Death by Committee

by Alexis Morgan

  It didn’t take the boys long to haul out the folding tables that Louise had borrowed from her church and set them up in the driveway. Next, they carried out the boxes containing all the donated items and put them on the ground in front of the tables, where her next group of volunteers could unload them.

  While the boys worked, she set up the smaller tables where the customers could check out and pay. She made sure both stations had bags for purchases, some tissue paper to wrap the more fragile items, and a cash box. That done, she paused to look around. So far, so good. Hopefully the rest of the day would go as smoothly.

  JB set the last box on the table. “Is there anything else we can do for you?”

  “If you don’t mind staying a little longer, you could start setting everything out on the tables. Don’t worry about trying to organize it. The ladies will take care of that as soon as they get here.”

  “No problem.”

  She’d promised the three boys a minimum of three hours pay for each day, even if the set up and tear down took less time than that. It looked like they were determined to earn it. She’d have to thank Gage for recommending them to her. They had nearly everything unloaded and the boxes stacked neatly in the back of the garage before the first of the quilting guild members arrived at seven-thirty.

  Tripp joined her at the side of the driveway. “I thought Zeke and I would walk over to the park and hang out for a while if that’s okay. Do you want me to put your signs out on the way?”

  “That would be great. I’d like one at the front of the driveway, one at the corner in each direction, and the last one out on Main Street. If that’s too many to carry, I can ask JB or one of the other boys to help.”

  He gave her one of those looks, the kind where he thought maybe she was insulting his manhood or something. “I can handle four signs, Abby. It’s not like they’re all that heavy.”

  Before she could apologize, he was gone. Darn, that man was touchy, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it now.

  Two cars pulled up in front of the house, the first one Glenda’s. Abby buried her aggravation with her temperamental tenant and her disappointment over losing her prime suspects, and hurried to help her elderly friends maneuver their way up to the garage. Most of them got around just fine, but others needed a little help now and then.

  At least they were all pleased when they saw how much work had already been done. Louise put her hands on her hips and looked around. “Abby, I’m amazed at all you’ve accomplished. You must have been up for hours to get this much done already.”

  “I didn’t have to get up that early.”

  Okay, that was a lie. Since her divorce, she’d gotten out of practice getting up before sunrise. “Besides, I had a lot of help. JB and his friends have been working really hard since they got here.”

  She smiled at the boys. “Help yourself to more goodies if you’d like, but otherwise you’re done for this morning. We officially close each day at four-thirty, but I’m not sure how hard and fast that timing is. Why don’t you aim for getting back here at five. I’m hoping we’ll have sold enough that we won’t have nearly this much to lug back into the garage.”

  JB nodded. “We’ll be back.”

  After they were gone, Abby turned her attention back to her friends. “I know we need to finish getting organized, but there are breakfast pastries, juice, water, and coffee around on the back porch. Help yourselves whenever you need a bit of a pick-me-up.”

  * * *

  The rest of the morning passed by in a blur. People came and went, sometimes in bunches, at other times only one or two would be poking around. The ladies traded off covering the checkout tables while the others prowled around filling in the gaps left when things were sold. So far, the hottest items seemed to be jewelry and tools, although a fair number of the books were gone, too. Abby had been surprised when the mushroom-covered canisters had been snatched up by one of the very first customers. There was no accounting for taste.

  Around noon, things slowed to the point that Glenda and Jean set out the sandwiches and salads they’d brought for lunch. Once everyone had filled a plate, they returned to their chairs around the tables in the driveway. Abby let the conversation swirl around her, not really paying much attention until she heard Dolly Cayhill’s name mentioned. She immediately tuned into what was being said.

  Rebecca Hagerty was saying, “I guess that new development will go forward now that Dolly’s gone. She’d be so disappointed to see that happen.”

  Louise nodded. “She would be, but I told her all the time that she couldn’t stop progress. Eventually, we all knew Frank Jeffries would finally convince the zoning commission to let him build on that lot. Besides, it’s his property. Maybe he should be able to do what he wants with it.”

  “What property is that?”

  The two women turned their attention to Abby. “The old Embrey place,” Louise said. “It’s a big parcel of land that backed up to Dolly’s yard. Frank Jeffries bought it a couple of years ago. She was happy at the time, thinking he’d fix up the old farm house. Instead, he and some investors decided to tear it down and subdivide the parcel to build a bunch of smaller houses.”

  Rebecca picked up where Louise stopped off. “She did everything she could to block the development from going forward, saying that old house was a historical site and should be preserved.”

  Gerri, a member of the group who Abby didn’t know all that well, snorted. “Old doesn’t mean always mean valuable. If you ask me, Dolly just doesn’t want a neighborhood of young families with kids backing up on her place. She won’t like the noise.”

  “Gerri!” Louise gave the far corner of the backyard a pointed look, reminding her friend that Dolly was beyond caring about such things now.

  In response, Gerri drew a sharp breath. “Sorry, everyone. I forget sometimes that she’s gone. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”

  Jean played peacemaker. “We’re all struggling with what happened, Gerri. I think we should find something else to talk about.”

