Chapter 25
SARA LEE
Sara Lee pushed open the door to A Whole Latte Coffee, the familiar chime announcing her arrival. The warm scent of roasted beans and cinnamon greeted her, and for the first time in days, she felt her shoulders begin to relax.
She craved this distraction right now. Each revelation they uncovered seemed to renew the curious spirit in Nana June. But for Sara Lee, she still saw threads that didn’t weave a pattern.
Barb's coffee shop had become her refuge.
The mismatched vintage chairs and sofas created cozy conversation nooks throughout the space.
Local art hung on the exposed brick walls.
There were watercolors of the creek, oil paintings of the town square, and a few abstract pieces that Barb claimed "spoke to her soul.
" The sun streamed through the large front windows, making Sara Lee feel warm and welcome.
Barb stood behind the counter, her curly hair pulled back in a cheerful yellow bandana that matched her apron. When she saw Sara Lee, her whole face lit up.
"There she is!" Barb called out, already reaching for a mug. "The usual?"
"Please," Sara Lee said gratefully, sliding onto one of the stools at the counter. "And one of those lemon bars, if you have any left."
"For you? Always." Barb poured the coffee with practiced efficiency.
Extra cream and one sugar was exactly how Sara Lee had been drinking it since they were teenagers, sneaking coffee at Barb's parents' house.
She plated a generous lemon bar, its powdered sugar top gleaming, and set both in front of Sara Lee.
The coffee shop was quiet this afternoon. An elderly couple sat in the corner booth, speaking in low murmurs over shared pie. A college-age kid hunched over a laptop near the window, earbuds in, occasionally typing furiously.
Barb grabbed her own coffee and came around the counter, settling into the stool next to Sara Lee with the ease of someone who'd been doing this for years—two best friends, side by side, talking through life's complications.
Through the front window, Sara Lee could see a large golden doodle tied to one of the small outdoor tables, sprawled contentedly in a patch of sunshine. The dog's fluffy tail thumped lazily against the sidewalk whenever someone walked past.
"Mom's here," Barb said, following Sara Lee's gaze. "She and Maximus are having their afternoon constitutional. Well, Mom's having coffee. Maximus is having a nap."
As if on cue, Betsy Cordell burst into the cafe, waving cheerfully at Sara Lee as she made her way to the counter.
One look at Betsy and then Barb, and no one could mistake that Barb was a younger version of her mother.
And in personality as well. Betsy almost always had a smile and dressed for comfort.
Her jeans and a gardening shirt suggested she'd been working in her yard before stopping by.
"Sara Lee! How lovely to see you, dear." Betsy gave her a quick hug. "How are you holding up after... well, after everything?"
"I'm managing," Sara Lee said, returning the hug. "How's the garden coming along?"
"Oh, the tomatoes are planted. I'll have to bring you and Miss June some when they ripen." Betsy settled onto the stool on Sara Lee's other side. "Barb, honey, could I get a cup?"
"Coming right up, Mom." Barb disappeared behind the counter.
Betsy leaned in conspiratorially. "I heard you and Miss June are the ones who found Raymond Melton. That must have been just awful."
"It was," Sara Lee admitted. There was no point in denying it, considering the whole town knew by now.
"Well, I can't say I'm sorry he's gone," Betsy said bluntly. "That man was nothing but trouble. The way he talked to Bob and Bill at the festival..." She shook her head, accepting the mug from Barb. "Thank you, sweetheart."
Barb slid back onto her stool, and Sara Lee noticed something shift in her friend's expression—a kind of thoughtfulness, as if she'd been waiting for the right moment to bring something up.
"Mom," Barb said carefully, "can I ask you something? About Dad and Bill and the business?"
Betsy looked surprised. "Of course, honey. What is it?"
"I never really understood where the money came from.
To save the lumber business, I mean." Barb wrapped both hands around her coffee mug.
"I know things were really bad for a bit, and then suddenly they weren't. And you guys were able to help me open this place.
" She gestured around the coffee shop. "But no one ever talked about it.
And then Raymond said something at the festival about 'old debts' and I just.. . I didn't know what he meant."
Betsy's expression softened with understanding. "Oh, sweetheart. I'm sorry we didn't explain it better. Your father was embarrassed, and you know how men are about that kind of thing."
