“Was Jonas there?”
“He was.”
“Did he call the paramedics?”
Daisy didn’t look her aunt in the eyes, but concentrated on wrapping produce. “Don’t be silly. I told him not to. Vanna was there and she took care of one of my brush burns.”
“Does this have something to do with you asking questions about Margaret?”
“No proof of that,” Daisy quickly answered, and went into the walk-in to store the lettuce.
Everyone yesterday had made sure she was okay. She had a feeling Rowan was more worried about liability than her when he’d called her last night. She caught herself. That wasn’t nice. Everyone who had been there had been concerned. Jonas had insisted on driving her home. She’d let him. Then she’d put ice packs on the parts that hurt and texted back and forth with Foster about Violet because Vi hadn’t answered her texts.
From Foster she’d learned Vi had had one weepy spell in the afternoon. He’d cooked supper, saying Vi had eaten a few spoonfuls of his macaroni and cheese. He’d encouraged her to eat a piece of toast later.
Daisy was worried. Vi’s appointment with her doctor tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.
Cora Sue entered the kitchen from their main serving room. Finding Daisy in the walk-in, she pointed to the tearoom. “Arden Botterill’s here. She’d like to see you. I showed her to a table and asked what type of tea she’d like and she told me the honey ginseng green tea. Is that okay for you too?”
“That’s fine.” She checked the clock on the wall. It was eleven. “Did she say if she’d like anything to eat?”
“She insisted she just wanted tea.”
Although Daisy didn’t know Arden well, she did know her. When Arden just requested tea and nothing to go with it, she was seriously keeping to her diet. The woman didn’t need to be on a diet, Daisy thought.
Iris gestured to the produce still lying on the counter. “I’ll take care of this. Go talk to Arden. Be careful not to trip over anything.”
Cora Sue gave Daisy an odd look.
Daisy just scrunched up her nose at her aunt. “Not funny.”
Daisy found that Cora Sue had set up Arden in the spillover tearoom that for now was almost empty. Only one other table for four was occupied. This was the best place to be for privacy.
Daisy smiled at Arden as she sat around the corner of the table from her. “It’s good to see you. What brings you in?”
Arden had slipped off her navy peacoat and let it slide over the back of the chair. “First of all, how are you feeling?”
“A little sore, but nothing I can’t handle.”
“That was quite a fall you had yesterday, or accident, or whatever it was. I do know those pine trees are heavy. I’ve tried to move them.”
“Fortunately, my shoulder and hip took the brunt of it,” Daisy admitted.
“It’s a good thing it wasn’t Vanna. She could have broken something.”
Could that accident have been meant for someone other than herself? She hadn’t thought about that.
Cora Sue approached them carrying a tray with a pot of tea, two cups and saucers in a purple rose vintage pattern, as well as a small bowl of sparkling sugar and a tiny pitcher of cream. “Just yell if you need anything else,” she directed them, and moved away quickly, seeming to know they wanted to talk.
After Cora Sue had entered the main tearoom, Arden stirred sugar into her tea without tasting the tea first.
Daisy tapped her arm. “Remember, that has honey in it.”
“Oh, I know. I’m in the mood for something really sweet right now. No one in the cast is being very sweet.”
“Did something happen after I left?”
Arden stared into her tea. “Not exactly. I’m just stressed about the whole thing. I don’t know how we’re ever going to be ready for a performance.”
“Don’t you think in every production the cast feels that way?”
With a sigh, Arden met Daisy’s gaze. “I’ve heard that. I don’t know if I believe it. If everyone knows their lines and where they’re supposed to be and when, and they’ve practiced enough, they should be pretty sure about how it’s going to go. But we haven’t done any of those things, not often enough. Margaret kept changing the script. Now Glenda’s adding notes. To tell the truth, I think she wants to spend time with Rowan more than she wants to work on the script.”
Daisy gave Arden a questioning look, a look that asked if she really meant what she said.
“I’m serious,” she assured Daisy. “Do you know if Glenda knew Rowan before Margaret did?”
Daisy took a sip of her own tea and carefully set down the cup on the saucer. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I wonder if there was some rivalry between Margaret and Glenda for Rowan’s affection . . . or his money.”
Sometimes Daisy thought Arden was very much like the vinegar and spices that she sold. She could be tangy and tart. “Did you see any evidence of that?”
Arden picked up her spoon, studied the decorated handle, then set it down again. “I’m not sure. Rowan wasn’t there all that much when Margaret was leading the production. After all, he had business concerns to take care of. But now he seems to be there an awful lot. Glenda takes advantage of that.”
“How?”
“Daisy, don’t question me like that. You know what I’m talking about. When a woman likes a man, she finds a way to get close to him. Her elbow meets his. Her shoulder rocks his. Her head leans near his. She has questions she never had before, only for him. That’s the way Glenda’s been acting. What if . . .” Arden stopped and put her hand over her mouth. “I’m not going to say it out loud.”
“No one can overhear us. What are you thinking? If it rolls around in your head, it will just make you feel worse, don’t you
