The Stitching Hour Page 15

  “I’m not a quitter. This town has just got to be too much for me.” She glanced at Mom, making me think she’d have added since you came here had Mom not been with me.

  “You don’t honestly believe the Atwoods are vampires, do you?” I asked.

  It had started sprinkling rain as we drove up, and there was no roof to speak of over Nellie’s front stoop. I decided I needed to get Mom back home. Vera had been right. Coming to speak with Nellie had been a lost cause.

  I turned to tell Mom we should go when Nellie invited us inside. Mom and I exchanged glances. Was this a trap? Was she going to shove us into an oven? Or would she lure us into a cage so she could lock the door behind us and fatten us up first? There went my wild imagination again.

  I stepped inside and looked up at the ceiling to ensure steel bars didn’t surround us. There was only white tile. I felt relatively safe.

  Nellie led us to her living room, a cozy space with a floral sofa and matching chair and a picture window that looked out upon the ocean. Thankfully, Nellie sat on the chair, leaving the sofa for Mom and me.

  “I’m not a nutcase,” Nellie said. “I don’t know what the Atwoods are besides a couple of weirdos, but I feel like a cat that’s on its eighth of nine lives. Look how many near misses I’ve had in the past year! How many times I could’ve been killed!”

  “But you haven’t been killed, Nellie. You’re a survivor,” I said.

  “Vera mentioned you were thinking of going to Arizona,” Mom said. “Do you have family there?”

  “No.”

  “Then why are you going, Nellie?” I asked.

  “It’s a warmer, milder climate. . . . I’ll get to know people.” She shrugged her bony shoulders. “It’ll be good for me.”

  “You’re scared,” I said. “So am I. But I know the Tallulah Falls Police Department is working day and night to find Keira’s killer . . . and they will. And then we’ll be safe again.”

  “Until the next time something happens.” Nellie briefly closed her eyes. “And then what? We’re back where we started.”

  “Bad things happen everywhere, dear,” said Mom. “I do a lot of traveling in my line of work, and scary situations aren’t exclusive to Tallulah Falls. What will you do when something bad happens in Arizona?”

  “You’ll be alone there. You won’t know anyone,” I said.

  “And who do I have here?” she asked.

  “You have a lot of friends, Nellie. You know you do.” I went on to tell her about the tour bus group that came into town today. “The tourists were terribly disappointed to find Scentsibilities closed.”

  “Well, I do have the nicest shop on the street,” she said.

  “It is a nice shop,” I agreed.

  “I don’t know that I’d call it the absolute nicest,” Mom said. “I mean, there are a variety of different shops on Main Street, and that’s what gives the place its charm.”

  “That’s true,” Nellie said quietly. “Marcy has a . . . an okay shop also.”

  It was as close to a compliment as I could ever hope to get from Nellie Davis.

  “I hope your shop will be open tomorrow,” I said as I stood. “But if you don’t reconsider, I wish you the best of luck in Arizona.”

  “So do I,” Mom said. “We’ll see ourselves out.”

  Nellie got up from the chair. “I . . . appreciate your coming by.”

  I had no idea what Nellie would decide to do. Either way, my conscience was clear.

  Chapter Sixteen

  After going to Nellie’s house, Mom and I stopped by the market and got the few things I needed for the shop and for home. On the drive to my house, I asked Mom what she’d like for dinner.

  “You know what I’d really like that I haven’t had in ages?” she asked. “A deep dish pepperoni pizza.”

  “Ooh, that sounds good. And I know just the place.” I handed Mom my phone, told her the name of the place and that it was in my contacts, and asked her to call in the order.

  When we got home with our pizza, we left the box in the unheated oven—I was afraid to trust Angus with a pizza on either the kitchen table or the counter and he refused to go out until we’d eaten and given him a bite or two. Mom and I both hurried upstairs and slipped into our warm fuzzy pajamas. Hers had matching slippers but I simply wore thick socks.

