CHAPTER 8

 

Jo watched as Loralee fiddled silently with the chain nose pliers on the workshop table and worried about what she would hear. Was Loralee ill? Did she have money problems? Jo didn’t have much experience with the first, thankfully, but she couldn’t offer much help with the second either.

“It’s Dulcie, my daughter.”

Ah. Jo thought of the pained look crossing Loralee’s face when Javonne casually brought up her daughter.

“She wants my house.”

“What?”

“And I don’t blame her. It makes perfect sense, in a way.”

“Perfect sense to her,” Ina Mae put in. “She’s not thinking what this means to you.”

“Why does Dulcie want your house, Loralee?” Jo imagined herself demanding the same from her own mother who was comfortably settled, since Jo’s father’s death, in Florida, and knew exactly the response she would get: Why Jo, dear, what an interesting idea. Let me think on that a bit. And the “bit” would, of course, last for the rest of her life. As well it should.

“Dulcie and Ken want to move back to Abbotsville, which I’d dearly love too! Having my grandchildren all the way across the country in Seattle and only able to see them a few days a year is terrible! They’ve all missed living here too, and want to come back, but Dulcie explained that the only way they could afford to settle here is if I sell them my house at a very reasonable price. Dulcie hasn’t been working since the new baby, and they’ve had quite a few unexpected expenses gobbling up their savings. Plus Ken wants to start his own tax service and accounting business, which would take time to get off the ground. My house has this nice basement room he could use as his office, saving him the expense of renting one.”

“But where do they think you would live?”

“Dulcie thinks I should take one of those new senior’s condos. They both insist keeping up my house is too much for me at my age, and I have to admit it’s becoming harder and harder. And my knees are starting to give me trouble with the stairs. But, oh, Jo!” Loralee looked at Jo with an expression that tore at her heart. “I love my little house!”

“Of course you do, Loralee.”

“And I love working in my garden, sore knees or not. How could I live high up in a condo with no tomatoes to grow in the summer or crocuses to watch for in spring?”

“Then don’t. Tell Dulcie you can’t sell them your house.”

“But I really want them all to come here!”

“It’s a dilemma,” Ina Mae said, nodding.

Jo looked at Loralee’s sad face. There had to be some kind of solution. “Have you thought about building an addition? A mother-in-law suite?”

Loralee nodded, her expression turning even more forlorn. “I looked into it, dear, but it can’t be done. My property isn’t big enough. An addition, where we’d have to put it, would come too close to my neighbor’s property and zoning won’t allow that. Alice and Walt, my wonderful neighbors, have said they’re fine with the idea. Their garage is on that side, so it wouldn’t be at all like we’d be overlooking each other’s windows. But the zoning board was firm. It can’t be done.”

“I’m so sorry, Loralee,” Jo said. “I certainly see why you’re upset, and I wish I had a solution for you. How soon do you need to decide?”

“They want to know by the end of the month. I promised Dulcie I’d look at the seniors condo and I’ve spoken to the manager there about stopping in tomorrow. But I’m dreading it. I feel as if it would be my first step toward the nursing home.”

“Don’t be silly,” Ina Mae scolded. “Pheasant Run is an active adult complex, not assisted living. I know a few people living there who love it. I’d go with you, Loralee, except for an appointment for my annual physical which was set up weeks ago.”

“The Craft Corner’s closed tomorrow,” Jo said. “I’m planning to go see Sylvia and Xavier, but I’d be glad to go with you to the condo afterwards.”

Loralee brightened. “Oh, would you? Maybe you could give me a young person’s perspective on it. May I go to the Ramirez’s with you? I have some lovely homemade vegetarian chili in my freezer I’d be so happy to take them. Do you think they’d like vegetarian chili?”

“If you made it, Loralee, I’m sure they’ll love it.”

Loralee perked up, the worry lines in her face eased for the moment, which cheered Jo. Taking Loralee with her to Ramirez’s would work very well too, Jo thought, since her presence would help distract from the fact that Jo was looking Xavier over carefully, to judge for herself if he was capable of murder or not.

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When she got home that evening, Jo fixed herself a hearty ham and tomato sandwich and speed-dialed Carrie’s number.

“How are things?” she asked, as Carrie picked up.

Carrie sighed. “Dan’s been getting job cancellations.”

Jo winced, but said, “Tell him to hang in there. This will certainly be cleared up, and those people who canceled will be begging to get back in line.”

“I hope so. Jo, you know how normally I’m glad when Dan has a little free time, since it means he can work on all the unfinished projects around here. But when it’s for a reason like this …” Carrie’s voice trailed off. “I know Dan’s worried sick about being able to keep up our mortgage payments now, not to mention all the other bills that will keep coming.”

“Carrie, I’m going to talk to Xavier and Sylvia tomorrow. Plus, the workshop ladies – and Vernon – have given me a couple leads to look into and maybe point the police in another direction.”

“Oh? Like who?”

“Like - and keep this to yourself for now - Parker Holt’s wife, Mallory. We have hints she might have wanted out of their marriage. Maybe she chose the quickest way.”

“That would be great, ah, I mean, well you know what I mean.”

“I do, and I agree, not knowing Mallory Holt yet. Maybe Dan would feel better to be out looking around too. Do you think he might talk with some of Holt’s employees? Maybe he could dig up dirt on someone with a grudge bad enough to do Holt in.”

“I think that’s a terrific idea, and I’ll suggest it. Much better to be out and active than sitting and worrying.”

Jo agreed, aware of how her search for an alternative suspect to Xavier had, to some extent, taken her mind off her own worry about the future of her shop. It didn’t, however, do anything toward making her own problem disappear. If Dan, on the other hand, found someone who would interest the police a lot more than Xavier, Dan’s problems – as well as Xavier’s - would be solved.

“On another subject of my concern, how is Charlie doing?” Jo picked up her sandwich and bit into it.

“He’s improving. Fifteen-year-old bones heal faster than yours or mine would. He’ll be moving carefully for a while, but he might be back to school in a couple days if he feels up to it. Either way, he doesn’t need me around 24-7, so I’ll be back in the shop on Thursday.”

“That’d be great. The place misses you.” Jo didn’t mention anything about Randy Truitt coming in the next day to fix the storeroom shelves, knowing Carrie would insist that Dan should do it. The deal with Randy was set, plus Dan would be much better off working to resolve his own problem rather than taking care of her little repairs.

“Let me know what you learn tomorrow,” Carrie said.

Jo promised and rang off. She polished off the rest of her sandwich, then mentally scoured her kitchen for anything good she might follow it with. Cookies? A bit of ice cream left in the freezer? The extra calories shouldn’t worry her, she thought. With all these problems piling up - Carrie and Dan’s, Xavier and Sylvia’s, and now Loralee’s – her shoulders could use a little bulking up.

Not quite as much as Atlas’s, perhaps, but who knew what else might be coming?