The Daughter | Book by Janie Owens

Oct 28

Oct 28 The Daughter (50-Plus Condo Book 2)

Book summary

In "The Daughter," Rachel and Joe, retired parents to their perpetually unemployed daughter Angie, face tough decisions when she moves back home with her cat after leaving an ashram. Following Joe's insistence, Angie takes a job at a Daytona Beach burger joint and enters a relationship with Josh, whose family has gambling connections. When Angie is harassed at work and a murder occurs, suspicions arise, leading Angie and Rachel to embark on a journey of sleuthing. Amid threats and danger, Angie discovers her inner strength, but unraveling the truth remains their ultimate challenge.

Excerpt from The Daughter

Penelope Hardwood walked into Rachel’s office. She turned to speak to someone still in the hallway. “Just wait for me,” she said, then turned toward Rachel.

“Good morning, Penelope.”

Penelope was a sweet woman and a long-time resident in the Breezeway Condominium. She was also Rachel’s spy. Whenever someone was misbehaving, Penelope had an uncanny way of being present and then reporting the incident to Rachel.

“Yes, it is a good morning, isn’t it?” Penelope answered. “I have my condo fee here.”

The old woman placed a check on Rachel’s desk, sliding it toward her with one bony finger. No one had ever seen her wearing anything but a loose housedress with a heavy cardigan hugged close to her body. Even in the common ninety-five-degree temperatures of Florida. Today was no exception.

“Thank you,” Rachel said. “Who’s in the hallway?”

“Oh, that’s just Alfred. He doesn’t have his check ready yet.”

Alfred Thorn was an elderly man who frequently wore lightweight jackets, giving him a formal appearance for Florida. He had very white hair that he chose to wear grown near his collar, and very bushy white eyebrows that Rachel longed to trim. Alfred and Penelope had apparently become friends, much to Rachel’s surprise. Penelope was very proper, so Rachel surmised that Alfred’s formal appearance had been an appealing factor.

“He can come in,” Rachel suggested.

“No, he can just wait for me,” she said. “I’m done here anyway.”

“Okay, well, have a nice day, Penelope.”

“I will. You, too, dear,” she said, clasping her blue sweater close and walking into the hallway where Alfred was patiently waiting. Evidently, having an afterthought, Penelope returned.

“You should probably know, that widow is making a spectacle of herself.”

“What widow?” Rachel asked.

“The one on the sixth floor, Ethel Borenstein. The one with the curly blue hair.”

“Oh, that widow. What’s she doing?”

“For starters, she’s hanging out with Ruby at the pool.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Well, she’s not properly dressed. She wears two-piece bathing suits, usually purple ones.”

Ethel was not even five foot tall and was as round as she was tall. Her penchant for wearing revealing bathing suits began after her husband died and she started being friends with Ruby. Rachel understood Penelope’s opinion of the old lady’s attire. She looked like a mini Sumo wrestler with wiggly flesh hanging out everywhere.

“Penelope, we don’t have any rules concerning residents’ attire. If Ethel wants to wear purple two-piece bathing suits, she can do that.” Maybe the color accentuated her blue hair?

The old lady stretched her cardigan covered body in a superior manner, looking sideways at Rachel. “Well, I wouldn’t be caught dead in what she wears. It’s just unseemly.”

Rachel silently agreed but did not share her opinion. She knew Penelope wouldn’t be caught dead wearing any sort of revealing clothing, let alone a two-piece bathing suit.

“Maybe I can suggest to her wearing a coverup when out in public,” Rachel offered.

“At the very least,” Penelope said, then turned to leave.

Ethel had lived at the condo for many years with her husband. After he passed, she seemed to act like a woman set free. She appeared to be living as she pleased, going out with other women, making new friends, such as Ruby, and hanging out at the pool in scanty bathing suits. Rachel wasn’t about to tell her how to dress. That was the old woman’s prerogative. But maybe she could suggest a coverup.

“Don’t you have any wine in the house?” Angie asked as she rummaged around in the refrigerator. “I don’t see any in here.”

“No, we don’t keep alcohol in the house,” Rachel said, looking over her shoulder from the kitchen counter.

“Wine isn’t alcohol. It’s not liquor, it’s wine. Just wine,” Angie said with authority.

“Actually, Angie,” Rachel said, turning from the counter where she was preparing a salad for dinner, “wine and beer have alcohol content. Maybe not as high a percentage as in liquor, but it is present. You can get just as drunk on wine as vodka, for instance.”

“Really? Hmm. Since when did you become such an expert on the matter?” Angie asked, sitting at the little table in the kitchen.

“Since I discovered I am a diabetic. I had to learn all sorts of things about eating properly for my condition.” This was the first time she had mentioned her illness to Angie.

Angie’s expression changed after hearing her mother is a diabetic.

“You? A diabetic?” Angie said in amazement.

“Yes. Unfortunately. I almost drowned in the bathtub due to diabetes. Your father found me just in time and I went to the emergency room. That’s when I was diagnosed, but I had my suspicions.” Rachel turned back to the task at the counter. “If you had called home once in a while, I would have told you.”

“Sorry. Wow. A diabetic. So, you don’t keep alcohol of any kind in the house for that reason?” Angie asked.

“Correct. Your father doesn’t drink, I don’t drink, so, why have any in the house?” Rachel said.

