Kelly had to catch her breath. So used to the sober decor of the accounting and corporate world, Kelly felt her senses on momentary overload, adjusting. She stepped into the tiled entryway and immediately glanced up. A skylight opened above, allowing natural light to flood what used to be a dim foyer.
She slowly ventured inside. Up ahead, she saw the dining room. The old walnut floors had been polished smooth and shone with a deep, rich luster. Stacked wooden crates lined the walls, skeins of yarns tumbling out. A round maple table was in the midst of the room, piled high with baskets and open wooden crates spilling their colorful contents.
And that was just the yarn. Knitted, woven, and stitched creations were everywhere else—sweaters, vests, blouses, gloves, hats, purses, scarves, and shawls hung from the walls, dangled from cabinet doors, were thrown over shelves, were draped across antique dressers and desks, and were folded on tabletops. It was a riot of color everywhere she looked. Kelly remembered how each room opened and flowed into the other, giving the farmhouse a special warmth. Now, colors flowed from room to room, spilling over one another in a multihued torrent, and the warmth was still there.
Kelly glanced into what used to be the open, inviting family room and saw heads bent around a table, afternoon sunshine pouring through skylights and windows that bordered the brick fireplace. Quilters and other needlecrafters chatted quietly as they worked, their stitchery spread across their laps in various stages of completion.
Customers browsed everywhere, she noticed. The women varied in age. Teenagers sorted through egg crates of yarns with glittery metallic fibers. Young women in workout clothes knelt to explore huge chests overflowing with rainbow-hued skeins. Mothers balanced toddlers on their hips as they fondled tiny sweaters the color of English oatmeal. Gray-haired matrons murmured to each other beside tidy baskets of colorful embroidery and needlework thread. And was that a man she spied in the adjoining room? He was running his hand down the smooth wooden frame of a large weaving loom. A present for him or his wife? Kelly wondered.
Everything begged to be touched. Tags proudly proclaimed wool, alpaca, silk, mohair, cashmere, Yak down. Yak down? Softness beckoned everywhere as she slowly explored the still-familiar yet delightfully different rooms. Kelly’s fingers itched to touch. As she wandered from room to room, she noticed customers succumb to the same urging she had. Touch. Touch. But unlike her, they didn’t hesitate—fondling scarves, vests, knitted tops, sweaters, whatever they wished.
Kelly dove right in and touched everything in sight, reveling in the sensuousness of it all. Crisp mittens and nubbly scarves felt scrunchy and springy. She checked the label. Chunky natural wool from Chile. Her hand brushed a twisted coil of burnished copper, thick as a woman’s braid, doubled over and tucked end to end. Hand-painted silk, she read, and nearly dropped it when she saw the price. Fat bundles of hand-dyed mohair beckoned next—magentas, periwinkle purple, teal blue.
And what was that confection draping in billowy soft bunches on the wall? It looked like cotton candy, but it was the color of seafoam. Kelly sank her hands into the greenish-blue billows, half expecting to smell the sugar. Surely this couldn’t be wool, she thought, and checked the label. Wool and silk, shimmering sea, it declared. How could that be? It looked so different from the other skeins that purported to be the same. She ran her hands through the seafoam confection again. Maybe it was spun by fairies in the night.
A luscious raspberry knitted top dangling from an antique cupboard caught her attention. It looked as soft as, well, as silk. She checked the tag. Eighty percent silk, twenty percent cotton. Oh yes, she thought, as she fondled the top, letting it caress her skin, seductively soft. She noticed the light, open weave of the stitches. The pattern alternated open and closed sections running lengthwise down to the scalloped edge. For the first time in her life, Kelly wished she could create something like that. Sure enough, right at her feet was a bin brimming over with those same silk and cotton yarns, a rainbow of spring and summer colors. Kelly could swear she heard the silk whispering to her.
She was about to sink her hands into the bin when she heard Mimi call out behind her, “Kelly! You’re here. And it looks like you’ve started your own tour.” She laughed. “How do you like it so far?”
