Till Death Do Us Purl

by Anne Canadeo

“No need. I’m sure. One hundred and . . . a million percent. I want to be with you all the time. The first thing in the morning and the last thing at night. But I will be wearing my wacky foam earplugs,” she warned him.

  “Hopefully, not too much else.” He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her onto his lap. “The dogs will be very disappointed if we don’t go through with this. They’ve been listening to every word.”

  He glanced down at the dogs, resting together under the table. Lucy looked, too.

  “Oh . . . in that case. I guess we have to.”

  Chapter Five

  The memorial was held at the Lassiter estate. Maggie remembered the way. She was driving her friends there again, but this time, only Lucy and Dana. She was glad for any company. This type of event was difficult and she expected this one to be uncommonly so.

  “I guess Jeremy’s father got his way after all,” Maggie murmured. They had just rounded the last turn and the tall gates of the estate came into view.

  “Nora had a feeling he would,” Lucy replied.

  “Maybe they managed to reach some compromise,” Dana suggested. She was sitting in the backseat and turned to look out the window. “The same long line of cars we saw at the wedding. Probably most of the same people inside.”

  “I’d imagine so. And even more coming to pay their respects to Jeremy. Nora said the family expected a big crowd. There have been so many calls and flowers sent already. Coworkers from At-Las Technologies and from the university. Jeremy taught a few chemistry courses there. He wasn’t a tenured professor but he enjoyed it, Nora told me,” Maggie said.

  “I didn’t know that,” Dana remarked. “He did have an academic manner, now that you mention it,” she added.

  “I thought of that, too, when I first met him,” Lucy said as they finally reached the stone-paved circle in front of the mansion.

  From the sight of all the cars, it would seem that even a stadium would not accommodate the turnout. Once again, well-dressed valets and other household staff were on hand to park cars and then collect coats as the guests went inside.

  The atmosphere was greatly subdued, compared to the wedding day, Maggie noticed. Not that the house decor had been altered in any way. It was just the somber, quiet mood of the guests as they moved through the foyer into the large gallery room again.

  The room had been set up very much as it had been for the wedding, though this time, rows of black cushioned chairs filled the large space. The wooden podium stood in the same place. The beautiful flower arch that had sheltered the bride and groom as they’d exchange vows was gone. But there was a large ceramic urn filled with an arrangement of white roses next to the podium and a small, curved-legged table that displayed framed photographs of Jeremy at various stages of his life.

  As the knitting friends walked in and looked for seats, Maggie noticed Nora and Rebecca sitting up front. She turned and waved to them.

  “Look, there’s Rebecca,” she whispered to Lucy and Dana. “Oh, she looks awful. Poor girl.”

  Rebecca did look awful, it was no exaggeration. Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, her face bare of makeup, her eyes puffy and red-rimmed. She wore a plain black dress with a black cardigan on top. Pearl earrings and her sparkling wedding band and engagement ring were her only adornments.

  It was not only her bedraggled appearance but her entire aspect; she sagged in her seat, staring blankly at the floor, looking too weak and worn out to hold her head up.

  Nora sat on one side of her daughter and Rebecca’s uncle Gary sat on the other side of Nora.

  Nora held her daughter’s pale hand, their fingers entwined. She also looked tired and tested, but far more alert. Ready for the event to begin . . . and be done with, Maggie imagined.

  “I’m going to visit with them a moment. Save me a seat, will you?” Maggie said to the others.

  Dana nodded and walked off with Lucy to look for seats. Maggie continued up the aisle to the front row. She leaned over and kissed Nora’s cheek and then Rebecca’s.

  “You poor thing. You’re very brave. I feel for you,” Maggie said sincerely as she hugged Rebecca close.

  “Thank you for coming, Maggie. I appreciate it,” Rebecca replied quietly.

  “What a turnout,” she said to Nora and Gary. “Jeremy was very loved and respected. That’s for sure.”

  “Oh, he was. No question,” Nora agreed. She glanced at her watch. “I think we should be starting any minute. We’re just waiting for the rest of the family to arrive. You would think Philip Lassiter would be the first one here. It is his house,” she said with a sigh.

