Snow Way Out: A Mystic Snow Globe Romantic Mystery (The Mystic Snow Globe Mystery Series Book 2)

by M. Z. Andrews

  “It means you’re helping us solve the mystery of that dress over there,” said Esmerelda without skipping a beat.

  “Right,” said Evanee. “Well, as much as I really want to help you two, honestly, I’m not a very good mystery solver. Plus, I’m super busy. I have a shop to open up in a half an hour.”

  “You don’t have anyone else that works there that can open it up?” asked Whitley.

  Evanee lifted a shoulder. “I mean, I have an employee, but I can’t depend on her to run my business for me while I go running around chasing down the origins of this dress.”

  “I really don’t think the mystery will be that hard to solve,” said Whitley, nibbling on her fingernails. She still wore the pair of soft fleece pajamas Evanee had lent her the night before.

  “Why not?”

  “Well, because there’s a huge clue inside.”

  “Yeah?”

  Whitley nodded. “I think it’s pretty obvious by the detail in that dress that it’s handmade.”

  “We don’t know that,” Evanee muttered on the back of a sigh.

  Whitley stood and put Esmerelda on Evanee’s kitchen table. Her face was bright when she clasped her hands together beneath her chin. “Oh, but we do! There’s a seamstress’s label inside. We just need to look the seamstress up, pay her a visit, and see if she remembers who the dress belonged to. Easy peasy lemon squeezy!”

  Evanee stood up and sighed. “All we have to do is to go find out who made the dress and find out who it belonged to?”

  Whitley nodded. “How hard can that possibly be?”

  9

  “Why do you keep looking at me like that?” Esmerelda snapped at Prim from the backseat of Evanee’s Tahoe.

  “Meow,” said Prim, her eyes fixated on Esmerelda.

  “Evanee, your cat’s giving me this weird stalker vibe. I don’t like it,” whined Esmerelda, bouncing over the seat to land in Whitley’s lap on top of the poufy gown.

  “Es!” squealed Whitley. “You’re going to ruin the dress!” Whitley shoved her back over the seat into the backseat.

  “But I don’t wanna sit by this kid. He’s creeping me out.” She leapt over the middle row seat into the back.

  Evanee glanced into her rearview mirror. Prim stood on her hind legs now, staring over the middle row seat back at Esmerelda. Her tail stuck out from beneath her tutu and waved from side to side, expressing her desire to be friendly. Ever since her sweet kitty had woken up, it was like she’d suddenly realized that she had a new sister and had taken an immediate interest in Esmerelda.

  “She just wants to be friends,” said Evanee, putting her vehicle into drive. They were just pulling out of the Woods Rustic Wares parking lot. Gemma had had no problem watching the shop for a few hours by herself while Evanee went off to run her errands. Of course, she hadn’t told her best friend that she’d snuck Whitley, Esmerelda, and the gown from a snow globe she’d found at the flea market out the back to join her for said errands.

  “Be friends, my fur!” said Esmerelda, keeping her eyes trained on Prim. “He’s looking at me like I’m lunch!”

  “Prim would never bite you, Esmerelda,” said Evanee. “She’s a sweetheart.”

  “And can you please stop calling this kid a she? Your gender pronouns are weirding me out even more than he is.”

  Evanee shook her head. “Look, if you want my help, you two are just going to have to figure out how to get along.” She drove to the other end of the covered bridge next to her shop and parked in the empty lot on the other side.

  “Okay, let me see that tag now,” she said.

  Whitley opened up the dress and showed Evanee the tag that had been carefully stitched into the dress just beside the zipper. “It says Sew Crafty Designs. Maybe we could look it up on the Internet and see who owns that label?” she suggested with a shrug.

  Evanee put her car in drive again and with a little sigh shook her head. “No need for that. I know exactly who Sew Crafty Designs belongs to.”

  “You do?”

  “Yup. She used to sell things in my shop. Her name is Priscilla Pankhurst. She’s got arthritis in her fingers now and it’s too difficult for her to sew anymore.”

  “You think she’ll talk to us about the dress?”

  Evanee steered the car towards the woman’s house across town. “No harm in asking, is there?”

