The Marsh Madness

“Ansel Adams and Georgia O’Keeffe. And I heard there might be a Colville,” he bellowed.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with the signal. I’ll call you later.” I rang off. I imagined poor Uncle Mick standing there, baffled, lusting after that silver and those artworks. He’d be as appealing as ever with the gold chain glinting in his curly chest hair, the match to his eyebrows and full head of ginger hair. I loved him to bits, but I did not intend to facilitate any pillaging of the Kauffman holdings.

I hustled after Vera and Kev. I wanted to be part of the planning. That was pure self-preservation.

Vera turned back to me as she rolled down the hall toward the study, “By the way, a package came for you, Miss Bingham. I signed for it. It’s at the front door.”

“A package?”

“Yes, flowers. A delivery of flowers.”

“Flowers?”

“I wish you wouldn’t parrot, Miss Bingham. It’s most annoying. It’s even worse than chirping.”

“What kind of flowers?”

“How would I know? It’s a long white box. Go find out for yourself.” Vera radiated irritation.

“Who would be sending me flowers?” I mused out loud. Flowers were a good thing, but I wasn’t used to having them delivered.

“Go look at the card,” she muttered. “Mr. Kelly and I can plan without you.”

I hesitated about leaving them together alone. “I’ll be right back,” I said, hurrying toward the front door.

It was indeed a long white box, with a lovely red satin ribbon and a note.

Especially for you, Jordan.

Guess who?

They must have been from Tyler Dekker, the object of my affections, even if he was a police officer and that wasn’t a such good fit with my family, given their “business.” Who else would send flowers? Lance, my longtime friend and favorite librarian? Maybe. He likes flowers and loves a romantic gesture. But Lance would never miss the opportunity to observe their impact. So Tyler, for sure.

I was almost dizzy with anticipation as I removed the ribbon and flipped the top off the box. Roses. Deep-red roses with long stems. They were once beautiful, but now they were very dead. The cloying scent of must and old roses wafted up.

I stared at the desiccated blooms and then at the box. Someone had taken the trouble to arrange to deliver a dozen long-stemmed roses to me.

I turned the box over. No indication of who they’d come from. The box said Flora’s Fanciful Flowers. Never heard of them.

Oh well. I headed toward the utility room to stash them in the box that would make its way to our compost when Kev got around to it. I figured the paper box would break down too.

Kev scurried up behind me. “All systems are go. I’ll tune up the Caddy for tomorrow.”

“Wear something respectable, Kev. No jeans, no Hooters T-shirts, no runners. Dress up.”

“Will do.”

“Make sure, Kev. It’s important.”

“I won’t mess up, Jordie. This is going to be fun. You coming in the Caddy with us?”

Not a chance. “I’ll ride solo.” I figured I’d be calmer that way. I decided it would be great. More than great, wonderful. I couldn’t wait.

In fact, if it hadn’t been for the two-dozen dead long-stemmed roses, I would have had only one thing on my mind.

Summerlea.





CHAPTER TWO





“DEAD ROSES?” TYLER “Smiley” Dekker said, in a slightly strangled voice when I called him. I got him just coming off duty that evening “Well, no. I didn’t send you dead roses. Why would you even think that?”

Tyler Dekker, despite being a police officer, was one of the kindest people in the world. I knew that. He also seemed to genuinely like me. You can bet that’s caused me a world of grief, but not from him. I pretty much genuinely liked him right back.