Jane walked to the car with her. As Missy got in, she said, 'Look at your front porch. Flowers, I bet.”
Sure enough, there was a large cone of white paper sitting on the porch.
Jane bid Missy good-bye and walked back to the house. She took the flowers in and tore off the paper. It was a lovely fresh arrangement, all in blues and whites in a glazed white bowl. Jane searched among the blooms for a card, but there was none. She noticed the name of the florist on the wrapping paper, but decided not to call and ask.
It must have come from Mel, she thought. What a nice, romantic gesture.
17
“What a beautiful arrangement!' Cecily said, looking at the flowers that were still sitting on the kitchen counter. 'Who are they from?'
“I presume they're from Mel, but there's no card. What are all these things, anyway? I think this is a Shasta daisy, but I don't recognize any of the blue ones.'
“I don't either. Jane, is this serious? With Mel?' 'Oh, Mom, I don't know. I don't think so. We don't have anything in common.'
“Sometimes that doesn't matter,' Cecily said. 'In fact, that very thing can be a good basis for a relationship. It means constant discovery.'
“Except Mel isn't interested in discovering my world—housework, kids, homework, school carnivals. And I can't say that I blame him. It's all necessary, but it's not fascinating. And frankly, I feel the same about his job. Necessary, but pretty boring except times like this when it has a connection with me. I can't see us ever having scintillating conversations about what kind of powder they use to pick up fingerprints.'
“Jane, dear, you're talking about jobs, not what you are inside.'
“But, Mom, I've been a housewife and mother for so long that what I
The phone rang. 'Hello? Oh, hi, Mel,' Jane said. Cecily found a sudden errand to do elsewhere. 'Mel, Missy told me about Grady.'
“Oh? What did she tell you?' he asked cautiously.
“That his wife's been in a coma for ages and is a relative of Mrs. Pryce's. You hadn't mentioned that.'
“He asked me to keep it confidential, and I agreed to if it had no bearing on the case.'
“And it doesn't?'
“So far, it appears not. His wife isn't closely enough related to inherit. There are at least seven grandchildren ahead of her. And even if they were gone, there are a couple great-grandchildren. We've also had accountants going over the city's books. Unless Grady's twice as smart as all of them put together, there isn't a penny missing. How come Missy told you this? How did she know?'
“Oh, they're friends, I guess. It probably had to do with his autobiography for class,' Jane said. If Mel could keep a confidence, so could she.
“We have a policewoman skimming her books, too.'
“Why?'
“To see if there's any suggestion in any of them that she's knowledgeable about poisons.”
Jane laughed. 'Mel, they're romances. People don't get poisoned in romances. And frankly—no, never mind.' She'd been about to lambaste him for having a policewoman read the books, as if the books weren't something a man could bother with. Or maybe a man would have his machismo impaired by close association with romances. But she wasn't sure he was ready for another lecture or that she wanted to risk giving one.
“You never know,' he said mildly, not realizing what he'd missed.
“Mel, thank you for the flowers. They're absolutely beautiful. I'm going to keep them here in the kitchen where I can enjoy them while I work.”
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. 'Flowers? Somebody sent you flowers?'
“It wasn't you?'
“No, I'm afraid it wasn't.'
“Oh, how embarrassing. I'm sorry. But if it wasn't you—' She stopped, realizing it wasn't a good idea to mention that there was no one else in the world who would think to send her flowers. 'There wasn't a card, and I thought—'
“No,' he said tightly. 'It must have been another admirer.'
“Maybe so,' she said with hysterical brightness. 'So, is there anything new with the investigation?”
He was silent for a minute. Then, 'No, we're plodding along. Don't worry, though. We'll get the crucial evidence eventually. If a killing isn't a clear domestic disturbance, which most of them are, it usually takes some time to work it out step by step. You have to understand, Jane, that with all the technical advances in law enforcement—”
Jane wasn't listening to his lecture. She was staring across the room at the flowers. If Mel didn't send them, who the hell did? She waited until he'd wound down and said, 'Oh, I almost forgot. Desiree Loftus is on an herb binge. Shelley and I went over there, and her house is full of plants. She's brewing up health teas and things.”
She didn't need to explain to him why it might be important. 'Okay, we'll check it out.' He held his hand partially over the phone and had a muffled con? versation, then came back to her and said, 'Sorry, I've got to go.'
“I'll talk to you later. Good-bye,' Jane said. Nice. He either forgot the purpose of his call or there was no purpose except to talk to her.
Jane stood for a moment, then called Missy's number. She got her answering machine. She hated talking to the things, but in this case, did. 'Missy, this is a stupid question, but would you call and confirm that Grady didn't send me those flowers that were on my front porch? I know he didn't, but I need to be sure—' There was a click as the answering machine hung up. Missy apparently didn't like getting long messages and had it set accordingly.
Cecily came in the kitchen door from the backyard. 'Do you have some gardening gloves? Your vegetables are getting overgrown with weeds.'
“I've even got an extra pair,' Jane said. 'Mom, Mel didn't sent those flowers.'
“How exciting. You must have a secret admirer.”
She and her mother spent an hour in the yard, weeding and talking. This time Jane had no great theological insights, just a nice visit with her mom. Jane told her about the visit with Desiree and also about her embarrassing intrusion into Grady's life. She knew her mother wouldn't have any cause to speak to anyone about Grady and Missy, but swore her to secrecy in any case. 'Oh, I forget. Your wine.' Jane recounted her horrible visit to the liquor store.
“The dreadful man! How nice to see justice done once in a while. He didn't get hurt, did he?'
“I don't think so. He was still bellowing about how it was all somebody else's fault when I left.'
“Jane—maybe he's your secret admirer.'
“Oh, I hope not! No, he couldn't be. A man who asks a woman if she's 'getting any' wouldn't have the grace and romance to send flowers. He'd be more likely to send a vibrator—or one of those cakes from an obscene bakery. No, I think it's probably Grady. He knew I was as embarrassed as he was. They're probably apology flowers. I put in a call to Missy to find out, but I got her machine.'
“I imagine you're right. Jane, tell me about this story you keep going back to working on.”
Jane sat back and brushed dirt off her gloves. 'I'm almost afraid to talk about it. Missy says it could be a book.'
“How wonderful.' There wasn't a scintilla of disbelief in her voice. Just genuine pleasure.
“No, it's really not. I don't know the first thing about writing a book, and I feel like a fraud even saying it.'
“Nobody knows if they can write a book until they try it. I think you should give it your best shot. If it doesn't pan out, you'd have had a good time trying. Tell me about it. It's a novel, right?'
“I can only tell you about the part that's written. Missy says so.'
“Then tell me that.”
Cecily had some interesting ideas for plot twists, and she enthusiastically supported Jane's idea of using part of her inheritance from her friend to buy a computer. 'You're in the Stone Age nowadays if you don't have one. You could also do your household bookkeeping on it and get some games for the children. On second thought, that
