I got back into the car and invited Elton to come to the house for a cup of tea.
“That’s very kind of you, ma’am. Do you happen to know what Miss Lucinda is baking today?”
“No, I don’t, but so far I’ve eaten her blueberry scones, benne wafers, and sweet potato pie, and all were scrumptious. Do you think there is more in her repertoire?”
“Lots more. Her pralines are delish, and you haven’t lived until you’ve tasted her cola cake.” Elton licked his lips.
“I have heard that cola cake is popular in the South but I have never actually tried some.”
“Soon as Lucinda finds that out, she’ll have a cola cake in the oven in no time. You are in for a treat, Mrs. Fletcher.”
The house was silent as a tomb. I wanted to check on Dolores but thought it best to head for the kitchen to see if Lucinda or Marla Mae could give me an update.
Marla Mae stopped polishing silver and wiped her hands on a dish towel when she saw us come into the kitchen. “Hey, Mrs. Fletcher, did Li’l Bro treat you right?”
“Elton is a courteous and safety-conscious driver. Who could ask for more? He and I would both love a cup of tea.”
“Did Miss Lucinda bake anything special today?” Elton was hopeful.
“If you stop drooling, Elton”—Marla Mae laughed—“I will get you a healthy slice of Lucinda’s cherry banana bread.”
Elton fell into the nearest chair and clutched his chest. “Be still my heart. I suppose you have some cream cheese in the fridge?”
Marla Mae winked at me. “Elton never met a fruit bread he didn’t want to smother with cream cheese. Waste of good fruit bread, if you ask me.”
She put on the kettle, then took cups and plates from a cabinet and set the table for four. “Lucinda went to check on Miss Dolores. I expect she’ll be joining us shortly.”
That answered one question; Dolores was still in her room. “And what about Mr. Crayfield and Mr. Travers? How are they spending their day?”
“Mr. Clancy took Abby down to the Riverbanks. It’s a zoo and a garden in town. Lots of distractions for the child. As to Mr. Crayfield, he could be anywhere. I saw him in the sitting garden early on, and then he was doodling around that putting green that Mr. Willis liked to keep to himself. No harm now, I suppose.” She poured boiling water into a pink-rose porcelain teapot. “I’ll let that steep for a few minutes while I cut the cherry banana bread. Oh, now what?”
The harsh noise of a buzzer cut through the kitchen, while elegant chimes sounded in the distance.
I followed Marla Mae. She pulled the front door wide open and there was Tom Blomquist holding an oversized basket of fruit. Candy stood slightly behind him with a bouquet of pink lilies and white roses tucked in the crook of her arm.
“Ah, we thought we’d come to express our condolences to Dolores,” Tom said. “Terrible thing to happen. Just terrible.”
Marla Mae looked at me uncertainly. We both knew that Dolores was surely indisposed. I decided to play hostess, and perhaps have a few questions answered in the process.
“How kind of you both. Please do come in. Dolores is resting, but I hope you will stay for tea. Marla Mae will be happy to put those gorgeous flowers in a vase.”
Marla Mae took the fruit basket and the flowers. I led the Blomquists to the library.
Once we were seated, Tom Blomquist was first to speak. “I was horrified to learn about Willis’s accident. Ah, such an energetic man. A mover and a shaker.”
“Yes. It’s very sad. Tell me, how did you hear about it?”
“Marjory Ribault called me. She even offered to let us in the gate when I said we would definitely make a condolence call,” Candy answered for them both. “Marjory told me she’d seen a lot of fuss and flutter around the koi pond. Later, when she went out for her walk, she met you and you said that Willis fell into the pond.”
“Yes, it’s quite true—I did meet Marjory on the lawn this morning and I did confirm that Willis was dead. She didn’t seem at all upset. In fact, quite the contrary—she seemed almost gleeful.”
“Ah, but you don’t know the whole story,” Tom said. “Marjory’s father succumbed to particularly hard times and had no choice but to sell this house and the land that had been in his family since before the war. You know, the Civil War. Marjory is the last of a long line. Her father wanted to see she was provided for and not wind up house rich and money poor, like so many others we know.”
“Still, I think she’d rather have the house than the money,” Candy said, “while I’d opt for the money every time.”
Tom glared at her. “Candy, please don’t be so crass.”
Lucinda came in carrying a tea tray, followed by Marla Mae, who’d made a pleasing arrangement of lilies and roses in a tall crystal vase that reminded me of several Waterford pieces I’d seen on my last visit to Ireland.
“Thank you, ladies.” I looked directly at Lucinda. “I told the Blomquists that Dolores is confined to her room and offered them some of your delicious cherry banana bread.”
Lucinda replied, “Miss Dolores is getting the rest she sorely needs.”
Good. Then I needn’t fear Dolores, after imbibing too much sherry, would come down the stairs wondering loudly where everybody was.
Lucinda poured tea and set out a plate covered with slices of cherry banana bread. I hoped Elton had gotten a piece or two before these slices left the kitchen. Which reminded me, I’d done enough traveling for one day. As the ladies were leaving the room I said, “Marla Mae, please tell Elton he won’t be needed again today. We’ll give him ample notice of a start time tomorrow.”
Candy broke a slice of cherry banana bread in half, while Tom opted for a
