“Well, you certainly accomplished that,” Maris agreed, smiling at her. Then she eyed the staircase. “Now we just have to get back up to the B&B.”
21
“You looked good out there on the bay,” Cookie said, new seedling in one hand and trowel in the other as she took a wide stance in the middle of her garden.
Maris laughed a little. “You could see us?”
Cookie smiled at her. “Until you went down the coast.” She bent to the ground and thrust the trowel into the soft soil. “Did you have fun?”
“A ton,” Maris said. “It helps when you’ve got two pros helping you.” She gazed back to the water. “It really is a great way to see the bay.”
The orange orb of the late afternoon sun was sinking fast, and the sparkling water had turned a rich cobalt blue. As evening enveloped them, the view would change yet again. Despite the amazing stability of the area’s weather, no sunset was like another. Each day, each hour, brought a different combination of colors, or simply something that Maris had never really noticed. She shook her head a little. It was ironic that, only on the verge of possibly losing the idyllic scene, was she finally appreciating it.
Even crouching low, Cookie’s form cast a long shadow across the many rows of herbs and flowers that she grew. The light sea breeze set some trembling, their tops dancing to an fro, as well as their shadows. The effect was surreal and for a few moments it seemed like the entire garden was gently undulating. Maris paused to take in the aroma as well, the lavender particularly. With a deep breath, she let it fill her lungs and then slowly let it go.
“What are you planting?” she asked.
“Rosemary,” the chef replied, pressing down the soil around the little plant. “Transplanting, actually. The seedlings are finally ready for the outdoors.” She glanced up at Maris. “Now is the perfect time, so they can settle in without direct sunlight.”
“Is rosemary something you’ll use in one of your teas or maybe a potion?”
The diminutive chef’s magical talent ensured that, whatever ailed you, you’d feel better after sipping one of her creations.
“Actually,” she said, standing up. “I’ll probably use it for the breakfast potatoes, or maybe to infuse olive oil.”
“Ah,” Maris said. That was a change. “Something culinary.”
Cookie nodded, eying her. “You’re looking particularly…relaxed.”
Maris smiled at her. “I’m feeling it. Lunch with Mac was wonderful, and the paddleboard was a great way to use some of the calories.” She considered for a moment. “Honestly, it’s been a perfect day.” She left out the fact that there’d been no progress on Audrey’s murder, except for Julia’s fingerprints on the flyers—which everyone had expected.
Cookie nodded. “Good,” she said, and shook the trowel at her. “And it’s about time.”
Maris laughed a little. Maybe she’d finally been able to tone down her Type A+ behavior. If she could feel like this all the time, she might just bid her overdrive to get things done goodbye. Maybe some things on the to-do list weren’t that important after all. She thought back to the fun outing on the bay.
“You know,” she said. “I think it might be nice to order some paddleboards for the B&B. They really are pretty simple to use and the safety gear is minimal. We might even win more fans of the bay.”
Cookie looked toward the dock, though it wasn’t visible from up here. “Store them with the kayaks, then?”
“Yes,” Maris answered. “I think we could even stack them.”
Cookie moved her gaze back to Maris. “Sounds good.” Then she smirked and glanced at the B&B. “I guess Lydia knows how to do her job.”
Maris laughed. “Ha! I guess she does.” She nodded. “All right, I’ll put in the order at the Wine Down.” As she turned to head inside to get ready for it, she said, “I’ll let you get on with the rosemary while there’s still light.”
Cookie turned to go back to the greenhouse. “Just a couple more.”
22
Bright morning sun spilled into the light-filled living room of Millicent Leclair’s charming, three-story home.
“Ladies,” she said, as she ushered Maris in. “Guess who is joining us today.”
Maris had suddenly recalled her precognitive vision of the crochet club when she’d woken up and seen the old photo of Glenda and Cookie on her dressing table. But she’d waited to pay her visit until the usual B&B morning routine had been completed.
“Maris,” exclaimed Zarina, smiling. “How wonderful.”
Her dark eyes sparkled behind the enormous glasses that she seemed to favor. As usual, she had a headband around her short, dark hair. Likely the same age as Millicent, though quite a bit heavier, the laugh lines and crow’s feet etched into her face seem to have been well earned.
“Good to see you, Zarina,” Maris said, smiling and nodding to her.
“Come sit,” said Vera. She patted the empty chair next to her.
Like Millicent, Vera had elected not to dye her hair. It was completely white, but thick, framing her round face. She wore a small pair of reading glasses perched on the end of her nose, looking over them at Maris.
“Thank you, Vera,” Maris said, as she crossed the circle and Millicent resumed her seat near the fireplace.
“It’s been a while, young lady,” Eunice said. The dour redhead with the frizzy hair and red glasses didn’t look up from her project. “That lighthouse must be keeping you busy.”
While Vera and Zarina were on the plump side, Eunice was rather thin. If not for the fact that Maris had seen her power walking around the plaza on more than one occasion, she’d have said Eunice looked fragile.
“It’s always something, it seems,” Maris replied. She reached into her tote bag and brought out her own project—the same one she always brought.
“What have you got there?” Helen asked. She lifted her horn-rimmed glasses a
