Free An Old-Fashioned Murder by Carol Miller

dear.” Lucy looked at her daughter with concern. “I assume that she’s her usual charming self? Has she said anything about—”
    â€œAbout Matt?” Daisy supplied, when her mama hesitated. “First words out of Lillian’s mouth, practically. She was even delusional enough to think that he might be coming to the party this weekend. And she keeps trying to stare down Drew, as though he were committing some mortal sin just by standing next to me. I should really go and rescue him, but…”
    She let the sentence trail away with a sigh.
    â€œDrew will be just fine without you for a few minutes,” Beulah assured her. “From what I saw, he was entertaining the Fowler sisters quite nicely. I don’t think they’ve had that much attention from a man—let alone a young and handsome man—for a good many years.”
    Lucy chuckled. “You’re probably right about that, Beulah.” As her daughter neared the nightstand that served double duty as a small eating table, she raised her head to get a better look at the contents of the plate in Daisy’s hand. “Shortbread! My favorite. Thank you, honey.”
    â€œAnd also your favorite tea.” Daisy set down the dishes. “Henry Brent said that I should make it a hot toddy instead.”
    She chuckled some more. “Let me guess—he suggested corn whiskey?”
    â€œOf course, with rum and rye as suitable alternatives. Well-established advice from his meemaw, apparently.”
    â€œI shouldn’t laugh, really,” Lucy said. “If I recall correctly, his meemaw was only two days shy of her one hundred and second birthday when she passed. And Henry isn’t too far away from that. So it could very well be excellent advice that I should be heeding.”
    â€œBut not with the cough medicine that you’re taking,” Daisy reminded her.
    As if on cue, Lucy coughed. It was a deep, rasping cough, and her face contorted with pain.
    â€œIsn’t it getting any better?” Daisy asked anxiously, when her mama had regained her breath. “Is the medicine not working at all?”
    â€œThe doctor said that it might seem like it’s getting worse before it gets better.”
    Daisy frowned doubtfully.
    â€œHe did,” Lucy insisted. “And it happened like that before. Do you remember when I had that terrible cold a year ago Christmas? It was awful—and it kept getting worse—and then all of a sudden, it got better. It went away almost overnight.”
    The frown remained. “I don’t care about before, Mama. I care about you getting well now.”
    Lucy reached out a thin hand from under the quilt and patted Daisy’s arm. “Don’t worry, honey. I am getting well now.”
    As much as Daisy wanted to believe that, her mama’s appearance told a different story. It wasn’t just her hand that was thin. It was her entire body. She was gaunt and frail. Her skeletal neck and shoulders seemed to disappear into the downy pillows. And everything about her was pale. Her skin, her hair, even her teeth and eyes had a ghostly, almost otherworldly translucence about them.
    Seeing the distress in her daughter’s face, Lucy patted Daisy’s arm once more and deftly changed the subject. “So tell me all the gossip from downstairs. Who’s there, and what’s happening?”
    â€œWell…” Although Daisy was still uneasy about the cough, she played along. Belaboring her mama’s ill health wasn’t going to do either of them any good. “Kenneth Lunt wants to buy the inn.”
    â€œWhat!” Beulah exclaimed. She had been leaning back in the rocking chair, but at Daisy’s announcement, she suddenly snapped to attention. “He wants to buy the inn? But where would we live? And what would happen to my salon?”
    â€œThat was my reaction, too,” Daisy said.
    â€œHow about Aunt Emily’s