Murder in the Marigolds by Dale Mayer (good books to read for 12 year olds txt) 📗
- Author: Dale Mayer
Book online «Murder in the Marigolds by Dale Mayer (good books to read for 12 year olds txt) 📗». Author Dale Mayer
At that point in time, the two women took their freshly made pot of tea outside and sat down at her new patio table set. Doreen took a seat and explained how Mack worked with somebody getting rid of this, so he brought it to her. She smiled when she thought about her cake and looked over at her grandmother. “Mack will be really surprised.”
“Yes, I can imagine,” Nan said, with a big smile. “He sure will. When is he coming?”
“I think tonight,” she said. “We were talking about dinner. He told me what he was thinking of cooking, but I honestly can’t remember anymore.” She groaned. “It seems like my short-term memory is gone.”
“Stress,” Nan said wisely. “It’ll do it to you every time.”
Doreen laughed. “In that case, I probably don’t have any brain cells left.”
“Well, the hits to your head certainly don’t help either. But, when you’re young enough, the brain cells will still rejuvenate. When you get to my age,” she said, with a frown, “they tend to stay gone.”
At that, Doreen burst out laughing. “I see no evidence of that, Nan.”
Thaddeus hopped onto Nan’s lap and then onto the table that Mack had brought them.
“Thaddeus is here. Thaddeus is here.” He looked over at Nan and said, “Thaddeus loves Nan.”
Nan burst into a huge smile, then got up and cuddled the beautiful parrot, until he hopped up onto her arms and snuggled up against her neck.
Doreen’s heart warmed at the sight of the two of them.
“He is such a beautiful pet, and so lovely to have. I miss him terribly,” Nan admitted. “But it was time.”
Doreen wanted to ask what made it time but didn’t really know how, and, besides, it was hardly appropriate when she was the one who had benefited from it all. “I just don’t want you to have second thoughts about it or to regret the move,” she said quietly.
“Not at all,” Nan said. “Not at all. It was the best thing I could have done. And look. It brought you back into my life.”
At that, Doreen winced. “I hope you didn’t do it just so it would bring me back,” she said, “because I could have just moved in with you.”
“You needed to experience independence for the first time in your life,” Nan said quietly. “And this was the way for you to get it.”
Doreen’s heart was torn because that was probably why Nan had moved to Rosemoor.
But then, with a bright, cheerful voice, Nan said. “And besides, if I’d stayed here, I wouldn’t have all the lovely new friends I have now,” she said. “I wouldn’t have all the fun with the betting that I’m not supposed to do,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “And look at all the treats I get.”
“Not to mention the boyfriends,” Doreen said, with a roll of her eyes.
“Yes, well,” she said, in a complacent tone, “that wouldn’t stop no matter where I lived.”
Doreen burst out laughing. “You’re such fun to have around.”
“Yep,” she said, “that’s what they all say too.” Then she waggled her eyebrows at her granddaughter, who was lost in a fit of laughter.
Still chuckling a few minutes later, Doreen sniffed the air and said, “Oh my, I smell cake. I’m sure of it.”
“And it’s starting to smell delicious. Let’s go check,” Nan said, hopping to her feet and racing into the kitchen. With Doreen behind her, and two animals excited and running at their feet, Nan opened the oven and clapped her hands. “See? Look at this.”
Inside the oven were two beautiful loaf pans, in which the cake batter had risen. Not high above the edge of the pans but enough to form a beautiful gentle curve of a slightly golden color.
“Now they still need a little bit more time,” Nan said. “I’m thinking another twenty minutes or so.”
And, with that, they went back outside. Doreen looked at her and asked, “Are you hungry?”
“Oh no, dear,” she said, “I ate before I came.”
“Good,” she said, “because I don’t have any food.” And then she burst out laughing. “I was supposed to go shopping, but I didn’t get there yet.”
“Didn’t get there or couldn’t afford to get there?” Nan asked, with her usual directness.
Doreen winced. “Well, I am a little worried,” she said. “There’s been absolutely no movement on the antiques yet. I know it’s coming, but it’ll still be months, and I did splurge on this deck, even though it was incredibly cheap because everybody pitched in. But it still cost me a fair bit.”
“You had that bowl of money. Do you still have that?”
“I do, but I’ve had to tap into it quite a bit,” she whispered. “I did work at Millicent’s yesterday, so Mack will bring that money for me today.”
“And is that enough to buy you some groceries?” Nan asked doubtfully. “Because I don’t think so.”
“It’ll get me the basics,” she said, “like coffee and eggs, plus bread and peanut butter.”
“Are you still living on toast and peanut butter?” she asked in horror.
“Nope, I’m not. I do make a lot of sandwiches still though, and I eat a ton of eggs,” she admitted. “I didn’t think omelets would wear on me, but Mack promised to teach me how to make more breakfast meals that I could fix by myself.”
“Good, but how about dinners and other things for lunch? Besides a salad and a sandwich I mean?”
“Well, the salad is easy, and it’s healthy,” she said, “so I’m not too bothered with that. I can cook hard-boiled eggs now because Mack showed me how to do those. Plus I have cans of tuna. Other than that, I do cobb salads or chef salads.”
“Good,” Nan said, with a bright smile. “And now you’ll have cake, and that’ll make your tummy that much happier.”
“Yes, and I think happy tummies are really good for keeping emotions happy too,” Doreen admitted.
“Absolutely they are, dear.
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