The Stitching Hour

by Amanda Lee

“Come on in,” I said. “Want a bottle of water or anything?”

  “Nah, I’m good.” He followed us inside, sat on one of the club chairs and stretched his long legs out on either side of the ottoman. “What do you think of this haunted house?”

  I glanced at the door to make sure no one was coming. “Have you met the Atwoods yet?”

  “No. Are they the people behind the Horror Emporium?”

  “Yeah. They’re pretty eccentric. They say things like gentlewomen and alas.” Angus had gone into the office, and I heard his water bowl banging against the wall. “Let me refill his water dish, and I’ll be right back.”

  “Alas and yon, prithee hurry.”

  I raised a brow. “Alas and yon?”

  “Yep, and I can prithee with the best of them, gentlewoman.”

  I giggled. “Whatever you say, Todd.”

  When I came back, Todd had his eyes closed and his head resting on the back of the chair. I eased closer and shouted, “Boo!”

  He opened his eyes. “Really?”

  “Eh, it was worth a shot.” I smiled, sat on the sofa, and picked up the ribbon embroidery project I’d left on the table.

  “Tell me about these eccentric haunted house people.”

  I shrugged slightly. “It’s like they’re from a different era or something. For some reason, they reminded me of circus folk . . . from the eighteen hundreds.”

  “Been to a lot of eighteen hundred–era circuses?” He grinned. “I’ve got to meet these people.”

  “I imagine you will sooner than later. I got the impression that they’re making the rounds and trying to meet everyone,” I said. “I suppose they’re hoping to drum up business. And, I have to admit, after meeting them, I’m curious about what kind of show they’ll put on in their Horror Emporium.” I pulled the needle through the cloth and back through the green ribbon stitch I’d just made to form a leaf. “When you first came in, you asked what I thought about having a haunted house next door. Frankly, I’m afraid it will disrupt my classes this month.”

  “I’m thinking along those same lines,” said Todd. “Will people shy away from the Brew Crew because they’re put off by the haunted house’s screaming fans? I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

  “Either way, it’s only a month.” I smiled. “If nothing else, maybe it’ll give Nellie Davis something else to occupy her mind besides me for a change.” I told him about her standing at the window and then ducking out of sight as Angus and I passed.

  “That’s weird . . . even for her,” he said.

  “I know. I wonder if she’s met Mr. and Mrs. Atwood.”

  Angus brought a tennis ball to Todd and dropped it at his feet. Todd picked the ball up and tossed it to the other side of the room. Angus scampered after it.

  “What’s it worth to you for me to find out what’s up with Nellie?” Todd asked.

  “How about peanut butter fudge brownies?”

  He clutched his chest. “You’ll make me brownies? Just to find out what’s going on with Nellie?”

  “No, but I’ll buy them for you from MacKenzies’ Mochas.”

  “Deal.” He stood. “Be back in a few.”

  • • •

  When Todd came back, he was grinning and shaking his head. “Are you ready for this?” He dropped onto the club chair.

  “I don’t know. Am I?”

  “I doubt it. Nellie Davis thinks the Atwoods are vampires.”

  My jaw dropped. “Vampires?” Then I scoffed. “If they’re vampires, then how are they walking around in the daylight?”

  Todd slapped his forehead and addressed Angus, who’d come to sit beside him. “Then how are they walking in daylight? she asks. Not, Isn’t that ridiculous because there are no such things as vampires? Have a talk with her, will ya?”

  Angus woofed.

  “Fine,” I said. “There are no such things as vampires . . . more than likely. But if there were, then how would they walk around in the daylight?”

  “It depends upon whose mythology you embrace,” said Todd. “These days werewolves and vampires can do pretty much anything they want.”

  “That’s true.”

  “And what’s with the more than likely crap?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. Too much Supernatural? I love Sam and Dean. They teach you not to discount anything.”

  “Angus, help me out here, would you, buddy?”

  Again, Angus barked, excited to be made an integral part of the conversation.

