Lavender and Lies Read online

  Lavender and Lies

  Copyright © 2019 by London Lovett

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Freesias and Foul Play

  Caramel Chocolate Bonbons

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  My feet practically pranced along the sidewalk, an unusually enthusiastic stride for a Monday morning, but the beautiful day required it. For me there was nothing more invigorating and uplifting than a crisp fall day with an azure blue sky. The air was filled with a brisk salty scent and the comforting aroma of Les's pumpkin spice coffee. Monday or not, there was just no way to be gloomy when we were surrounded by swirls of autumn. It was late enough in the season that most of the brilliant yellows and oranges had darkened to reds and browns. Soon, most of the color would be gone, leaving behind only the hearty verdant green of the tall pines on the outskirts of town. Then, winter would rear its frosty head and trigger our instinctual quest for coziness. Briggs always found it humorous that I looked forward to the inconvenient ice and wind of winter, but as I'd explained to him many times, bitter cold always brought with it the promise of hot cocoa, roaring fires and cuddles under thick, flannel blankets. And that was never a bad thing. Even he had to admit the cuddling under thick blankets was a definite check on the positive side when it came to winter.

  My tall, perpetually handsome neighbor, Dash, came around the corner from the Coffee Hutch just as I reached the door to my flower shop. Kingston recognized him instantly and hopped along the sidewalk toward him in hopes of garnering a treat.

  Dash stopped and stared down at my pushy crow. "Sorry, buddy, this extra coffee is for your mom."

  I squeaked a little in excitement. "I hoped that was the case, only I didn't want to assume and make an—well, you know." I reached for the hot cup of coffee. Fragrant molecules of clove, cinnamon and nutmeg clung to the curl of steam hovering over the cup. I took a sip and made the obligatory sigh. "So yummy." I peered up at Dash. He was wearing a blue and green flannel shirt, a good look for him. Although, everything looked nice on him. Now that Briggs had finally accepted that Dash and I were friends, Dash and I had grown closer again. He was, after all, my neighbor, and frankly, there was nothing more disagreeable and awkward than disliking your neighbor. Dash had brutally betrayed Briggs some years earlier and I would never feel quite the same about him, but it was much more pleasant being on friendly terms. Life was just too short for anxiety and dismay.

  I took one more sip. "Les is the king of coffee roasters."

  I turned back to unlock the door. Kingston elbowed, or winged, past us and headed for his perch in the shop window. The entire store was bathed with the perfumed scent of gardenias. Ryder and I had spent the last week making arrangements for a wedding, and the gardenias were what I liked to call the main event in the bridal bouquets.

  It wasn't an easy week, considering just how fragrant gardenias are, especially if you're cutting, pruning and manipulating them to fit in a bouquet. My hypersensitive nose prompted me to leave the shop to clear my head at least five times. Fortunately, my perfectly wonderful floral assistant, Ryder, stepped in whenever the perfume overwhelmed me.

  Dash had put down his coffee to search for the treat can on the work island. "I think if I walk out of here without giving that bird a snack, he'll shun me forever."

  I smiled. "You're probably right. King is very good at the whole cold shoulder routine. The can is on the second shelf, below the ribbon spools." I pulled off my coat and carried my things back to the office. I turned on my computer and headed back out.

  Dash was talking to Kingston, letting him know that he would always carry a treat in his pocket from now on, for emergencies. The crow was already far too absorbed in breaking open the peanut shell to hear the promise.

  "So it's official," Dash said, sounding slightly sad.

  "What? That my bird really only cares about treats?"

  He laughed quietly. "No, I was talking about Britney. She's going back to Paris. She got the internship with the big pastry chef." Dash wasn't the type of person to frown, but he was definitely close to it. Dash and Elsie's niece, Britney, a beautiful, young woman and extremely talented baker, had been dating for months. The best word to describe the relationship was tumultuous. Britney had come on far too strong in the beginning, and it had scared Dash off a bit. He was convinced he didn't have deep feelings for her, and his occasional indifference to her had riled Elsie up good. I'd found myself, far too often, in the center of the entire mess. But now, it seemed Dash was genuinely sad to see Britney go.

  I walked over to him and patted his arm. "Guess it's that old saying—you don't know what you have until it's gone."

  He nodded. "That pretty much sums it up. Still, this is a great opportunity for her, and we're going to keep in touch. Who knows, it might not be the end for us. Might just be a new beginning for her."

  "Well put."

  The bell on the door clanged. Normally, I would have been surprised to see Kate Yardley, owner of the vintage clothing boutique, walking into the flower shop on a Monday morning, but it was easy to surmise that she had spotted Dash walking in behind me. Kate was beautiful, fashionable, successful and slightly standoffish. We had never become good friends, but we occasionally spoke like familiar acquaintances. She was also interminably in love with Dash. They had dated briefly and had seen each other off and on, but he was not interested in anything serious or permanent. Kate, on the other hand, was in constant pursuit of something very permanent, namely a husband. In the past year, she had been in and out of engagements with four different men. I wasn't sure whether to consider it absurd or sad. I couldn't understand why she had such a difficult time with it all, but her ongoing obsession with Dash probably wasn't helping matters.