  Louise immediately pointed toward a quilt that was prominently displayed on a rack by the front of the garage. “We’ve sold a lot of chances for the quilt. More than we did last year, I think.”

  Abby filed away the comments about Frank Jeffries. He might have had good reason to want Dolly gone if her interference in his plans had caused him financial difficulties. Meanwhile, she studied the quilt they were raffling off. It was a star pattern, although she didn’t know the specific name for the design. Rather than being quilted, the corners of the squares had been knotted with embroidery thread in dark blue to match the binding. She loved the hodgepodge of colors that would warm any room it was displayed in. “Who made it?”

  Glenda smiled. “We all worked on it. Each of us picked out the fabric and colors for at least two of the squares. Once the top was all sewn together, we got together to tie it. It’s a project we all look forward to every year.”

  One of the other women sighed. “It was supposed to be the cover for our calendar.”

  It was impossible to miss the air of disappointment that swept through the group. Abby glanced at Glenda and asked, “What calendar is that?”

  “We were going to do a calendar to sell as another fundraiser for the group. It was Sybil’s idea, actually. I think she was inspired by that movie that came out several years ago about the women who wanted to buy a couch for the hospital. The idea was to feature a different special quilt for each month, and then the cover would be the quilt we all worked on. We thought we’d offer it to sell through the mail, at church, and anywhere else we could think of.”

  Jean patted her friend on the arm. “It was a good idea. I think we should try to do it again sometime.”

  Louise didn’t look happy about that idea. “Not after what it cost so many of us. I’m still just heartbroken over how it all turned out.”

  Abby was about to ask what happened to derail the project when two large vans pulled up in front
of the house and eight people piled out of each one. She tossed her empty plate in the trash. “Looks like we’re back in business, ladies.”

  Later, though, she would ask Glenda, or maybe Jean, about the calendar project. It was obvious that something had gone horribly wrong. Whatever it was, it had had a profound effect on the group. As she took her spot at the checkout table, Abby remembered Glenda was having to duplicate that quilt for her niece’s wedding. It would be interesting to learn if the two things connected, but now wasn’t the time to ask.

  The new arrivals were already starting to line up to pay for their purchases and Abby mustered up a smile. “Here, let me put those in a bag for you. That’s eight paperback books at fifty cents apiece, so four dollars total.”

  As she accepted the handful of quarters and dimes, she couldn’t help but quietly laugh to herself. A year ago, she’d spent her days balancing the company’s books and dealing with five- and six-digit numbers without batting an eye. Today, she got excited if a sale broke the five-dollar mark. The funny thing was how much she was enjoying herself.

  Who woulda thunk it?

  Chapter Ten

  “Come on, boy. We need to keep moving.”

  Zeke resisted Abby’s best efforts to pull him away from the tree trunk that had caught his attention as they walked past. She had no idea what messages other dogs had left on it when they’d stopped to lift their legs, but evidently it made for fascinating reading. So far, her furry companion had circled the tree three times, sniffing each and every inch of the bark and dragging her along behind him in the process.

  Finally, he snorted loudly and then proceeded to leave his own message, an incredibly lengthy missive considering he’d already left similar notes on several other bushes and trees along the way. When he was satisfied with his efforts, he shook himself head to tail before resuming their walk. She smiled at an older couple who went single file to give her and Zeke room to pass.

  Most adults instinctively gave Zeke a wide berth. If she didn’t know what a sweetheart he was, she might have been just as leery of a dog of his size, too. The truth was, the only real threat the bighearted fellow presented to the world was his ability to produce an excessive amount of drool, which often left behind an icky trail of mastiff goo wherever he went.

  So gross, not dangerous.

  Children, on the other hand, loved the big guy. More than a few thought he was a pony rather than a dog. Every time they went for a walk, she had to ward off one or two munchkins who demanded a chance to go for a ride. Zeke would’ve probably tolerated the indignity of it all, but for his sake she refused all such requests. Hugs and back scratches, though, were always welcome.

  She gave Zeke’s leash a firm tug, telling him that they were going left instead of their usual right. He gave the vine maple tree on the other corner a longing look but didn’t fight her as they turned the other way. Normally, Zeke liked to move along pretty briskly between his favorite places to stop and sniff around, but today she was glad he was content to go at a slower pace. They’d gotten a late start on their walk because both of them had slept in that morning. She’d been exhausted by the time the garage sale had ended the previous evening and everything that was left had been packed up to be dealt with later.

  While she and the boys had done most of the grunt work outside, Glenda and the other ladies had pitched in to clean up her kitchen and divide up the leftover food to go home with whoever wanted some. When that was done, they’d stood by and watched while she and Louise counted all the money. That had taken longer than she’d expected because so much of it was in coins and small bills. Still, Glenda had been right on target with her prediction. The net proceeds after expenses exceeded their prior best sale by nearly three hundred dollars.

  That would make a lot of small quilts.

