The Darling Dahlias and the Cucumber Tree (Berkley Prime Crime)

coffee, tea, macaroni, navy beans, two pounds of prunes, a bag of potatoes, three pounds of corned beef, and a couple of cans of mackerel, along with two bars of Fels-Naptha laundry soap, a bottle of Mrs. Stewart’s bluing, a bar of Lifebuoy soap, a bottle of arnica, and some iodine and rubbing alcohol.
    “The boys are always scraping themselves,” Lucy said, at Ophelia’s questioning look, and added a bag of chocolate candy for the kids.
    Mrs. Hancock put everything into cardboard boxes and the grocery boy carried them out to the Ford, while Lucy handed over her fresh-laid brown eggs and paid the rest of the bill in cash. Mrs. Hancock, who was used to the people of Darling putting their groceries on credit, acted almost as if she didn’t know what to do with real money. She stared down for a moment at the bills in her hand, and Ophelia felt sure that Lucy had just made an indelible impression. But then, Ralph had a job and sent money home. These days, not every husband could do that—and some wouldn’t, if they could.
    The groceries safely loaded, Ophelia and Lucy were getting into the car when Jed came out of the diner on the other side of the Dispatch building, with three or four Elks. They stood and talked for a moment, their heads close together, as if they were discussing something troublesome. Then Jed turned. When he saw the two women, his eyes narrowed and his glance slid from his wife to Lucy and back to his wife again in a way that told Ophelia that while there probably wasn’t any truth behind the rumors that were flying all over town, Jed had been wishing.
    Good enough for you, fella, she thought to herself with a grim satisfaction. And then she thought, half-wistfully, Well, I can’t blame you, I reckon, Lucy is a beautiful girl, and young. So very young.
    A moment later, Jed had joined them. “Well, hello,” he said, smiling uncomfortably.
    “Hello, honey,” Ophelia said, and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. “Lucy and I have just been doing some shopping.” She smiled at Lucy. “Nice to have the whole morning for some girl talk.”
    “Oh, yes!” Lucy smiled back, radiantly. “Jed, I can’t tell you how glad I was that Opie drove out to the place and asked if she could take me to get groceries. I don’t think we would’ve starved out there, because the boys can always shoot squirrels and the garden’s coming on. But we were out of flour and cof fee and sugar and just about everything else.”
    Jed gave his wife a small, weak grin. “I’m glad, too.” He turned to Lucy. “Next time you write to that man of yours, you tell him it’s high time he came home and took his wife to get her groceries. Tell him I said so.”
    “Oh, I will, Jed,” Lucy promised, in her lemon-meringue voice. “I surely will.” The clock in the courthouse bell tower struck. “Listen, I hate to rush us, Opie, but I need to get on back. The boys will be coming in from school before long.”
    “Don’t forget, Opie,” Jed said. “I’ve got City Council tonight” They held the meetings at the courthouse, where there was room if any of the townspeople wanted to come. Mostly, they didn’t. “We had a big dinner just now—meat loaf and potatoes. A sandwich is all I’ll want for supper.”
    An hour later, Ophelia was putting the Ford back into the garage. As she came around the house, she saw her neighbor sitting on the front porch in her rocking chair, her lap full of the peas she was shelling. Ophelia waved.
    “Hello, Mrs. Adcock,” she called cheerily. “Isn’t it a beautiful day?” She looked up. “Not a cloud in the sky—blue as blue can be.”
    “A tad warm,” Mrs. Adcock replied, with a frown. She tossed a handful of peas into the pan at her feet. “Sun’s been hot all day, seems to me.”
    “Well, I guess a little sun won’t melt us,” Ophelia answered. “Beulah got a good do on your hair,” she said. “Looks pretty.” She was rewarded with a tart smile.
    In the kitchen, Ophelia saw that Florabelle had finished and gone home. She glanced at the clock. It was only three. She needed to telephone Bessie Bloodworth and tell her that she’d be glad to help out with the garden work the next day, morning or afternoon, whatever was best for Bessie. She wouldn’t ask her about that ghost, though. If she did, everybody listening in on the party line would hear it. She’d ask her tomorrow.
    And after she finished talking to Bessie, she’d make some tapioca pudding