Green Living Can Be Deadly (A Blossom Valley Mystery) by Staci McLaughlin

considered becoming a professional sleuth. I really was pretty good at it.
    Jason shoved a bite of steak into his mouth and chewed hard enough that he could have chewed through the bone if he wanted. “We’d better talk about something else.”
    “Fine. How’s the visit with your parents going?”
    He gulped his wine. “This topic might not be any better.”
    My earlier irritation vanished. “It can’t be that bad. I mean, how much time could you possibly be spending with them, anyway? You probably spent all day writing about Wendy’s murder, and now you’re here with me.” That hadn’t struck me as odd before, but now I had to wonder why he wasn’t having dinner with his parents. He could see me any old time, but they were only here for a short while.
    “We have an interesting relationship.”
    This was one of the rare times Jason was talking about his family. I didn’t want to press too hard, but I couldn’t help asking, “How so?”
    “I come from a long line of overachievers: doctors, lawyers, rocket scientists. I mean that literally. My uncle Keith is a scientist at NASA.” He drank more wine before continuing. “When it became obvious that my parents expected me to follow the family line and be a big-money earner rather than pick a career I was interested in, I moved out on my own and put myself through school to get my journalism degree.”
    Going against your parents’ wishes took a lot of guts, and I gave Jason mental props for it. “Surely, your parents just want you to be happy.”
    Jason grinned wryly. “They’d rather I be rich and happy. They’re starting to come to terms with my career choice, but mostly we avoid the topic altogether.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I’d still love for you to meet them, though. I almost brought them along tonight, but they’d already made plans with friends in the area.”
    The shrimp in my belly started swimming around, creating waves of unease. “Another time, then.” I tossed the words out like they meant nothing, but even I heard the nerves in my voice.
    Jason didn’t seem to notice. “Great, I’ll set something up.”
    I stared at the remains of my scampi. If they thought a career in journalism was too lowly, how would they feel about a marketing maven who also slopped out the pigsty and collected chicken eggs? Especially one who still lived with her mom?
    I tried to block all these questions out with a bite of rice. Thinking about Wendy’s murder suddenly held more appeal.

12
     
    We finished our meal and saw the latest comedy down at the theater. By the time the movie let out, the temperature had dropped to an uncomfortably chilly level. We hurried to the car and were back at my house in minutes. The porch light was on, meaning Mom had already returned from her dinner with Lane. Jason killed the engine, and we sat in companionable silence for a moment.
    “You working the festival tomorrow?” Jason asked.
    “In the afternoon. I’m stopping by Kimmie’s restaurant in the morning. She’s really upset about Wendy’s death and wants to talk about it.” I almost asked Jason about Wendy’s husband, but then he’d get on my case again about investigating. I wanted to end the evening on good terms.
    “That’s nice of you to lend an ear,” he said.
    “Really, I want to try some of this food she’s always bragging about. It can’t be that good, can it?”
    Jason threw up his hands. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been able to get reservations.”
    “Use those newspaper connections. Tell her you want to do a review.”
    “Tried that. But when your restaurant’s already been covered by every major Bay Area paper, a small-town weekly doesn’t get you in the door.”
    I touched his arm. “Come with me. Kimmie won’t mind.”
    “Wish I could, but I’m supposed to take my parents sightseeing in the morning.”
    I almost laughed. “Sightseeing in Blossom Valley? What are you going to show them?”
    Jason shrugged.