  Nora had a point, but they already knew how much Philip enjoyed making an entrance. But it was a mean thing, even to think, Maggie scolded herself. The poor man had just lost his son.

  She stood up and looked for her friends. “I’d better find my seat. We hope to see you later,” she said, though she imagined there would be a crush of people around the Baileys, offering condolences. She’d been lucky to have a word with them.

  Maggie finally spotted Lucy and Dana a few rows back on the other side of the aisle. But Dana shook her head, making a face at the woman next to her, who was just fitting herself into the seat Dana had tried to save.

  No help for that. Maggie realized she was on her own and looked around for a single spot.

  The row behind Nora with a black ribbon on the aisle side was reserved for family. She watched as Jeremy’s twin brother, Alec, and his sister, Claudia, entered the row and sat behind Nora and Rebecca. Their mother, Patricia Moore, looking stunning in a black crepe wool suit and an upswept hairstyle, took a seat beside Rebecca and gently took the girl’s soft white hand in her own.

  Maggie noticed an empty seat in the row behind the Lassiter siblings and quickly claimed it. She felt a little awkward, sitting so close to the front when she wasn’t even a family member. But there was no help for it now. She sat back in her seat, waiting for the proceedings to begin and took out her knitting—a new spring pattern she was making as a sample for a class she would teach at the shop.

  As she began to stitch, it was hard not to overhear the conversation of Alec and Claudia, who sat directly in front of her and commented on everyone who walked in.

  Maggie had once playfully listed one of her hobbies as eavesdropping on some singles match-up application. It was true. Just a little quirk she had. She couldn’t help listening in on other people’s conversations. It was usually very interesting.

  “Look who’s here, Icky Ferris,” Claudia whispered to her brother. “We’re lucky there’s no open burial plot. Little Erica would be tempted to jump in.”

  “That would be a bad thing?” Alec said. “What a piece of work that woman is. The best thing my brother ever did for himself was to get untangled from her claws. Too bad he didn’t live long enough to reap the benefits,” he added sadly.

  The barb was wicked and sharp. Maggie looked back, curious to see the intended target. A very attractive young woman had just found a seat on the opposite side of the aisle, a few rows down. Her dark looks were striking and exotic, Maggie thought. She was slender with high cheekbones and large brown eyes. Her shiny dark hair was pulled back and twisted at her nape, and she wore a straight charcoal gray skirt with a black twin set. Pure cashmere and high quality, Maggie could tell, even from a distance. The ensemble was quite conservative, even bland, yet she somehow looked sophisticated and subtly sensual.

  The ex-girlfriend, Maggie surmised. The significant other in Jeremy’s life before Rebecca had come along. The exact physical opposite of Rebecca, too, Maggie could not help but notice.

  Jeremy’s taste in women certainly ran the gamut. Was this sultry beauty mourning the death of long-lost love? Or simply paying her respects to the past and the family. Jeremy’s siblings obviously hadn’t been rooting for her as their future sister-in-law, that was for sure.

  “Is she still at the lab?” Alec asked Claudia.

  His sister sighed and nodded. “She
transferred to another department. But we couldn’t fire her. Jeremy didn’t want us to. And we couldn’t risk a lawsuit.”

  “She was probably just hanging around in case Rebecca didn’t work out,” Alec said. “She’s like a gorgeous spider.”

  “Speaking of insects,” Claudia said, “look who else crawled out of the woodwork. Up front, making nice to Mother. I’m glad Dad isn’t here yet. He’ll have a stroke.” Claudia practically gasped and Maggie saw her grip her brother’s arm.

  “One can only hope,” Alec said spitefully. “But I always liked Uncle Louie. I hope he stops to say hello to me. He was never cowed by Dad. I’ll give him that much.”

  “No, he never was. Jeremy liked him, too,” Claudia recalled quietly. “He took Lewis’s side in the split. Dad nearly banished him over that.”

  “But the family business needed Jeremy’s brains too much. Unlike my own,” he quipped with a self-deprecating laugh.

