The Stitching Hour Page 17

  “I’m sorry, but Mom isn’t feeling well and didn’t come with me today,” I said.

  “I guess the trip was a bit much for her.”

  She apparently wasn’t in the small-town loop yet, and I didn’t want to elaborate. “I suppose so. By the way, I saw you, Claude, and some of your staff members at Keira’s memorial. I thought it was awfully nice of you to go.”

  “Well, she was . . . lost . . . while doing work for us,” Priscilla said. “So, naturally, we wanted to be there for Ken Sherman . . . and the rest of the family . . . and for MacKenzies’ Mochas too, since she was one of their own.” She lifted her shoulders. “What a tragic loss for . . . for everyone.”

  “Yes, it truly was.” I noticed someone crossing the street as if she might be heading for the Seven-Year Stitch. “Well, I’d better go. Drop in anytime.”

  “You do the same.” She waggled her fingers good-bye at me before closing the door to the Horror Emporium.

  As it happened, the woman wasn’t coming to the Stitch. She walked toward MacKenzies’ Mochas. So I had time to contemplate the conversation I’d just had with Priscilla.

  Had I misjudged her? I wondered as I unsnapped Angus’s leash and put it back behind the counter.

  Angus trotted back to the office to get a drink of water, and I sat back down to work on the open house bags.

  For days after Keira’s death, I’d been appalled at how unfeeling she and Claude had seemed about the whole thing. They’d actually spoken about the murder being good for business, that is, after they’d worried that too many people had seen their actors in costume on the street. I guessed they could’ve been trying to make the best of a bad situation. Maybe they simply hadn’t known how to behave or what to say about a young woman getting killed while helping out at their grand opening party. Or maybe by now Priscilla had finally processed the killing.

  The bells over the door jingled letting me know a customer had come in. Angus wandered out of the office to see who was there. Since it was an elderly woman, he obediently walked over to the window and sat down.

  “What a nice dog,” she said.

  “Thank you. His name is Angus. I’m Marcy. Is there anything I can help you find?”

  “I’m really just looking. But I was at my friend’s house the other day, and she was doing something that was like a bunch of French knots.”

  I picked a pillow up off the sofa and turned it toward her. “Did it look something like this?”

  “Yes, that’s it! What is that?”

  “It’s called candlewick, and you use Colonial knots rather than French knots. I can show you how, if you’d like.”

  “Yes, please.”

  I got a piece of linen, an embroidery hoop, and some white floss and joined the woman in the sit-and-stitch square. I had to demonstrate the Colonial knots only a time or two before she got the hang of it.

  “Oh, I like this,” she said. “Do you have any pattern books?”

  “I do.” I led her over to the candlewick books.

  She picked out a book, floss, linen, an embroidery hoop, and some pillow stuffing. I rang up her purchases and invited her to the open house. She said she’d be there, took her periwinkle bag, and turned to go.

  I was surprised to see Nellie Davis coming into the shop with a small bag. She held the door open for my customer and wished her a good day.

  “Hi, Nellie,” I said. “I’m glad to see you’re working today.”

  “Well, I’ve decided to stay a bit longer. No one wants to be trying to move in winter, and it’s setting in quickly.”

  “That’s true.”

  “I called Vera Langhorne to tell her that I have her lavender essential oil in—I’d run out when she came by last week. People must be having trouble relaxing and getting to sleep at night. I know I have been.” She shook her head slightly as if to reorganize her thoughts. “Anyway, Vera was at your house when I reached her. She told me about your mother.” She placed the bag on the counter. “This is for her. It’s a bottle of bergamot essential oil and a diffuser. She should diffuse the oil for no more than twenty minutes at a time.” She patted her chest. “It’s for her heart.”

  “Thank you!” I stepped around the counter and started to give the frail little woman a hug, but when she saw what I was about to do, she said good-bye and hurried out the door. I had to throw both hands over my mouth to quiet my laughter.

