Thread and Buried

by Janet Bolin

  “How long have you known Haylee?” Max asked me.

  “Over ten years. We worked together in New York City.”

  “Where you were both financial advisers.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you two did some investigating and blew the whistle on your boss?” He sounded amused.

  “Yes.”

  “That cousin of mine is really something.”

  “Yes.” Maybe I should think of another word.

  “How long have you known my aunt Opal?” he asked.

  “About two years.” There, I’d increased my vocabulary.

  “You have no idea how thrilled I am to find her, and to discover that my family was wrong about her living on the streets. Their story didn’t match my memories of her, but I was only three, so I figured I may have not known some bad things. Turned out, my memories were right, and my family’s stories were . . .” His sigh seemed genuine. “Fabrications.”

  “Opal’s a wonderful person.”

  “I hoped she’d be here tonight.”

  Maybe he could have invited her, I thought uncharitably.

  “I asked her to come,” he said as if I’d spoken aloud, “but she said she had something else tonight.”

  “Storytelling evening. Lots of us are missing it, but she can’t. She hosts it.”

  “Naomi’s not here, either? I haven’t seen her.”

  “No.”

  “But Edna is. Has she been dating that man for long?”

  “Several months.”

  His questions made me uneasy, like he was an imposter and would use the information I gave him to “prove” to Opal that he was the adult version of the three-year-old Max Brubaugh she remembered.

  I was saved by the end of the tune. And by Clay, heading purposefully toward me.

  Max—or whoever he really was—might as well have dissolved. All I noticed was Clay, and the smile in his eyes as he took my hand in his. The music started slowly, but sped up, and soon I was laughing and twirling under Clay’s arm, spinning away from him and being reeled in close.

  Gord had grabbed Zara. She towered over him, but the man had all the moves, and she kept up.

  Ben bowed down to talk to Edna. She waved her hand in front of her face as if fanning herself and pointed him to Haylee. A little heavy-handed of her, but it worked, and the next thing I knew, three couples were flying around the hall, all of us smiling, while most of the rest of the crowd backed off and watched.

  Mona hauled Max out onto the dance floor, and they did a reasonable job of keeping up with the music.

  By the time the dance ended, I was giddy. Gord claimed me for a tango, which we hammed up with great glee but sober faces. Clay and Haylee danced together, Ralph took Edna out onto the floor, and Zara dragged Duncan, who blushed furiously, into the melee. Ben danced with an older woman I didn’t know, and Max danced with Mona again.

  I yearned to dance with Clay again, but like Ben and Gord, he seemed to be trying to dance with every woman in the banquet hall. After dancing with Zara, Duncan took turns between me, Haylee, and Mona, while his father danced with the three of us and with many of the other women as well.

  I wanted Ben to dance with Haylee again, but he kept choosing other partners.

  During a break, Clay asked me, “Will you save the last dance for me?”

  I nodded gladly. The band struck up “Bridge over Troubled Water” and I grabbed his hand. “Will you dance this one with me? It’s your song.”

  He gave me a questioning look. “Sure.”

  As he took me in his arms, I said, “Don’t I remember you once suggesting I should use a bridge to cross a river?”

  He laughed and pulled me closer. I wanted to tell him that he was like my bridge, too, always concerned about me, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I melted into him, his arms tightened around me, and we danced in silence until almost the end of the song, when I asked him, “How are we going to get Ben and Haylee together? I like him a lot, and she does, too.”

  He bent to murmur in my ear, “He was going to ask her for the last dance.”

  “I hope he did,” I whispered, shivering at the memory of his lips against my ear, “and that she hasn’t already agreed to dance it with someone else.”

  “If she did, you and I will have to find another way to throw them together.”

  I smiled up at him. “Okay.”

  The last chords sounded. Clay pulled me into a bear hug and rested his face in my hair for a second, and I could have sworn he brushed a kiss against the top of my head. The evening was going very well.

  Ralph and I did a fast dance together, and after several more fast dances with men I didn’t know, Ben claimed me for a slow dance.