  Maggie realized then that the man they were talking about, whom they called Uncle Louie, had to be Lewis Atkins, Philip Lassiter’s former friend and business partner.

  “Louie has a clear run at the goal now, with Jeremy gone. It’s first down and two, I’d say. Personally, I wish the old guy luck.” Alec sounded quite sincere.

  “Bite your tongue,” Claudia snapped. “Jeremy backed up all his notes. We just have to find everything and fit it together.”

  “Before Uncle Louie fills in the blanks, you mean.” Alec was needling her.

  “If he had a clue, don’t you think he would have gotten there already?” Claudia’s tone was low and angry now. But underneath, she sounded scared, Maggie realized. Very scared. “We’re there first, no question. I don’t think you get it. A lot of people are depending on this, Alec. Not just our family.”

  “I get it, dear.” Alec patted his sister’s hand. “I’m just not part of the home team anymore. You forget.”

  Claudia turned and faced Alec, then shook her head regretfully. He had a truckload of anger toward his father, that was for sure. Enough to have sabotaged At-Las Technologies’ big project himself, Maggie realized. Though somehow she doubted Alec would have harmed his brother. But maybe that part had been unintentional?

  Maggie was surprised at the odd turn her thoughts had taken.

  As far as anyone knew, the lab fire and explosion had been an accident. What in the world made her think otherwise?

  But she was interested to hear what else the siblings had to say. She stitched away, the perfect cover for listening in on private conversations, she’d discovered. People think you must be concentrating on your work when it’s really going on quite automatically.

  She heard someone clear his throat nearby and looked up to find a man waiting to move into her row.

  Not just any man . . . it was Lewis Atkins, eyeing the empty seat right next to her.

  “May I?” he asked politely.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Of course, just let me get my things out of your way.” She quickly stood up and moved her purse and knitting tote to allow Atkins to pass by. He was not a tall man, just a few inches taller than her and about her age, she’d guess. He had a good head of hair, once fair and now white. His dark eyes peered at her from under bushy brows but he had a soft smile, and looked vaguely amused at his surroundings. He wore a dark tweed sports coat with a white oxford cloth shirt and black satin bow tie. She hardly ever saw men wear bow ties anymore. It seemed to her a mark of character.

  He glanced at her with a polite smile. “Sorry to interrupt. I hope you didn’t drop any stitches.” He looked over her knitting project with interest. “Nice work.”

  “Thanks. Do you knit?” Maggie wasn’t trying to be facetious, though she may have sounded that way. Male knitters came into her shop all the time. It wasn’t as uncommon as some thought. At one time, only men were allowed to knit, working in medieval guilds. But people had long since forgotten that.

  “No, I don’t. But I’ve often thought of learning. It’s a wonderful, productive pastime.”

  “It is. But more than that for me. I own a knitting shop in town. The Black Sheep, on Main Street.”

  “I know that one. I’ve noticed your shop but have never gone in. Maybe I will now,” he added. “My name is Lewis Atkins, by the way.”

  “Maggie Messina,” she answered. And I already know all about you, Uncle Louie, she was tempted to add.

  But didn’t. Partly because she really didn’t know anything about him, she realized. It was all hearsay, filtered through the lens of other people’s experiences . . . and grievances.

  It was awkward to make someone’s acquaintance at a funeral. But he had excellent social skills, she noticed, and it didn’t feel quite as odd as it could have.

  “I hope you don’t think it’s disrespectful to be knitting here.” She began to put her knitting away, realizing that some people might be offended.

  “Not at all. I admire anyone who makes good use of their time. Life is short. None of us can afford to waste a minute. You can never get any of it back, you know,” he said somberly.

  “Very true. Unfairly brief for some. Like poor Jeremy.” Maggie sighed and pushed a rubber tip on the needle that held her work, then stashed it all in her tote.

  Atkins nodded. “I watched him grow up. He was always curious. Always asking questions, amazed by the natural world. That boy could sit and look at an ant hill for hours. Stare up at the clouds all afternoon. Collected things, rocks, seashells, dead bugs. He loved brain teasers and puzzles. He would make up secret codes and try to stump me.” Atkins laughed at the memories. “A brilliant student. He made us all very proud. What a waste of talent.” He paused and sighed, then looked over at her again. “Did you know him very well?”

