do. Licking my lips, I took a deep breath and read the statement we’d written together.
“‘On behalf of everyone here at Flower House, I would like to offer our deepest sympathy to the family and friends of Professor Steve Lowry. We are shocked and saddened that this tragic event occurred in our shop. We are fully cooperating with the authorities, and we feel confident that justice will be served. I’m sorry we can’t offer any further comments, as the investigation is ongoing. Flower House will remain closed for the time being, except for online orders. This means we won’t be opening our new café this Saturday as planned.’” It had pained me to make that decision, but I knew I didn’t have much of a choice.
“‘Thank you for your understanding,’” I concluded. On that note, I turned quickly and went inside the shop, shutting the door firmly behind me. When Deena had spoken with all the station representatives to set up the press event, she’d made it clear that I wouldn’t be answering questions. Surprisingly, they all seemed to respect our decision.
Deena and Calvin were waiting for me in the café. “Good job!” said Deena. “That was perfect.”
Calvin was slightly less enthusiastic. “You probably said more than the lawyers would’ve liked, but it sounded fine to me.”
“Thanks.” I peeked out the window and was heartened to see most of the reporters packing up and heading to their vans. “How about we take our minds off all this depressing stuff and get to work arranging flowers?”
“Don’t you want to eat first?” asked Deena. She gestured to a spread of food Calvin had brought down from his apartment. It consisted mainly of oven-fresh frozen pizza, a premade mixed salad, and canned seltzer water. My stomach rumbled in response.
“As a matter of fact, yes,” I said, laughing. “I haven’t eaten much today.”
We spoke little over lunch. Calvin seemed preoccupied with his thoughts, and Deena used the time to review our pending flower orders. I shot off a few texts to my family. I also let Richard know we still planned to stop by later.
For the rest of the afternoon, we worked together to prepare bouquets for delivery. First we arranged a get-well bouquet, a birthday basket, and anniversary roses, all of which Calvin offered to deliver. Then Deena and I designed the arrangements for Richard. We selected an assortment of vintage bowls and vases, ranging in size from the large centerpiece to small bedside jars. In the bottom of each vessel, we placed a metal flower frog to hold the flowers in place.
Based on the charming, mountain lodge aesthetic of Richard’s home, I opted for elegant seasonal blooms in warm tones: chiefly two varieties of dahlias, in hues of pale coral and brown sugar, and a few sprigs each of peach spray roses and lavender-blue sweet pea. To offset all the color, I interspersed several stems of silver dollar eucalyptus. The result was beautiful and smelled amazing, if I said so myself.
As it happened, we had more work than I’d expected. By the time Deena and I arrived at Richard’s it was nearly four o’clock. He came out to my car to help us carry in the arrangements.
“Oh, my!” he said. “These are stunning.”
“Thank you,” I said, beaming. “We can always switch things out next time. Let me know if there are any particular colors or varieties you’d like to try.”
“I wouldn’t change a thing. You perfectly captured the vibe of Mountain View B&B—classy, welcoming, charming.” He pretended to polish his fingernails on his shirt and laughed.
“I’m so glad,” I said. Deena held up her palm for a high five, which I returned with a grin.
“Speaking of classy,” said Richard, “I saw you on the breaking news. You looked terrific.”
“Ugh.” My smile transformed into a grimace. “I sure wished I didn’t have to do it.”
He patted me on the shoulder. “This too shall pass.”
Deena looked at Richard in surprise. “When did you become so wise? Richard the sage.”
“That’s right. I’ve got the hard-earned wisdom of my years. Getting older isn’t all bad.” He winked at us, still in a good mood apparently.
We set the arrangements on the tables we’d previously selected: in the foyer, the dining room, and the living room. As I placed a bouquet on the console table, I glanced at the staircase.
“I’m sorry we missed your afternoon tea,” I said. “I was hoping to chat with your guests. Are they all in their rooms?”
“Sheila is. The kids went for a bike ride.”
“They brought bikes?” asked Deena.