  “Remember whose bed you share,” I said to Angus.

  “She has a point there, buddy. That’s a lesson all men must learn quickly.”

  Angus let out a low rumble.

  “I hear ya,” said Todd, nodding as if Angus had uttered a clever bit of banter. “And I agree a hundred percent.”

  “Will you two stop talking about me and tell me what Nellie Davis said about the Atwoods?” I asked.

  Our conversation was delayed by a customer who came in and wanted to debate the benefits of linen over Aida cloth. I explained that it was really just a matter of preference, that I had both, and that the one I chose depended on the project I had in mind. The woman ended up choosing Aida cloth, and I noticed her eyes lingering on Todd as she paid. He never looked in her direction, so she left after I’d told her about the upcoming open house.

  I went back to the sit-and-stitch square and sat on the ottoman in front of Todd. “Now spill.”

  “How are the preparations for the open house coming?” he asked.

  I plucked a candlewick pillow from the sofa beside me and tossed it at Todd’s head. Todd laughed, caught the pillow, and Angus ran to get his tennis ball.

  Todd lobbed the pillow back at me. “Where should I begin?”

  “You left the Stitch and walked up the street,” I prompted.

  “That’s right.” He grinned. “So I went into Nellie’s shop and I told her I was looking for something for Audrey.”

  Todd was dating Deputy Audrey Dayton of the Tallulah Falls Police Department.

  “Nellie said she was glad I’d stopped dating you and was seeing someone else,” he said.

  I pursed my lips and narrowed my eyes.

  He held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, her words, not mine! I thought you wanted the full 4-1-1.”

  “Yes, please. Leave nothing out, no matter how insulting it might be to me.”

  “After the dating dig, she asked what she could help me find. I said I’d just look around. And then I asked her what she thought about a haunted house moving next door.”

  Angus pawed at Todd’s knee, urging him to throw the tennis ball. Todd complied with Angus’s wishes before continuing his story.

  “She said she wasn’t happy about it,” he said. “And then she asked me if I’d met the Atwoods. I told them I hadn’t but that you met them this morning. She wanted to know what you thought about them, and I said that you found them eccentric. ‘Eccentric, my eye,’ she said. ‘I believe they’re vampires!’ Oh, and you owe me brownies.”

  Chapter Three

  I’d just sold a customer a set of Japanese embroidery needles and invited her to the open house when Sadie walked into the shop. Sadie held the door as the woman left.

  “How’s it going?” Sadie asked, as she dropped a kiss on Angus’s head before taking a seat in the sit-and-stitch square. She was dressed in a blue polo and jeans, and she still wore her brown apron with the tan MACKENZIES’ MOCHAS logo. Her long, dark hair had been swept up into a messy bun; and when she sat, her brown eyes immediately closed.

  “You look exhausted,” I said.

  “I am. I didn’t sleep well last night, and the shop has been a madhouse all day.”

  “Would you like some water?”

  “Please.” She still hadn’t opened her eyes.

 
I stepped into the office and got us each a bottle of water. I heard Sadie squeal, and I hurried back into the main part of the shop. Angus had placed his front paws on Sadie’s lap and was licking her face.

  “Angus! Come here.” I got his favorite toy at the shop—a Kodiak bear Vera had given him. “Here, Angus. Get your bear.” I tossed the bear toward the window.

  Angus loped over to the bear, picked it up, and lay down by the window.

  “Sorry about that.” I handed Sadie her water.

  She giggled. “No problem. Every girl wants to be awakened with a kiss from a handsome prince, right?”

  “I’m not sure those fantasies include doggie breath . . . but okay.”

  “I hear you’ve met the Atwoods.”

  “Who told you?” I asked. “Todd? How many brownies did he have you bill me for?”

  “No, it wasn’t Todd. It was the Atwoods. They think you’re magnificent.”

  “How nice. Um . . . how did you and Blake get involved with providing concessions for the haunted house?”