Kelly reluctantly left the tactile temptations at her feet. “Well, I stepped inside and kind of . . . got lost, I guess.” She glanced around and smiled. “I can’t believe what you’ve done here. Everything is so different, yet familiar. I can’t get over it. I mean four years ago, all I saw were boxes really. You were just getting started. I had no idea it would turn out so . . . so . . . wow.” She laughed, unable to find an adequate description.
Mimi beamed. “I’m so glad you like it. We’ve really tried to create a special world here.”
“Boy, you sure did. I almost feel like Alice.”
“Alice?”
“Yeah. I walked in the door and fell down the rabbit hole.”
Mimi laughed loudly, the light of recognition in her eyes. “Well, we do think of it as our own wonderland. C’mon, let me take you into our main room to meet Jennifer and friends, then I’ll show you the rest of the shop.”
She gestured toward Kelly’s favorite room, the homey living room with its Mexican tile fireplace, barn-paneled walls, and sunlight streaming through all the windows. The comfy sofas and worn end tables were gone, squeezed into Aunt Helen’s smaller cottage across the driveway. Now, in the center of the room was a huge oval antique library table. Several young women were scattered around the edges, knitting, of course. Kelly felt a twinge of envy. One of them might be knitting that raspberry creation.
As she entered the room, she spied Jennifer. At least she knew someone. “Hi, Jennifer. How are you?” she said. Then her gaze landed on the casserole dishes in the center of the table, and the unmistakable aroma of food reached her nostrils. Kelly’s stomach growled louder this time. Silk may be soft, but it sure wasn’t edible.
“I’m doing great, Kelly. How were the meetings?” Jennifer asked.
Kelly momentarily pulled her attention away from the dishes. Was that pizza? Macaroni and cheese? Forget the diet. Childhood delights beckoned. “Well, it was kind of a tough day. You know, lawyers and all.”
“Whoa. Hold it right there,” Jennifer commanded, setting aside the forest-green wool in her lap. “You’re hungry, aren’t you? When’s the last time you ate?”
“Uh . . .”
“That long. Okay, let’s get you fed, then you can tell us all about the lawyers. We had a potluck tonight and there’s plenty left.” She jumped to her feet and grabbed a paper plate and began scooping up servings of macaroni and cheese, taco casserole, Feta cheese and tomato salad, curried chicken and rice, and a large slice of pepperoni pizza on top.
Kelly found herself demurring in a last effort at polite-ness. “Oh, I don’t need that much.”
“Don’t lie. I saw you with the cinnamon roll this morning. Besides, I’m a waitress. I know hunger when I see it.” Gesturing toward the table, she said, “There’s a place beside Lisa.” She handed the heaping plate to Kelly.
“Go ahead, Kelly. The tour can wait.” Mimi said as she settled into a straight-backed rocker and picked up a frothy white shawl dangling from long, skinny needles.
Kelly dutifully complied, inhaling the aromas wafting off the plate. She sank into the chair and devoured the pizza.
The slender blonde to her left sent her a friendly smile and leaned over. “Kelly, I’m Lisa. I saw you yesterday, but I’m sure you don’t remember. There were tons of people there.”
Kelly managed to swallow long enough to reply. “Yes, it was a wonderful service, I thought. So many people . . .”
“Hey, don’t interrupt her, Lisa,” Jennifer instructed. “She’s famished. Let her eat while we talk.”
“I see you’ve already met the shiest one among us,” Lisa nodded toward Jennifer. “Miss Mouth, we call her,”
she added with a grin.
A soft voice spoke up from the other side of the table, “Hi, Kelly. I’m Megan and I’m so glad to meet you. Helen talked about you all the time. We feel like we already know you . . . kind of.”
Kelly noticed that Megan’s fair skin and shoulder-length dark hair gave her face an almost porcelain quality, with classic, delicate features. Since her mouth was stuffed full of taco casserole that moment, Kelly nodded. “Boy, that’s scary to hear,” she said when she swallowed.
Megan smiled, revealing perfect little teeth. “No, it’s good. She especially loved those trips you took with her. We must have looked at photos for weeks.”