  With the sale over, Abby was now free to concentrate on other things—like taking a peek at the property that Frank Jeffries wanted to develop. On the way, she also planned to walk by Dolly Cayhill’s house, although she wasn’t sure why. Curiosity, mostly. Seeing where Dolly had lived might help her get a better handle on what the woman had been like when she’d been alive.

  She kept Zeke moving along at slightly faster clip while keeping an eye on the addresses of the houses they passed. As it turned out, she needn’t have worried about the house numbers at all. If she’d been asked to pick out the one place on the entire street that looked most like what Dolly Cayhill would’ve lived in, it would’ve been the immense house on the corner.

  All-brick homes weren’t all that common in the area, so that alone made it stand out from the crowd. The stately, two-story house stood proudly on top of a slight rise, allowing it to look down at all of the neighboring houses. Abby didn’t know a lot about architecture, but she was willing to bet the grand old dame had been built well over a hundred years ago. It didn’t take much imagination to see it as the centerpiece of some rich family’s sprawling estate. She wondered if it had been in the Cayhill family for generations.

  Although the yard was large by today’s standards, the imposing size of the house still made it look crowded. In part, that was due to the ornate landscaping, which was still being well maintained despite the death of its owner. It would be interesting to know if the niece planned to keep the place, or if she would put it on the market.

  That thought brought Abby to an abrupt halt as she pondered the possibilities. Considering how she herself had just inherited a house and all of its furnishings, it should’ve occurred to her long before now that someone stood to profit from Dolly’s unexpected death. Gage had said the niece was the next of kin, but the woman and Dolly hadn’t been all that close. With that being the case, who stood to inherit? The house alone had to be worth a serious chunk of change.

  Something else to think about. Right now, she had one more place she wanted to check out. The property that Mr. Jeffries owned supposedly backed up to Dolly’s yard. Abby nudged Zeke into moving on, turning at the next corner to circle around to the next street. Again, it wasn’t hard to pick out the old farmhouse that the ladies in the quilting guild had mentioned. She paused to study it from a distance and wasn’t all that impressed. While it might have been as old as Dolly’s house, it had never possessed the same elegant grace.

  At one time, it had probably been white with cheery green trim. Now the peeling paint had streaks of mold that matched the faded shutters in color. Could an architect or an historian look at all that damage and still see something worth saving? Maybe it still had good bones like they said on those TV shows where they flipped houses. But considering the way the peak of the roof sagged in the middle, she seriously doubted it.

  Zeke sighed heavily and sat down beside her on the edge of the gravel driveway that led up to the house. When he leaned into her leg, she patted his head. “We’ll get moving again in a second. Give me a minute to look around, and I’ll give you an extra treat when we get home for being so patient.”

  His tail did a slow sweep through the dirt and gravel in acceptance of her offer. Before setting off cross-country to look at the house up close, she did a slow three-sixty turn to see if anyone was paying any attention to her. Most of the nearby houses were separated from this one by six-foot tall cedar fences. Even if the homeowners were out in their backyards, they wouldn’t be able to see what she was doing. The view from the remaining two sides was blocked by a stand of trees.

  Okay, then. No reason not to do some snooping. She headed straight for the house, which looked worse the closer she got to it. The old wooden porch was missing several boards, so she had to really watch her step to get near the windows. Shading the sides of her face with her hands, she pressed her nose against the cracked glass and looked inside. The interior looked every bit as bad as the outside. Trash was scattered on the floor, the ceiling light fixture dangled from a single wire, and there were mildew stains on the walls. It would take more than a superficial face-lift to make this place livable.

  She jumped back whe
n something scurried across the floor inside. “Rats!”

  Literally. Shuddering, she backed away and headed straight toward the road, her curiosity satisfied. Maybe Dolly Cayhill had felt some connection to the Embrey family that made the place special to her. Regardless, there was no way that crumbling mess of a house was worth saving.

  When she got home, she’d do some snooping online to see if she could find anything that would explain why Dolly had tried to block the development. Maybe Gerri had been right about her motivations being purely selfish and simply not wanting a bunch of young families moving into the neighborhood.

  Before she reached the street, a big pickup pulled into the driveway. The driver climbed out and headed straight for her. He appeared to be in his early fifties. Although not as tall as Tripp or Gage Logan, he still carried quite a bit of muscle on his frame. He looked like a man who’d earned his living with his hands, making it quite likely she was looking at Frank Jeffries. Whoever he was, he didn’t look happy to see her and was frowning big time as he watched her walk toward him.

  “Excuse me, but can I help you? Was there something you needed?”

  He sounded more exasperated than angry, but how much had he seen? Abby crossed her fingers that he’d turned the corner after she’d stepped off the porch. “No, I . . . we were just walking by when my dog spotted something running through the grass. He took off after it before I could stop him.”

  The man didn’t call her on the lie, which was a relief. “That’s some dog you’ve got there.”

  Patting her companion on the head, she said, “Zeke’s a real sweetheart. I should’ve had a tighter hold on his leash, but he’s usually better behaved than that. I’m not sure what it was that he spotted.”

  “Probably an opossum, but it could’ve been a rat, too. The old place is infested with them.”