Murder in the Marigolds by Dale Mayer (good books to read for 12 year olds txt) 📗

“That’s fear talking.”

“Well, it’s also the fact that I’ve sent out hundreds of résumés and haven’t heard a response yet.”

“I think that’s part of the problem with this new wave of applying for work. You put them in through these online application forms, and you never know if a job has been filled or not, unless you actually get a phone call. So you can potentially put in hundreds and never hear back from anybody. It also depends on what jobs you’re applying for.”

“Well, I’m probably applying for things I shouldn’t be. However, I apply, so I can at least feel like I did something. Then later I realize there really wasn’t any point, and nobody will ever get back to me.”

“Now you sound depressed again,” he said, that note of worry back in his voice.

She boosted up her smile. “I’m fine,” she said, “and really looking forward to that burger.”

“Good,” he said, “I’ll try to get there before five, if I can, but I can’t promise.”

“Sounds good.”

After she hung up the call, she sat here, feeling immensely better. “Well, guys, great news. He isn’t ignoring us. He isn’t mad at us. And, just think, we’ll have burgers for dinner.” She laughed at that because she did love a good burger—at least the looks of them—although she didn’t have a whole lot of experience with what a good burger meant. But everything Mack had made so far had been absolutely delicious, and she was overwhelmed and frankly jealous at his ability to just create something. She thought about it and then said, “You know something, guys? Maybe we should make a dessert.”

Immediately Mugs barked in agreement. Goliath looked at her in horror, and Thaddeus started to cackle, with that lovely sense of humor of his. She glared at the three of them. “What does that mean? I can try something. The internet is full of recipes and videos on how to make something simple, after all.”

Of course the question was, what was something simple? She thought about all the things she loved growing up and decided that Nan would be the best resource. Doreen picked up the phone and called Nan, and, when her grandmother answered, Doreen asked, “What would be a very simple cake recipe to start with?”

Nan crowed in delight. “Oh my,” she said, “I love this idea. And my first choice would be a pound cake.”

“Is that simple though? Just because you love it doesn’t make it simple.”

“No, but you really want to spend time making something that you love, as well,” she said. “Otherwise you’ll make something that is simple but not very good.”

Just enough logic was there that Doreen relented. “Okay, a pound cake it is then. I think I like pound cake, don’t I?”

“You scoff it up when you’re here.”

“Okay, good enough,” she said. “But I don’t know what I need. I’ll go back to the laptop and see what the recipe says.”

“Originally it was just one pound of butter, one pound of sugar, one pound of flour,” Nan said. “I’m sure a lot of tweaks have been made along the way. It needs lemon juice and some spices too. I used to love a lemon poppy seed pound cake.”

“Oh, now you’re making my mouth water.”

Nan hesitated and then said, “Any chance I could come up and help you?”

Sensing the same loneliness Doreen felt and now heard in her grandmother’s voice, Doreen said gently, “I would love that.”

“Perfect,” Nan said, with joy. “I’ll be up in a few minutes.” And not giving Doreen a chance to argue or to set a different time, she hung up.

Chapter 5

Sunday Noonish …

Back in the kitchen, Doreen surveyed the countertops. First, she needed to clean up.

“Even though I don’t eat much, and I certainly haven’t prepped anything, we somehow always end up with a collection of dirty dishes.” She filled the sink with hot water and added soap and quickly started washing the dishes. Since Nan might want something to drink, Doreen put on the teakettle too. With the back door open and whistling gently to herself, she finished cleaning up the kitchen and was just wiping down the table when she looked up to see Nan coming up her pathway. She stepped out onto the deck and waved. When Nan reached the deck, the two women exchanged hugs.

“How are you doing?” Nan asked, looking at her with that bright, chirpy look in her eyes. “Oh look at that table,” she crowed in delight. “And chairs.” She danced around the set admiring the pieces.

“Mack brought them for me.”

“You know,” Nan said with a twinkle in her eye, “If you don’t want Mack, I wouldn’t mind trying my hand. That man is a keeper.”

Doreen snorted. “Come on in. I put on the teakettle.”

“Oh, good, a cup would be lovely,” Nan said, with a bright smile. She looked around. “I haven’t baked in a long time. This will be fun.”

“Well, I’ve never baked,” Doreen said. “So I don’t know about the fun part, but I’m up for it.”

“Of course. It’ll be fun. I promise,” Nan said, as she rubbed her hands together. “The question is, what do you have for cake pans?”

Doreen looked at her grandmother in dismay. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I cleaned out a lot of stuff because otherwise there was no room in any of the cupboards.”

“Of course you did,” Nan said, with a wave of her hand. “But Mack helped you, didn’t he?”

She nodded. “I put everything in the living room, and he sorted through it, so I kept a collection of everything he thought I would need.” She turned around in the kitchen and pointed at two cupboards. “I think the baking dishes went in there.” Walking over, she bent down, opened up the cupboards, and showed Nan.

“Perfect. Generally bread pans would be my choice for a pound cake,” she said, “and two are right there. Grab those.”

Following Nan’s instructions, they got the bread pans ready and brought