by Mary Kruger
In disgust, Ari threw down her pencil and sat back, scowling. Though either style would be popular, she’d done too many similar things. Even if she knitted them in openwork stitches or a combination of patterns, they wouldn’t be anything new or different.
Part of the cause of her lack of creativity was that real life had gotten in the way. Too much had happened lately, and she had a lot on her mind: the chance that Eric had something to do with his mother’s death, the very real possibility that Diane would be arrested, and, always, the memory of what had happened in her shop just days ago. For all her thinking, she couldn’t fathom who could have done such a thing. Thank God, Ronnie Dean had given her an alibi of sorts.
That morning, before leaving for the shop, she’d paid her neighbor a call. She didn’t know what Ronnie had or hadn’t seen, but one thing was definite: She owed the woman a huge debt of gratitude. Unfortunately, paying that debt involved time. At great length, and with a number of extraneous questions thrown in, Ronnie had confirmed what she’d told Josh. Her small, dark eyes were bright, her hands animated as she spoke in a rush of words that seemed nearly endless. Within a few minutes she encompassed not only Ari’s alibi but also the selling price of a house several blocks away, the news that another house had been broken into, and the fact that a neighbor’s teenaged son had been smoking outside his house late one night. “Did that detective talk to you?” she asked, finally winding down.
“Yes.” Ari smiled at her. “Thank you for telling him what you saw. It got me out of a jam.”
“Well, I said to him, that Ariadne keeps to herself. Yes, she used to get up to a lot of mischief, but she wouldn’t kill anyone. That’s what I told him. Did he tell you anything more about what’s happening?”
“I’m glad you were looking out that morning,” Ari said, ignoring the question.
“I just happened to be up to go to the bathroom, and when I saw your light I looked out.”
Ari bit back a grin. She knew that Ronnie’s bathroom was at the back of her house. “Well, I’m grateful to you.”
“I said to myself that you’d gotten a new robe. It was early for you to be up, wasn’t it?”
“Oh, I’m usually awake at that time. Didn’t you know?”
“That’s right, you go to bed early,” Ronnie said, with no indication that she understood Ari’s implication. “So when that Detective Pierce came here—what a nice man. I heard you had lunch with him.”
“Yes, he had some questions.”
“Do you think you’ll go out with him?”
“Ronnie, were you looking out later?” Ari asked, ignoring her again.
“Why? What happened?”
“Nothing. I was just wondering.”
“Not until Mr. Parsons next door left for work. He leaves at seven, you know. I saw you go out to the school bus with Megan. How does she like second grade?”
“Oh, she likes it.”
“Good. Then I saw Mrs. Goodman go off with her kids—is Megan playing with the oldest girl yet?”
Now, how had Ronnie known that Megan had had a fight with her best friend? “Yes. Nothing else?”
“You went to the school bus with Megan. Why did he want to know about that time? Was that when Edith was killed?”
“Yes. So that’s it?”
“No. I told him you couldn’t be involved. You’re too nice.”
Ari blinked. “You said that?”
“It’s true.”
“Thank you. And thank you for what you told him.” Ari smiled, but she was troubled as she continued to talk with Ronnie. Eventually, managing to elude most of her questions, she freed herself and went to work.
Now, hours later, she was still troubled. Not even Ronnie was all-seeing. There was a bit of Ari’s time not accounted for, after she’d gone out for the newspaper. It would have been tight, but she could conceivably have slipped out to meet Edith at the shop, killed her, and then returned home, with no one the wiser. It bothered her that her alibi was partly built on the fact that she was a nice person. After all, many murderers had been called quiet, nice people before they killed. No wonder the police considered her alibi to be provisional, even if Josh didn’t agree.
A noise at the door made Ari look up abruptly to see Kaitlyn, her expression quizzical. “Kaitlyn? What are you doing here?”
“It’s Saturday, remember?” Moving with the grace and assurance of an athlete, Kaitlyn walked in and claimed the battered wooden chair near Ari’s desk. “I’m sorry I’m so late.”
Ari sat back, lifting her hair back from her neck and wishing she’d pinned it up. The day was summerlike. It certainly wasn’t sweater weather. “It’s all right this time, but don’t make a habit of it.”
“My mother wanted to talk to me about something.”
Ari looked at Kaitlyn, startled by the trace of anger in her voice. “Oh?” she said.
“She wants me to quit.” Kaitlyn slumped against the back of the chair.
“What? Why?”
“She thinks it’s not safe here.”
“Oh, honestly!” Ari burst out, before she could stop herself. Sometimes Susan Silveira’s protectiveness bordered on the extreme. “No one’s going to hurt you here.”
“That’s what I told her, but she doesn’t want to hear.”
“Do you want me to talk to her?”
“I don’t think it’d do much good. Ari, she thinks I should work at Shaw’s full-time.”
“As a checker?” Ari said, startled. “But the supermarket pays less than I do.”
“Yeah, but I’d get more hours. It was okay when I was still at RISD and this was just a weekend job, but I’d make more there.”
Ari sighed. “I can’t afford to offer you or Summer any more time.”
