by Amanda Lee
I sighed. Leaving Mom behind in San Francisco had been the one drawback to my moving to Tallulah Falls. I wished Mom could have made the party, but she was in New York on a movie set. It was par for the course. In many ways, I grew up privileged. But I was lonely for my mother, who was often on location somewhere, and since Dad had died when I was very young, I’d often been left in the care of my nanny.
I have to give Mom credit for passing along to me my love of textiles, though. When she was home, Mom often allowed me to come to the studio and help work with the fabrics. She’d wanted me to go into fashion and costume design. A rebellious little snot at the time, I’d told her I wanted a “more stable and reliable” career. Mom said I’d be bored with a reliable career. While I’d admitted that accounting wouldn’t be as exciting as dressing Hollywood’s A-listers, I asserted that it would allow me to be home for my family, should I ever be fortunate enough to have one. I told you I was a rebellious little snot. That comment had hurt Mom. And I’d meant it to. At the time, I wouldn’t have taken it back for anything in the world, even if I could have. Now that I was a wee bit older and wiser, I regretted it.
During my rebellious late-teen years, I even stopped going to Mom’s studio. It was like I was spiting her, but I was really hurting only myself. I hadn’t realized that until I was in college. I’d come back to the dorm one evening to find Sadie laboriously trying to embroider a pair of jeans. I took over the task and rediscovered my love for the craft. Still, I was too proud to admit that to Mom, so I’d sucked it up and embarked on my career in accounting.
I found the chandelier earrings I’d been looking for and put them on. Taking one last imaginary puff from the cigarette holder, I placed it back in the jewelry box.
I called Angus to me and put his black bow tie around his neck. Then I batted my lashes at him and imitated Bette Davis: “Fasten your seat belts. It’s going to be a bumpy night.”
When Angus and I got to the shop, Sadie and Blake were already there setting up a refreshment buffet on the counter.
“We used the key you gave me,” Sadie said. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Why would I mind? I just wish I’d arrived earlier. You two already have all the work done.” I inhaled deeply, savoring the chocolate-and-vanilla-scented air. “Everything looks—and smells—delicious.”
“And you look beautiful,” Blake said. “Todd will be thrilled.”
“Blake!” Sadie frowned at her husband.
I looked from one to the other. “Who’s Todd?”
Blake looked at Sadie. “You didn’t tell her?”
“Tell me what?”
The pair continued conversing as if I hadn’t spoken. That made me even more nervous than I already was.
“Of course I didn’t tell her,” Sadie said. “I didn’t want her to think I was trying to fix her up.”
“You mean you’re not?”
Sadie sighed. “Not exactly. I wanted to introduce the two of them. That’s all—nothing more.”
“Uh-huh.” Blake grinned knowingly. “That’s all, huh?”
Sadie swatted at him playfully with a paper plate, and he pulled her to him for a quick kiss.
They’re a sweet couple . . . well suited, even though on the surface they appear so different. Sadie is tall and dark. Blake is only an inch or two taller than his wife, and stockily built with blue eyes and light blond hair. They’re opposites in other ways, as well: Sadie hates sports, while Blake loves hockey; Sadie likes corny horror flicks, but Blake likes corny comedies; Sadie enjoys reading the classics, and Blake’s reading seems to be confined to blogs—really dorky blogs, to be exact. And yet you can look at them and see how much they love each other, how compatible they truly are.
I hope to find a love like that myself one day. I thought I’d had it once, but I’d been so wrong. And, based on Sadie’s previous attempts, I doubted I’d find it with this Todd guy. Or anyone else Sadie happened to dig out from under a rock.
“Blake is right about your looking beautiful,” Sadie said. “Though I’ll never know how you walk in those shoes.”
“You’ll never have to find out,” I said. “You’re tall enough without them. And you look terrific, by the way.”
Sadie looked down at her navy dress with the beaded bodice. “Aw, this old thing?” She winked as Blake rolled his eyes.
I went to take a closer look at the refreshments while Blake fed Angus a shortbread cookie. There was a carafe of hot chocolate and another of Kona coffee. I thought fleetingly of asking the MacKenzies about a pot of decaf, but decided not to. Let everyone eat, drink, and be wired.
Besides the aforementioned shortbread cookies, there were s’mores, chocolate chip cookies, and peanut butter crinkles. The napkins had THE SEVEN-YEAR STITCH superimposed over an image of Marilyn Monroe standing on a grate with her dress billowing about her thighs. Blake had found the napkins online somewhere. Blake could find anything online.
I turned back to my friends. “Thank you so much, guys. This means a lot to me.”
Sadie smiled. “You’re welcome. You mean a lot to us.”
That’s when I knew I’d have to give this Todd guy a chance . . . no matter what he might be like.
“Will you help me keep an eye on Angus tonight?” I asked. “You know he has no problem reaching the counter; and with everybody’s attention diverted, he might just give in to temptation.” I looked at Angus, who wagged his tail and looked up at me with a “Who me?” expression.
“Yeah, especially since Blake has already got him started on those shortbread cookies,” Sadie said. “They’re addictive. Trust me, I know.”