  Whitley clapped her hands excitedly. “This is so exciting! Let the sleuthing begin!”

  Priscilla Pankhurst lived in a rustic log house just off the main road midway between Stoney Brook and Whitingham to the west. Hanging flower baskets as well as an eclectic assortment of wind chimes hung from the covered front porch’s lower roof line, and four wooden rockers took up residence along the length of the shaded space. Aside from the two big sugar maple trees in the front yard, several handfuls of evergreen trees blocked the house from the road. So when they finally pulled up to the place, Whitley couldn’t help but swoon.

  “Ohhh, it’s so cozy,” she said, her green eyes bright.

  “Isn’t it? It’s like a page out of a magazine,” agreed Evanee. She pointed to the front porch, where a white-haired woman sat reading in a rocking chair with a quilt tucked around her lap. “Oh, good. She’s home.”

  Evanee put her vehicle in park, shut off the engine, and got out.

  “Good morning, Priscilla,” she called out as Whitley crawled across the front seat and slid out the driver’s-side door behind Evanee.

  Priscilla adjusted her glasses and looked curiously around the nearest porch post. “Good morning. May I help you?”

  Evanee approached the house and touched her fingers to her chest. “I’m Evanee Woods, Priscilla. Do you remember me? I own Woods Rustic Wares.”

  Priscilla peered up at the tall brunette. It took a moment, but recognition finally colored her face with a bright smile. “Oh, yes! Evanee! Of course I remember you. I’m sorry, I just couldn’t see who it was coming up the walk. My eyes aren’t as good as they used to be.”

  “Priscilla, this is my friend Whitley.” Evanee gestured behind her.

  Priscilla looked around Evanee’s shoulder. “Who are you talking about? There’s no one there, dear.”

  Whitley cleared her throat uncomfortably. “Oh, sorry, Evanee. I probably should’ve warned you. Only you can see me and hear Essy.”

  Evanee shot the younger woman a look to say, You couldn’t have told me this before I made a fool out of myself? Evanee turned to look at Priscilla again and gave her a nervous little laugh. “Oh sorry, she must’ve stayed in the car. I thought I heard her behind me.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I was wondering if you might be able to help me out with something.”

  Priscilla frowned. “Oh, my apologies, Evanee, dear. I wish I could help you, but I can’t sew anything anymore. My arthritis has gotten so bad recently.” She held up her gnarled fingers. “Just look at what it’s done to my hands!”

  Evanee looked at her sympathetically. “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. I know it was your livelihood!”

  “That it was,” sighed Priscilla. “But to be honest, I’ve been a seamstress for the last fifty-five years and sewing since I was just a girl. I don’t mind giving it up. I’ve taken to reading instead now and it’s just as satisfying.”

  “Well, good. I’m glad to hear you’ve found a hobby.” Evanee leaned against one of the porch’s large white banisters. “But that wasn’t why I came, Priscilla. I don’t need anything made. I was actually wondering if you could tell me about a dress that you already made.”

  Priscilla adjusted her blanket and leaned forward a bit as if she was having difficulty hearing. “A dress I already made? What do you mean?”

  “I have a dress in the car. It’s got your tag sewn into the back. I was hoping you could tell me who you made it for.”

  “Who I made it for? Oh, goodness. I’ve made so many dresses over the years. I’m not sure that I’d remember, dear.”

  “Would you mind at least taking a lo
ok at it? Maybe it’ll ring a bell.”

  Priscilla tossed her hands up into the air and then let them fall in her lap. “Well, I’ve got nothing better to do. I certainly don’t mind taking a look.”

  Evanee grinned. “Perfect. I’ll just go grab it, then. Stay right there.”

  Priscilla chuckled. “I’m not going anywhere, dear.”

  Whitley squealed as the two women went back to the Tahoe for the dress. “This is so exciting!”

  “Shhh,” hissed Evanee.

  “She can’t hear me, remember?”

  “A detail that would’ve been nice to know before we got out of the car, don’t you think?”

  Whitley blushed. “Sorry. I didn’t think of it.”