“I understand that. Okay, no big deal. I rarely drink anyway,” Angie said, rising. “I’m going to feed Precious.”

Angie opened the door to the hallway and found Precious standing right at the opening. Seeing this as her opportunity for escape, Precious leaped forward into freedom. She streaked through the dining area and then straight into Joe and Rachel’s bedroom where she disappeared under the bed. It didn’t take long for a commotion to erupt because also under the bed was Benny.

Angie and Rachel ran toward the noise coming from under the bed where both cats were delivering hisses and growls. This was Benny’s first encounter with Precious. Under the bed was his territory, and he made clear his distaste over the invasion, his growls growing louder with accompanying snarls. All the commotion brought Rufus into the bedroom to investigate. He began barking toward the ruckus.

“Precious, get out of there,” Angie said, lifting the bed skirt as she peaked underneath the bed. “Come here.”

“Benny, be nice,” Rachel said in a stern voice. “Meet your new friend.”

“New friend? Are you kidding? They’re going to tear each other apart!” Angie shrieked.

“I’ll get a broom to chase them out,” Rachel said, leaving the room.

The fight intensified by the time Rachel returned to the war zone. Given the thumping sound on the wooden floor, she figured they had made physical contact with each other and were rolling around underneath the bed. At least it sounded like that was happening. Meanwhile, Rufus continued his serenade. Rachel stuck the broom under the bed as Angie held the bed skirt up so her mother could see underneath. She made contact with the rolling balls of fur and pressed them out from under the bed. Both cats appeared, spitting and hissing, then ran from the room in different directions. Rufus gave chase, not knowing which cat to go after. He quickly gave up and laid by the sliders leading to the balcony.

Angie gasped, “Look at the white fur! My poor cat! Oh, my Precious.”

“Calm down. She ran out, so she’s not hurt,” Rachel said. “She just lost a little fur. No big deal.”

“No big deal?” Apparently, it was a big deal to Angie. “She’s a purebred. She has papers!”

“Well, she uses the litter box, just like Benny,” Rachel said. “Precious is a cat. Get over it.”

Angie looked at her mother with an indignant expression. “She’s my baby.”

“Well, keep your baby in your room so she doesn’t get her feathers ruffled again.”

“Precious, sweetie. Mommy is coming,” Angie called as she walked toward her bedroom, closing the door.

As soon as that door closed, the front door opened. In walked Joe.

“Hey,”

“Hey yourself,” Rachel said as she walked to the kitchen. “You just missed the big fight.”

“You and Angie get into it?”

“No. Precious and Benny.”

“Oh. Who won?”

“Hard to tell, although Precious lost some fur,” Rachel said, reaching into the refrigerator for salad dressing. “Precious and Angie are in the bedroom now.”

“How’d the fight come about?”

“Precious escaped and ran under our bed. Benny was there, naturally, so, the fight ensued,” she said.

“Hey, that’s where Benny sleeps most of the time.”

“I know.”

Angie came out of her bedroom with a concerned look on her face.

“Daddy, Precious was in a fight.”

“So I heard,” Joe said. Rachel knew he was about to be manipulated.

“You have to do something about Benny,” Angie said, sitting down at the dining room table.

“Like what? He lives here.” Joe joined his daughter at the table.

“But Precious is here now,” Angie said.

“Precious is a guest. Precious will be leaving when you leave,” Joe said. “Maybe you need to move a little faster to make that happen.”

“But Daddy!”

“Okay, you two, go wash hands, dinner is done,” Rachel interrupted. She placed the salad bowl on the table.

Joe went to the kitchen to wash his hands, Angie to their sink in the couple’s bathroom.

“So, how is the job hunt going?” Joe asked as he sat at the table again.

Angie’s head popped up quickly after she sat. “What job hunt? I’m concerned about my cat.”

“The job hunt we discussed when you first arrived.” Joe helped himself to some salad and passed the bowl to his wife. “You are supposed to be looking for employment.”

Angie sighed when she accepted the bowl from her mother. “Well, I haven’t done that. I only arrived yesterday. So, I’ve been at the beach, meditating.”

“I can see that. You look a little pink in the face,” Joe said, reaching for the dressing. “Tomorrow I want you pounding the streets for a job. Any job.”

“Any job?” Angie asked.

“Any respectable job. Even if it’s minimum wage,” Joe said. “Let’s have grace before we eat.”

The discussion stopped long enough for Joe to say grace.

“Like, where?” Angie asked.

“Try the mall,” Rachel suggested. “There are lots of restaurants in that area, too. A plethora of opportunities for jobs.”

Angie looked across the table at her mother. “Really? You want me to work in the mall?”

“I did when I was your age. Actually, I was younger,” Rachel said, churning her salad around in the bowl with her fork.

Angie looked over at her father. “Daddy?”

“That’s a good idea. So are the restaurants. Lots of jobs out that way,” he said, smiling at his daughter. “Lots of opportunities for you, sweetheart.”

Angie stuffed her mouth full of salad, silently chewing rather than arguing with her parents. Rachel knew what her daughter was thinking: A job? Working at the mall? The prospect of working did not appeal to Angie. She had never held a real job, and Rachel suspected she didn’t want to now. The necessity escaped her thinking. She imagined that Angie was quite content to allow her parents to pay for everything. Well, that was not happening. Not this time.