Thread on Arrival Page 5

  Ted tried to suppress a smile. “You need some sugar.”

  My eyes dropped to his lips. It probably would help, but I thought Ted’s timing was a little off.

  He rolled us over to the coffeepot, reached over my head, and took a packet of artificial sweetener from the tray that held the creamer and sweetener packets. “You don’t have any real sugar?”

  I shook my head.

  He handed the sweetener to me. “This might still work. Open it and swallow the contents.”

  I looked at the packet and then back at Ted with a frown.

  “Trust me,” he said. “It works. Usually.”

  I tore off the corner of the packet of sweetener, swallowed the contents, and my hiccups immediately abated. I raised my eyebrows. “It worked. It really worked.”

  “You see? I’m good for what ails you,” he said with a wink.

  I smiled slightly. “Yes, you are. You really are.”

  “For the record, I don’t know what Mr. Cantor’s assailant was looking for, but I highly doubt it was a treasure map.”

  “Did he suffer?” I asked quietly.

  “It appeared he’d dozed off while reading. The coroner doesn’t think Mr. Cantor ever woke up,” Ted said.

  “I hope he didn’t. And I hope he was having a wonderful dream. Maybe he was dreaming he’d found the treasure.” I set the water bottle on the counter by the coffee tray. “He asked me to hold on to the tapestry for safekeeping. May I photograph it before I turn it over to you?”

  “Of course. But, again, Marce, I don’t think that’s why he was killed.”

  “You said the house was robbed,” I said.

  “I said it appeared to be. We don’t know what, if anything, is missing yet. Adam and Mary Cantor will have to tell us that.”

  I closed my eyes. “What about Mary?” My eyes flew open. “And Melanie? Will they still go to the shelter? What will happen?”

  “Manu and the domestic abuse victim assistance supervisor talked with Mary before advising Adam of his father’s death,” said Ted. “I believe Mary has decided to stay in the home for now. She can’t imagine leaving Adam just after his father died. But if she and Melanie have any problems, they’re going to call Manu. He’ll protect them.”

  “I know.” I hugged him. “Thank you for coming to tell me in person.”

  “You’re welcome. I knew you’d be upset, and I wouldn’t have had you find out any other way.”

  I pulled back and looked at his handsome face. Our eyes locked as I caressed his cheek with my palm. When my eyes lowered to his full lips this time, he leaned forward and kissed me. I buried my hands in his hair as I brought him as close as I could. His kiss felt so good . . . so right.

  “Hey, are . . .”

  Ted and I came up for air at the sound of Todd’s voice. He was standing in the doorway.

  “Sorry I interrupted,” he said, turning to leave.

  I started to call out to him, but I didn’t. Even though this was not how I’d intended to make my choice, it was made. It actually had been made for quite some time. I wanted to give a relationship with Ted a shot. I’d talk with Todd later . . . if he was still speaking with me.

  “You okay?” Ted said.

  I nodded. “I am. Are you?”

  “I’m great. This is what I’ve been waiting for,” he said. “You are who I’ve been waiting for.”

  “Ditto.” I kissed him again before standing. “Let me get you that tapestry.”

  Chapter Five

  After Ted left, I called Sadie and asked her if she could watch Angus and the shop for about fifteen minutes.

  “Sure,” she said. “Is anything wrong?”

  “I just need to run over to the Brew Crew and talk with Todd for a second,” I said.

  “Oh, okay. I’ll be right there!”

  I suspected that chipper note in her voice would fade after she found out what I was going to talk with Todd about.

  Minutes later, Sadie—face beaming—came practically skipping into the Seven-Year Stitch. I was sitting on one of the red club chairs, puzzling over the Fabergé egg pattern. She sat on the navy sofa facing the window and peered at my pattern.

  “That’s pretty,” she said. “Looks hard, though. Are you going to the Brew Crew to see if Todd can give you a shot of courage before you start on that?”

  “Actually, I need to modify this pattern to make it simpler,” I said.

  She leaned forward and squinted at me. “You’ve been crying.”