  “It’s fine.” Evanee opened the front passenger door and Esmerelda met her immediately. As she reached around the fluffy gray cat to grab the dress, she smiled. “Esmerelda, did you want to come with us to hear what Priscilla has to say?”

  Esmerelda glanced over her shoulder at Prim. “I’d prefer to stay in here and take a nap, but could you please tell him to keep his hands to himself?” She aimed a furry paw at Prim.

  Evanee tipped her head sideways as she looked over the seat at Prim. “Prim, leave the nice kitty alone, okay?”

  Esmerelda rolled her eyes. “You’re so firm with him.”

  “What do you want me to say? She’s a cat. She doesn’t know what I’m saying.”

  Esmerelda lifted her brows. “Hey, watch it. I’m a cat and I know what you’re saying.”

  Quirking a grin, Evanee groaned. “That’s different. You’re—you’re special.”

  “Thank you for noticing. And as far as kitty-grabby-paws back there, you’d be surprised. He understands what you say more than you think he does.”

  Evanee swiped her hair over her shoulder, letting it fall down the middle of her back. “Whatever. Are you coming or not?”

  Esmerelda leapt across the front seat into the driver’s seat, and curled up into a ball. “Not. You can fill me in on the way home.”

  “Fine.” Evanee draped the dress over one arm, kicked the door shut with her foot, and walked back around the vehicle, whispering to Whitley. “Fingers crossed that Priscilla’s got a good memory.”

  Whitley crossed her fingers and folded her arms across her chest. “I hope, I hope, I hope!” she cheered.

  The women had no sooner gotten back to the porch and unfolded the dress than Priscilla gasped.

  “Oh my goodness,” she breathed as if she’d just seen a ghost. Tears immediately filled her eyes.

  Goose bumps rippled across Evanee’s arms and legs. Priscilla had been making dresses for five decades. She’d expected Priscilla not to remember that exact dress and to have to sleep on it. She certainly hadn’t expected such an immediate and emotional reaction. She rushed to Priscilla’s side and kneeled down in front of the old woman.

  “What is it Priscilla?”

  The old woman lifted her glasses to press a wadded-up tissue against the corners of her eyes. “I never thought I’d see that dress again,” she whispered. “Where in the world did you find it?”

  Evanee’s mouth hung open. She couldn’t very well tell her the truth about where she’d gotten it. Priscilla would never believe her.

  “Tell her you got it at a secondhand store,” whispered Whitley. “It’s where my father got the dresses for me and my sister.”

  Evanee frowned. She hadn’t heard anything about Whitley’s father getting the dresses for her and her sister before. This was new information that she’d have to ask about later. But for now, she had to concentrate on the present. “I got the dress from a secondhand store.”

  Priscilla leaned forward in her rocking chair. “How in the world did it get into a secondhand store?”

  Thankful she hadn’t told a complete lie, Evanee shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. I was looking for a dress to wear to the Renaissance Festival and I came upon it. After I brought it home, I discovered your dress designer label sewn inside, and imagine my surprise to realize the dress I’d found had actually been made here in Stoney Brook by someone I knew! It’s a gorgeous dress, and in such amazing condition that I could hardly believe my luck! It doesn’t even look like it’s ever been worn.”

  Priscilla’s head bobbed as new tears sprang into her eyes. “That’s because it never was worn. At least, not by the person I made it for.” Her shoulders shook as she cried, continuing to dab at her eyes as she did. “I’m so sorry. It’s just that this dress conjures up some very sorrowful memories.”

  Evanee’s heart raced. She was almost scared to hear who Priscilla had actually made the dress for. She glanced sideways at Whitley. Her face told Evanee that she was scared as well. “Priscilla, would you be willing to tell me who you made it for and why they didn’t get to wear it?”

  The old woman pulled her quilt off of her lap and tossed it over the armrest of her chair. Then she reached her hand out. “Give me a hand up?”

  Evanee helped the old woman to her feet.

  Priscilla curled her finger over her shoulder as she walked towards her front door. “Come on in, dear. I’ll tell you everything I know.”