  I called Mom to tell her that Nellie had brought her a gift.

  “Is Vera bringing you to the shop when she goes to Scentsibilities to pick up her lavender oil?” I asked.

  “She isn’t going for a while yet. She, Veronica, and I are playing gin rummy and enjoying a chat. We’re staying put for now . . . unless, of course, you need me to help you with something.”

  “No,” I said. “I’m fine. I just wanted to check on you and let you know about Nellie’s gift. I’ll bring it when I come home for dinner.”

  “All right, darling. See you then.”

  Vera, Veronica, and Mom . . . chatting while playing cards. Would I want to be a fly on the wall for that conversation or not? Probably not.

  I was surprised to see Adalyn coming in.

  “Hi,” I said. “Didn’t Priscilla tell you my mom isn’t here today?”

  “No, I don’t go into work until later this afternoon.” She bent and hugged Angus. “Besides, I’m here because I’d like to learn to cross-stitch. I was looking at the stuff in here the other day, and I think it’s really cool.”

  “Oh. That’s great. Come on over, and let’s find you a kit.” I led her to the beginning cross-stitch kits. “I think it’s best to start with a simple kit so you can decide whether or not you like it before tackling anything too difficult.”

  She picked out a fox. “This is adorable! Do you think I could do this one?”

  “Of course, you could. I can get you started on it now, and then you can come back by if you need any more help.”

  I rang up her kit, and then we went over to the sit-and-stitch square to open it and begin. I showed her how to start in the center of the pattern.

  “You can either cross the stitches as you go, or you can do a line of half stitches in a particular color and cross them as you come back,” I said. “That’s the way I usually work.”

  Soon she was comfortably making the stitches on her own.

  “This isn’t hard at all,” she said.

  “I knew you’d catch on quickly.” I decided this was a great opportunity to talk with Adalyn about Jared and Keira. I couldn’t think of any casual way to bring them up, so I had to use the blunt approach. “You and Jared seemed happy at dinner the other night.”

  “We were. We are,” she said. “He’s such a sweetheart. He deserves better than . . . well, than how he’s been treated in the past.”

  “Do you mean Keira or Susan?” Susan was Jared’s ex-wife.

  “Both. Neither was very good to him from what I’ve heard.”

  “I believe Christine would agree with you,” I said. “Have you met Jared’s mom?”

  “Yeah. She’s a treasure. I think it’s awful that she’s got this stress about killing Keira hanging over her head. You don’t think she did it, do you?”

  “No, I don’t. Adalyn, do you know whether or not Jared has any business dealings with Keira’s dad?”

  She looked up from her needlework. “I don’t know. Jared is hoping to expand. He’s been saving and is looking to add another bay or two onto the garage . . . maybe even hire another mechanic. I think that’d be super, don’t you?”

  “I do.” Adalyn was still young enough to want everyone to agree with her. “Progress and growth is almost always good.”

  “Why almost always?” she asked.

  “Well, I wouldn’t want to grow the Stitch right now because I wouldn’t want to take on more than I could han
dle. But, unlike Jared, I’m not looking to hire a helper either. Right now, I’m happy with my shop being small.”

  “Yeah. But, you know, if you decided you were ready to settle down and have a family, then you might change your mind about that.”

  “I might indeed.” Hadn’t she and Jared been dating for only a couple of weeks? Surely they hadn’t talked about marriage and a family already.

  “Jared is always thinking about the big picture. He was really glad when I told him I’m studying to be an accountant. I mean, I enjoy acting, but I don’t think it would be a suitable career for me.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “You’re awfully good.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled. “I might be good enough for community theater, but I’m not a silver screen kinda gal.”

  “So is Jared already thinking of making you his bookkeeper?”

  “Maybe. It’s hard to say what the future holds, but I like him. I like him a lot.”

  • • •

  I was delighted—and so were my stomach and Angus—to see Ted walk in with lunch. He’d brought chef salads and milk shakes.