“I know that, and I don’t want to stop,” Kaitlyn said passionately. “I was so excited when you started this shop and then hired me.”
“I know.” Although she hadn’t known Kaitlyn before, she’d been impressed with her knowledge of design and of knitting. “But how would you do it with your classes?”
“I don’t know. Next semester I could go at night. But I don’t want to,” she went on fiercely. “I don’t want to be a checker.” Kaitlyn slumped down in the chair again, looking sullen. “Of course, she can always afford to play golf.”
“The prices of real estate are taking off around here, aren’t they?” Ari asked cautiously.
“Yeah.” Kaitlyn ran her hand over the top of her hair, short and blond like her mother’s. “And we’d’ve done okay, but Mrs. Perry decided to be her own broker.”
“What?” Ari said, startled.
“My mom was going to be her broker with the developers.”
“And Edith decided against it?”
“Yeah.”
No wonder Mrs. Silveira was concerned about money. Her commission from such a sale would have been huge, and the loss of it had to be a blow. Because of the downturn in the computer industry, Kaitlyn’s father had lost his job, and, being middle-aged, was finding a new one hard to get. It had affected all of them, since they’d had to move to a smaller house and Kaitlyn had had to transfer to UMass Dartmouth, which she hated. Kaitlyn’s situation was rough. She badly needed this job.
Kaitlyn sat up. “Is there anything you need me to do?”
“Not right now, except for staying at the counter. Summer put the new shipment of yarn away yesterday, and it’s been quiet.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll find something to do. Maybe I can work on the web page. I brought the backup disks with me.”
“That’s an idea,” Ari said noncommittally. She still wasn’t sure about the idea of selling patterns online.
“But I wanted to show you something first.” From the portfolio Kaitlyn held she drew out two papers, clipped together. One was a drawing of a striped hat-and-scarf set; the other had the directions for making it. Across the top of the first page was a large C, written in red.
“Oh, Kaitlyn,” Ari said. “One
of your designs?”
“Yes. A project I had to do for design class. It really came out nice. I don’t know why I didn’t get a better grade.”
Ari frowned a little as she skimmed the directions. “There aren’t any comments on it from the professor.”
“No, but I asked him afterward about it. He didn’t think the stripes work.”
“Hmm.” Privately Ari thought the professor had a point. The hat, a beret, was designed in vertical stripes of pink, white, and red, and looked like an oversized peppermint candy. She couldn’t say that, though. “The problem with the vertical stripes is where you had to increase,” Ari said, indicating the top of the hat. From the crown, Kaitlyn had added stitches to make it large enough at the edge. “They start off narrow and then grow wider, until you reach the underside and have to decrease.”
“But that’s why I like it,” Kaitlyn said. “I think it’s interesting.”
That was certainly one word for it. “Why did you use sport yarn? It’s too thin to be warm.”
“I don’t think so. It knits up tight. Anyway, I wouldn’t have gotten the look I wanted if I’d used worsted. The stripes would have ended up being too wide. This way I could fit in more, too.”
Oh, Lord, Ari groaned to herself. “Maybe you should try making something in bulky yarn. Or chenille. That would be a good look. Or you could add texture with different stitches. Try cables, or seed stitch.”
Kaitlyn wrinkled her nose. “It wouldn’t be very challenging.”
“It doesn’t have to be, does it? What you’re looking for is good design.”
“This is good design,” she insisted.
Not if it made anyone who wore it look like candy. “Kaitlyn, I’m afraid it just doesn’t work,” she said gently.
Kaitlyn stared at her for a moment, and then surged to her feet, flinging the design away. “I’ll never get it,” she said. “I’ll never be any good.”
“Of course you will,” Ari said, startled. Did she have such dramatics to look forward to when Megan was a teenager? “I’ve seen the things you’ve made. They show promise. You’re doing all right in your other classes, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but I’ve mostly done fairly simple things.” She sat down again. “When I try to be different, this is what happens.”
“Simplicity’s always best, Kait.” Especially since the girl didn’t really know what she was doing yet. That had puzzled Ari from the first. Kaitlyn obviously had originality and talent; the striped hat, though hideous, was proof of that. Yet somehow she couldn’t seem to find her style, or to apply the design principles she’d learned in other subjects to her knitting work.
“That’s easy for you to say. You make complex things.”
“But I started off simply.” It wasn’t quite true; in the beginning, she’d had her share of disasters.
“Ari, I want to do this so much.” Kaitlyn turned toward her. “If I don’t succeed, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“You’ll learn,” Ari said. “You’ll take this experience and learn from it. Someday, Kait, when you have the basics and the knowledge under your belt, you can be innovative. You’ll succeed. I’m sure of it.”
Kaitlyn slumped farther down in the chair. “You know, I don’t understand why you did it.”
“What?”
“You were getting successful. I still can’t believe you were selling your designs when you were still in college. You could have gone to New York. Really.” She leaned forward, brow knitted. “I think you could have gone anywhere.”
Ari looked down at her desk, and the sweater design, which still refused to come to life. Kaitlyn was so young. Life was still straightforward to her, in spite of the obstacles she’d faced. “Life happened,” she said finally. “I met Ted.”
