Somehow both Jonas and Zeke had to find their way to peace. She had the feeling she would be no help, and maybe she’d even be a hindrance.
Her cell phone still in her hand from her phone call, she tapped on her CONTACTS icon to call Rowan. One way or another, she’d find out where Margaret had lived in New York. One way or another, she’d get to the bottom of her murder.
* * *
Since Jazzi had worked at the tea garden after school, Daisy drove them home. She listened as Jazzi told her about a peer counseling session. Jazzi normally kept the information quiet . . . and confidential. But she also knew Daisy wouldn’t spill a secret.
“I just feel so sorry for Brielle, Mom. Her parents are rich. She has everything she wants. But they’re never home. They both go out of town a lot.”
“What does she do when they go out of town?”
“They have a housekeeper who stays overnight. If she can convince her parents, she stays with her grammy who’s very old-world . . . almost Amish.”
Daisy knew there wasn’t any almost Amish. You either were or you weren’t. But she knew what Jazzi meant. The girl’s grammy might live with the bare essentials, and ultimately a plain life. Maybe they all should be living a plain life. Maybe the world would be a better place, focusing on faith, family, and community.
Daisy considered her childhood friend Rachel and Levi and their family. Sure, they had family troubles too. But somehow they all pulled together to ease those troubles. Somehow the family nights around the dinner table, evenings filled with homework and possibly board games, gave them family unity. Physical labor with chores, learning to farm, caring for animals all contributed to teamwork. It coalesced into a happy life for the Fisher family.
A sigh inside of her seemed to build up so big that she couldn’t let it out. She was probably idealizing. Even Rachel would tell her so.
“Mom, did you hear me?”
Daisy gave Jazzi a sideways glance. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“Nothing important.”
“Jazzi, whatever you have to say is important. You just caught me daydreaming for a minute.”
Perceptive, Jazzi shook her head, her long black hair sliding across her peacoat. “I don’t think it was daydreaming.”
Daisy gave her daughter another quick sideways glance. “Pardon me?”
“You were up at dawn this morning before I caught the school bus.”
Because she had been worried about Jonas, she’d felt the need to go into the tea garden early, meet Iris there, and start baking. Her hands kneading dough always calmed her. “I left you a note.”
“Yeah, something lame about helping Aunt Iris make loaves of apple bread. Since when do you go in at five a.m. to help with that? Usually Tessa and Aunt Iris start it.”
Daisy was silent. Her daughter was more observant than she gave her credit for. She wasn’t going to lie to her. “I had something on my mind.”
“Something to do with Jonas?”
When Daisy had gotten home, Jazzi had still been at Vi’s and Foster’s apartment. After Jazzi had come home, they’d both gone to bed.
“Mom,” Jazzi prompted, drawing out the title.
“I do have Jonas on my mind. Detective Willet said something to him last night that upset Jonas.”
“But you’re not going to tell me more,” Jazzi guessed.
“Not now.”
“Do you know why Jonas is upset?” Jazzi asked.
Daisy turned onto the road that led to her house. “I do.”
“Then I know you’ll help him.”
Jazzi’s sureness about that possibility disconcerted Daisy. “That’s the problem, Jazzi—I don’t know if he’s going to want my help.”
Both of them were quiet on the rest of the drive. After they walked from the garage to the house, they went inside the house and greeted the cats. Marjoram almost tripped Jazzi as she crossed to the closet to hang up her coat.
She picked up the tortoiseshell and nuzzled her neck. “You’re demanding attention. Didn’t you and your sister have enough to do today?”
Daisy pointed to the ruffled rug near the coffee table and the few toys—a Ping-Pong ball, a toy turtle filled with catnip, and a fake mouse—that lay in the area.
Daisy had hung up her jacket when Pepper ran to her.
“You don’t want to be left out, do you?” Daisy stooped over and picked up the tuxedo cat, scratching her around her ruff. Pepper purred and leaned against Daisy’s chest. The warm little body against hers felt good.
Marjoram had already squiggled out of Jazzi’s arms. She headed to the kitchen as if to ask, When’s supper?
Daisy sank down onto the sofa with Pepper, running her hand down her back, relaxing along with Pepper’s purrs. She’d heard petting a cat could lower blood pressure. She also thought cuddling with a cat could soothe her soul.
Sitting on the coffee table facing Daisy, Jazzi asked, “Is there anything I can do for you, Mom?”
Daisy flipped off her shoes. “No, honey. I just need a couple of minutes before I start supper. Are tacos okay tonight?”
“They’re fine.”
“I want to check my e-mail and then we can get started.”
“Are you expecting an e-mail from Jonas?”
When Daisy gave her daughter a warning look, Jazzi reached over to pet Pepper too. “All right, I won’t press. But why are you checking e-mail? Do you want your laptop?”
“That would be great.”
“I’ll get it.” Jazzi knew Daisy kept her laptop on the desk in her bedroom. Seconds later, she was back with it. Daisy booted up her e-mail program.
Pepper walked from Daisy’s lap to the sofa cushion beside her and wriggled next to her leg. Marjoram came back into the living room and sat at Daisy’s feet, looking up at her as if to say, What’s the holdup with supper?
When Daisy checked her e-mail, she found what she was looking for.