  10

  The inside of Priscilla’s house was cozy, with its distressed hardwood floors, whitewashed knotty pine car siding, and low exposed beams. The front room was split in two by the stairway up to the second floor. To the left was the living room, furnished with a worn sofa draped by a handmade quilt, two upholstered rocking chairs, a television, and a wood-burning stove. To the right of the staircase was the dining room, where what appeared to be a handmade wooden table took up the majority of the space, surrounded by an odd assortment of mismatched wooden chairs. The house smelled of both fresh-baked bread and mothballs and reminded Evanee of something in her childhood that she couldn’t quite place.

  Priscilla pointed to the table as she padded around it towards the back of the dining room, which opened up into the kitchen. “Have a seat. Would you care for something to drink? A cup of tea or a glass of lemonade, perhaps?”

  “I’d take some lemonade if you have some made.” She draped the dress over a chair and then settled into the seat next to it.

  Priscilla nodded and set about retrieving two glasses and a pitcher of lemonade. A minute later, glasses in hand, she took the seat across the table from Evanee. Within seconds, Evanee caught Priscilla’s eyes drifting towards the dress next to her.

  “It’s a lovely dress. You do such good work.”

  “Thank you. It was a very special dress for a very special person,” said Priscilla quietly.

  “Tell me about her?”

  “Her name was Rachel,” Priscilla began in a shaky voice as if she might start to cry again. “She was a very sweet young woman.”

  “Was?” whispered Evanee.

  Priscilla dotted at her eyes again. She pressed her lips together and nodded. She had no words for the moment.

  Evanee reached across the table to pat Priscilla’s arm as she glanced over at Whitley, whose face was just as upset as Priscilla’s. “I’m so sorry. What happened to her?”

  The woman choked back a sob and wiped her nose with her tissue. It took a moment before she was finally able to speak again. “She passed many, many years ago. Before she had a chance to wear the dress, I’m afraid. But I’ll start at the beginning.”

  Evanee nodded. “Please do.”

  Whitley slid down into a chair at the other end of the table and together the two women listened intently to Priscilla’s story.

  “Rachel worked for me for a while. It was only temporary and part-time work. She had a full-time job in Stoney Brook, but she worked for me because she needed a dress.”

  “This dress?”

  Priscilla nodded. “That very dress. And, strangely enough, Rachel wanted it for the town’s renaissance festival too. Which is, I suppose, why you found it so fitting for the occasion as well. It was made specifically for that purpose.” The woman leaned back in her seat and took
a sip of her drink. “She’d gone to the festival before, but she’d never been invited to be in it until that year. She was told she’d need to supply her own costume, but she and her husband had just had a new baby and money was tight. He told her they couldn’t spare the money for a dress that would only be worn once a year, if that. So she asked me if I’d make her a dress in exchange for her working nights and weekends for me.”

  “What kind of work did she do for you?”

  Priscilla smiled. “Oh you know, odds and ends, really. She wasn’t a seamstress, but she could press things and cut patterns, and she knew how to run a sewing machine, so I had her do some hems for me and simple things that didn’t require a lot of knowledge.” Priscilla smiled as if she could recall the woman plainly. “She was a beautiful woman. She had soft blond curls and these big blue eyes that just pulled you in. Her smile lit up a room. She was a beautiful person inside and out. I was thrilled to get to know her for the few months she worked for me.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “Well, the weekend of the festival came. She was supposed to be in the opening parade. They always held that on the Friday night before, kind of like the big kickoff to the rest of the festival,” explained Priscilla.

  Evanee smiled softly. “I went to the parade last year,” she said. She’d gone with Gemma and Matthew. Gemma had been extremely pregnant with Sara then. It was kind of crazy to think that the dress that had brought her here had been made specifically for that very festival. She blinked back tears. The whole situation was surreal, and even though she’d only heard the beginning of the story, it made her heart hurt knowing something devastating was to come.

  “Rachel and her husband were new parents, and one of the very few things she complained about was that her husband worked so much that she rarely saw him. But he’d promised her that he’d cleared his schedule so that he could take her to the opening night of the festival. She wanted to make it a big thing, so she’d asked her parents to take the baby for the evening, and she’d decided to get ready somewhere else so that her husband would have to pick her up. She wanted it to be so romantic and sweet,” sniffled Priscilla.