  This morning, Kate's attire was unusually subdued. She'd forgone the usual mod, flashy clothing for a simple pair of jeans and a pale blue sweater. Her only nod to the vintage style she always wore so well was a giant pair of silver hoops in her ears.

  She shuffled in on short black boots, brushed back the hair from her shoulder and glanced instantly at my other visitor. "Oh, Dash, hello, I didn't see you there," she said lightly, along with a not so subtle flutter of her lashes.

  "Morning, Kate, good to see you," Dash said politely back.

  "Hello, Pink, beautiful morning isn't it?" Now I was sure her visit was a scheme to see Dash. She never called me Pink, and she certainly never brought up the topic of weather. She was not big on frill or friendly conversation, but it seemed today I was in for a t
reat. She hopped up on a stool in front of the work island.

  "What can I get for you, Kate?" I asked. "Ryder planted some fresh herbs in decorative pots—" I was just about to point them out on the shelf across the way when she jumped right into her main purpose for the visit.

  "Actually, I just wanted to let you know that you might have a new customer this afternoon." She spoke loudly enough to make sure Dash, who was giving Kingston another peanut, could hear. Her eyes flicked his direction as she spoke to make sure he hadn't left.

  "That's nice to know," I said. "A friend of yours? I'll be sure to give her a special deal."

  "It's a man," she corrected briskly, with another glance Dash's direction. "My new boyfriend, Lionel." Her voice carried across the room. She leaned in as if she was going to lower her voice and tell me something in confidence (which would have been even weirder than her calling me Pink). Only she never lowered her voice. In fact, she spoke clearly and loudly to make sure every syllable reached Dash's ears. "He's just moved into a massive colonial mansion in Chesterton. You know, the expensive area, with all the big houses and million dollar estates?" she asked. "It overlooks Chesterton Bay."

  "Yes, I know the neighborhood. Very nice. He must do well." I decided to play along with the new best friend status she'd invented between us.

  "He's very wealthy." She smoothed her hair down on one side and turned just enough in the process to get another quick look at Dash. For someone who had a new, rich boyfriend, she certainly was spending a good deal of time gawking at Dash.

  "That's nice. What does he do?" I asked. It was a perfectly logical follow up question, but it seemed to have her flummoxed. But I wasn't terribly surprised, considering Kate went through men like most people went through socks. It was entirely possible she hadn't known this man Lionel long enough to even find out his last name, let alone his profession.

  "He's in trade or exports or something like that." She waved off any specifics with a flutter of her long, pink nails. I'd found, in my first decade in the adult world, that when someone said they were involved in trade or exports, it usually meant they were either just trying to sound important or they were up to something shady. I was hoping, for Kate's sake, it was the former.

  Kate reached into her shiny leather clutch and pulled out her phone. It was tucked inside a rhinestone protective case. Her long nails slid over the screen. "Lionel is camera shy, but I managed to sneak one picture of him. This was inside his dining room. It's still empty. He ordered a French antique dining table, but it's coming all the way from Europe." She shoved the phone out for me to see.

  There was no denying that Lionel was handsome, with a strong chin and straight nose. There was also no denying that he was probably in his mid to late forties, with graying around the temples and strands of white in his thick, wavy hair. I'd never asked but I always assumed Kate was around my age. I supposed the age difference was easy to overlook when it came with a mansion. Although, from the bits I could see, this particular mansion needed some heavy duty rehab.

  "I'll see you both later," Dash said as he headed toward the exit.

  "Goodbye, Dash," Kate said with a wave. "By the way, if you see a new silver Porsche zipping through town it belongs to my new friend, Lionel."

  Dash nodded. "Good to know." He was trying hard to hide a grin. Kate was making it so comically obvious, it almost didn't seem like her. Not that she was ever subtle when it came to Dash but this particular performance was Oscar worthy.

  "Thanks for the coffee," I called to Dash as he slipped out the door to freedom. Something told me my own freedom was just around the corner now that her main reason for the visit had disappeared.

  "He's very handsome," I said to her as she put the phone back in her purse. "Like a movie star."

  "Isn't he? I've told him that too, that he should be in the movies." My earlier prediction had been correct.

  Kate hopped off the stool to leave.

  "What makes you think Lionel would be visiting the flower shop?" I asked, realizing she'd never finished her purported reason for the visit.

  She stopped her brisk exit long enough to answer. Her earlier chummy smile had faded. She was Kate Yardley again, the woman who barely tolerated me only because I was a shop owner on the same street.