  We ate at the kitchen table with Mr. O’Ruff sitting on the floor nearby watching us as if we were playing a tennis match. If a single pepperoni were to hit the floor, he’d be on it in a second.

  Mom laughed softly. “I remember when you first got him. He was the scrawniest little beast I’d ever seen.”

  I’d rescued Angus from a puppy mill. My intention had been to get a Yorkie or some other small dog. Instead, I’d brought home the big-eyed, even-bigger-footed Irish wolfhound.

  “Remember how concerned Alfred was?” I asked, with a smile. “He didn’t think I realized how big Angus would get.”

  “Did you? Truly?”

  “Well, I knew he’d be big. . . .”

  Alfred Benton was Mom’s attorney and had been for the past thirty years. My dad had died when I was too young to remember him, so Alfred had been like a surrogate father to me.

  “How is Alfred?” I asked. “Is he dating anyone?”

  I’d always kinda hoped Mom and Alfred would find their way to each other someday . . . somehow. They’d always been the best of friends. Mom was a widower, Alfred was divorced, and Alfred was a silver fox—tall, fit, white hair in a neatly trimmed military cut.

  “He’s wonderful, and I don’t believe he’s seeing anyone. Not seriously, anyway.”

  “Mom, why didn’t the two of you ever give something more than friendship a chance?”

  She shrugged and stuffed a slice of pizza in her face to keep from having to answer.

  I wasn’t willing to let the matter go that easily. “Did you ever try?”

  She swallowed and took a drink of her soda before answering. “I believe we were both afraid dating would ruin our friendship, so we kept our relationship platonic.”

  “But, Mom, he’s perfect for you.”

  She blushed. “He’s my best friend and has been for three decades. We’ve been through so much together. I don’t want anything to ruin our relationship.”

  “You don’t think you could go back to being friends if you didn’t work romantically?” I asked.

  “Tell me about you and Ted. How are you getting along?”

  “We’re doing great. He makes me so happy.”

  She smiled. “I’m glad. And I realize that’s why you’re playing matchmaker. Happy people in love want everyone else to be happy and in love.”

  “Oh, hey,” I said, “I saw where Trouble’s Door is coming on tonight.”

  “Really?” She shook her head. “I had a lot of fun on that one. Jack DeLong played such a serious character, but he was a clown when the camera wasn’t running. He kept the crew in stitches.”

  “But not the director so much, if I remember correctly.”

  She laughed. “You do! What time does it start? I’d love to see it.”

  “I think it was coming on at either seven thirty or eight.” I awarded Angus’s patience with a piece of pizza crust.

  • • •

  The movie started at eight. When it came on, Mom and I were cuddled under a green fleece throw on the sofa, and Angus was snoring softly by the hearth.

  Trouble’s Door was nearly ten years old. Jack DeLong didn’t make many movies anymore, and when he did, he played taciturn bit-part characters like judges and corrupt politicians.

  I asked Mom why Jack didn’t act as much as he used to.

  “He made a small fortune off Trouble’s Door, and I suppose he took care of it. For all his kidding around, he was serious and knew to wisely manage his money. He realized he was
n’t as young as he once was.”

  “Still, he’s fantastic . . . and looks great,” I said. “I’d love to see him get some meaty part in a television series or something.”

  “So would I.” She winced and placed her hand on her chest.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. Now, be quiet and watch Jack.”

  Trouble’s Door was about a wise-cracking detective named Abe Ponitello—nickname, Pony. Pony was the first person on the scene of a homicide of a beautiful young woman. Her lovely older sister arrived moments after Pony did and sobbed into Pony’s arms. She was Pony’s love interest and was played by an unmemorable actress. I couldn’t recall anything she’d appeared in either before or after Trouble’s Door. Of course, she turned out to be the murderess—she’d killed her sister for their inheritance—and had broken Pony’s heart.

  We were watching the scene in which we—the viewers—discovered the sister’s treachery. She was murdering her sister’s boyfriend after planting evidence implicating him in the crime. She wasn’t strong enough to overpower him, so she used a Taser on him and suffocated him while he was dazed from the electrical current.