"What happened?" Sara Lee asked gently, her investigative instincts sharpening even as she tried to keep her tone casual.
Betsy sighed, stirring her coffee absently.
"Well, when the business was going under, it’s been about five years ago now, Bob was desperate.
We'd put everything we had into that lumber yard.
It was his father's business, and his grandfather's before that.
The thought of losing it just about killed him. "
She paused, taking a sip of coffee. "He was too embarrassed to go to the bank here in town. You know how small towns are; everyone would know our business was failing. Which they probably did anyway. So he wanted to go out of town for a loan. Keep it private."
"And he went to Richmond?" Barb asked quietly.
"Yes. And somehow—I still don't know exactly how—he ended up meeting with Raymond Melton.
" Betsy's mouth tightened with distaste.
"Raymond worked for some kind of lending company.
Or claimed to. But the terms he offered.
.. Well, it would have been like loan-shark interest. Predatory.
Bob would have been paying it off for the rest of his life and still owed more than he borrowed. "
Sara Lee felt her pulse quicken. This was important. "What did he do?"
"Bob walked away," Betsy said firmly. "Told Raymond no. And Raymond—being Raymond—didn't take that well. Made some ugly comments about Bob being a failure, said the Cordells had always been 'too proud and too poor' to make it in business. Really nasty stuff."
Betsy's hand tightened around her mug. "But then Bob did something smart.
He swallowed his pride and came home. Went to our bank here in town, and the lending manager connected us with a legitimate lender that could offer us the business loan we needed.
Reasonable terms, fair interest rate. The kind of loan that helped rather than buried us. "
"And obviously the business recovered?" Sara Lee asked.
"Better than recovered," Betsy said with evident pride.
"Business picked back up after the worst of the building lull passed.
Bob and Bill worked their tails off, made some smart decisions about diversifying—they started carrying more specialty woods and doing custom milling.
Within three years, they'd paid off the entire loan.
And then they were able to help Barb open this place. "
She smiled at her daughter, reaching over to pat her hand. "We wanted you to have your dream, honey. And the coffee shop's doing wonderfully."
"But Raymond kept bringing it up," Barb said. "That's what that comment was about at the festival. The 'old debts.'"
"Oh, Raymond loved to taunt them about it.
" Betsy's voice carried pure contempt. "Every time he came to town, he'd make some comment about Bob being a 'poor business owner' or Bill not having what it takes to run a real company.
Just needling them, trying to make them feel small.
He was furious that they'd succeeded without his 'help.
'" She made air quotes around the word help.
"So there was no actual debt?" Sara Lee asked carefully. "To Raymond, I mean?"
"Not a penny," Betsy said firmly. "We never took his blood money.
But he acted as if we owed him something anyway.
Like Bob walking away from that terrible deal was somehow an insult that needed to be punished.
" She shook her head. "The man was a jerk, plain and simple.
Everything he touched, he tried to poison. "
Sara Lee felt relief flood through her at the idea that Bob and Bill Cordell could be taken off the suspect list. Yes, Raymond had been an irritant…
a persistent, nasty irritant who'd taken pleasure in humiliating them.
But hardly worth killing over. They'd beaten him by building their business without his predatory loan and succeeded where he'd predicted they'd fail.
That wasn't a motive for murder. That was a motive to smile quietly to yourself and let Raymond stew in his own bitterness.
"I'm glad you told me, Mom," Barb said, squeezing her mother's hand. "I always wondered, but I didn't want to ask if it was something private."
"Oh, honey, your dad was just always embarrassed since he’d wanted to help you out earlier," Betsy said. "But your father made the right choice. And we're all better for it."
Outside, Maximus the golden doodle lifted his head and barked once—a cheerful, conversational bark that seemed to say he was ready to continue their walk whenever Betsy was.
"Well, that's my cue," Betsy said, laughing. "His Majesty calls." She stood, giving both Barb and Sara Lee quick hugs. "You take care of yourself, Sara Lee. And give my best to Ms. June."
Outside, Maximus the golden doodle suddenly spotted a squirrel darting across the sidewalk.
The big dog lurched to his feet with a joyful bark and took off in hot pursuit, completely forgetting he was tied to the small café table.
The table scraped across the concrete with a horrible screeching sound, tipping precariously as Maximus dragged it behind him like a determined sled dog.