  I ignored her observation for the moment. “I’m going to talk with Todd because he walked in on Ted and me kissing a few minutes ago.”

  Sadie’s silence drew my eyes over to her face. She was gaping at me. “Is that why you’ve been crying? Because you think this has cost you your chance with Todd?”

  “No. I’m sorry Todd found out the way he did, but I’ve made my choice,” I said. “I believe Ted is the right guy for me.”

  “Oh.” The sound was small, yet somehow accusatory. “Then I guess this is my fault.”

  “How do you figure that?” I asked.

  “I told Todd about Keira and the treasure map fiasco. That’s why he came to see you. Have you had treasure seekers bugging you all day?”

  I shook my head. “I had a few calls, but no one has been here. Someone did break into Chester Cantor’s house, though.” My voice caught. “He’s dead.”

  She gasped. “Oh, my gosh, Marcy! I’m so sorry. You don’t think it had anything to do with that treasure map business, do you?”

  “Yeah, I do.” I placed my pattern and the book with the photo I was using as a reference onto the ottoman. Then I stood and wiped my hands down the sides of my jeans. “I’ll be back in a couple minutes. This shouldn’t take long.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked. “I mean, do you know for certain that it’s Ted you want, or were you just upset over the news about Mr. Cantor? If that’s it, Todd will forgive you for kissing Ted, and—”

  “I’m sure.” And I was. Looking back, I’d always been more attracted to Ted than to Todd, but I’d been reluctant to hurt Todd’s feelings, not to mention Sadie’s and Blake’s feelings. Todd and I were friends—good friends—and I didn’t want to blow that. I hoped my decision wouldn’t destroy that friendship. But I had to follow my heart. My heart chose Ted.

  The sunshine was still favoring Tallulah Falls with its presence when I stepped out onto the sidewalk, and it felt heavenly. The drab rainy days had left me aching for the warmth and sunshine I’d enjoyed in San Francisco during the early spring each year. I stepped over to the crosswalk, waited for the signal, and walked over to the Brew Crew.

  The craft pub brewery wasn’t very crowded this time of day—it was just past noon—and Todd spotted me the moment I walked in. He was polishing the bar with a white cloth. I raised a hand in greeting and he jerked his head upward in something of a reverse nod. He wasn’t glad to see me—that was obvious.

  I took a deep breath and strode to the bar. “Got a second?”

  He surveyed the pub, taking note of two waitresses cleaning tables and his other bartender Robbie taking inventory. “Come on into the office.”

  I followed him into his office, where he closed the door behind us.

  “So . . .” He spread his hands. “I guess you and Ted are getting along better than I’d thought.”

  “He’d stopped by to tell me that Chester Cantor was found murdered in his home,” I said.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” He stepped forward and put his hands on my shoulders. I could tell he wanted to hug me but was hesitant. “That’s what was going on in your office? Nash was consoling you . . . and that led to the kiss?”

  “That’s a big part of it, but I want to give the relationship a chance,” I said softly. “I’m sorry you found out the way you did.”

  He dropped his hands from my shoulders and shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I was just coming over to apologize for Keira and the treasure map episode. Sadie had told me
about it, and I knew Keira did it because of me.”

  “Yeah.” I grinned slightly. “That girl has it bad for you.”

  “Only she’s not the one I want.” He ran his hand through his hair.

  I placed my hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Todd. I think the world of you. I really do. I just . . .”

  He nodded. “I got it. You like me, but you like Marshal Dillon better. It’s not rocket science.”

  “You’ll—”

  He held up his hand to stop me from continuing. “Save the platitudes, all right? Yes, we can still be friends. Yes, there’s someone out there for me, and I’ll meet the right girl, yadda, yadda. But I’m not ready to move on to all that yet. Just give me some space, okay?”

  I nodded, tears burning my eyes. Not trusting myself to speak, I turned and left.

  “How’d he take it?” Sadie asked with an edge to her voice as soon as I walked back into the Seven-Year Stitch. She was standing with her back against the counter and her arms folded.