  “Milk shakes?” I asked with a bemused smile.

  “Sure. It’s for energy. Plus, you’ve got protein from the eggs and meats in the salad. And it’s not a heavy meal. Well, not entirely.” He put the bag and the drink carrier on the counter and swept me up into his arms. “How’s that for a pick-me-up lunch?”

  I laughed. “Wait! I have to put the clock on the door.”

  He set me down, and while I fixed the clock, he carried the food into the office. Guess which one of us Angus went with? If you guessed Ted, you were right.

  As we ate, I told Ted about how his mom, my mom, and Vera were spending the day playing cards and chatting.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re having a little wine too,” he said.

  “Does that make you nervous?”

  “The drinking part—not so much. The chatting—a little bit.”

  “Me too. You know they’re talking about us,” I said.

  “And yet, if either of them could hear us speculating on what they’re talking about, they’d say we’re flattering ourselves.” He mimicked his mother’s voice. “We’re intelligent women. We have much more interesting things to discuss than our children.”

  I smiled. “You’re right.”

  “No, you’re right—they’re definitely talking about us. But they’ll never admit it.”

  “Are you having a good day?” I asked.

  “Yeah. I followed up on that pet store lead. The owner swears he’s never heard of Ken Sherman, but he could either be lying or Ken could be using an alias with some of his clientele. How about you?”

  “I’ve had a day full of surprises.” I told him about how Nellie had brought a gift for Mom. “I was so touched that I went around the counter to give her a hug, and she practically ran out of the store.”

  He chuckled. “I can’t get over anybody turning down a Marcy hug. She doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

  I huffed.

  “What? I’m not kidding!” He laughed again. “You said you had more than one surprise?”

  “I have. Believe it or not, I think Priscilla might have a heart after all. When I mentioned seeing her at the memorial, she talked about Keira’s death being a tragic loss instead of good for publicity. And then Adalyn came in to learn cross-stitch.”

  “Adalyn? Is that the girl we saw with Jared Willoughby at dinner Saturday night?”

  “It is,” I said. “And, although they’ve only been dating a couple of weeks, it must be getting serious.” I told Ted about Jared’s plan to expand his business and the possibility of making Adalyn his bookkeeper. “When I told her I wanted to keep my business small for now, she said I might change my mind when I got ready to start a family.”

  He dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. “Jared appears to be quite a few years older than Adalyn.”

  “I’d say he’s about five to seven years older. That’s not a terrible gap.” I drew my brows together. “Why? What’re you thinking?”

  “I’m wondering if Adalyn has come up with these fanciful ideas on her own, or if Jared truly feels like putting up the white picket fence after being burned so badly two times in a row.”

  My frown deepened. “Oh. You’re right. I hadn’t thought of that.” Ted had raised some good questions. Had Adalyn set her sights on Jared to the point that she’d decided to give up her dream of acting and go into a profession that could benefit him? Or had Jared gone that quickly from one serious relationship to another? It’s possible that Adalyn had been telling me the truth—that she didn’t feel she was cut out for Hollywood. But, if she hadn’t been serious about acting, why had she auditioned for Vera and me in the hope of meeting Mom?

  We ate in silence for a few minutes, each of us lost in our thoughts.

  “I did ask Adalyn if Jared had any business dealings with Keira’s dad,” I said at last.

  “What was her response?”

  “She said she didn’t know, but then she started talking about Jared’s plans for expansion.”

  “We’re already looking into whether or not Jared is working with Ken Sherman,” Ted said. “She said he’d been saving for this expansion?”

  I nodded.

  “I wonder if Jared is simply imagining the business he could possibly have someday, or if he’s found an investor willing to make it happen.”

  “Or was willing to make it happen,” I said. “Would Ken Sherman still want to help out Keira’s boyfriend now that she’s gone?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  I was delighted to see Captain Moe stroll into the shop shortly after lunch. He boomed a hello to Angus, who romped over to greet him, and then he gave me a hug.

