Free An Old-Fashioned Murder by Carol Miller Page A

reaction? She must have been stunned at the idea. And appalled!” Beulah’s grin resurfaced. “I wish I would have been there. I bet she put him in his place good.”
    â€œShe might have been stunned, but she definitely wasn’t appalled,” Daisy corrected her. “For a few minutes, she seemed to be considering the idea pretty seriously.”
    The grin vanished. “I—I can’t believe it.”
    â€œI can,” Lucy countered, taking the teacup from the nightstand.
    Both Daisy and Beulah looked at her in surprise.
    â€œOf course Emily would never sell this place,” Lucy told them with a gentle confidence. “It’s her home. And she considers it our home, too. But she likes to dream just the same as the rest of us. What it would be like not to have to worry about the taxes and the constant upkeep and the guests and all the bills.”
    â€œKenneth did promise that she would be well compensated,” Daisy remarked.
    Her mama nodded. “I’ve heard him discussing it with his wife.”
    Beulah’s hazel eyes widened. “You have?”
    Lucy smiled. “Old Southern houses and their ridiculously thin walls, my dear. And the fact that Mr. Lunt booms like a bull elephant when he talks. They’re in the Pickett room right next door.”
    â€œBut he was discussing it with Sarah?” Daisy was thoughtful for a moment. “That’s interesting, because when he made the offer to Aunt Emily, Sarah acted as though it was a new idea to her.”
    â€œIt most certainly wasn’t,” her mama replied. “I distinctly heard them talking about the size of the property.”
    â€œOdd. Maybe I misunderstood.”
    â€œOr maybe the wife isn’t the shrinking violet that she makes herself out to be,” Beulah retorted.
    Daisy turned to her. “You think she’s pretending?”
    Beulah shrugged.
    â€œWhenever I’ve seen her, she’s always been mousy and sort of hesitant about everything,” Daisy said.
    â€œToo mousy and hesitant to be even half believable,” Beulah responded. “Last night when we were having supper she couldn’t make up her mind whether she wanted bread or not. We were passing the basket around the table like we always do, and she stopped and just held it in her hands, staring at it for what must have been five minutes. They were dinner rolls, for criminy sake. No one was asking her to decide if she should eat the family pet hen.”
    Lucy smiled again. “Oh, Beulah. You forget that not all women are quite as independent as you.”
    â€œThey should be! You can’t spend your life sitting around and waiting for a man to tell you whether or not you should eat a dinner roll.”
    Daisy laughed. “If I had done that with Matt, I would have starved and been drunk all the time. He would have just kept handing me more beer.”
    â€œAin’t that the truth.” Beulah gave a little snort. “Well, Sarah didn’t finally make up her mind until Kenneth made it up for her and reminded her to keep the basket moving—”
    â€œWas Georgia there?” Daisy interjected suddenly.
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œWas Georgia with you yesterday at supper?”
    Beulah scrunched up her nose. “No. She wasn’t. Why?”
    â€œShe walked into the dining room this afternoon while everybody was there and dropped a tray of glasses.”
    â€œA whole tray?” Lucy shook her head. “Poor Emily.”
    â€œPoor Georgia,” Beulah chimed in. “That girl has a bad clumsy streak.”
    â€œExcept I’m not sure that it was clumsiness,” Daisy said. “At least not this time. I think that she might have recognized one of the guests and dropped the tray in surprise. I’m trying to figure out who it was. She’s seen the Lunts before, hasn’t she?”
    Lucy took a sip of her tea. “I’m afraid I’m the wrong one