  I slid my hands into the front pockets of my jeans. “He’s a little upset.” I lifted and dropped one shoulder. What did she expect me to say?

  “Probably more than a little,” she said. “I should go over and check on him.”

  “Please, don’t make a bigger deal out of this than it is. Todd asked me to give him some space. I think he’d appreciate that from you and Blake as well.”

  “Yeah? Well, maybe he’d like to know his friends care about him.”

  I shook my head. “Can’t you be happy for me in the least?”

  Sadie blew out a breath and dropped her arms to her sides. After a moment she said, “I am happy for you . . . and for Ted, too, for that matter. I’m just sorry for Todd. And I blame myself for trying to throw the two of you together. I wish you and Todd had been able to give your relationship a fair shake.”

  “I think we were able to do that,” I said. “But my feelings for Ted go beyond friendship. My feelings for Todd don’t. Maybe Keira is the girl for him after all.”

  “I don’t think so.” Sadie looked down at the floor. “There was never anything between her and Todd except on her part . . . kinda like the opposite of you and Todd, right?”

  “That’s not fair. I can’t help who I have feelings for.”

  “I know,” Sadie said, with a huff. “I’m sorry.”

  “You know who you should introduce Todd to? Audrey Dalton. She’s beautiful, and she seems like a terrific person.”

  Sadie looked up, and I could see that her eyes were glistening with unshed tears. “Yeah . . . but, after this, Todd might never trust anyone with his heart again.”

  I thought Sadie was being a tad melodramatic, but I had the good sense not to say so.

  * * *

  After Sadie left, I gave Angus a treat and made myself a cup of tea. She hadn’t made me feel any better about how things had gone with Todd. But, fortunately, she hadn’t made me feel any worse. As I’d told her, I couldn’t help it that I had feelings for Ted. I thought about Ted and smiled to myself. He was a wonderful man. If I had a future with any guy in Tallulah Falls, it was Ted.

  I sat down at the computer and pulled up the photos I’d taken of Mr. Cantor’s tapestry. This brought on another wave of melancholy over Mr. Cantor’s tragic death. This was one of the most bittersweet days I’d ever experienced. I’d have to call Mom later and get her take on everything.

  I tried to put Mr. Cantor’s death out of my mind and concentrate solely on the tapestry. The Delia. I could quickly see if it was a legitimate shipwreck.

  I went into my Internet browser and did a search for shipwrecks off the coast of Tallulah Falls, Oregon. The Delia came up in the search. I clicked the link.

  The Delia was an East Coast ship that sank off the coast of Tallulah Falls en route to Portland, Oregon, from San Francisco in 1844. The schooner was hauling silk, pearls, and beeswax. The Delia ran into a gale and was stranded at sea. A tugboat arrived too late to rescue the stranded vessel, but the crew was taken to safety. The Delia began to break up in the stormy seas, and the cargo was lost.

  My cell phone rang, and I took it from my pocket. It was Ted.

  “Hi, there,” I said.

  “You sound as if you’re feeling better,” he said. “I’m glad. I know it was rough on you to hear about Mr. Cantor’s death.”

  “It was. Did your investigators find the names of any treasure hunters when they were searching the home? Mr. Cantor said he’d spoken with one.”

  “And you think that might be a good place to start, eh, Inch-High Private Eye?”

  I laughed softly at the twisted endearment. “It couldn’t hurt.”

  “I’ll look into it. In the meantime, you shouldn’t worry about the investigation,” he said.

  “And you shouldn’t waste your breath. You know I’m going to worry about Mary and Melanie as long as they’re in that house. What if Adam is the killer?”

  “Can we discuss it over dinner? At my place? I’ll make my famous chicken piccata.”

  “Well, if it’s famous, how could I say no?” I asked.

  “Oh, it’s famous, all right. How about I pick you up at your place at six?”

  “That sounds great. I’m looking forward to it.”

  I heard a customer come into the shop and had to hang up. But as soon as this customer left, I was calling Mom.

  “Hi. Welcome to the Seven-Year Stitch,” I told the woman as I replaced my phone in my jeans pocket. The woman with the lank brown hair pulled into a low ponytail looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place her right away. Had she visited the shop before?