  Good. I could talk to him. I congratulated him on how well the gala was going.

  He took a deep breath. “I was afraid it wouldn’t. Neil Ondover was going to supply the bread and baked desserts, and you know what happened to him. All of us are new here, and to top it off, one of my kitchen staff disappeared.”

  I backed away to look up into his eyes. “Disappeared?”

  “Didn’t show up for work and hasn’t answered her phone.”

  “Did you contact the police?”

  “I didn’t think she was missing like that. She was renting a cottage on the beach, so I wasn’t surprised that she gave up a summer job. Probably got one somewhere else.”

  “A college kid?” I suggested.

  “No. A middle-aged woman.”

  “Was her name by any chance Yolanda Smith?” I probed.

  “Do you know her?”

  “No, but I know of her. Which day did she fail to show up?”

  “Sunday morning.”

  I nearly tripped. “But that was—”

  “The morning Neil Ondover’s body was found. I know.”

  The morning that Neil’s body was found in my yard. And, perhaps more to the point, it was also the morning that somebody dumped two kittens in or near my yard, two kittens that I suspected had been staying in Yolanda’s cottage.

  34

  AS BEN EXPERTLY LED ME THROUGH THE dance steps, I looked around the banquet hall. Where were Chief Smallwood and Detective Gartener when I really needed them? I said, “The police would probably be interested in hearing that Yolanda disappeared the day Neil’s body was found.”

  Ben looked contrite. “I’ve been planning this evening and getting the lodge and dining room up and running. And I needed to find new staff, plus extras for tonight. I will tell the police, I promise.”

  “Chief Smallwood doesn’t actually bite.”

  He missed a step. “She looks like she might.”

  I had to laugh. “She’s tough. She has to be. But she’s fair. Did you get someone to take Yolanda’s place?”

  “Yes, and she’s a better worker than Yolanda, but—”

  “But?”

  “She was Neil’s assistant at La Bakery. But don’t worry. I don’t think Cassie’s a murderer.” His grin held a spark of mischief. “Unlike Chief Smallwood, Cassie doesn’t even look like she could bite! And I don’t plan to suffer the same fate her last—I mean previous—boss did.”

  “You’ll be careful?” I asked.

  He had a deep, lazy laugh. “I’m not worried. It’s no wonder Clay likes you so much.”

  I was appreciating Ben more and more. If only he would dance with Haylee . . .

  To my gratification, he claimed her for the next slow dance. While I shuffled around the floor with Duncan, I glanced at Haylee and Ben every chance I got, but Duncan seemed to be keeping them in his sights, too, which meant he kept turning my back toward them.

  Haylee and Ben both looked very serious, and Duncan was practically morose. He didn’t say a thing except for a terse thank-you as we parted.

  I was glad that my next dance was with Duncan’s father. Ralph kept up a cheerful patter about costumes. We conspired to tackle Edna for information about adding batteries and electric circuits to fabrics, clothi
ng, and costumes.

  Outside, twilight turned to darkness. Inside, reflections of candle flames sparkled from the wall of glass doors leading to the porch. The last dance was called, and I was in Clay’s arms, next to Ben and Haylee. For a while, the four of us danced side by side, chatting, then Clay moved us into the crowd and held me close, gripping my right hand against his chest. I didn’t want the dance to end.

  “Thank you for a wonderful evening, Willow,” he murmured.

  I smiled my thanks up into his eyes, but the serious question in them made me turn my face away. Yes, I would welcome a kiss from him.

  But not then and there. Later, after he took me home and we were alone.

  He seemed to understand, and spread his fingers out on my back.

  Every good thing had to come to an end. The music stopped. Clay let go of me, but we still faced each other. He gently placed his hands on my shoulders and stroked his thumbs across the hollow of my throat. “None of those necklaces we found could make you look more beautiful than you already do,” he said.

  “I’ll bet those women whose necklaces were stolen didn’t have nearly as nice an evening as I’ve had.”

  He moved his hands down to my shoulders. “Rumor has it that their party was completely ruined. But they probably got over it after the insurance settlement. Their husbands were jewelers, after all.”