  "Oh, that's right. Last night, during our dinner at Marcel's Italian Bistro in Mayfield, he asked me what my favorite flower was. I answered red roses, of course. Just wanted to give you the heads up and please make sure they're fresh. There's nothing more disappointing than having red roses wilt and lose petals just days after receiving them." With that, she turned on her short boot heels and left the shop.

  Chapter 2

  Ryder came out from the office with his lunch bag. "I'm going across the street to have lunch with Lola. I can finish potting that basil when I get back."

  I didn't look up from my order pad. "Have a nice lunch."

  The romantic relationship between my marvelous assistant, Ryder, and my best friend, Lola, had not hit any of the usual bumps lately and as standby couple's therapist I was relieved. It seemed they had finally found their rhythm, and Ryder had come to love some of Lola's quirks, all traits that made her that much more lovable . . . most of the time, anyhow.

  The bell tinkled lightly, slowly, as two elderly women, with heavy purses on their arms and glasses on the tips of their noses, pushed the front door. It was not a terribly heavy door but they struggled nonetheless.

  I raced around the work island to give them a hand, which was when I noticed one was shuffling along behind a walker. The woman who shuffled in next to her, a hand at her elbow to help move her along, was slightly hunched and had pearl white hair. If I'd had to guess her age, I could confidently state that she had already celebrated her eightieth birthday. The woman with the walker was much tinier, shriveled, for lack of a better word. Her dark eyes had a filmy gray cast to them, but her skin was remarkably fresh and smooth.

  "Welcome to Pink's Flowers. How can I help you?" I walked on the woman's other side, worried that my tile floor might prove too slick for her walker, but she managed to inch along without incident.

  The woman with the pearl white hair spoke first. She stopped and adjusted her glasses as she looked me over with blue eyes. "You must be Lacey. My friend, Frida, told me I should go to Pink's Flowers and talk to Lacey, the owner. She said you'd be able to help us select flowers for Mary's birthday." She inclined her head toward the woman with the walker. "This is Mary and I'm Katherine, her daughter."

  Mary's attention had been grabbed away by the large, black bird in the shop window. She didn't pay any attention to the conversation at hand.

  "I can definitely help you with that." I glanced back at the stools in front of the work island and realized I was woefully unprepared for my two customers. I couldn't possibly expect either of them to hop up on a stool.

  "I could bring some chairs out from my office so the two of you could sit down and look at catalogs."

  Katherine looked at her mother. "Mom, would you like a chair?" she said loudly.

  Mary ignored the question and turned back to me. "Why do you still have up your Halloween display?" Her voice was craggy and weak. She looked at her daughter. "Is it still October? I thought it was November. Why are we here? My birthday isn't until November."

  "It is November, Mom, and your birthday is in ten days." Both women were talking loudly enough that it unsettled Kingston. He flew down from his perch and trotted across the floor to hide behind the work island.

  Mary stared at him as he skittered across the floor, then she turned to her daughter. "I need my nap, Kat. I'm seeing things."

  "No, Mom, you're' not. Unless I'm seeing things too." Katherine turned to me. "Frida told me you had a crow, but I must admit, I thought she was kidding with me."

  "No, I'm afraid she wasn't. That was Kingston. He gets shy sometimes so he's hiding. He won't bother us. Now, how about the chairs?"

  "Mom, did you want a chair?" Katherine aske
d loudly.

  Mary shook her head. "No, I'll stand. Want to be ready in case that bird comes flying out of nowhere."

  "Lacey says the bird won't bother us," Katherine said clearly and loudly like a teacher giving instructions.

  "I don't need a chair. I want lilacs, lavender lilacs," Mary stated emphatically enough to slightly dislodge her top row of teeth. She pushed them back in." She looked at me for the first time since they'd walked inside. "Is this pretty girl the florist? I want lilacs. You should do something about that bird, chase him out with a broom or rake."

  I decided to just stick with the flower topic. "I can order lilacs. Are these for table settings?" I turned to Katherine.

  Katherine nodded. "Yes. We'll need ten centerpieces."

  "I'm going to be ninety-five," Mary stated proudly.

  "No, Mom, you're going to be a hundred and five."

  I was sure I gasped a little but couldn't stop myself.

  "That's impossible." Mary smacked the top of her walker. "No one lives past a hundred."

  "Well, you managed it just fine, Mom." Katherine turned back to me with an apologetic smile. "She can be a little stubborn sometimes."

  "I can hear, ya know?" Mary barked. "And you're the stubborn one. I want lilacs."

  "Yes, Mom, we're getting lilacs." Katherine grinned again. "My father used to bring her lilacs every birthday."

  "How wonderful," I said. "They are a lovely flower, and they make great centerpieces. I can spruce them up with some nice greenery. Should I order some white ones too or just the lavender?"