“Months,” Jennifer corrected. “Boy, I could use some time lying in the sun in Provence. With some sexy French-man rubbing me with oil, of course.”
“Olive oil, you mean,” Lisa tweaked.
“Whoa,” Megan protested with a laugh.
“Yesterday she begged me to help her stay on this new diet,” Lisa said. “And did you see her go back for dessert tonight? Twice, yet,” Lisa shook her head and gave Jennifer a wry smile. “I don’t know why I try.”
“Because you love fixing people,” Megan tweaked.
“Hey, I tried, Lisa. Honest. But, c’mon, German chocolate cake? You know that’s my favorite,” Jennifer protested with a laugh that told Kelly the ribbing was all in fun.
“Every cake’s your favorite.”
“I’ll get rid of those ten pounds, just watch.”
“Not with cinnamon rolls, you won’t,” Lisa scolded.
“How’d you find out about that?”
Megan giggled. “Mimi let it slip.”
Jennifer sent a dramatic scowl Mimi’s way. “Snitch. Besides, it was only a half.”
“You know, if you did one of Lisa’s exercise workouts in the morning, you’d lose those pounds in a heartbeat,” Megan offered, her fingers busily working a turquoise mohair-type creation that piled in her lap. “I do, and I can eat anything I want all day.”
Jennifer eyed Megan sternly and paused working the needles. “Megan, you’ve got the metabolism of a Marine platoon on maneuvers. You could eat an entire buffet and still be your dainty, delicate, and disgustingly slender self.” She went back to the dark green wool as Megan laughed. Was that a sleeve appearing in the wool, Kelly wondered?
Enjoying the friendly banter, Kelly decided to join in. “It was all my fault,” she spoke up, balancing a forkful of curried chicken. “I tempted her. Practically shoved it in her mouth.”
“Yeah, right,” Lisa snickered.
“Of course, I plan to run an extra mile tomorrow morning,” Kelly teased, winking at Jennifer.
“Traitor.”
“You work out?” Lisa asked.
For the first time Kelly noticed Lisa was knitting a coral pink shade of that seductively soft silk and cotton yarn she’d seen earlier. Was that the same knitted top coming to life in her lap? “Heck, yes. Got to.”
“See? Discipline,” Lisa tweaked again.
“I get enough exercise running between the patio and the kitchen every day,” Jennifer countered. “Besides, it’s all I can do to throw myself in the shower every morning. No way could I get up earlier to work out.”
“You’re perfect just the way you are,” offered Mimi, needles busily working the frothy white shawl.
“See? Mother Mimi thinks I’m perfect, so there.” Jennifer poked out her tongue at Lisa.
“Each one of you is unique and lovely,” Mimi continued with a maternal smile. “Lisa is statuesque and willowly. Megan is delicate and dainty, but tough as nails underneath,” Mimi added.
“Boy, I sure hope you’ve got some adjectives left, Mimi, because you’ve used up all the good ones on them,” Jennifer teased.
Kelly almost choked on a mouthful of mac ’n cheese, trying to suppress her laughter. Even the elderly lady browsing the bookshelves in the corner glanced over her shoulder with a smile.
“And Jennifer is voluptuous and sexy,” Mimi decreed with a wicked grin.
Jennifer pumped the air. “Yes! Take that, you skinny Scandinavian.”
Laughter burbled around the table and spilled out into the side rooms. Kelly felt the accumulated tension of the day release at last. She poured a glass of what looked like iced tea. The taste startled her. One of those herbals, probably. She drank out of thirst.
“Where are you working out while you’re here?” Lisa asked, fingers moving quickly. “I use the gym on the west side of town if you need a place.”
“I try to run every day if I can, so I’ve been using the river trail each morning. It’s not far from the motel I’m staying in. Over near the interstate.” Kelly leaned back in the chair, relaxing for the first time since she arrived in town.
Lisa gave Kelly’s long-legged, slender frame a quick once-over. “You must play sports. You’ve got the look. Basketball?”
“Well, I used to play all of ’em back in school, but softball’s my favorite. That and tennis.” She brushed the wayward lock of dark hair off her forehead. “You get to be outside.”