  Mom caught her breath.

  I turned to stare at her sharply. Sure, the movie was suspenseful, but we’d seen it before. Besides, she’d worked on it for eight months. There were no surprises here.

  She was holding her chest and struggling to breathe.

  “Mom, talk to me!”

  “It’ll be all right.”

  I was already reaching for my phone. “Have you ever had pain like this before?”

  She shook her head. “It’s probably . . . indigestion. I’ll . . . be . . . fine. Put . . . down . . . the. . . .” She pressed her lips together.

  I could see how much pain she was in. I called nine-one-one and told them my mother was having chest pains.

  “They’re sending an ambulance right out.”

  In the commotion, Angus came over to lick Mom’s face.

  “Angus, please,” I said, gently pushing his head away.

  He whimpered and lay down at her feet.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. I wasn’t sure if I was talking to the dog, to Mom, or to both of them.

  Mom took my hand. “It’s . . . okay.”

  • • •

  I managed to get Angus into the backyard before the ambulance came. After the paramedics got Mom outside, I let Angus back in, slipped on a pair of loafers and a jacket I kept in the hall closet, and rode with Mom in the back of the ambulance.

  It dawned on me as we raced to the hospital that I’d left the television on. Not that it mattered. Not that anything mattered except that my mom was okay.

  I wanted to hold her hand but one paramedic was taking an electrocardiogram and another was drawing blood.

  At the hospital, Mom was rushed into the emergency room. I stayed out of the paramedics’ way but followed as closely as I could.

  I was able to hold back my tears until I heard Ted’s breathless voice from behind me.

  “Marcy.”

  I turned and practically dissolved into his arms.

  He held me and let me sob for a minute or two. Then he held me slightly away from him and wiped my tears. “Sweetheart, we need to get in there to your mom. She’s going to be worried about where you went.”

  “I know. . . . You’re . . . right.” I hugged him again and took a deep, steadying breath. “I’m fine.” I looked up at him. “How did you know?”

  “The call came over the police scanner. I recognized your address.”

  I gulped. “Thanks for being here.”

  “Where else would I be?”

  Ted took my hand and led me to the bay where the paramedics had just gotten Mom settled onto a bed.

  “Look who I found,” I said to her.

  “Oh, goodness. I know I look horrible.” She glanced at me. “And you don’t look much better.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “You both look beautiful,” Ted said. “How’re you feeling?”

  “Like my daughter overreacted,” Mom said. The grimace that followed belied her words.

  A nurse hurried in and asked us to wait outside. The little area was getting pretty crowded.

  “I should call Alfred,” I said quietly as we stepped out into the hall.

  Ted’s eyes widened. “I might have to agree with your mom about your overreacting.”

  “Not because he’s her attorney,” I said. Ted had met Alfred on more than one occasion. “He’s her best friend. He should know.”

  “Don’t you think you should have a diagnosis before you call him? Otherwise, he’ll be as panicky as you are.”

  “That’s true. I hadn’t thought of that.” I slumped against his chest. “I can’t think of much of anything. I just want to do something. I want to fix this somehow. Please tell me she’ll be all right.”

  “She’ll be fine.” He kissed the top of my head. “Even if she is having a heart attack—and we don’t know that yet—she’s here where she can get the best care possible.”

  “I know. I know.” I knew I was trying to reassure myself. But it had to be true. She had to be fine.

  I heard the clip, clip, clip of non-nurse shoes coming up behind me at a rapid pace. I turned to see Vera hurrying toward us with her arms spread wide. Paul Samms followed in her wake.

  “Oh, poor darling!” Vera enveloped me in a perfume-scented embrace. “How’s Beverly?”

  “She’s having some chest pain,” I said. “And shortness of breath. I’m really scared.”

  “She’ll be okay, darling. She’s strong and healthy.”