  Maggie was awed by the vivid picture Atkins had painted of Jeremy as a boy. How touching, she thought. It sounded as if Lewis Atkins truly did love Jeremy, as if he was his real blood relation.

  “No . . . sorry to say I did not. We’d only met once or twice. I do know his wife, Rebecca, and her mother, Nora,” Maggie replied.

  “Rebecca, his beautiful bride.” Lewis Atkins sighed again. “I just met her. I wasn’t at the wedding. I heard it was wonderful,” he said. “What a great loss. And she’s so young.”

  “Oh, yes. They say time heals all wounds. I hope it’s true for her.”

  “I do, too. Though all the time in the world won’t heal some rifts.”

  It sounded as if he’d experienced the exception to that rule. Was he thinking of his break with Philip Lassiter and At-Las Technologies?

  But before they could continue their discussion, Maggie noticed that a minister had come up to the front of the room and took his place behind the podium, arranging a pile of typewritten pages.

  The room grew silent but he didn’t begin. He kept glancing over his reading glasses, at the seated rows of guests. What were they all waiting for? Maggie wondered. Then she realized, when all heads turned, the delay had been caused by Philip Lassiter.

  She turned, too, to watch as he slowly walked up the middle aisle. He used a cane today and his young wife walked on his other side, holding his arm for further support.

  He looked very different from the wedding day. Hardly the lionlike patriarch. He was greatly diminished, as if he’d suffered a true body blow and had barely staggered back into the ring.

  Even his fine clothes—a black suit, white shirt, and silvery tie—seemed to be wearing him today, Maggie thought. Large glasses with aviator frames and smoky lenses covered much of his face.

  Maggie knew it was unfair, but she had to wonder if this pathos was indeed real, or simply a play for sympathy. Many here would find him culpable in his son’s death. She didn’t doubt that for one moment. Perhaps his infirmity was some sort of diversion? But it was not fair to even suspect such a thing, Maggie realized. The man had just lost a son. Of course he would look depleted and overwhelmed.

  As Philip Lassiter ambled past, she found her body growing tense, waiting for some ex
plosion of temper when he noticed Lewis Atkins. The same sort of outburst he’d had at the wedding, sparked by Alec’s unexpected appearance. But there was none. Lassiter either didn’t notice his old friend, or chose to ignore him.

  She carefully glanced at Atkins, who sat with his eyes straight ahead, his hands resting in his lap. He showed no interest at all in his former partner—and present rival, if Alec and Claudia could be believed. If Maggie didn’t know better, she would have never suspected that the two men knew each other.

  Perhaps their parting was not as bitter as Lassiter’s children believed. Or maybe their hatred had gone completely cold by now.

  Once Jeremy’s father was seated, the memorial began. Speaker after speaker painted a picture of Jeremy as a dedicated scientist, a gifted teacher, a good friend, and an able coworker—a young man with every advantage who was not above sharing his time and talents with those less fortunate.

  Stewart Campbell, the principal at Rebecca’s school, spoke about Jeremy starting a science club for children in a low-income neighborhood. In fact, he told the audience, that was how Jeremy and Rebecca met, through their mutual commitment to help others.

  “To think that a man of his stature and brilliance would come to our little elementary school every week to teach and inspire these forgotten children. To share his love of the natural world and the method of scientific discovery. I am sure that he’s inspired many youngsters to follow his path. To take his place someday in the halls of scientific study . . .”

  Stewart Campbell was not a bad speaker. But he was a bit didactic, Maggie thought, and long-winded at the podium. He seemed quite moved by his own speech, she noticed, and kept pushing the frame of his wire-rimmed glasses as they slipped down his nose, his voice growing thick with emotion.

  Finally, he was finished, and a representative of the university stepped up, also praising Jeremy’s intellect and gift for sharing his knowledge in one of the most rigorous scientific areas. “The university and medical school will sorely miss this outstanding scholar and scientist.”