“Sorry.” Blake looked sheepish, but slipped another cookie behind his back to Angus.
The bell over the door heralded the first guest.
“Am I too early?”
Before I could turn to see who’d spoken, I was struck by the richness of his voice, smooth and delicious as warm maple syrup dripping off a hot pancake on an icy January morning. I turned, half expecting to be disappointed. I was not disappointed.
“You’re right on time,” I said, taking in the man’s thick, dark hair and sparkling brown eyes. I held out my hand. “I’m Marcy Singer. Welcome to the Seven-Year Stitch.”
From the corner of my eye, I noticed Sadie and Blake elbowing each other as the man encased my hand in his own.
“Nice to meet you, Marcy. I’m Todd Calloway.”
Angus placed his big snout on our clasped hands to effectively end the handshake.
“Well, hey, big fellow,” Todd said. “Do you embroider, or are you only here for the party?”
“He’s here for the shortbread,” Blake said.
To everyone’s delight, Angus sat and offered Todd his large gray paw to shake.
Wow, I thought, even Angus approves. I caught Sadie’s eye and gave her an appreciative smile. If she’d dug Todd Calloway out from under a rock, that rock must’ve been a diamond.
Before I really knew what was happening, the shop was full. Sadie and Blake introduced me to the people I hadn’t met earlier in the day. Still, it was going to be hard to remember everyone.
I looked around the room and caught sight of Todd Calloway. He was bending over to hear what some short older woman with her hair in a supersevere bun was telling him. When he caught my eye, he raised his coffee cup in salute.
I grinned. There was at least one person here I’d have no trouble remembering.
I sought out Angus and spotted him sitting beside a lovely girl with honey-colored hair. The girl, who appeared to be in her early teens, was stroking Angus’ head and speaking to him softly.
“Hi, I’m Marcy,” I said, approaching the girl. I nodded at Angus. “Angus likes you.”
“Thanks. I like him, too. People say I’m good with dogs.”
“You sure are.”
From the corner of my eye, I glimpsed a lanky, unkempt man wearing dirty jeans and a trucker cap coming toward us. He staggered into me and caused me to
stumble. Angus stiffened as I caught the back of the red chair to steady myself.
“It’s okay, Angus,” I said softly.
“I needa talk with you,” the man said.
“Okay,” I said, my voice wavering a little.
The man was obviously drunk, and he was making me uneasy. I walked slowly away from Angus so the dog wouldn’t sense my anxiety. The man followed with an unsteady gait.
“This used ta be my store,” the man said.
“Oh, then you must be Mr. Enright,” I said, having heard his name from both Sadie and my new landlord.
“Yep. Tim Enright. Thirty years, this was Enright’s Hardware.”
“It—” I cleared my throat. “It must be hard for you to see the place change hands. I—”
Mr. Enright shook his head. “No, not that. Something else. We needa talk.”
I glanced around and was relieved to see Blake coming to my rescue.
“Hey, Tim! How’re you doing?” He put his arm around Mr. Enright’s shoulders and propelled him away from me.
“I needa talk to her,” Mr. Enright said. “Gotta tell her.”
“Aw, that can wait, man. Come on over and check out the refreshments.”
Mr. Enright tried to turn back to me, but Blake had a firm grip and led him over to the counter.
I had no idea why Mr. Enright would want to talk with me. I was giving that some thought when Sadie came over with a slender woman with light gray hair and small, round glasses. The woman wore a white, knee-length tunic and scarf over matching pants.
“Marcy, I’d like you to meet Rajani Singh.”
“Please, call me Reggie,” the woman said. “Everyone does.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Reggie,” I said, holding out my hand.
She shook it. “Likewise. I love to embroider”—she held out the end of her scarf to reveal intricately embroidered white orchids—“so I know you and I will get on swimmingly.”
“I’m sure we will.” I took a closer look at her scarf. “This is chikankari, isn’t it?” Chikankari is a traditional form of white-on-white embroidery from India. “You do lovely work.”
“Thank you.” A grin spread across her face—Reggie seemed pleased that I recognized her form of embroidery.
“Reggie is the local librarian,” Sadie said.
“Then I’m sure we’ll see a lot of each other,” I said with a laugh. “I love to read. And I love looking through art books for embroidery ideas.”
“I do, too,” Reggie said. “I wish my husband could’ve been here tonight, but he’s on duty. He’s on the police force.”
“That must be an exciting job,” I said.
“It has its moments, I guess. Manu loves it, but the hours can be a pain.”
“Speaking of being a pain, what’s with Tim Enright this evening?” Sadie asked. “He looks horrible.”
“This is the first time I’ve ever met him,” I said. I bit my lower lip. “Does he drink a lot?”
Reggie shook her head. “I’ve known Timothy for more than twenty years, and I’ve never known him to take a drink.”
Before either Sadie or I could respond, a heavyset woman with short, curly brown hair interrupted. She wore a severe gray suit and pumps. The suit seemed to belie the woman’s outgoing personality.
“Excuse me,” she said. “I’m Vera Langhorne. I have to run, but I didn’t want to leave before meeting the guest of honor.” She shook my hand warmly.
