Kyle’s voice broke, and he hugged her close. They moved away from the group, and Margaret fell into step beside Lindsey and Sully.
“Are you all right?” Lindsey asked her. “It has to be rough discovering that your niece killed your sister.”
Margaret sighed. “It is. The family we found to adopt her, the Elkersons, is a nice family. Funny, I should have caught the tweak in the last name there: Elkerson is a lot like Ellers. You know, I was the one who took her to Alaska and handed her over. I thought I’d keep in touch and watch her grow up, but I didn’t. It was too hard, plus I was young and selfish. I wanted to travel and see the world. Looking back, I realize it was my first time away from all of Olive’s eternal drama, and I was so tired. Four thousand plus miles seemed a solid buffer.”
“Will you go back to traveling?”
“No.” Margaret shook her head. “My life is here now.” She glanced at Sully and Lindsey, who were still holding hands. “I’m sorry you were dragged into this. My sister, her daughter, what a mess.”
“Not your fault,” Sully said. “I’m just really glad you and Molly helped Robbie sneak back in. You’re very brave.”
“While hiking in Canada, I once took on a bear with a broom,” she said. “It gives a gal an overinflated sense of badassery.”
Lindsey laughed and then hugged her. “Come see me at the library sometime.”
“I will,” Margaret said. She walked over to the police car where Officer Kirkland was keeping watch over Amy.
A crowd had gathered. The crafternoon ladies were at the front of it all, hovering around Paula, who, upon seeing Lindsey, began to cry. Lindsey noted that the spectators ran pretty deep with residents and tourists. She even spotted both the cupcake bakers and the London-hat-shop people. Probably, they hadn’t expected this much excitement on their leaf-peeping trip to New England.
A black-haired fur ball busted out of the crowd and charged Lindsey. She crouched down, and Heathcliff launched himself at her. Hugging his wriggling body against her, Lindsey felt for the first time as if everything was okay.
• • •
“Did you hear the news?” Violet LaRue asked as she set up the food table for crafternoon the following Thursday afternoon.
“About?” Charlene asked, looking mildly exasperated that her mother hadn’t offered more information than that.
“The hat-shop people. You know, the group visiting from London,” Violet said.
“I thought they left this morning,” Nancy said.
“They did, but last night, they took a final cruise around the islands on Sully’s boat, and that hottie Harrison proposed to Scarlett, the redheaded girl, and she said yes.”
“Sully told me it was very romantic,” Lindsey said. “He said even he watered up.”
“Oh, my brother, the big, strong marshmallow,” Mary said. “That’s what the love of a good woman will do for you.” She maneuvered herself in front of the couch and grabbed the back of it while lowering herself and her ever-growing pregnant belly onto the seat. “Speaking of which, how is the cohabiting going?”
“Really well,” Paula and Lindsey said together, and then they laughed. They were filling up their plates, and Lindsey was pleased to see that Paula was looking rosy cheeked and happy again.
Lindsey liked to think that the people of Briar Creek, particularly the library folks, had proven to Paula that they believed in her. They hadn’t turned on her. They stood by her even when she was a suspect. She was one of them, and she never had to worry about not belonging ever again.
Mary glanced between them. “That’s right. You and Hannah took Lindsey’s old apartment in Nancy’s house.”
“Best tenants ever,” Nancy said.
“Hey!” Lindsey protested.
“Sorry, my dear, but Hannah is very handy,” she said. “She’s already fixed my dryer and a squeaky door, and she put in all the storm windows over the weekend.”
“I shared Heathcliff with you,” Lindsey said.
Nancy smiled at her. “That’s true. How does my boy like his new home?”
“He loves it,” she said. “We’re thinking of getting him a buddy.”
“Oh, so the family is getting bigger,” Beth said with a grin. She tucked her thumbs into the straps of her green corduroy overalls, the ones missing a button that she always wore when she read Corduroy to her kiddos. “Do I hear wedding bells in the offing?”
