I pulled the long stem rose from the vase and trimmed off the end at an angle to help it take in more water. I stuck it back into the vase and plucked out the next one. After the morning flurry of activity, things had calmed down.
"I think I'm going to just go for it and get a new car." Ryder had been lamenting the old, junky-ness of his car all morning. Since he was saving up for his eventual horticulturist adventure around the world, he was very tight with his budget, but it seemed he couldn't take his old car one more day.
"There are so many of those car shopping sites now, I'm sure you can get a reasonable deal." I grinned over the yellow rose in my hand. "Or why don't you just splurge and get something really fancy and fast. Lola would love it. Of course, that means you'd deplete your savings account and have to start all over again. Which means you wouldn't be leaving me anytime soon, and yes, I'm being selfish but I don't mind. I consider it a worthy cause to reveal the dark side of my personality."
He chuckled. "At least you don't hide behind any fake facade. I'm sure I can find a good deal, something that won't drain my account. I'll start looking when I take my lunch break."
"Good idea." I finished the last rose and was just about to carry them back to the cooler when the door opened and Marty Tate walked inside. He was bundled up in a thick corduroy coat that had worn leather trim on the collar and cuffs.
I circled around the work island to greet him. "Marty, how wonderful to see you." I gave him a gentle hug. "How are you doing?"
"Fine, thanks. The photographer is done taking pictures so the rest of my week has been rather slow. It was such a nice day, I decided to take a stroll along Harbor Lane to visit my favorite florist."
"How nice of you. I have a bottle of water in the refrigerator, nice and cold, would you like it?"
"No, thank you." He unbuttoned his coat but didn't remove it. "Hello, Ryder."
"Hey, Marty, how's it going?" Ryder put down the vase he was filling and walked over for a handshake. "Good to see you, man. You look great."
Marty chuckled. "For a mummy. Truth is, this cold weather slows me down more and more each year."
"Nonsense," I said. "You just walked down here and strolled enthusiastically into the store. There isn't anything slow about that."
"Kind of you to say, but I feel like I'm moving in slow motion on these cold days." He reached into his coat. "I've found a few things I thought you might be interested in, Lacey." He pulled out a small book with a faded green cover. The embossed title had lost its black color, but I could still make it out. A Handbook of Herbal Remedies.
Marty handed me the book. "Open the cover. There's an inscription."
I carefully opened the book. A quickly scrawled note had been written on the yellowed title page.
Dear Elizabeth,
I think you'll find this book very helpful. The chapter on cough remedies is particularly good when the winter cold causes a dry throat. I hope you'll put it to good use.
Your friend, Jane Price.
My face popped up. "It's a note from Jane Price," I stated unnecessarily. "It's wonderful."
A half dozen lines creased the side of Marty's mouth when he smiled. It was truly a marvelous smile. "I thought you might appreciate it. I was putting the box of photos away, and I remembered that my mother kept a few personal items wrapped up in a knitted shawl in the closet. This was one of the items she treasured enough to keep tucked away." A boyish grin crossed his face. "She also kept a necklace I made for her from shells I'd collected on the beach. I was eight years old when I handed it to her. I'd wrapped it up in a piece of brown paper and twine. I remember being so excited to give it to her. God bless her, she wore that horrible looking thing to every special occasion. At least until I was twelve and old enough to tell her she didn't have to wear it, which I think I did because I was so embarrassed by the darn thing at that age. She'd wear it and tell everyone I made it for her. That was all right when I was eight but definitely not at twelve."
I could have listened to Marty's charming little anecdotes all day.
"Now, I've got something else to show you." Marty's smile was plastered across his face. He fumbled around in the inside pocket of his coat for a second, even resorting to biting his lip in concentration as he tried to retrieve whatever it was he was looking for. His gray eyes twinkled as he apparently found it. He pulled out another old photo. "When I found the book, I opened it and this fell out. It's an albumen print like the other one, and it's still in good shape because it was protected by the book pages."
It was indeed. The picture was crisp and clear, considering the age and the method of photography. I'd only seen her several times, in an old newspaper photo and the picture at Marty's house. It was Jane Price. She was what people back then would have referred to as a handsome woman. She had nice symmetrical features with large, wide set eyes and fair skin. She was wearing one of the day's fashionable day dresses with slightly puffed sleeves that stopped at the elbow and a skirt that was fitted at the waist to drop slimly over the hips. Only something about her physique wasn't quite right. Jane Price was in no way overweight. Her face was small and slim and her arms looked petite, yet her waist looked too big for the rest of her, even beneath the fitted bodice and skirt. I brought the picture closer to get a better look. She was turned just slightly at an angle with her hand resting on an unopened parasol.
Marty was rightly waiting for some kind of response. "It's Jane Price," I said still studying the photo. I looked up at him. "Maybe it's the angle or the dress but it almost looks as if she is pregnant."
Marty snapped his fingers. "I was thinking the same thing."
"Wow, this is huge, Marty. Maybe that's why Jane was sent away. She was still using the name Jane Price, so I think it's safe to assume she wasn't married. Women carrying illegitimate babies were hidden from public eye or, at the very least, sent off to live away so the family name wouldn't be ruined."
Marty chuckled. "You're pretty good at theorizing this stuff." He noticed Kingston for the first time and walked over to visit with him. He stroked King's head. "You mentioned the letters in Bertram's trunk. Maybe that inscription in the book will match the letters," he suggested.
My feet nearly left the floor. "Marty, you're brilliant. See, you're pretty good at theorizing this stuff too."
He laughed. "Maybe we should become partners, solving all the world's great mysteries."
"Or, at least this hundred-year-old Port Danby mystery. This is great. You've given me some excellent evidence, Marty. I don't know how to repay you."
"Sure you do." He smiled.
"Elsie's lemon poppy pound cake?" I asked.
He nodded emphatically. "Best payment there is."
"Actually, how about lunch at Franki's, my treat?"
"I wouldn't say no to a lunch at Franki's," Marty said.
I patted his arm. "Great, I'll just grab my coat, and we can walk down there together."