  She looked around appreciatively. “This is a nice place.” She nodded toward Angus, who seemed to sense her hesitation. “He doesn’t bite, does he?”

  “No. Angus is as friendly as can be.”

  “It’s real nice of you to help Ms. Singh out and all,” she said, still avoiding Angus as if she wasn’t a hundred percent sure she could trust him.

  That’s when it clicked. She was one of the women in the domestic abuse victims group. Melanie Cantor had sat between this woman and her mother yesterday evening. “I’m glad I’m able to contribute, even if it is in such a small way.”

  Susan . . . I was fairly certain her name was Susan.

  “Oh, I don’t think it’s a small way at all.” She moved farther into the shop and smiled at the mannequin standing behind the counter. “Cute. Hey, did you guys talk with Mary’s father-in-law this morning? I know that was weighing on Mary’s mind awfully heavy last night.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t want to be the one to tell Mary’s friend that Mr. Cantor was dead. Who knows what kind of rumors and speculation that would start? So I simply said, “We did. He’s a real sweetheart.” To change the subject, I added, “Is there anything I can help you find?”

  “No, I’m just browsing,” she said. “Thanks, though.” She wandered over to the pattern books. “I appreciate your bringing us the stamped pattern kits. These with the symbols look hard.”

  “They’re not so bad when you get the hang of it,” I assured her. “You might want to try one after you finish the project you’re working on now.”

  “Maybe.”

  As she continued to thumb through the pattern books, another customer came in asking if I had anything on Chinese Suzhou embroidery. The young woman was of Asian-American descent and told me she was trying to combine her Chinese heritage with her love of needlework.

  Suzhou embroidery is one of the oldest embroidery techniques in the world and utilizes brightly colored silk threads to create intricately detailed needlework pieces. I mean, really intricate. One form of Suzhou embroidery even features a design—either the same design or a different one—on the back of the fabric. Can you imagine? And, no, I’ve never done one of these myself. I was doing well to create the image on the front of the fabric.

  It has been recorded that Suzhou embroidery was being done as far back as 200 BC, but the technique became pop
ular during the Song Dynasty (which began in the late 900s, if I’m not mistaken). I was impressed that one of my customers was interested in the craft.

  Although I didn’t have anything in stock, I retrieved my laptop from my office and invited the customer to help me find something among my suppliers. She and I sat on one of the sofas in the sit-and-stitch square and scrolled through Web pages until we found a supplier who offered Suzhou kits. She and I were both thrilled, and I ordered four kits—one for her, and three to put in the shop. The customer gave me her name, e-mail address, and cell number, and I promised to let her know as soon as the kits came in.

  Once the Suzhou customer had left, I turned my attention back to Susan, but she’d apparently slipped out of the shop. I checked the clock and saw that it was a quarter past three. Since there’s usually a lull in business at that time of day, I decided to call Mom. As a sought-after costume designer, she was often away on location. But she was enjoying some much deserved downtime at home this week.

  She answered on the first ring, and instead of chirping her lyrical Beverly Singer, she answered with, “Hello, darling. What’s new?”

  “You actually checked caller ID!” I laughed. “That’s new.”

  She joined in my laughter. “Hey, I’m on vacation . . . or, rather, staycation. I’m being careful about whose calls I take. Now, let me guess why you’re calling.” She paused. “You found another dead body in your storeroom.”

  “Mom! Of course not!”

  “You mean there hasn’t been a murder in Tallulah Falls lately?”

  I hesitated just an instant too long.

  “Marcella,” she said, forcing a note of sternness into her voice. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  I quickly explained about teaching embroidery to the domestic abuse victims group, speaking with Mary and Melanie, and Mr. Cantor’s demise.

  “I’m so sorry, darling,” she said. “What about the woman and her daughter? Did they still leave?”

  “No. Mary couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Adam when he would be grieving for the loss of his father.”

  “That makes sense. She loves the man . . . just not his treatment of her,” Mom said.