“You were going to marry Jimmy?” I asked, offering her another napkin.
She collapsed her head on the table, her shoulders heaving as she sobbed. “I wanted to marry him. He was the man of my dreams, and now he’s dead.”
I took a minute to process everything Sophie had shared, letting her release her emotions.
“You told the Professor all of this?” I asked when she finally sat up and dried her tears with a napkin.
She blew her nose and tried to compose herself. “Yeah, I was so out of it yesterday, I felt like I was in some kind of a weird alternate universe. I think the police thought I was in danger of self-harm. I wasn’t, but they had me do a psych eval, and the therapist prescribed antianxiety medication. I tried to explain that I was in shock but not out of it enough to be unaware of my surroundings. Olive did it. It had to be her.”
I thought back to yesterday at Uva, and saw Thomas and Kerry’s questions about Olive in a new light.
“She took down all of her posts on eBay and Craigslist,” Sophie said, “but Jimmy had taken screenshots of everything. I told the police to check his phone. They’ll be able to find proof there. Unless she stole his phone when she stabbed him and deleted the evidence.”
I wondered if Jimmy’s phone had been on him when I found his body. I hadn’t noticed it at the time, but my singular mission had been to get help. It wasn’t like I had lingered in the cellar, looking for potential clues.
“The good news is that it’s hard to erase digital footprints,” I said to Sophie. “Even if the photos were deleted from his phone, the police will be able to access his files and records.”
“I figured. I hope they arrest her today. I don’t know how I’m supposed to show up at work and act like everything is fine when I know that she killed the man I love.” She sighed. “That’s why I was hiding out here. I’m trying to work up the courage to go and face that horrible woman.”
“Did the Professor mention anything about making an arrest?”
She shook her head. “Not to me. I came to the station with him. He asked me a bunch of questions. I told him about seeing Ed and how I was sure that Ed had messed with the lights and Jimmy’s marks on the stage. But I also told him about Olive. That’s when he asked me to do the psych evaluation. Afterward, he said I was free to go and that it was fine to return to work if I was up for it emotionally. He was nice, but I don’t understand why they’re not doing more. Olive should be behind bars, and instead, I’m supposed to be at the vineyard in an hour to set up for the matinee. How do I pretend like everything is normal?”
I couldn’t answer that, but I was sure that the Professor must have his reasons. He was likely trying to get Jimmy’s phone records and confirm Sophie’s accusation about Olive illegally selling costumes.
“It’s a mess. I have a feeling that today’s show is going to be a disaster.” She gathered her dishes. “Thanks for listening. You’re right, it helped—at least a little. Jimmy is still dead. My life is still over, but it was good to talk through everything with you, because now I’m certain of the truth. Olive killed him.”
“I’m glad it helped.” I stood and took her plate and cup from her. “The Professor is right, though. If it’s too hard for you emotionally, I’m sure that Lance will understand.”
“No. I want to be there. I need to be there. I’m hoping that the police will march in and take Olive away in handcuffs. That would be sweet justice.” She stopped when we got to the door. “Thanks again.”
I watched her cross the plaza toward the fountain. Activity was starting to pick up. A hiking group assembled near the bubblers, complete with backpacks, water bottles, and trekking poles. Another group gathered nearby. They were the OSF backstage tour crowd; I could tell from their OSF lanyards and playbills waiting to be autographed.
Everything Sophie said made sense, and I was more convinced that she was sincere in her adoration of Jimmy. I couldn’t wait to connect with Lance to hear how last night went and get his opinion on Olive.
Before I had an opportunity to sneak up to the OSF campus and see if Lance happened to be in his office, the Professor wandered into the bakeshop. “Juliet, you’re just who I was hoping to see.” He greeted me with a lingering hug.
“That makes two of us.”
He motioned to a bench in the plaza near the travel kiosk. “Do you have a minute?”
“For you, always.” I smiled. “Let me set these down. Can I get you anything?”
“Thank you for the kind offer, but your mother was up early this morning making her stuffed cream cheese French toast.” He patted his trim stomach. “I’m afraid I’m stuffed.”
I chuckled. “Fair enough, but you always have room for coffee, right?”
He massaged the red and gray stubble on his chin. “As the late great T. S. Eliot said, ‘I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.’”
“Oh, I’ll have to add that one to the chalkboard. Back in a flash.” I set the dishes in the bins and grabbed us coffee.
He offered me his arm as we crossed the street. “First and most importantly, how is your health? I heard about the fainting incident at Uva yesterday. Your mother and I were quite worried.”
“I’m better. I think it was a combination of things—too much sun and caffeine, and not enough food.” I tapped the top of my lid. “This is decaf, by the way.”
“And perhaps the toll of discovering Jimmy’s body,” he suggested with a soft smile.
“Yeah, maybe that, too,” I admitted.
“I’m glad to hear that you’re feeling better and on decaf. I’m sure your mother will be by soon to check on you. Forgive the dual quotes, but as I reminded her this morning, ‘Present fears are less than horrible imaginings.’”
“Is that Shakespeare?”
“The one and only. I appreciate the Bard’s perspective on the intrusive thoughts that can wreak havoc in our heads.” He strummed his beard in thought as we sat on a bench across from the information kiosk. “It is a mother’s prerogative to worry. And it’s mine, as well. Would it bother you if I offer some fatherly advice?”
“Not at all.” I appreciated the father he had become to me and felt grateful for his wisdom and involvement in my life.