Kaitlyn made a face. “Ted.”
“Yes, Ted. He was what I wanted at the time.”
“Oh, honestly, Ari!”
“Well, he was.”
“Why didn’t he go to New York with you, instead of making you stay here?”
“Why should he have? Besides, he didn’t make me do anything. I stayed because I wanted to.”
“You can’t have,” Kaitlyn protested. “With such a future ahead of you?”
“I got pregnant,” Ari said. “New York’s no place to raise a child.”
“Lots of kids grow up there.”
Ari shook her head. “I didn’t like the quality of living when there was an alternative. We didn’t even want to stay in Providence, though it’s nice enough. I like Freeport, Kait. So does Ted, so we came back here.”
“Bo-ring.”
“Gee, Kait, don’t hold back. Tell me what you really think.”
“Sorry,” Kaitlyn said, but she was smiling.
“I’m happy, Kait. I’ve freelanced designs, and now I have this shop.” Her gaze softened. “I love it here.”
“Well, it’s not what I want,” Kaitlyn said firmly. “I want to work at a design house in New York. I don’t care if I ever get my own line, as long as I can see my designs out there.”
Ari stifled a smile at the naiveté of that remark. Still, Kaitlyn had the talent to succeed, and the stubbornness to keep at it. “I’ll help you,” she said impulsively.
Kaitlyn sat forward, face eager and hopeful. “Would you?”
“Yes.”
“That would be so great.” Kaitlyn glanced at the unfinished design on Ari’s desk. “What’s that?”
Ari made a face. “Something I can’t get right. I want something different for next summer, but everything I come up with is boring.”
“Could I try something?”
Ari slid the paper toward her with some apprehension. Lord only knew what Kaitlyn would come up with. “Here.”
“Let’s take the sleeves off.” Kaitlyn erased the short, straight sleeves Ari had drawn. “Make the shoulders narrower.” More erasing. “And lower the neckline, like that.”
Ari frowned a bit as Kaitlyn sat back. “A tank top?”
“Why not? It will be cool, and the summer people will like it.”
Just what Ari’d been thinking herself. “If I do it in cotton, with some openwork at the bottom—”
“No,” Kaitlyn interrupted her. “Do it in ribbon yarn.”
Ari stared at her. “You know, that might work.”
“You could use a multicolored one.”
“I’d have to put a lining in it if I use one with ladders in it,” Ari said, thinking of the broad, thin yarns, made of rayon or nylon, that had spaces at regular intervals.
“No. Wait.” Kaitlyn dashed out into the shop and came back with a yarn colored in primary shades. “This is solid. Sort of. It’s thin, but can you imagine it made up? You wouldn’t need to do anything fancy.”
“No, maybe just a mixture of stitches to make a design,” Ari said, looking at Kaitlyn with dawning respect. The yarn itself was so striking that it didn’t require a complicated design. “It would be comfortable for summer, and just a little clingy. Just what I wanted, Kait.”
“And the yarn’s expensive enough that you’d make a bundle.”
Ari laughed. “Sure.” She pushed the paper back toward Kaitlyn. “You design it.”
Kaitlyn’s face lit up. “Are you sure?”
“It’s your idea, not mine.”
“Oh, thank you! Ari, you don’t know what this means to me.”
Ari smiled, feeling just a little smug and self-congratulatory at her generosity. “It works, Kait.”
“Yeah, it does, doesn’t it? Maybe I will get to New York, after all.” Her smile faded at that. “I’ve got to, Ari. I’ve just got to. If I don’t, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“You’ll manage,” Ari assured her. “Life has a way of working out, Kait.”
“Yeah, right,” Kaitlyn said, and walked out into the shop as the bells over the front door jangled.
Ari smiled after her. Maybe Kaitlyn would succeed, after all. Certainly today’s ideas were good. Better than h
er own, she thought, looking down at her discarded sketches.
“Good morning, Ari. Isn’t it such a beautiful day?”
Ari looked up to see Ruth Taylor in the office doorway. “Yes, it is, Mrs. Taylor,” she said, wondering just why the older woman was here. She had a mischievous look in her eyes. “Can I help you with something?”
“Oh, no, thank you. I was taking my walk and I thought I’d stop in to see Laura. Is she here?”
“No, she’s gone to Providence Place with the Red Hat group.”
“Oh, I wonder if I should join that. I can’t imagine wearing a purple dress with a red hat, though.”
Ari smiled. A chapter of the Red Hat Society, a national organization for middle-aged women, had recently started up in Freeport and was a huge success. “Why not? It’s the rule, and they seem to have fun.”
“I think the colors clash.”
“They do, but Laura seems to enjoy it. I’m planning a purple scarf for her,” she said, indicating some fuzzy purple yarn.
“Really. Well, she always has been eccentric.”
“She enjoys herself.” Ari rose as the bells jangled over the door again, and went into the main part of the shop, with Ruth following. Kaitlyn was helping the customer, who had just come in to find some yarn, so Ari stood behind the sales counter.
“Have you heard any more about Edith, Ari?” Ruth asked.
