“What about my father?” Michael asked.
We were so engrossed in Fiona Danielson’s story, none of us noticed Michael’s return.
“You never told me that your dad knew Leroy or Leroy’s father,” I said, trying not to sound accusatory.
“I didn’t know he did.” He glanced around. “Is it important?”
“I guess not. No . . . of course not. I just . . . no.” I tried to figure out why that knowledge would matter, and for the life of me I couldn’t come up with a good reason, other than it would be something that Leroy knew but hadn’t shared with me. No big deal. He’d only known me for three months. No reason for him to spill his entire life story to a stranger.
Michael sat next to me and took my hand. “My dad was in the Air Force. He spent a lot of time overseas and going wherever the Air Force told him to go. I was in high school when he died.” He paused for a few moments while he thought. “Yeah, it was my freshman year of high school. Now, can someone tell me what my dad has to do with Leroy?”
Hannah dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “My Michael was a good boy.”
I reached over and hugged him. “Nothing.”
When he pulled away and looked at me it was clear that he didn’t believe me, but he dropped it.
We quickly got him up to speed.
“So, my dad helped Leroy get to New Bison. I had no idea.”
“There’s no reason that you should.”
It was clear from the way he looked at me that he didn’t believe me, but that was okay. I would explain later. I looked at Fiona to continue.
“There’s not much else. He came to the States. He got his GED, and I had hoped he would go on to college or maybe even join the Air Force like his dad, but . . . he still hates to fly, and I think a small part of him still blames the military for causing his dad’s death. He got a job at the bakery, and Miss Octavia taught him to bake, which he loves.” A smile broke across her face. “He always loved baking, even when he was just a wee little thing. I couldn’t bake much when I first married James, so I remember going to the library and getting a cookbook for children.” She chuckled. “I found a really simple peanut butter cookie recipe, and Leroy used to love to make those with his dad.” She shook her head at the memory. “There were only four ingredients, and his dad used to sit him on the counter and let him pour each ingredient in the bowl.” She clasped her hand over her mouth. “I’ll bet that’s one of the reasons he loves baking, because it reminds him of his dad.”
Michael and Hannah exchanged a look, and then Michael smiled.
“You remember?” Hannah asked.
“Of course, I remember,” he said. “You used to do the same thing with me. When I was little, my grandma used to let me bake with her. Only we made sugar cookies with sprinkles.”
“Lawd, you used to love those sugar cookies. There’d be so many sprinkles on top, you couldn’t see the cookie.” She joked. “He liked the chocolate sprinkles best.”
For a few minutes, both April and Tyler shared their favorite childhood baking stories. They all seemed to have a memory of baking with their parents or grandparents and those recollections brought back warm memories. I listened quietly while they relived those baking moments. Sadly, I didn’t have any memories of baking with the Admiral. If I wanted cookies, he bought them or ordered them from a bakery. Navy admirals didn’t have time to bake with their daughters. Maybe if I’d spent more time with Aunt Octavia, I’d have baking memories too.
Michael must have noticed my silence because he took my hand and gave it a squeeze.
When the reminiscing died down, Fiona took a deep breath and continued. “Leroy leaving gave me the kick in the pants I needed to leave Horace. I went into rehab and got dried out. I haven’t had a drop of alcohol in five years.” She hung her head. “Although, I came close this morning when I heard he was in jail.”
Hannah patted Fiona’s arm. “We’re not going to let you break that streak, so it’s a good thing you came.”
We all muttered words of encouragement, and I hoped that Hannah hadn’t shared whatever she had in that flask she carried around in her purse.
“We need to get things moving so we can get Leroy out of that place.” Hannah turned to me. “What do you want us to do?”
“I can’t stop thinking about Marjorie. From what I’ve heard of the people who knew her, they all said she was a nice person.”
“It’s been years since I saw Marjorie, and she was a sweet girl. But people change. I don’t know who that woman is that came into town with Clayton Davenport and caused all that trouble for Candy, but that’s not the Marjorie Rivers I remember.”
Hannah was one of the few people who remembered Marjorie Rivers, and now the dementia made her account less than reliable.
“We need to know what Clayton Davenport had on her that made her agree to come back to New Bison and sell Garrett Kelley’s bookstore and help fleece Candy out of her share of Paul Rivers’s estate,” I said. “She’s holding something back. I’m hoping a slice of your sweet potato pie will loosen her tongue.”
Hannah looked at Fiona. “We’ll get her to talk one way or another.”
There was something about the way she said one way or another that worried me, but I looked at these two older women and immediately pushed it out of my mind.
“What are you going to do?” April asked.
“I’m going to talk to Chris Russell to get confirmation of Candy’s alibi, and then I’m going to have another talk with Jackson Abernathy.” I turned to Fiona Danielson. “Fiona, do you know what happened to Clayton Davenport’s things? The items he left in his room?”
“I sure do. They’re in the storage room at the inn. I packed them up myself.”
I looked to April. “Does Clayton have any other family that you’re aware of?”
She narrowed her gaze and shook her head. “No, but . . . you can’t be thinking what I think you’re thinking.”
“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I was only thinking that when you talk to Clayton’s lawyer, maybe you could ask what he wants us to do with his things at the hotel. That’s all.” I said it as innocently as I could.
“Sure.” She shot me a look that said I know you’re up to something, but I don’t know what.
I ignored the look. “Let’s meet back here at five. I’ve got to meet Mayor Abernathy at the bakery to do a final walk-through from the renovations.”
“That’s unusual to have the insurance company also doing the underwriting, isn’t it?” Fiona asked.
“He inherited the insurance company from his father and was just helping out the underwriters. In a small town, they sometimes share resources. One of the gazillion papers I had to sign at the time of the fire was my consent. So far, I guess it’s been okay. Once everything’s set, then I’ll probably switch companies. I just want to wrap up everything with the fire first.”
“That’s smart,” Hannah said. “It’ll be good to be back in the bakery and not hauling food out to the road every day.”
“It’s nice that you have a commercial kitchen here in your home,” Fiona said.
“Aunt Octavia started Baby Cakes right here,” I said. I might not have been here from the beginning, but you wouldn’t have known that from the pride in my voice.
“Lord, I remember when Octavia bought that building downtown and turned it into a bakery,” Hannah said. “She worked her fingers to the bone baking, cleaning, and getting the word out.” She laughed. “Lord, I think she musta gave away more cookies, muffins, and zucchini bread than she sold. Not like today, where you just snap a picture with your phone, and the next thing you know it’s floating around out in the air and folks are lining up for a sale.”
“Well, there’s a lot more that goes into social media promoting,” I said. “You really need to understand people.”
“Well, Octavia always said, ‘When you’re good at what you do, you make it look easy.’ She used to make baking look easy. Tyler makes knitting look easy, but when he tried to teach me, I had yarn everywhere.” Hannah laughed. “I remember Marjorie used to love Octavia’s lemon meringue pie. Octavia even tried to teach her to make it, but she just never could get the meringue right.” She looked at me. “You have Octavia’s recipe for lemon meringue pie. I’ll bet if you whipped one up real quick, that would really loosen her lips.”
“I don’t know if there’s time. Would you mind doing it?”
Hannah didn’t respond.
“Miss Hannah?” I repeated.
She turned to stare at me. “Hello. Who are you?”