“Only your own,” Lindsey teased. “Or maybe it’s the cupcake bakers’. Didn’t they leave a few days ago because Angie and Tate are getting married in a few weeks?”
“They did, but I heard they’re going ahead with the plan to open a franchise here with Willow, so it looks like we’ll be seeing more of them,” Violet said.
“Good,” Nancy chimed in. “I like that guy Marty. He’s got spunk, plus he likes my cookies.”
“Ha! Cookies? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Mary joked, and Nancy blushed a hot shade of pink.
“Hush you,” Nancy said, but it lacked heat. “So, what did you all think of Poirot’s last case in Curtain?”
“Oh, now look who’s changing the subject to our book to avoid chatting about her love life,” Lindsey said.
Nancy gave her a chastising look and then said, “Did you know that in nineteen forty-nine a reporter discovered that a romance novelist named Mary Westmacott was actually Dame Agatha Christie?”
“No way,” Charlene said. “How did I not know that?”
“Most people don’t,” Lindsey said. “But she was actually quite good. In fact, one of her romances, Absent in the Spring, was written in three days and is considered a tour de force.”
“She was fifty-four when that one was published. It just goes to show you never know what a gal might have up her sleeve,” Nancy said.
Lindsey exchanged a look with Violet. Could Nancy, after all these years, finally find a new love? The thought made Lindsey grin.
Today’s spread was inspired by their book of the week. Given that Christie was a British author, Violet had consulted Robbie, and in addition to tea and biscuits for dessert, they were enjoying Cornish pasties; kedgeree, a buttery dish consisting of flaked fish, rice, curry powder, hard-boiled eggs and parsley; and Yorkshire pudding. Since the day outside was gray and wet, this was the perfect comfort food.
“I have to say, I liked the way she wrote this case. It was clever and tricky like all her stories are but also had Poirot’s usual funny matchmaking,” Violet said. “I always preferred him to Miss Marple.”
“What?” Charlene looked shocked at her mother. “How can you say that? Miss Marple is such a multilayered female sleuth, unlike Poirot, who was already an investigator, so it’s not like his character grows much at all.”
“He drinks hot chocolate,” Violet said.
“So?”
“I find that charming.”
Charlene rolled her eyes then hugged her mother with one arm while balancing her plate of food with the other. As the group settled into their seats, Lindsey glanced around the room. Thursdays really were her most favorite day at the library. She loved her crafternoon buddies.
“Ahem.” Ms. Cole stood in the doorway to the room. She was holding a copy of Curtain in her hands.
“Ms. Cole, did you need me?”
“No,” she said. “That is . . . I was wondering . . . I read this week’s book.”
Lindsey glanced at Beth, who raised her eyebrows in surprise. The lemon had been vocally opposed to the crafternoon group from the day Lindsey had implemented it. Did her presence here mean what Lindsey thought it meant?
“Would you care to join us, Ms. Cole?” she asked.
“Please call me Eugenia,” she said. “Or Ginny for short.”
The room was silent for three solid beats while the group processed the appearance of the lemon, who
apparently wanted to join them. A stunning turn of events.
“Well, all right, Ginny.” Paula jumped to her feet, grinning broadly at her coworker. “Come on, let’s get you a plate. We’re knitting this week. Do you know how to knit?”
The lemon, er, Ginny held up a canvas bag with knitting needles and yarn stuffed inside. “I don’t, but I’m willing to learn.”
“That’s the spirit,” Paula said. “We’ll make a crafternooner out of you yet.”
“Did you know that Dame Christie wrote Poirot’s last case thirty years before it was published?” Ginny asked the group. “She waited until she was ill before she released it.”
“How did I not know that either?” Charlene cried.
The group settled in for their discussion, and Lindsey pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. She thumbed through her contacts until she found Sully. Then she sent him a text.
Just wait until you hear what happened today.
His reply was immediate.
No dead bodies?
Lindsey smiled.
None. I promise. But I have to say, the library is never dull. Never.