“I’ll speak from my own experience. As you know, in the last few years, I’ve been scaling back my caseload and passing off more to Thomas and Kerry. This precedes my upcoming retirement, and it was also a conscious choice, a necessary choice. I had been burning the candle at both ends, so to speak. Until your mother and I deepened our friendship, my work/life balance was not something to be proud of. It’s one of those cases of ‘do as I say, not as I do.’” He sighed and set his coffee on the ground. “I caution my team to create firm boundaries around the work we do. Investigating darker sides of the Rogue Valley takes an emotional toll.”
“I can only imagine. I feel grateful that my days are typically filled with pastries and not murder scenes.”
“Yes.” He closed his eyes and then measured his words. “It’s true that police work is taxing and requires a commitment to self-care and balancing personal boundaries. I share this with you, though, because I believe we have similar personalities. Our greatest strengths—work ethic, loyalty, creative energy that fully immerses you in the moment. You do all of this and more, including treating your staff like family, putting your very heart and soul into every pastry that comes out of the kitchen, truly caring about your customers, and retaining the tiniest details about their lives, the list could go on and on. But my point is that these wonderful qualities can also lead to burnout, as I well know. I was doing too much. I was consumed with work, and I would hate to see you follow that path. If you can learn to carve out time for yourself at this stage of your career, I think it will serve you well. Please accept my apology if I’m being too directive. That’s not my intention. I see so much of you in me, and I wish I had learned a bit more balance earlier.”
My eyes welled. I leaned into his shoulder. “No apology needed. I appreciate your insight.”
“You have a lot on your plate, Juliet. You have since the day you returned to Ashland. Torte, Scoops, Uva, wholesale accounts, weddings, graduations, celebrations, and now partnering with the Fair Verona Players. I’m tired just thinking of all that you do.”
“I don’t do it alone,” I protested.
“True, but each piece takes up headspace, am I correct?”
I nodded. “Honestly, I thought I was doing a better job with my work/life balance. We’ve taken vacations, and with Ramiro here, I’ve been better about taking off Sundays and sneaking out of Torte earlier in the afternoons.”
“Agreed. Your mother has mentioned how happy she is to see you pulling back a bit more. Your creativity is your driving force, which is a rarity and something to embrace. It’s also keeping you from sitting with yourself, your worries, rooting yourself in the present. I know something about this. What I’m suggesting, though, especially when it comes to your health, is that our bodies can often signal us that we’re doing too much before we become fully aware.”
I pondered this. Was my body telling me that I needed to slow down?
The Professor didn’t push me to speak. He sipped his coffee slowly. We sat in contemplative silence, taking in the sound of birds flitting between the waxy leaves on the oak trees. Pink blossoms fell like a fragrant spring snow. The gurgle of the sulfuric waters in the bubblers sounded like a massage for my ears. Carlos and I had chatted about this very thing many times in the last few months. Was my body trying to signal me that I needed to slow down?
Owning multiple restaurants in my beloved hometown was like a dream, but was it too much? Torte, Uva, Scoops, private events, catering—the list was lengthy.
I had a highly capable team, and Carlos was fully responsible for Uva. Lance was a silent partner and backer at the vineyard, but the Professor’s words rang true. There were times when I felt stretched thin. Maybe that was an exaggeration. Most days, it was hard to let thoughts of the bakeshop, ice cream shop, and winery go, especially at night when I would review my ever-growing to-do list. Plus, I had limited time left with Ramiro. I didn’t want to put him back on a plane to Spain with regrets.
We had discussed hiring a manager to oversee operations. Maybe it was time to really consider my capacity and what was next for our ever-growing Ashland empire.
“You’re right,” I said to the Professor.
“I don’t want to be right. I just want you to know that you’re loved.”
I brushed a tear from my eye. “I’m so grateful to have you in my life, and I truly appreciate your honesty. Carlos suggested that we look at promoting Sterling and hiring someone new as a sous chef. We’ve also talked about adding a few more staff. I think you’re right. It’s probably long past due, and I don’t want to burn myself out.”
“Thank you for being receptive to my oversharing.” He squeezed my shoulder. “I would never want you to think I’m being intrusive.”
“Never.” I met his gaze. His weathered face held years of wisdom. Losing my dad had made me crave a relationship like the one we had. I felt grateful that he was willing to have the hard conversations with me too.
He smiled, and the conversation shifted. “Did Thomas and Kerry give you updates on the investigation yesterday?”
“Yes, and just a few minutes ago, I had a long talk with Sophie. She told me about Olive selling costumes on resale markets for personal profit.”
“Indeed, that’s what she reported to us as well.”
“Have you confirmed it?”
“I can tell you that we’re pursuing that line of investigation.”
“What about Jimmy’s phone? Was it with him when he was killed?”
“No, it wasn’t.” He looked as if he wanted to say more but couldn’t. “We are in possession of the phone, though.”
“Sorry for all of the questions, but I do have one more. Have you found the key to the wine cellar?”
“Unfortunately, that hasn’t turned up as of yet either.” He frowned. “I suspect that the killer likely had both items in their possession. They could still have the key and phone, or there’s an equal chance that they disposed of the evidence.”
His phone buzzed. “I’m sorry, I must excuse myself to take this call.”
“Thanks for the chat.”
He gave me a long hug. “Thanks for letting me stand in for your father.”
I watched him walk toward the police station. Feelings of grief and gratitude flooded my body. His wisdom and insight were unparalleled. I was lucky to have him, and I intended to take his advice. Baking was my love language. It was time to refocus on that and hire some extra help.