  “I was in town visiting Camille and the baby, and I heard about your mother,” he said. “Is she all right?”

  “I believe so. It was quite a scare.” I motioned for him to accompany me to the sit-and-stitch square.

  “I’m sure it was.” He sank onto the sofa.

  “The doctor told her to see a cardiologist when she gets back home, but she thinks Mom’s heart is fine.” I sat on the red club chair I’d recently vacated.

  “Good to hear, Tink.” He nodded toward the goodie bags. “For the upcoming celebration?”

  “Yes. Will you be able to make it?”

  “I’m afraid not,” he said. “I’ll be working.”

  I handed him one of the goodie bags with my compliments.

  “Thank you very much.” He smiled. “Has it been a year already?”

  “It has.” I chuckled, remembering the first time Angus and I met Captain Moe. “I met you on a Sunday . . . The diner was closed, and yet, you fed us anyway.”

  “How could I not? Two wee strays . . . Well, one wee stray and a big furry beastie!”

  Angus wagged his tail.

  As we were laughing, the bells over the door jingled. I looked up to see Priscilla walking into the Stitch with a potted amaryllis and a DVD.

  “Hello.” I was getting ready to introduce Priscilla to Captain Moe when he spoke.

  “Well, as I live and breathe. Priscilla Morris! What brings you to Tallulah Falls?” He got up and crossed the room to give her a brief hug, which she awkwardly accepted.

  “My husband, Claude, and I are running the Horror Emporium next door. You should come and check us out some evening.”

  “I’ll do that. How’s Jim?”

  She pressed her lips together into a thin line before answering. “You know my father.” She turned to me. “I have to get back and get ready for tonight’s performance. I just wanted to drop these off for your mom. Tell her I hope she feels better soon.”

  I thanked her and took the items from her. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate your thoughtfulness ve
ry much.”

  “Tinkerbell, I need to leave also.” Captain Moe gave me a hug and patted Angus’s head. “Priscilla, I’ll see you out.”

  Outside on the sidewalk, Captain Moe and Priscilla spoke briefly before going in opposite directions. Captain Moe looked faintly troubled as he walked away. I turned from the window so he wouldn’t think I was watching them.

  I looked down at the DVD Priscilla had brought. The Amazing Atwoods. I shook my head. She was determined to audition for Mom.

  The DVD didn’t look like a top-notch professional production. I wondered how famous the Atwoods had been.

  I went to the office and got my laptop. I did a search for the Amazing Atwoods. Some links advertising performances came up but not much more than that. I then searched for Claude Atwood and Priscilla Atwood separately. Again, not much turned up. And, from what I could see, it didn’t appear the two had been performing but for the past two to three years.

  Oh, well. The video would make for interesting postclass entertainment later tonight. Given the Atwoods’ flair for the dramatic, I was looking forward to seeing what they did when they were full-out trying to put on a performance.

  While there was a lull in customers coming into the Stitch, I called Alfred. His secretary put me right through to him.

  “Marcy, dear, is anything the matter?”

  “No . . . I don’t think so.”

  “Out with it.” Alfred Benton had put on his surrogate father voice.

  I told him about Mom’s trip to the emergency room. “I just need to know if anything like this has happened before. Is there anything I should know—anything she hasn’t told me about?”

  “Not that I’m aware of,” said Alfred. “My guess is that the stress of travel plus the heavy meal simply took its toll. I’ll make sure she is seen by a cardiologist as soon as she returns to San Francisco. In fact, I’ll have my secretary make the appointment.”

  “No, please don’t. She’ll kill me for snitching on her.”

  “Well, too bad.”

  “At least, call and talk with her first,” I said. “For all I know, she’s already called and made the appointment today.”

  He deftly changed the subject. “How are preparations for the anniversary celebration coming along?”