The Briar Creek Library Guide to Crafternoons
A crafternoon is simply a book club that does a craft while enjoying some good food and discussing the latest book of their choosing. To give you a starting point for your own crafternoon, here is a readers guide to Patricia Highsmith’s The Talented Mr. Ripley, instructions for knitting a simple beanie and recipes for cheese and spinach strata, Yorkshire pudding and Mr. Chesterton’s apple pie.
Readers Guide for The Talented Mr. Ripley
by Patricia Highsmith
What are the characteristics found in a likable character? Would you say Tom Ripley is likable?
How does being an outsider, someone who does not fit into society, work for Tom Ripley? How does it determine his choices?
What is the most suspenseful moment in the book? How did you feel when you were reading it? What outcome were you hoping for?
Is there any justification for Tom’s actions in the novel? If so, what is it?
Were you hoping that Tom would be successful in the end? If so, how did the author, Highsmith, make you feel that way?
Craft: Knitted Beanie
100 yds of bright-colored bulky or super bulky yarn
Size 13 knitting needles
Yarn needle
Cast on 40 stitches.
Work knit 1, purl 1 ribbing for six rows.
Work in stockinette stitch (knit one row, purl one row) until piece measures 9 inches, ending with a purl row.
Next row, knit 2 together across until twenty stitches remain.
Purl 1 row.
Knit 2 together across until ten stitches remain.
Cut a 12-inch length of yarn and thread onto yarn needle.
Knit the last row from the knitting needle to the threaded yarn needle. Pull the stitches tight then whip stitch the two sides together, creating the hat. Tie off the yarn and weave the end back into the hat.
Recipes
CHEESE AND SPINACH STRATA
1 10-ounce package frozen spinach, thawed
1½ cups finely chopped onion
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon black pepper
¼ teaspoon nutmeg
8 cups cubed French bread
6 ounces grated Gruyère cheese
2 ounces finely grated Parmesan cheese
2¾ cups milk
9 large eggs
2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
Dry spinach with a paper towel, then finely chop. Cook onion in melted butter in a large skillet over medium heat, stirring frequently, until soft. Stir in ½ teaspoon salt, ¼ teaspoon pepper and nutmeg and cook for 1 minute. Add spinach, then remove from heat. Spread one-third of bread cubes in a buttered 3-quart casserole dish and top with one-third of spinach mixture. Sprinkle with one-third of each cheese. Repeat layering twice, ending with cheeses. Whisk together milk, eggs, mustard and remaining ½ teaspoon salt and ¼ teaspoon pepper in a large mixing bowl and pour evenly over strata. Chill, covered with plastic wrap, for 8 hours to allow the bread to absorb custard.
Preheat the oven to 350°F. Let the strata sit at room temperature 30 minutes before baking. Bake the strata, uncovered, in the middle of the oven until golden brown and puffed, about 45 to 55 minutes. Let stand 5 minutes before serving.
YORKSHIRE PUDDING
3 large eggs
¾ cup whole milk
¾ cup all-purpose flour
¾ teaspoon kosher salt
¼ cup bacon drippings
Preheat the oven to 450°F. In a medium mixing bowl, whisk together eggs, milk, flour and salt until smooth but not over-mixed. Let the batter sit for 30 minutes at room temperature.
Pour the bacon drippings into a square baking dish. Put the dish in the oven and get the bacon grease smoking hot, which takes about 10 minutes. Carefully take the dish out of the oven and pour the batter into it. Put the pan back in the oven and cook until puffed and dry, 15 to 20 minutes. Serve immediately.
MR. CHESTERTON’S APPLE PIE
4–6 Granny Smith green apples
¾ cup granulated sugar
1 tablespoon flour
1 teaspoon cinnamon
9-inch frozen pie crust
Peel and slice apples. Mix with sugar, flour and cinnamon.
Pour into pie shell, spreading them out. They’ll shrink as they cook. Sprinkle with topping.