“No, they’re using mine. I have a bunch of old bicycles I fixed up for my guests’ use. Just another perk here at Mountain View.”
“Do you have time for a visit?” I asked.
“For you? Always. Shall I put the kettle back on?”
“Do you have chai tea?” asked Deena.
“You know I do.” Richard disappeared into the kitchen.
I lined up the four bedroom posies on the coffee table for the time being and picked up the last centerpiece. “I’ll go ahead and take this to the hall table upstairs.”
Deena nodded, then called to Richard to offer help with the tea.
It was quiet upstairs. After setting the flowers on the table, I stood for a moment in the hallway, regarding the closed bedroom doors. It sure would be interesting to see what each person had in their room. Did someone have the professor’s canteen, or a muddy boot matching the footprint I’d found? Or a package of ninety-nine-cent sunflower seeds?
In the midst of these ruminations, I was startled when a door opened and Sheila stepped out. She seemed equally surprised to find me loitering outside her room.
“Hello,” she said shortly. At this vantage, I noticed her close-cropped brown hair had strands of silver. She was dressed casually in shorts and a Smoky Mountains T-shirt.
“Hi! I was just bringing up these flowers.” I pointed to the bouquet on the table.
“They’re lovely,” she said. “I was going to ask Richard for an extra towel. I don’t suppose you know where he keeps them?”
“No, sorry. But he’s right downstairs. We were about to have tea. Would you like to join us?”
She looked like she was about to decline, so I hastily added, “I was actually hoping to talk to you for a few minutes, if you don’t mind.”
After a brief hesitation, she shrugged. “Sure. I could use a break from reading anyway.”
“This must be a strange situation for you,” I said, as we headed down to the living room.
“It’s definitely not the trip I thought I was signing up for,” she said with a small sigh.
I gave her a sympathetic look. What an awful predicament to be in.
We took seats in front of the fireplace with Richard and Deena. Sheila waved away the hot tea, so Richard poured her a glass of iced lemon water from a crystal pitcher on the coffee table.
“The students seem to be coping well,” I commented. “From what I could tell yesterday anyway.”
“Mm-hmm,” said Sheila. “These undergrads are tough. They’ve been through hard times before.”
“More so than your average college kid?” asked Richard.
“I’d say so. I’m on the school scholarship committee, so I know a little about their backgrounds.”
I remembered Vince mentioning this wasn’t his first experience with death. Was that what Sheila was alluding to? I gave her an interested look, hoping she’d continue.
“I don’t want to violate their privacy,” she said. “But it is impressive how far they’ve come. Many of our scholarship recipients grew up in broken homes—or no homes, living in shelters or the foster system. One of our students served time in prison.”
“Vince?” guessed Deena.
Sheila seemed almost to incline her head slightly before catching herself and saying, “I really can’t say.”
Deena slid her eyes toward me, as if to say, “Did you catch that?” I twitched my mouth and avoided looking at Deena. Of course, I had.
“Well, they seem like nice kids to me,” said Richard. “That is, when they’re not glued to their phones.”
“They are definitely typical in that way.” Sheila snickered lightly. “I swear, sometimes I think they’re texting each other from the same room.”
Richard smirked in agreement. “April was texting so fast and furious over breakfast, I thought she must be selling stocks on the New York exchange.”
I had the urge to pull out my own phone to look these students up. I wondered which social media platforms they favored. It was hard to keep up. I made a mental note to search all the most popular ones the first chance I got.
A lull fell in our conversation, as we sipped our tea and water. Deena cleared her throat and shot me a significant glance. She was probably wondering why I hadn’t asked Sheila about Professor Lowry. I was just gearing up to do so when Sheila beat me to the punch.
“So, you all work with Calvin Foxheart? You know, he was close to Steve Lowry at one time.”
“Yes,” I said. “Until the professor started acting strange and claimed Calvin’s research as his own. Did you notice Lowry acting different last fall?”
She raised her eyebrows, apparently taken aback by my statement. “I only first met Steve at the end of last summer. I wouldn’t know if he was acting differently than before.”
