Marjoram gave a little murrp, and Pepper seemed to be smiling at her smugly. After she distributed Greenies into each dish, she washed her hands, finished her lunch, then picked up her jacket and purse. “I promise I’ll brush both of you tonight.”
The two cats followed her to the living room, then simultaneously jumped up on the deacon’s bench under the window in the sunlight. They began washing themselves, and Daisy knew they’d soon be asleep. They weren’t going to miss her one little bit.
As she drove toward Willow Creek Community Church, she knew she probably should have called Vanna to make sure she’d be there. On the other hand, if Vanna wasn’t at her office, she’d just stop at the tea garden and see how things were faring without her.
Whenever Daisy visited Vanna at the church, she parked in the church’s back lot and walked around to the side entrance. Chrysanthemums bloomed along the walkway. They were looking a little bedraggled because the colder temperatures had zapped them. Sometimes Thanksgiving in Pennsylvania could even bring snow.
An autumn wreath hung on the side door with ears of dried corn, a few gourds, and a huge orange bow. Daisy suspected Vanna had fashioned it.
She rang the bell, and a few seconds later Vanna appeared and opened the side door.
When she smiled, it seemed forced. “Hi, Daisy. What are you doing here?”
“I thought we could talk.”
“This is a good time,” Vanna said, and turned to head to her office.
Three steps led inside, and after Daisy climbed them, she walked down the hall following Vanna. Vanna turned right, where her office was located directly outside of the minister’s study. His door was open, but no one was inside.
“Did you come to me to talk about Margaret? Rowan told me you might.”
Instead of going around the desk to the rolling ergonomic chair, Vanna took one of the ladder-back chairs in front of the desk.
Daisy took the other chair.
Vanna looked uneasy as she asked, “What do you want to know?”
“You’ve already told me a little about Margaret.” Before hopping into questions that could lead to murder suspects, Daisy treaded easily and gently. “What was Margaret like before she left for New York?”
Vanna rubbed her hand across her forehead and closed her eyes for a moment. “She was always headstrong. When she got into trouble, I tried to cover for her.”
“Did she get into big trouble?”
Folding her hands in front of her, Vanna shook her head. “No. Mostly things like coming in late at night. She’d go in and out of our bedroom window. Or if all her chores weren’t done, I’d take up the slack.”
That sounded normal for sisters. “Did she appreciate those things?”
“I don’t know for sure. In a way I think she felt entitled. I was her sister so I should have her back.”
“But you didn’t feel that she had yours?”
Vanna leaned back in her chair. “There was no need for Margaret to have my back. I followed the rules. I did what I was told. I believed in the values my parents did. Even though I left the faith to marry my husband, we followed the same tenets. But Margaret. . . I don’t think she ever believed in anything in the first place.”
Vanna stood, crossed to the credenza, and straightened a pile of papers. “She couldn’t have run off to New York and not looked back if she had. I heard from her now and then. She was so proud of what she was seeing as if the sights of New York were some kind of awards she’d earned. But she usually didn’t put return addresses on the postcards except once or twice. To me that meant she didn’t want me to visit. I don’t even know what her stage name was. Rowan might know that. I did hear from her regularly after she met him. He was all she thought about and wrote about. From what I could tell, it certainly helped that he was rich. He could give her whatever she wanted. But even after he gave her the Little Theater here, I don’t know if she was happy. Rowan travels so much for business, and I think that was starting to bother Margaret. She might have left our life here, but deep down I think she wanted a marriage that lasted forever and someone who would think only about her.”
“Was Rowan that man?” Daisy asked, knowing all about little-girl dreams.
“I’m not sure.”
Deciding to change subjects, Daisy turned to another topic. “What do you know about Glenda Nurmi?”
After the pile of papers was arranged to her satisfaction, Vanna returned to her chair. “Not much. I simply know that she and Margaret were friends in New York. I think Margaret told me they acted in a play together.”
“And Margaret asked Glenda to come to Willow Creek because she was the playwright of the play?”
“Yes. Since they were friends, Margaret thought Glenda would enjoy the honor. Can you imagine writing a play and seeing it performed?”
“Do you know if Glenda had anything else made into a production?”
“I don’t know. Margaret only ever mentioned Glenda acting with her. This might be Glenda’s first play actually produced. Margaret said it needed tweaks and she could do that. Then it would be just right for a small town like Willow Creek.”
Daisy wondered if that was a compliment to Glenda . . . or a dig as to her ability.
Had Margaret made other digs? Digs that could have led to murder?
* * *
That evening, Daisy’s mom hosted a Thanksgiving planning meeting with dinner at the family home. Once Jonas had stepped in the door with Daisy, Rose watched Foster enter the kitchen behind them.
“Vi’s not coming?” Rose asked Foster as he came in with Jazzi.
“Vi wanted to stay at home with Sammy. He was sleeping and she didn’t want to wake him.”
“You know, don’t you, that babies have to adjust to your schedule, not the other way around,”