TOPPING:
½ cup brown sugar
¼ cup butter
⅓ cup flour
¼ teaspoon cinnamon
Mix the above with a pastry cutter or fork until it is dry enough to sprinkle on top of apples. Completely cover pie with topping.
Preheat the oven to 425°F. Put the pie on a cookie sheet and bake for 10 minutes. Reduce heat to 350°F and bake at least 45 minutes longer until the apples can be pierced easily with a fork. If the topping gets too brown, cover it with foil. Remove from the oven and allow to cool before serving.
Keep reading for an excerpt of the first in Jenn McKinlay’s all-new contemporary romance series . . .
ABOUT A DOG
Available in paperback from Berkley!
Mackenzie Harris lugged her suitcase, carry-on and garment bag off the passenger car and onto the platform in Portland, Maine. The Downeaster train had brought her up from Boston, which had been her first stop after flying in from Chicago, as she’d had to do a final fitting before picking up her bridesmaid dress at the Boston bridal shop on her way to Maine for her best friend’s wedding. Now she just had to find Emma Tolliver, the bride, in the station, and they would set out for Bluff Point, which was a half-hour drive up the coastline.
The two-and-a-half-hour train ride had given Mac plenty of time to think about the next two weeks. Emma, being Emma, had planned a wedding that was not just the celebration of two people uniting their lives. Oh no, it was more like a two-week hostage situation where there were daily itineraries of endless activities designed to milk every magical matrimonial moment out of the event. Just reading the five-page itinerary with detailed instructions that Emma had emailed the wedding party exhausted Mac.
Despite the intensity of the agenda, Mac planned to participate fully. She understood that the over-the-top celebrating was a part of who Emma had become when her mother passed away so young. Emma was always the one who made every birthday, Christmas or Valentine’s Day one to be remembered, since she had a deep-seated fear that each one might be the last.
Since it was an Emma extravaganza, there were a million picky little details to nail down, and Mac had made a personal vow that she would be the perfect maid of honor for Emma. She would do whatever Emma asked of her and serve it up with a smile on the side. She hoped this would alleviate the gui
lt she felt since she had been such a no-show as a maid of honor thus far.
Mac wheeled her suitcase beside her as she approached the station, narrowly missing a mom and her two sons who were on their way out. One of the boys gave her the stink eye, and Mac gave it right back. The boy’s eyes went wide with fright—Mac gave a really good stink eye—and then she winked at him, letting him know all was forgiven. He grinned before he scampered off to catch up to his mom.
Mac scanned the large room as she entered, looking for Emma. Her friend’s long, straight blond hair usually gave away her location at a glance, but Mac did a quick visual sweep and didn’t see her. She searched again, thinking Emma might have her hair in a topknot or a ponytail, but no. There was no petite blonde anywhere to be seen.
Mac shrugged and hauled her bags over to a seat. Maybe Emma was running late. She dug in her purse for her cell phone to see if there was a text she had missed, but as she moved her hand around the voluminous bag, she couldn’t find her phone. She sighed.
She loved her big bag—she really did. It was one of the many reasons she’d let her gym membership lapse, besides the fact that she never actually went, as she figured carrying around twenty pounds of stuff kept her fit enough, but at times like this when she couldn’t find what she needed, which were frequent, she thought she really needed to downsize.
A buzz sounded from her bag, and Mac held it open wide, hoping the display screen would light up so she could see it. Ha! There was a blue glow coming from the bottom. She snatched up her phone and answered it without pausing to look at the number.
“Emma, I’m here. Where are you?” she asked.
“I’m right behind you,” a man answered.
Seven years. It had been seven years since Mac had heard his voice, which was much deeper than she remembered, but still, she would know Gavin Tolliver’s voice in a crowded room loud with conversation and laughter. His was the sort of voice that wrapped around you like a hug. It was deep and masculine but full of warmth and kindness with a self-deprecating humor to it that Mac had always found charming even when Gav was a gawky teen just learning how to talk to girls.
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