I recalled Calvin saying Professor Washington was new to the school, but I’d hoped she could still corroborate the rumors Calvin had mentioned. “You didn’t hear about him missing classes or being late for meetings?”
“I suppose he did seem distracted at times,” she conceded. “I assumed it was because he was so focused on his research project. He was well-known to be a brilliant scientist.”
The sound of the front door opening made us all turn our heads. The three students filed in, chatting loudly as usual. If I wasn’t mistaken, both Isaiah and Vince seemed to stiffen when they caught sight of me. Why should my presence startle them so much?
“How was the ride?” asked Richard.
“Great!” said April. “We rode all over town. Aerieville is so cute.”
Isaiah sat on the edge of a chair opposite the sofa and leaned forward to pour a glass of water from the pitcher on the coffee table. “Sorry we didn’t make it to Flower House today,” he said to me. “Maybe we’ll get there tomorrow.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “It was, uh, kind of busy today.” I wondered if they’d caught my brief appearance on television.
“This town never seems to change,” he continued. “It’s always so quiet and old-school. And the amount of green space is amazing. I can see why Professor Foxheart moved here.”
That was the first time I’d heard anyone refer to Calvin as “professor.” It was interesting to think of him in that role. But more interesting to me was something else Isaiah had said.
“You’ve been here before?” I asked.
“This is my third summer taking the botany field program,” Isaiah said.
“As you keep reminding us,” said April, with a teasing grin. To me, she said, “This was my first time doing this trip. Isaiah is apparently such an expert on it, he could take Professor Lowry’s place.”
“That’s your goal, not mine,” he shot back. Something unspoken seemed to pass between them, as April subtly narrowed her eyes at him.
Vince came over and sat next to me on the couch. “This is my second time doing the trip,” he interjected. I had the impression he was purposely deflecting attention away from his classmates. “I tried to get the school to pick a different location this year, like the Ozarks or the Black Hills. But nobody wanted to go that far away.”
“This trip was a time-honored tradition,” said Sheila.
For a moment, no one said anything. I wondered if everyone was thinking what I was thinking: that if they hadn’t made this trip, Professor Lowry might still be alive.
Vince shifted in his seat. “Anyway, this is the first time any of us have spent this much time in Aerieville. What else is there to do around here, besides nature stuff?”
“There’s a little bit of shopping,” said Richard. “Though, admittedly, not a lot. There’s a used bookstore just off the square downtown. And a little gift store next to that.”
“It might seem like we’re in a time capsule,” Deena said, “but places open and close here just like everywhere. There used to be a nice dress shop and a department store on the square, but they both went out of business.”
That sad reminder made me worry once again about the future of our flower-themed café. Would we ever attract enough customers to stay afloat?
“On the other hand,” said Richard. “There’s a new tea shop that seems to be doing well. It’s where I get this delicious tea you’ve been enjoying.”
“What about nightlife?” asked Vince.
“Cuties’ Pool Hall is popular on the weekends,” I said. “They have an attached restaurant, so they’re family friendly before ten o’clock.”
“I doubt if we’ll still be here by the weekend,” said Sheila. “God willing.”
“The cops haven’t even been by today, have they?” asked April.
Sheila shook her head. “I have to assume they’re focusing their investigation … elsewhere.” She glanced at me and looked away.
“I always kind of liked Professor Foxheart,” Isaiah said thoughtfully. “I don’t know exactly what happened between him and Professor Lowry, but he must have felt wronged. Or betrayed.”
“It was probably a matter of honor,” said Vince.
“Or revenge,” said April.
I followed the exchange with growing dismay. Maybe I should’ve held my tongue, but I couldn’t help myself. “Calvin didn’t do it!”
Everyone stared at me in surprise.
“How do you know?” asked Isaiah. “Were you with him?”
“Who do you think did it?” asked Vince.
A chill fell over the room, as the university crew fixed me with stony glares. Were they daring me to accuse one of them? I gazed into my teacup and pretended to take a sip. I had no response to their questions. I wished I did, but I didn’t.