Wicked Stitch

by Amanda Lee

  “If anyone has any requests to change the arrangements, now is the time to speak up,” said Nancy. “After today, no requests will be entertained.”

  Clara stood. “I’d like to request a change. I don’t want Marcy Singer’s booth beside mine.”

  “Why not?” Nancy asked.

  “The woman has been an aggravation to my poor sister, Nellie, and her thriving business ever since she came here to Tallulah Falls,” said Clara. “People have died in Marcy Singer’s shop, and she’s caused all manner of upset in the community. Neither Nellie nor I want anything to do with her.”

  “Request denied,” Nancy said. “Perhaps you, your sister, and Ms. Singer will find common ground during those long hours working near each other at the festival.”

  Captain Moe patted my hand. I wanted to bury my face in his barrel chest and cry, but I didn’t. I held it together . . . at least until I got back to the Stitch.

  * * *

  I was in the sit-and-stitch square working on my blackwork border when Todd came into the shop. Sadie and Blake had hoped Todd and I would be a love match when I’d first moved to Tallulah Falls. That hadn’t worked out, but we’d become fast friends. And, like just about everybody else in town, he loved Angus.

  He sat down on the sofa beside me and gave me a one-armed, brotherly hug. “How’re you holding up?”

  “I had a little cry when I got back here, but I’m all right now.”

  “Don’t let those old crones get to you,” he said.

  I arched my brow.

  “I know, I know. That’s easier said than done.” He grinned. “I don’t have a problem with them. They think I’m adorable.”

  “You are adorable.” And he was. He had curly brown hair, chocolate eyes, and a smile that could melt even the icy hearts of Nellie and Clara.

  “You’re pretty cute, too. I mean, you’re no Todd Calloway, but—”

  I playfully slapped his arm.

  He laughed. “I’ll keep you in apricot ale during the Ren Faire. Maybe that’ll help you tolerate your neighbors.”

  “I just don’t get it, Todd. What did I ever do to those women?”

  “Who knows? You moved in, your shop is successful, you’re young, you’re beautiful, you have the love of a good man, and you have your whole life ahead of you.” He shrugged. “There’s plenty of reasons for two dried-up old prunes to hate you.”

  “Thank you so much.” I giggled. “You say the sweetest things.”

  “I do, don’t I? That’s another reason the old broads like me,” he said. “Pay attention. I’ll let you use some of my lines.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  I noticed something out of the corner of my eye and turned to look out the window. “Oh, no,” I said.

  Todd turned, too. “What is it?”

  “It’s Clover, Clara’s rabbit. It got out the other day, and I brought it inside. I didn’t know it was hers.”

  “Bet that went over well,” he said.

  “Oh, you wouldn’t believe.” I sighed. “And now what? If I don’t go out there and get the little thing, it could hop out into the road and get hit by a car.”

  “And if you do go out there and get it, you’ll be accused of bunny-napping.”

  We watched as Clover came over to our window and stood up against the glass. Angus hurried over, bent down with his wagging tail stuck up in the air, and “woofed” at his friend.

  “To heck with it,” I said. “I’m going to get Clover.” I got up off the sofa and went to open the front door. “Come on, Clover.”

  The bunny raced into the shop and happily reunited with Angus.

  “Todd, do you mind holding down the fort while I go next door and tell Clara that Clover is here?” I asked.

  “I can go,” he said.

  “No, that would make it seem like I’d stolen the bunny and you were coming to its rescue.”

  “I’ll tell her you sent me.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “But I’ll do it myself. I’d simply take the rabbit back, but they enjoy playing together so much. . . .”

  Todd grinned at Angus and Clover chasing each other back and forth around the sit-and-stitch square. “It’s funny that a dog that big would have so much fun with such a little creature.”

  “True. Ted asked if we should get Angus his own pet.” I laughed. “I don’t think I’m that far gone yet.”

  “It might not be a bad idea,” Todd said. “They are having a blast. Walk and talk slowly when you go next door.”