  “After they leased the building, Claude and Priscilla approached us and made us a great offer. We get to keep eighty percent of the proceeds of what we sell there, and it should be really good advertising for our business.”

  “You aren’t having trouble with MacKenzies’ Mochas, are you?”

  “Oh, no,” she said. “This deal simply seemed to be a win-win, and it’s only for a month.”

  “That’s true. It’s just that you look so tired right now that I’m concerned about you doing even more work,” I said. “Is there anything I can do to help out?”

  “With the open house coming up, I’d say you have plenty to keep you busy. In fact, I came by to talk about food for your party. But, first, tell me what you thought about the Atwoods.”

  “They’re eccentric,” I said. “But I seriously doubt that they’re vampires.”

  Sadie frowned. “What?”

  “Nellie Davis thinks the Atwoods are vampires. At least, that’s what she told Todd,” I said. “I saw her acting weird—more so than usual—and he offered to investigate for peanut butter fudge brownies.”

  “If they were vampires, they couldn’t be walking around in the sunlight . . . could they?”

  I threw up my hands. “That’s the very question I asked Todd.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “He said it depends on whose mythology—literary mythology, I believe he meant—that you embrace.”

  “And Nellie apparently subscribes to whatever mythology allows the Atwoods to be vampires and walk the streets of Tallulah Falls in broad daylight.”

  “I guess.”

  Sadie shook her head. “I agree that Claude and Priscilla are a bit strange in the way they dress and talk, but I’m guessing that’s just all part of their act.”

  “Do they ever drop the act?” I asked.

  “They haven’t around me. Not yet anyway.”

  “What do you know about them?”

  “Only that they like to travel, have done a number of odd jobs, and that they’re leasing the building beside yours to operate the Horror Emporium through Halloween,” said Sadie.

  “Vera seems to think the haunted house will do really well. She said the Atwoods are planning costume contests and things like that periodically to keep the attraction fresh and new.”

  “They are.” She smiled. “They might even ask you to participate in some way . . . you know, judge a contest or something.”

  “Really? That’d be fun.”

  “But enough about the Horror Emporium. Let’s talk about your open house. What would you like to serve?”

  “Nothing too messy,” I said. “Some cookies . . . a cheese platter . . . maybe some veggies and dip. What do you think?”

  “Sounds good to me. And instead of punch this time, let’s do coffee—regular and decaf—and peach tea.”

  “Super. Are you sure you and Blake can fit it in without too much inconvenience?”

  “I’m positive,” she said. “I think doing the concessions for the Horror Emporium will be fun. All the foods are easy to make, and one waitress will man the stand each evening.”

  “I hope it goes great. I simply worry about you spreading yourself too thin.”

  She tilted her head. “Um . . . I thought I was your mother hen.”

  “Works both ways,” I said. “Oh, by the way, Mom is going to be here for the open house.”

  “Fantastic! I know the Atwoods will adore her.”

  I smiled. “Doesn’t everybody?”

  • • •

  After Sadie left, I got back to work on my ribbon embroidery project as Angus snored by the window. I should have known the peaceful afternoon couldn’t last.

  From the corner of my eye, I spotted Nellie Davis—puffy white hair sticking straight up in the breeze—walking down the street toward MacKenzies’ Mochas. A few minutes later, she and her latte burst through my front door. The movement was so abrupt that Angus sat up and began barking. I set aside my project and hurried to put my arms around him.

  “Everything’s all right, Angus. Hi, Nellie. How are you?”

  “I’m worried, that’s how I am. And you should be too.”

  “About the Atwoods, you mean?”

  “Yes, about the Atwoods.” Nellie wore her typical all – black ensemble, offset by the paleness of her skin, the white hair, and her signature red-framed eyeglasses. “I’ve thought all along that you were cursed, but I didn’t think you’d brought it on yourself. Those two are just asking for it.”

  “Would you like to sit down, Nellie?”

