Read Online The Darling Dahlias and the Cucumber Tree by Susan Wittig Albert - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Susan Wittig Albert
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silly.”
“But you like her anyway,” Lizzy said, and chuckled.
“Yes, I do,” Verna said candidly. “She has a lot of energy, and she wants more than most people want—or maybe she just wants it harder. Going to New York is probably a mistake, but I guess everybody’s got a lesson to learn.” She grinned. “With her looks, I doubt she’ll starve.”
Lizzy stood up and brushed the grass clippings off the skirt of her blue print dress. “Speaking of going, I’d better get back to work.”
“I’ll walk you,” Verna offered, and the two Dahlias went across the street together.
“This business about Jed Snow and Lucy Murphy,” Lizzy said, going back to the subject that most concerned her. “Do you think we should say anything to Ophelia?” She paused. “The thing is, if people are talking and Ophelia doesn’t know anything, she’ll feel even worse when she finally hears it.” She hesitated, feeling torn. “But maybe she won’t hear anything. Maybe Jed will come to his senses and start behaving himself.”
Verna chuckled ironically. “You’ve seen Lucy Murphy. Do you really think that’s going to happen?”
Lizzy thought about it. Lucy had the tiniest waist she had ever seen on a person, plus the most beautiful, naturally curly red hair and the creamiest skin. And she couldn’t be a day over twenty-two. Whereas Ophelia was round and dumpy and...
She sighed. “So you think we should tell her?”
“I’m not sure we have to,” Verna said mysteriously. “Myra May called last night, to ask me to go next door and tell Mr. Norris that Buddy’d broken his arm. She happened to mention it was Lucy who telephoned Jed, asking him to come out”
“So?” Lizzy asked, puzzled.
“So after Myra May hung up, I stayed on the line and counted. Four clicks. The Snows are on my party line. Somebody at Ophelia’s house was listening.”
“Ophelia?” Lizzy hazarded.
“Who knows?” Verna replied. “Jed might’ve been home by that time. But yes, it could have been Ophelia.”
“So I guess we just wait, then,” Lizzy said. She felt relieved.
“I guess,” Verna said quietly. She took Lizzy’s arm. “Listen, Lizzy, there’s something else I need to tell you. Beatty Black stone came into the probate office this morning. He wanted to see the plat record for the three hundred block of Camellia.”
Lizzy felt immediately apprehensive. “Did he say why?”
“Nope. Just asked for the plat. When he was gone, I had a look for myself. It’s interesting, the way they carved up the old Cartwright property when it was divided into lots and sold, back in 1890. Camellia Street was just a two-rut country road back then, running along the front of the Cartwright grounds. From the old plat, it looks to me like the lane that went to the mansion came right through where Dahlia Blackstone’s house now stands.”
“That makes sense,” Lizzy said. She frowned. “I wonder what Beatty was after. I don’t trust that man, Verna. He’s ... underhanded.”
“Underhanded!” Verna hooted. “Lizzy, you’re too kind. He is devious and dishonest, and I’m not at all surprised that Mrs. Blackstone didn’t want him to have her house, especially since he’s not her blood relative. Mrs. Newman—she’s two doors down from me—says that when her husband got Beatty to work on that Nash of theirs, he charged them twice what they would’ve paid in Mobile. What’s more, he only did half the job. They had to get somebody else to finish it.”
“I just wish I knew why he wanted to see that plat book,” Lizzy said thoughtfully. “I know that Mrs. Blackstone’s house belongs to the Dahlias now, but somehow I keep feeling that there’s another shoe out there somewhere, waiting to drop.” And as if on cue, the clock in the courthouse struck one, a hollow, ringing bong .
Back at work, the long afternoon, warm and sleepy and always slower than the mornings, dragged on. Lizzy felt like she wasn’t hitting on
“But you like her anyway,” Lizzy said, and chuckled.
“Yes, I do,” Verna said candidly. “She has a lot of energy, and she wants more than most people want—or maybe she just wants it harder. Going to New York is probably a mistake, but I guess everybody’s got a lesson to learn.” She grinned. “With her looks, I doubt she’ll starve.”
Lizzy stood up and brushed the grass clippings off the skirt of her blue print dress. “Speaking of going, I’d better get back to work.”
“I’ll walk you,” Verna offered, and the two Dahlias went across the street together.
“This business about Jed Snow and Lucy Murphy,” Lizzy said, going back to the subject that most concerned her. “Do you think we should say anything to Ophelia?” She paused. “The thing is, if people are talking and Ophelia doesn’t know anything, she’ll feel even worse when she finally hears it.” She hesitated, feeling torn. “But maybe she won’t hear anything. Maybe Jed will come to his senses and start behaving himself.”
Verna chuckled ironically. “You’ve seen Lucy Murphy. Do you really think that’s going to happen?”
Lizzy thought about it. Lucy had the tiniest waist she had ever seen on a person, plus the most beautiful, naturally curly red hair and the creamiest skin. And she couldn’t be a day over twenty-two. Whereas Ophelia was round and dumpy and...
She sighed. “So you think we should tell her?”
“I’m not sure we have to,” Verna said mysteriously. “Myra May called last night, to ask me to go next door and tell Mr. Norris that Buddy’d broken his arm. She happened to mention it was Lucy who telephoned Jed, asking him to come out”
“So?” Lizzy asked, puzzled.
“So after Myra May hung up, I stayed on the line and counted. Four clicks. The Snows are on my party line. Somebody at Ophelia’s house was listening.”
“Ophelia?” Lizzy hazarded.
“Who knows?” Verna replied. “Jed might’ve been home by that time. But yes, it could have been Ophelia.”
“So I guess we just wait, then,” Lizzy said. She felt relieved.
“I guess,” Verna said quietly. She took Lizzy’s arm. “Listen, Lizzy, there’s something else I need to tell you. Beatty Black stone came into the probate office this morning. He wanted to see the plat record for the three hundred block of Camellia.”
Lizzy felt immediately apprehensive. “Did he say why?”
“Nope. Just asked for the plat. When he was gone, I had a look for myself. It’s interesting, the way they carved up the old Cartwright property when it was divided into lots and sold, back in 1890. Camellia Street was just a two-rut country road back then, running along the front of the Cartwright grounds. From the old plat, it looks to me like the lane that went to the mansion came right through where Dahlia Blackstone’s house now stands.”
“That makes sense,” Lizzy said. She frowned. “I wonder what Beatty was after. I don’t trust that man, Verna. He’s ... underhanded.”
“Underhanded!” Verna hooted. “Lizzy, you’re too kind. He is devious and dishonest, and I’m not at all surprised that Mrs. Blackstone didn’t want him to have her house, especially since he’s not her blood relative. Mrs. Newman—she’s two doors down from me—says that when her husband got Beatty to work on that Nash of theirs, he charged them twice what they would’ve paid in Mobile. What’s more, he only did half the job. They had to get somebody else to finish it.”
“I just wish I knew why he wanted to see that plat book,” Lizzy said thoughtfully. “I know that Mrs. Blackstone’s house belongs to the Dahlias now, but somehow I keep feeling that there’s another shoe out there somewhere, waiting to drop.” And as if on cue, the clock in the courthouse struck one, a hollow, ringing bong .
Back at work, the long afternoon, warm and sleepy and always slower than the mornings, dragged on. Lizzy felt like she wasn’t hitting on
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