  “If I’m not back in ten minutes, send in a few Navy SEALs, please.”

  I took Todd’s advice and walked slowly toward Knitted and Needled. The door was open slightly, so I saw how Clover had gotten out. I examined the doorframe and saw that the latch wasn’t working properly.

  “Hey! What’re you doing there?” Clara called.

  Thankfully, she didn’t have any customers at the moment, and there wasn’t anyone on the street.

  “I’m examining your door,” I said. “You need to have someone take a look at this latch. I don’t think it’s working properly.”

  “I believe it’s fine, thank you very much.”

  “If it’s fine, then how is Clover getting out so often?” I asked.

  Her beady eyes widened. Then she began looking around the shop. “Clover! Clover! Where are you? You’d better get here right now!”

  “She’s at the Stitch,” I said.

  Clara gasped. “You left her alone with that mongrel?”

  I clenched my fists. “First of all, Angus is not a mongrel. And, second, they are not alone. I left Todd Calloway in charge of the shop.”

  “That beer maker? He’s no better than you are!”

  So much for Todd being adorable . . . at least as far as Clara was concerned.

  Clara stormed past me and out the door. Only then did I get an adequate look at her shop. She had a seating area to the right that was directly copied from my sit-and-stitch square—from the navy sofas to the braided rug on the floor beneath the coffee table. Her furnishings weren’t exact replicas of mine, but they were close enough that there was no doubting her intentions. The other side of her shop was set up like the Seven-Year Stitch as well.

  I’m well aware of the old saying that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but I was far from flattered. I was livid.

  I whirled around and left the shop with every intention of confronting Clara at the Stitch. I burst through the door just in time to see her chasing the bunny around the red club chair. Todd was bent double laughing, and he wasn’t doing a thing to help Clara. Angus apparently thought Clara had simply joined in his and Clover’s game, and he was barking happily.

  My anger died at the utter ridiculousness of the situation, and I joined in Todd’s laughter.

  That’s when Ted came into the shop.

  “Arrest them!” Clara shouted. “Arrest them both right now!”

  “On what grounds?” Ted asked, his lips twitching to suppress a smile.

  She plopped down on the chair and wailed, “I don’t know! I just want to get my rabbit and leave!”

  I went over and calmly scooped up Clover. I kissed her soft head, whispered an apology to her, and then handed her over to her terrible owner.

  “Thank you.” With that, Clara left.

  “Poor Clover,” said Todd.

  Chapter Six

  The rest of the day had gone well. A few of the merchants who’d been at MacKenzies’ Mochas came over to browse the shop, and they’d all bought something before they left. I felt like it was a show of support after the scene Clara had made at the coffee shop, and I was grateful. I was looking forward to supporting their businesses and getting to know them better at the upcoming festival.

  My shipment of black embroidery floss came in, and after refilling my bins, I put the rest of it in the storeroom. The interest in blackwork had seriously depleted my supply, and I’d been afraid I would run out before the shipment came. So that was one crisis aver
ted.

  Ted had been working late, so I’d taken Angus home and fed him at five o’clock. I made myself a ham sandwich for dinner, and then Angus and I headed back to the shop for an advanced crewel class.

  This class had only five students. They all loved Angus, and the feeling was mutual. Overall, it was a more laid-back class than the blackwork class. I was able to chat with each of the students, give on-on-one assistance, and work on the butterfly pillow I was making during this class . . . and when I needed a more colorful project than blackwork.

  When Angus and I got home after class, Ted pulled into the driveway behind me.

  I got out of the Jeep and waited for him.

  “Hi,” I said. “This is a nice surprise.”

  “I’m glad,” he said, walking toward me. “I didn’t get to spend much time with you today, and I missed you.” He pulled me into his arms and kissed me thoroughly.

  Angus protested from inside the Jeep.

  “May we continue this inside?” I asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  I retrieved Angus’s leash from the front seat, opened the back door, and snapped the leash onto his collar. Instead of rushing toward the house, he bounded over to Ted for a hug.

