Daisy rubbed her hands up and down her arms. It was cold in here.
“I can see you’re chilled. How about a mug of hot chocolate? We can talk about everything that doesn’t matter.”
Maybe it was because Daisy sensed loneliness in Jasper Lazar. Maybe instead of asking him questions, she could just listen to him to find out more about his life. “Hot chocolate sounds good.”
Chapter Eleven
On Monday afternoon, Daisy stopped at A Penny Saved, Willow Creek’s thrift store. It hadn’t been open very long. However, donations of clothes for children and adults had been coming in regularly. The store seemed filled to capacity. There were racks of blouses, one for skirts and one for slacks. Shoes lined up against one wall according to sizes, men’s, women’s, and children’s separated.
Amelia Wiseman was at the checkout desk. In her mid-forties, she wore her dark brown hair layered around her face. Even though she and her husband ran the Covered Bridge Bed and Breakfast, she also volunteered her time at the thrift store. She seemed to have boundless energy.
When she spotted Daisy, she waved and Daisy went over to the desk, commenting, “The store looks great.”
“And I was worried about it being necessary,” Amelia said. “You wouldn’t believe the people who come in here, families that you’d never expect.”
“Families like to put on a brave face that they’re doing well when they aren’t. I’ve noticed folks around here don’t particularly like to ask for help.”
“Now they don’t have to ask. It’s here in plain sight. Once the town council straightens out the plans for the homeless shelter, this town should be better off.”
“Winter is a hard time for many farming families,” Daisy agreed.
“And for some of the store owners when the tourist trade isn’t revved up.”
Moving closer to the counter, Daisy picked up a coupon flyer there. “Every day I’m grateful for the residents of Willow Creek who come into the tea garden.”
Amelia sank down onto the wooden stool behind the desk. “When the tour buses arrive, those tourists want something hot to drink in this cold weather and you provide it even if they don’t buy other souvenirs. They’re likely to stop by for a scone and a cup of tea.”
“Our special events are working out well too,” Daisy added.
“Who doesn’t want to build a gingerbread house?” Amelia looked like a child when she said it. “I’m only going to be here about an hour or so. Agnes Hopper will be coming in for the rest of the day and Sarah Jane will be joining her for a few hours.”
Agnes, whose husband had died about a year ago, was one of the older residents of Willow Creek. “Do you think working here fills up empty time for her?”
“Absolutely. I’m glad we’re filling a need for the volunteers too. Volunteering and doing something for others can lift anyone’s self-esteem and spirits.” Amelia hesitated for a few moments, but then she asked, “How is Violet doing? I hear she was having some problems adjusting to marriage and motherhood.”
It was on the tip of Daisy’s tongue to ask Amelia where she’d heard that, but there was no point. If someone at the tea garden overheard one of the servers talking about Violet, or maybe even one of Jazzi’s friends, word could get around. That’s the way Willow Creek was.
“The truth is, I’d like to say she’s doing better. In some ways she is, but in others I just don’t know. I see a dull look in her eyes sometimes that scares me. Her energy is very low even with Foster taking some of Sammy’s feedings now. She’s getting more sleep but I can’t tell a difference.”
Daisy had always been honest with Amelia and Amelia with Daisy. They weren’t really close friends, but they were friends, and it felt good to vent to someone outside of the situation.
“Postpartum depression?”
“I assume so. She’s going to be seeing her doctor.”
“Her doctor might suggest talk therapy first, but with postpartum that doesn’t always make a difference. The truth is—doctors don’t like to take a chance with their patients since more is known about it.”
“You’ve had experience with this?”
“I have with one of my nieces. Let me tell you, the sooner Violet gets help the better it will be. Make sure to encourage her that breastfeeding isn’t the be-all and end-all.”
Surprised, Daisy asked, “Why do you say that?”
“If she’s on an antidepressant, she won’t be able to breastfeed, but her well-being and her state of mind are more important for the baby right now than breast milk.”
Daisy could easily understand what Amelia was saying. The baby’s self-esteem, development, and even physical activity would have a lot to do with Violet—her moods, her level of energy, and her ability to give of herself.
“I’m hoping her doctor guides her in the right direction.”
“Doctors are so much more aware of postpartum than they were years ago, though I’m not sure families are. I know Vi has your full support. That helps.”
Changing the subject, Amelia pointed to the racks of women’s clothes. “You ought to take a look. We even have designer dresses there.”
“I don’t have much time. But I will.”
Daisy started making the rounds of the racks. She really didn’t need anything right now, but if Jonas took her someplace special again, she might want to have a new dress for that. She carefully watched how much of her budget she allotted for a wardrobe for her and Jazzi. Buying at the thrift shop, she could stretch it.
She spotted a maxi caftan-like dress that looked as if the blue, pink, and yellow flowers on it had been hand painted. It was her size. She pulled it off the rack and held it up. “This is beautiful.”
“That off-white background is popular even in