  I started to ask how Vera had known but then I remembered that, as a reporter, Paul often listened to the police scanner. They, too, had apparently recognized my address.

  Paul patted my shoulder. “I had something like this happen myself a year or so ago. Turned out to be a false alarm. It’s good you had your mom brought in though, Marcy. People often refuse to seek care, and then they don’t get the help they need. But Beverly will be right as rain before you know it.”

  I knew everyone was trying to make me feel better with their reassurances, but I wasn’t going to quit worrying until Mom was back at home with me chiding me for worrying too much.

  The nurse came out.

  “May we go back in now?” I asked.

  She frowned. “I’d prefer that only one of you go at this time. Are you her daughter?”

  “Yes.”

  “The rest of you may wait here in the hall.”

  I went back into Mom’s room. “Hi. Vera and Paul are here.”

  “Great. My little misadventure will be a headline in tomorrow’s paper.”

  “Everyone’s just worried,” I said.

  She reached for my hand. “I know. I’m just still not accustomed to this small town. In San Francisco, I could fall down the stairs and break a leg and even if I was able to call an ambulance, none of my friends would know for days unless I called them. In Tallulah Falls, you suspect something might be amiss, and the whole town turns out in the hospital waiting room.”

  “Well, not the whole town.”

  She smiled. “I’m happy you have such good friends.”

  “They’re your friends too.”

  The doctor came in. She was a young woman with light brown hair and tortoiseshell glasses. She didn’t look old enough to have completed medical school, but I knew I was being critical because I wanted the top heart doctor in the world—one with at least twenty years’ experience, but not one so old he or she had become dotty—to treat my mother.

  “Hi, I’m Dr. Jacobs. Ms. Singer, I’ve looked over your reports. Your ECG doesn’t show any signs of heart attack, and your troponins are not elevated.” She looked at Mom’s chart. “I see here you’re vac
ationing from California. As soon as you get back home, I want you to make an appointment with a heart specialist just to make sure everything is all right. For now, I’m going to order you some nitroglycerine for the angina.”

  “Will she get to go back home tonight?” I asked.

  “If her chest pain subsides, she certainly will. The nurse will be back in with your medicine in just a moment.” Dr. Jacobs smiled at us both and then left the room.

  I released my breath. “Thank God.”

  “I told you it was a false alarm.”

  “Oh, admit it, you were scared too,” I said.

  “Maybe a little.”

  When the nurse returned, I went back out into the hallway to give the good news to Ted, Vera, and Paul.

  • • •

  Once Mom was released from the hospital, Ted drove us home. Vera and Paul tagged along to make sure we didn’t need anything.

  “We’re good,” I said to Vera. “I’m going to close the shop tomorrow, so I can stay here and look after Mom.”

  “You most certainly are not,” Mom said. “I’m not an invalid. I had a little chest pain. It was no big deal.”

  “The doctor ordered you to rest for the next couple of days and to see a heart specialist when you return home,” I said. “That doesn’t sound like no big deal to me.”

  Paul and Ted turned their attention to Angus, who was thrilled to see all the guests who’d come to his midnight surprise party. It was especially a surprise to Angus.

  “Darling, go ahead and open the Stitch tomorrow,” said Vera. “You still have to get ready for the open house on Friday. I’ll come by and stay with Beverly. And, Beverly, if and when you feel up to it, I’ll drive you into town.”

  “I appreciate the offer, Vera,” I said. “But Mom’s health is more important than the open house.”

  “I will not ruin this open house for you,” Mom said. “If you’re going to cancel everything—work, your classes, and even your open house—for me, then I’ll get on the next flight back home.”

  “Oh, no, you will not! I—”

  “Ladies, please!” Ted finally stepped in to bring order to the situation. That sort of thing happens when you’re dating a cop. “Marcy, accept Vera’s generous offer. You’ll have your phone with you and can check on Beverly throughout the day. And, if Beverly feels up to it, she can join you at the shop. You’ll know your mom is being looked after, and she’ll know that you’re going about your business as usual.”