  Once inside, Ted and I dropped onto the sofa to continue our make-out session. Soon, a wiry gray face pushed between us.

  With a groan, I got up to let the dog out into the backyard to do whatever he needed to do before bedtime. When I returned to the living room, Ted was lying on the sofa grinning up at the ceiling.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked.

  “I was thinking about Angus and Clover. It really is neat how they get along.”

  I lay down and snuggled against him. “It is. It’s too bad Clara won’t allow them to play together.”

  “Aw, maybe she’ll come around,” he said. “Eventually.”

  “You know, I’d been so looking forward to this Ren Faire, and now I’m dreading it.”

  “Because of Clara?”

  I nodded. “And Nellie.” I hadn’t had the opportunity to tell him about the luncheon meeting during our brief afternoon visit, so I explained our placement assignments and the commotion Clara had made about it.

  “I can’t imagine Nancy Walters took that too well,” Ted said. “From what I’ve seen of the grande dame, she doesn’t appreciate anyone questioning her decisions without excellent reasons—say, you broke your foot, are on crutches for the next few weeks, and you need to be closer to the door. Not liking someone isn’t going to cut it with her.”

  “No. It didn’t. Ms. Walters told Clara that perhaps the two of us and Nellie would find common ground during our time together at the festival,” I said.

  “That sounds about right. In fact, Ms. Walters probably heard about the rivalry and put the three of you together on purpose, hoping it would force you into a truce at the very least.”

  “I’d be all for that, but I think Clara and Nellie would both die before granting me any concessions whatsoever.” I was ready to move on from this depressing subject. “How did your day go? Was your meeting with the arson investigator productive?”

  “It was,” said Ted. “It’s apparent the fire was set on purpose rather than due to faulty wiring or anything like that. He just doesn’t have enough evidence to prove the business owner is responsible for setting the fire.”

  “But he thinks that’s the case?” I asked.

  “Yeah, and so do I. I was practically convinced the widow had murdered her husband, but this entire incident places suspicion solely on the partner.”

  “What do you think the partner is so desperate to hide that he’d burn his business to the ground to do so?”

  Ted shook his head. “I don’t know. But I intend to find out.”

  * * *

  On Thursday morning, Julie came in while I was helping a customer find a beginning needlepoint kit for his granddaughter. Julie was blond, thin, and of average height. She favored sweatshirts and jeans, and she was currently between jobs. I had hired her to watch the Seven-Year Stitch for me while I was manning my booth at the Ren Faire for the next two weeks.

  Julie patted Angus and then browsed while I finished up with my customer. When he left, Julie asked me if I’d be taking Angus with me to the festival.

  “I’d love to,” I said, “but I found out yesterday that my booth is between Clara’s and Nellie’s, and I don’t know whether they’d appreciate my bringing him.”

  Julie grinned. “Then I’d take him or die!”

  I laughed. “You know, I believe I will. It’d be nice to have one ally with me. And if the first day doesn’t go well, I don’t have to take him back.”

  “Why wouldn’t it go well?” she asked.

  “The main two reasons I can think of are his nose and the food court.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that. That could be dicey.” She moved over to a chair in the sit-and-stitch square. “Are you sure you don’t mind Amber coming with me on Saturday?”

  Julie’s daughter was a fixture in many of my embroidery classes and was becoming quite an accomplished stitcher.

  “Of course I don’t! I think it’ll be great for you to have her here.”

  “Well, she does love this place, and she’s dying to help out,” said Julie. “She’ll feel like a kid in a candy store.”

  “I hope she won’t be disappointed. It isn’t the most glamorous job in the world.” I smiled. “I do love it, though.”

  “Amber thinks you’re the coolest adult in the world. She’ll have a blast here Saturday. By the way, would you like to go ahead and start setting up at the fairgrounds today? If so, I’ll be happy to watch the shop.”