  “No, I don’t have time.” She looked over her shoulder. “Mark my words—those people are inviting evil right into our midst! Have you seen the dreadful things they’ve been carting into that building?”

  I shook my head. “What sort of dreadful things?”

  “Skulls, mechanical witches . . . coffins.” She took a dramatic pause. “Or maybe those are their beds.”

  “You never know,” I said.

  Nellie peered at me. “I think I do know. It’s like they’re from another time . . . maybe even another world.”

  I decided to go ahead and throw out the v-word. “But if they were vampires, how could they walk around in daylight?”

  “Not being able to walk in daylight is a myth they’ve perpetuated to trick us,” said Nellie. “I looked up vampires on the Internet. What Hollywood tells us is a lie. Real vampires call themselves a subculture. I call them trouble.”

  “And you think the Atwoods are vampires because they brought coffins in for their haunted house?” I asked.

  “That’s only part of it. And they aren’t calling it a haunted house or a funhouse. They’re calling it a Horror Emporium.” She shuddered. “Who knows what sort of horrors they have planned for the poor dumb souls who are willing to go in there? I won’t be going—you can bet on that. Not of my own free will anyway.” She raised a bony index finger. “But don’t tell them that. I don’t want to wind up cursed. So . . . that’s all I came to say. You’ve been warned.” With those comforting parting words, she left.

  I was still hugging Angus, and I looked at him. “Jinkies, Scoob. Is this Nellie’s latest tactic to run us meddling kids out of Tallulah Falls? Or does she really believe the Atwoods are some sort of evildoers?”

  He licked my nose.

  “Jinkies,” I told him again because I liked the sound of the nonsensical word. “And zoinks.” I giggled, kissed his head, and went back to the sit-and-stitch square.

  Angus stretched back out by the window.

  As I resumed work on my project, my mind wandered . . . to vampires, of course. The handsome ones I’d seen on TV . . . then Nosferatu . . . then the Atwoods. . . . I imagined the Atwoods sashaying into the shop in their odd but dapper costume
s.

  “Miss Marcy,” said Claude.

  “Magnificent Marcy,” Priscilla said, a purr in her voice. “We want you to join us.”

  “Yes, Marcy. Become a creature of the night.” Claude extended his arms. “Be forever young, forever beautiful!”

  “But all I can have to eat is blood, right? No chocolate?”

  “We could mix a bit of chocolate syrup in with your O negative, I suppose,” said Priscilla.

  “That sounds disgusting.” I wrinkled my nose.

  “It is,” Claude assured me. “I tried it once. Terrible combo. Blood and Tabasco sauce isn’t bad though.”

  “Ewww.” The very idea made me queasy.

  The bells over the shop door jangled, and I snapped out of my reverie to see Claude and Priscilla Atwood coming into the shop. I had snapped out of my reverie . . . hadn’t I?

  “Good afternoon,” Claude said, tipping his top hat. “We’ve come to ask you to join us—”

  My eyes widened.

  “—for a sneak preview of the Horror Emporium!”

  “We had this wonderful idea for a party while we were introducing ourselves to everyone. We’re inviting all the neighbors,” Priscilla said. “It’s more or less a grand opening party.”

  “Even though we won’t be opening to the public until this weekend,” said Claude.

  I found my voice at last. “That sounds wonderful. So when is the party?”

  “Tomorrow evening.” Claude frowned slightly. “Short notice, we know. Sadie informed us that you have classes every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, so we’re starting the party at five just for you.”

  “I’m flattered, but you don’t have to do that.”

  “Of course, we do,” Priscilla said. “We realize you won’t be able to stay for long, but at least you can get some idea of what we have in store for you and the other denizens of Tallulah Falls beginning on Friday night.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “That sounds fantastic. I’m looking forward it. May I bring my boyfriend, Ted?”

  “We’d be disappointed if you didn’t.” Claude winked. “We look forward to meeting the man who holds Marcy’s heart, don’t we, my sweet?”

  “Indeed we do.” Priscilla smiled. “See you at five tomorrow.”