he did when he was younger…that’s all important to him now.”
“Is that what you talked about when you followed him down to the dock?”
She nodded, gently moved Hoppy aside and stood up, stretching her lanky form. “I have to get back to work. I really hope they don’t arrest Johnny.” She looked down, meeting Jaymie’s eyes. “He didn’t do it, I would bet my life on it!” Valetta took friendship and loyalty seriously, but this time she was backing a dark horse.
“Did he bring the bowl back? If he did, then it’s all right.”
“I don’t
know
if he did,” Valetta said, groaning, swinging her empty mug on her finger. “That’s the problem. If I knew he brought it back, then I could have told Detective Christian. But I don’t remember seeing the bowl after that, and I know it wasn’t on the table when Becca and I cleaned up.” She shrugged and disappeared inside.
Jaymie retrieved the melamine that had been returned with the baskets from the day before, checked the reservation book for the weekend rentals, then walked home.
* * *
I T WAS AN old tradition to take food to the bereaved, and it was one that was observed rigidly by their Grandma Leighton, less so by their mom. Becca and Jaymie worked together and made some individual dinners for Craig, but Jaymie also wanted to take something to Kathy’s mom, who at one time had been an integral part of Queensville society. Once she had belonged to the Lady’s Guild, went to church regularly and for any dinner, civic or church-related, she and her husband could be counted on to provide the hams. Becca and Jaymie’s mom always said that Hofstadter hams were the best in the county.
Everything changed when Kathy and Kylie’s dad died. Without the strong hand of the patriarch, both the farm and the family unit seemed to disintegrate.
So Jaymie wanted to do something for Mrs. Hofstadter, who had, after all, lost a daughter. Jaymie may not have spent a lot of time at the farm, but everyone knew how kind the girls’ mother was, and how unassuming. A casserole of macaroni and cheese was the answer; even though the weather was balmy, mac and cheese was always appropriate. After washing up the melamine from the baskets, Jaymie got to work.
As she grated the piles of cheddar and mozzarella for the dish, Jaymie wondered, where had the notion of food for those mourning a loss come from? Maybe Grandma Leighton would know, but if not, there was always her knowledgeable friend, Google. It would make a great chapter in
More Recipes from the Vintage Kitchen
, since it was a community tradition that dated back…well, she’d need to learn more about it.
While Becca took the individual dinners to Craig Cooper, Jaymie put the casserole on the seat of her van and took off to the Hofstadter farm, which was down an unpaved country lane a couple of miles out of Queensville. As she pulled up the driveway, she became increasingly uneasy at the derelict appearance of the property. Had the woman moved away, and Jaymie just hadn’t heard? The once tidy lane, lined with cedars, was now also lined on the lawn side with junk: a broken washing machine tipped over, green garbage bags full and sagging, disintegrating cardboard boxes and paper litter everywhere. The front lawn grass was so long that it was bent over and tamped down by rain and wind.
It didn’t get any better closer to the big red-brick house. A window on the second floor was broken and stuffed with what looked like a comforter and a piece of cardboard, and the front porch was full of more junk. The lane was so rutted that Jaymie decided to save her suspension and park her ancient van along the line of now ragged cedars. She did so, grabbed the casserole—still warm from the oven—and made her way toward the back door of the house. There was a battered pickup truck parked by the sidewalk that led to the back door, and the sound of voices raised in anger drifted to Jaymie. She paused out of sight and
“Is that what you talked about when you followed him down to the dock?”
She nodded, gently moved Hoppy aside and stood up, stretching her lanky form. “I have to get back to work. I really hope they don’t arrest Johnny.” She looked down, meeting Jaymie’s eyes. “He didn’t do it, I would bet my life on it!” Valetta took friendship and loyalty seriously, but this time she was backing a dark horse.
“Did he bring the bowl back? If he did, then it’s all right.”
“I don’t
know
if he did,” Valetta said, groaning, swinging her empty mug on her finger. “That’s the problem. If I knew he brought it back, then I could have told Detective Christian. But I don’t remember seeing the bowl after that, and I know it wasn’t on the table when Becca and I cleaned up.” She shrugged and disappeared inside.
Jaymie retrieved the melamine that had been returned with the baskets from the day before, checked the reservation book for the weekend rentals, then walked home.
* * *
I T WAS AN old tradition to take food to the bereaved, and it was one that was observed rigidly by their Grandma Leighton, less so by their mom. Becca and Jaymie worked together and made some individual dinners for Craig, but Jaymie also wanted to take something to Kathy’s mom, who at one time had been an integral part of Queensville society. Once she had belonged to the Lady’s Guild, went to church regularly and for any dinner, civic or church-related, she and her husband could be counted on to provide the hams. Becca and Jaymie’s mom always said that Hofstadter hams were the best in the county.
Everything changed when Kathy and Kylie’s dad died. Without the strong hand of the patriarch, both the farm and the family unit seemed to disintegrate.
So Jaymie wanted to do something for Mrs. Hofstadter, who had, after all, lost a daughter. Jaymie may not have spent a lot of time at the farm, but everyone knew how kind the girls’ mother was, and how unassuming. A casserole of macaroni and cheese was the answer; even though the weather was balmy, mac and cheese was always appropriate. After washing up the melamine from the baskets, Jaymie got to work.
As she grated the piles of cheddar and mozzarella for the dish, Jaymie wondered, where had the notion of food for those mourning a loss come from? Maybe Grandma Leighton would know, but if not, there was always her knowledgeable friend, Google. It would make a great chapter in
More Recipes from the Vintage Kitchen
, since it was a community tradition that dated back…well, she’d need to learn more about it.
While Becca took the individual dinners to Craig Cooper, Jaymie put the casserole on the seat of her van and took off to the Hofstadter farm, which was down an unpaved country lane a couple of miles out of Queensville. As she pulled up the driveway, she became increasingly uneasy at the derelict appearance of the property. Had the woman moved away, and Jaymie just hadn’t heard? The once tidy lane, lined with cedars, was now also lined on the lawn side with junk: a broken washing machine tipped over, green garbage bags full and sagging, disintegrating cardboard boxes and paper litter everywhere. The front lawn grass was so long that it was bent over and tamped down by rain and wind.
It didn’t get any better closer to the big red-brick house. A window on the second floor was broken and stuffed with what looked like a comforter and a piece of cardboard, and the front porch was full of more junk. The lane was so rutted that Jaymie decided to save her suspension and park her ancient van along the line of now ragged cedars. She did so, grabbed the casserole—still warm from the oven—and made her way toward the back door of the house. There was a battered pickup truck parked by the sidewalk that led to the back door, and the sound of voices raised in anger drifted to Jaymie. She paused out of sight and
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