Lisa’s eyes lit up. “Really? What position?”
“First base, usually.”
Lisa beamed. “Boy, I sure wish you were staying around. We just lost a couple of players and really could use you. Megan and I play in a coed league in town. You’d like it, I can tell.”
Kelly had to hide how much she liked the idea. But she had no time for softball. She was here to arrange her aunt’s affairs, pay the bills, and get the cottage full of memories on the market. Something way down deep inside Kelly protested. She silenced it. Her job was waiting back in D.C. A very intense, demanding job with a very intense, demanding, important accounting firm. She had responsibilities. She had friends. Well, a few. She had a life. Yeah, right.
She deliberately glanced out the window toward the mountains to hide her thoughts. “Boy, I wish I could. But I can’t be gone from my job that long. I told my boss I’d be taking care of my aunt’s affairs and the house, and then I’d be back. A week or so. Others are handling my clients while I’m gone. I just couldn’t . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“That’s too bad,” Megan said in her soft voice. “We’re just getting to know you.”
“What were you planning to do with the house, Kelly?” Mimi asked, her head bent over the shawl.
Kelly debated how to answer. This morning, she’d have responded quickly: fix up the house and put it on the market. But after talking with the Denver lender, she was no longer sure what to do. She needed to think. All of her aunt’s neat financial arrangements had been thrown into disarray with the loan.
“Well, I’d planned to clean it up, then put it on the market,” she offered. “But now . . .”
“Now, what?” Jennifer prodded after a moment.
Glancing around at the friendly faces and obvious interest, Kelly responded with honesty. “Things have changed. I just learned from the lawyer this morning that Aunt Helen refinanced the house only last week so she could pull out equity. Problem is, there was no equity left. I’d helped her refinance three years ago so she could pay off Uncle Jim’s hospital bills. We got a great loan with low interest. And now I learn she just closed last week with some sleazy Denver lender so she could take out more money. I don’t even want to tell you the interest rate.”
Kelly closed her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “Of course, she’s now upside down in her mortgage, and—”
“Upside down?” Lisa inquired.
“That means the loan is for a larger amount than the market value of the property,” Jennifer explained, then glanced to Kelly. “I’m also a real estate agent. That’s where I work every afternoon.”
“Now it’s not such an easy thing to sell the house. I’d have to bring all that extra money to closing.” Kelly blew out a breath. “I’ve got some in savings, but my dad’s death and medical bills th
ree years ago wiped me out. There’s no way I could bring that much to the table. Provided the house would sell, of course.”
“Oh, it’d sell, trust me,” Mimi said with authority.
“If you don’t mind my asking, how much are we talking about here?” probed Jennifer.
For someone whose career meant being careful with financial information, Kelly hesitated only until two customers wandered from the room and out of earshot. Surprised at herself, Kelly felt comfortable, at ease, safe with these women. She leaned over the table and noticed the others did the same.
“Twenty thousand dollars,” she whispered.
“WHAT?” Jennifer exclaimed. “Twenty thousand?”
“Shhhhh!” Lisa and Megan shushed loudly.
Megan’s eyes were round as saucers, and Mimi’s knitting had dropped, forgotten, to her lap as she stared with a worried frown.
Undeterred, Jennifer pressed. “That’s crazy. Why would Helen need that much money?”
“That’s precisely what concerns me. I took care of Aunt Helen’s finances and advised her, and she never said a thing to me about doing this. She was a sensible woman. She’d never do something this financially irresponsible.” Frustration seeped into her voice. “She had a real simple budget, and I kept her accounts every month. I mean, I knew where she spent her money. If she had some secret vice that took money, believe me, I’d know it.”
“Yeah, like Helen was a secret gambler or something,” Jennifer said with a snort. “Or closet addict.”
“Helen? Never,” Lisa agreed.
“Do you suppose she could have been one of those compulsive shoppers or something?” ventured Megan, fingers methodically working the turquoise yarn around the needles. “I mean, maybe she bought stuff out of her grocery money and gave it away. You know how she was always giving stuff away to the homeless shelter, Lisa.”
Knit One, Kill Two Page 3