  “I wonder if any of them will buy their jewelry back from the insurance company.”

  He squeezed my shoulders. “You’re a romantic, aren’t you?”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  He lifted my chin with a forefinger. “Absolutely nothing.”

  I backed away and gestured at the banquet hall, bright with twinkling candles. “It’s this beautiful room, and the lake and stars outside.”

  And Haylee and Ben across the room, seriously discussing something. A date, I hoped.

  I’d forgotten Fred until he walked up to us. He was carrying his clarinet case. “You kids need a ride?”

  Clay looked down at me. “What do you think? Feel like a ride or like strolling back along the beach?”

  “The beach, definitely,” I said. In only one evening, I had become a hopeless romantic.

  Now, if only Ben would decide to see Haylee home . . .

  I returned to our table for the evening bag I’d embroidered and decorated with crystals I’d bought from Edna. Clay came with me, and Haylee met us there. Without, I was sorry to see, Ben.

  Clay asked Haylee if she’d like to walk home along the beach. “Or I can grab Fred—he’ll drive us back to Threadville.”

  “The beach would be great,” she said.

  I glanced toward Ben, who was tidying the buffet table.

  Haylee tossed her hair back. “He has to stay here. Not that I asked him, or anything. I know this evening means a lot to him. It’s been perfect, and he’ll want to end it on that note.”

  Carrying her shoes, Mona was hanging around Ben. Max had disappeared, but Zara looked ready to accost Ben, too. Ralph waited patiently for Mona, but when Duncan saw us heading for the doors leading to the wide front porch, he followed. Ben watched, but made no move to join us. I waved and he nodded. His eyes had gone serious again. I hoped he wasn’t choosing that moment to mourn his wife.

  Clay opened the French doors. We walked down to the beach. By the time my toes were in the water lapping on the sand, Ralph and Mona had joined Clay, Duncan, Haylee, and me.

  I turned around. A man stood outside the kitchen end of the lodge. I couldn’t be certain, but I thought it was Detective Gartener. No one else had quite that military, watchful bearing.

  At the other end of the lodge, moonlight showed a dark-uniformed figure beside a tree trunk. I caught a glimpse of blond hair beneath a police hat. Vicki Smallwood? She seemed to be keeping that tree between her and the lodge, and she also seemed to be watching us. I gave a tentative wave, but she turned away and peeked around the trunk toward the lodge.

  What were Detective Gartener and our police chief doing?

  “Let’s run!” Haylee called, splashing through the shallows. Duncan jogged beside her, and Clay and I caught up, leaving Mona to stroll at a more sedate pace with Ralph.

  Haylee and I put our sandals on again to walk along the marina’s boardwalk and through the wharf’s asphalt parking lot, but beyond the wharf, we came to the larger, cottage-lined beach and removed our shoes.

  The moon was bright enough for us to search for flat stones to skip, though we didn’t find many. I stopped near the cottage Yolanda had rented and pretended to look for stones. I managed a reasonable visual survey of the cottage. Still no sign that anyone was staying there. Yellow tape fluttered in the breeze.

  We left the beach at Lake Street. Haylee and I put on our sandals and walked up the hill with Clay and Duncan. Mona and Ralph had lagged so far behind we could no longer see them. As we passed Naomi’s shop, Batty about Quilts, Duncan looked across the street toward Country Chic and said, “Mona invited us in for coffee. Want to come?”

  All three of us declined. If Mona had wanted us at her party, she’d have asked us herself.

  Besides, it was late, around two, and I was hoping for a few minutes, at least, alone with Clay after we saw Haylee safely to her door.

  Duncan said good night and loped off toward Country Chic.

  I glanced across the street toward In Stitches. Something moved on my front porch.

  Had I imagined it? I squinted into shadows beyond the door.

  Setting a rocking chair thumping, someone vaulted over the far side of the low wall surrounding the porch.

  35

  THE PERSON WHO HAD FLED MY PORCH crashed down through bushes beside the foundation. Branches snapped.