“Thank you so much for coming tonight, Mrs. Langhorne,” I said. “I hope you’ll come back when we have more time to visit.”
“Oh, I will. I’ve signed up for one of your classes. I’m looking forward to it.”
“So am I,” I said.
As Mrs. Langhorne walked away, Timothy Enright approached me and took me by the arm. “Come ’ere. Gotta tell you.”
“Please, Mr. Enright,” I began. “I’m sorry I—”
“Tim!” It was Todd Calloway. “How’ve you been?” He widened his eyes at me and led Tim Enright away.
Mr. Enright turned back to me, his eyes pleading. I’d have felt sorry for him if I weren’t so freaked-out by his behavior. Since I was freaked-out, I took the opportunity to walk away and lose myself in the crowd.
Two hours later, everyone except Sadie, Blake, Todd, Angus, and I had gone. I slipped off my shoes and padded around in my stocking feet while helping Blake and Sadie clean up.
“Ms. Singer,” Todd said, “I believe your open house was a rousing success.”
“Thank you. I do, too. Look at how many people signed up for embroidery classes.”
Sadie looked over my shoulder at the lists. “Impressive.”
Suddenly, we heard a thud. It appeared to have come from the back of the building.
“What was that?” I asked.
“Probably just a dog turning over a trash can,” Blake said.
“We get that a lot,” Sadie said. “If you throw any food in the garbage cans out back, be sure to double bag it.”
“Or even triple bag it,” Todd said. “Because of the bears.”
“Bears?”
“Oh, sure. They come scrounging around every now and then.” He caught Blake’s eye and grinned. “In fact, I should probably walk you out to your car just in case that was a bear.”
The next morning, it became clear that a bear had not caused the thud we’d heard.
Chapter Two
I was feeling good as Angus and I unlocked the door and entered the shop the next morning. I had my lists in hand and was eager to start calling people about the first embroidery classes. About seven people had signed up for the cross-stitch tote bag project. Twice as many had signed up for beginner’s crewel and candlewick classes. Besides that, many of the women at the party had indicated an interest in stopping by for “Sit and Stitch” sessions between eleven a.m. and one p.m. every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday.
Suddenly, Angus ran to the storeroom and began pawing the door.
“What’s up with you? You’re usually not this active until you’ve been awake at least an hour or two.” I strode to the storeroom and flung open the door. “There. Now are you—”
I screamed. Timothy Enright was lying on the storeroom floor. Unfortunately, the sight failed to pull Angus up short. He ran forward to sniff Mr. Enright.
“Angus, no!” I grabbed his collar, wrestled the huge beast out of the storeroom, and closed the door. It was all I could do to pull him into the bathroom and shut him inside.
I leaned against the bathroom door and tried to catch my breath. My body was shaking so hard, and I was afraid I was going to be sick. Or faint. Or both. I’m usually not a fainter, but I don’t have the strongest stomach in the world, and it didn’t smell great inside the storeroom.
Poor Mr. Enright. Had he passed out and been on that cold concrete floor all night long? I knew I had to pull myself together long enough to go back and see about him.
I went back to the storeroom and eased open the door. I half expected him to jump up off the floor to let me know this whole thing had been a prank. But he didn’t move.
I covered my mouth and nose with the sleeve of my sweater in an attempt to escape the sickening smell.
Mr. Enright’s trucker cap had been knocked off when he’d fallen, and I could see he had a sparse patch of brown hair covering his head. He’d thrown a few of the boxes off the storeroom shelves, and every OCD impulse I’ve ever had surfaced in a ridiculous desire to put my once-tidy storeroom back in order. That pale rose cloth with the dainty floral pattern shouldn’t be lying on the floor. Nor should those wooden embroidery hoops. They’re delicate. If someone stepped on them, they’d break. And those tapestry needles . . . while not terribly sharp, someone could get hurt if they weren’t picked up and put back in their box.
I closed my eyes and realized the futility of my desire to restore order to this situation before even calling the paramedics. First things first. I needed to get Mr. Enright some medical attention.
“Mr. Enright!” I called again. Since he showed no signs of reviving, I went to the counter and called the ambulance. Angus barked his protests from behind the bathroom door.
With reassurance that the paramedics were on their way, I hung up the phone and went to wait by the front window.
Within just a few minutes, I heard sirens blaring down the road. I hurried and opened the door wide.
“He’s in the storeroom,” I told the paramedics as they rolled a stretcher quickly through the door. “All the way in the back.”
Before the paramedics reached the storeroom, Sadie came barreling into the shop. “Marcy!” she called, her eyes darting all around the front room.
“I’m here.” I hurried to greet her.
“Are you okay?” Sadie asked. “I saw the ambulance stop outside.”
“I’m fine, Sadie. But . . . Mr. Enright’s not. He passed out on my storeroom floor last night.”
Sadie rolled her eyes. “Man. Did he throw up or anything?”
I grimaced. “It’s not pretty in there.”
“Ewww!” Sadie began fanning her face with one hand and took her cell phone from her jacket pocket with the other. “I’ll call Blake and have him look up the phone number for one of those hazmat cleaning teams the very first chance he gets.”
“Hazmat?”