  “I didn’t think the vendors were allowed to set up their booths until tomorrow,” I said.

  “Technically, they aren’t supposed to, but somebody got the festival’s okay and now lots of the vendors are setting up early to get a head start on tomorrow.”

  “Well, that sounds like a good plan, but I have a class this evening. I’ll just have to suck it up and get there first thing in the morning. Thanks for the offer, though.”

  Julie nodded.

  There was something in that nod that told me she wasn’t telling me everything.

  “Julie, what is it?” I asked.

  “It’s just that I overheard Nellie Davis telling her sister at MacKenzies’ Mochas a few minutes ago that they should go ahead and set up today,” she said. “I don’t want them getting the jump on you.”

  I smiled. “I appreciate your concern, Julie. But this is a good thing to me. Let them go on and prepare their booths today. Maybe then I’ll have some peace and quiet while I work on mine in the morning.”

  “That’s a good way to look at it. You’re handling those two a lot better than I probably would.”

  “You’d handle them just fine,” I said. “I’m sure you’ve rolled with more than your fair share of punches.”

  “True. But this layoff is one of the worst blows I’ve been dealt yet,” she said. “Thank you for letting me work for you for the next two weeks.”

  “Thank you for helping me out,” I said. “I only wish I could afford to keep you on full-time.”

  “You’re doing plenty for me, Marcy. I really do appreciate this opportunity. I won’t let you down.”

  “I know.”

  “I’d better run. See you in the morning.” After patting Angus good-bye, she left.

  So Nellie and Clara were setting up their booths today. Well, that was good in more ways than one. As I’d mentioned to Julie, I could work on my booth before they arrived tomorrow morning. And without seeing my booth as I stocked and decorated it, Clara wouldn’t be able to copy everything I did. I was still dumbfounded that she’d taken the entire design concept from the Seven-Year Stitch and incorporated it into Knitted and Needled. Why on earth would she do that?

  I sat down in the sit-and-stitch square to complete the blackwork border on the collar of a poet’s shirt. I had several shirts and
blouses ready to sell at the festival now, as well as ruffled collars and cuffs that could be worn with dresses and other Renaissance Faire costumes.

  The thought suddenly struck me—what would I do if I was unable to sell them all? The answer came just as quickly—send them to Mom, of course. She’d be able to find homes for Renaissance couture in a heartbeat and a half.

  I missed Mom and wondered how things were going on the set in Arizona. I’d taken my phone out of my pocket and was about to call her when the phone rang. It was Ted.

  “Is this a tall, dark, handsome stranger?” I asked as I answered the call.

  “No. You’re the opposite of all those things,” he said. “You’re short, fair, gorgeous, and familiar. I’m a detective, remember? You can’t fool me.”

  I laughed. “You’re in a quirky mood.”

  “Loving a quirky gal does that to me sometimes.”

  “You’re doing a lot of sweet-talking,” I said. “What’s up?”

  “Ah, yes. I forgot that you’re quite the detective yourself, Inch-High. I can’t make it to dinner tonight. We’re shorthanded at the station, so I volunteered to go to the fairgrounds with Officer Moore to oversee some of the festival preparations. He and I need to make sure that everything is up to code, see that no fights break out, that sort of thing.”

  “Since I have a class, there’s one fight you won’t have to worry about.” I explained to Ted that Julie had overheard Nellie and Clara planning to set up their booths this evening, while I was waiting until tomorrow morning to do mine.

  “Oh, joy. If I see the sisters of light, I’ll be sure and pass along your tender regards.”

  I giggled. “Do that, won’t you?”

  “If it doesn’t go too late, mayhap I will come to yon window and offer up a sonnet, fair maiden,” he said.

  “I’d rather thee come on inside and smother me with thy passionate kisses.”

  “Prithee . . . is that a word? Prithee?” he asked.

  “Yes, I believe it is. I think it means pray thee. But thou veered off course, my love. What intendeth thou to say?”