  Hoping the intruder would jump up and run away, preferably far from me, I stood stock-still with my hand over my mouth.

  Clay, however, sprinted across the street toward the side of my porch where the person would have landed.

  Haylee pulled me out of my shocked stupor. “Come on.”

  Tiptoeing across my yard, I heard leaves rustle and a distinctly female squeal. “Leave me alone!”

  “Who are you,” Clay growled, “and what are you doing here?”

  “I could ask you the same thing.” Cassie’s voice, tart with fear. She cowered among hostas with leaves the size of unfurled umbrellas.

  Clay stood over her, not touching her, but looking tall and formidable in his navy blue suit.

  Cassie struggled through the giant leaves toward me. “Willow, can I talk to you?” She was breathing quickly. She brushed her hands down her denim cutoffs, and then childishly swiped the back of a fist across her eyes. Light from the streetlamps and the moon showed tears welling up in her eyes. “Please? You can come, too, Haylee.” She must have retrieved the pink plaid shirt from the cottage deck before Gartener got there with his search team. It looked like it had been washed by hand and dried in a heap.

  Clay didn’t budge.

  “Where?” Haylee asked.

  “Can we go into your shop, Willow?” She glanced from me to Haylee. “I need to talk to you two. Alone.”

  As if she hadn’t added that last word, Clay asked her, “Why were you hiding on Willow’s porch?”

  Cassie took a deep, shaky breath. “I wasn’t hiding from Willow.”

  I put my hand on Clay’s sleeve. The muscles of his forearm were hard with tension. “You don’t have to worry about Clay.” I sounded surprisingly calm and reassuring. “He’s a friend, and I’d like him to come inside with us.” I knew there was no way he’d leave us alone with her.

  She gulped. A car whooshed up Lake Street. Except for her noticeable trembling, Cassie didn’t move until it passed. “Can we go inside, now? Quickly?”

  That car had frightened her. She was hiding from someone, either on foot as we had been, or in a car. I noticed that she stayed between us—all of us were taller than she was—as we rushed up the stairs and onto my porch. I unlocked the shop door. Clay op
ened it for us.

  Instead of staying in their nice, comfy beds, Sally and Tally must have climbed the stairs. They whimpered on the other side of the apartment door. The kittens were probably with them.

  “It’s okay, guys,” I called toward them.

  “Don’t turn on any lights,” Cassie squeaked.

  Haylee asked, “Why not?”

  Cassie wailed, “I don’t want anyone seeing me!”

  I’d had enough of these cloak-and-dagger heroics. “I need to turn on some lights, or you three will trip over things.” I touched Cassie’s elbow. “I’ll guide you to a seat at a sewing machine where you won’t be visible from outside.”

  “Really, all I want to do is borrow a phone,” she objected. “I . . . forgot mine.”

  Leaving Haylee and Clay by the front door, I started Cassie toward the rows of sewing and embroidery machines in my shop. “And you don’t want to go back for it?”

  She shuddered. “No.”

  “Weren’t you working at the lodge tonight?” How could the cleanup be done already?

  “Yes, but the . . . someone was looking for . . .” She corrected herself. “Stalking me. I crawled out a window.”

  I suspected she’d been about to say the police had been looking for her, but thought better of it and changed her words. This was quickly going from bad to worse. “Who was stalking you?” I asked.

  “Someone who wanted to hurt me.”

  Which didn’t necessarily eliminate the police. “Sit down here and I’ll turn on just enough light for Clay and Haylee to see where they’re going.”

  “A phone?” she whispered.

  “Just a second.” I ran to the switches beside the front door and turned on lights near the back of the shop.

  Clay and Haylee marched to an arm’s length—their arms, not Cassie’s shorter ones—of Cassie and lounged against sewing tables. Haylee managed to look dangerous despite, or maybe because of, the smashing periwinkle silk dress. Clay folded his arms and stared down at the disconsolate young woman in front of him.

  This was not the romantic ending I had visualized for the evening. I grabbed the cordless landline phone off its cradle and handed it to Cassie.