I looked around for a box of tissues. “Can I get you anything?”
“I could sure use that cup of coffee. Is it ready yet?”
“Coming right up.” I hopped off my chair and brought the pot to the table. “Here you go.” I poured coffee all around.
“I’m sure everything will work out somehow.” Marnie took a deep gulp from her cup. “Doesn’t it always? Anyhow, enough about me.” She looked around as if searching for a new subject to talk about. Her eyes fell on me again. “I know it’s none of my business, Della, but have you ever been married?”
“No.” I picked up my coffee. “Don’t you just love this coffee?” My attempt at changing the subject was not successful.
“Ever been in love?” The woman didn’t know the meaning of minding her own business.
I felt the heat rise to my face.
“You’re in love right now, aren’t you?” Jenny leaned in as if trying to read me. “I can see it in your eyes.”
“Not in the least.” I held back from adding that she obviously wasn’t very good at reading auras after all. “My last relationship was a long time ago.”
“What happened?” Marnie asked.
I chose an orange-cranberry muffin that looked good enough to die for, and passed the basket around again. “It’s the old story. I loved him, and he loved somebody else.” I said this in a way meant to change the subject.
“How long exactly?” Jenny was clearly also oblivious to hints.
I shrugged. “Oh, a couple of years ago.”
“Does he live in Charlotte?” Good grief, will she never stop?
“In Charlotte—yes—and now let’s please change the subject. It’s over and done with and I’m here now. As you said, I’m starting a new life.”
Jenny poured herself another cup of coffee. “Do you want a refill, Marnie?” The redhead shook her head. Jenny stirred milk into her coffee and said, “Did you know that Matthew is moving back to Briar Hollow and now Della has to find a new place to live?”
I took another long, steadying swallow of coffee.
Marnie nodded, her double chins quivering like gelatin. “So I overheard last night. But why would you have to move out? I mean, from what I gathered, you and he are childhood friends.”
“Where did you hear that?” I asked, surprised.
“Oh, people talk,” she said vaguely, and I realized my name had already been fodder for the gossip mill. It was a disconcerting thought. “Besides, this house has more than one bedroom, doesn’t it?”
“It has three bedrooms, but my shop and studio have taken over the living room and dining room, and all the furniture is piled up in one of the rooms upstairs. Unless Matthew spends all his free time in the kitchen and his bedroom, there’s nowhere else for him to go. It just wouldn’t be fair. Besides, it could be a bit awkward for him and me to live together. For one thing, he’ll probably want his privacy when Blondie—I mean Amanda—comes to visit.” I must have blushed, because Marnie gave me a slow, knowing smile.
Jenny’s eyes widened. “Oh, didn’t you know? He and Amanda broke up.”
What? How come I hadn’t heard about this? “When did that happen?”
Jenny looked thoughtful. “I guess it must have been early in the new year. He told me that he had feelings for somebody else. When I asked who, he refused to say.”
So he was already involved with someone else. Why was it that some men could not be without a girlfriend for a second? “Hello-o.” Marnie waved a hand in front of my face.
I snapped back. “Oh, uh, did you say something?”
The older woman must have taken pity on me because she gave me an almost imperceptible nod and changed the subject—at long last.
“By the way, you’re right. This is really good coffee.”
“Jamaican Blue Mountain—it’s crazy expensive. We might as well enjoy it because when this bag is finished, I won’t be able to afford it again anytime soon.”
Jenny poured in another drop of milk and stirred, looking pensive. “I used to dream of starting my own business too, you know. I wanted to start a tea salon where I could do aura and tarot readings.”
I almost laughed. Tarot readings? Really?
“But I have no sense when it comes to numbers. I’d go under in no time.”
To my surprise, Marnie was nodding enthusiastically. “I think that’s a brilliant idea. I love having my fortune told. And I know a lot of women who see astrologists and clairvoyants regularly.”
She had a point. Just because I scoffed at that kind of stuff didn’t mean others didn’t believe in it. Besides, if this was Jenny’s dream, who was I to laugh? My own dream sounded just as nutty to a lot of people. “You don’t have to be good with numbers to run a successful business. Most successful business owners don’t do everything themselves.”
Marnie jumped in. “That’s what employees are for.”
Jenny looked doubtful. “Maybe.”
“Marnie’s right. Why don’t you make a business plan?” She looked at me as if I’d just sprouted a second head. “I can help you if you like.”
Marnie seemed to be getting more and more excited at the idea. “If you open a tea shop, you’ll need cakes, and muffins, and cookies. I can bake all of that for you. You do like my muffins, don’t you?” She slid the basket across the table toward Jenny. “Here, have another.”
She put a hand up in protest. “I love them, thanks, but I’m full.”
Marnie pulled the basket away almost regretfully. And then her eyes twinkled. “Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll make a list of all my favorite recipes and you can pick whatever you want for your menu.”
Jenny rested her chin in her hand. “Whoa. Not so fast. Let’s see. I’d need to hire an accountant. I’d also have to rent a space, buy tables and chairs and dishes and . . .” She smiled. “I could do all that, if I only had the money.” She let herself fall against the back of the chair, chuckling. “I guess I’ll have to stick to what I’m doing now. There’s nothing wrong with working part-time at Franny’s.”
Marnie pouted. “Oh, well. It was a fun dream.”
“What’s Franny’s?” I asked.
Marnie’s eyes widened, “You’ve never been to Franny’s? Oh, you must go. I buy all my clothes there.”
I almost laughed. I so didn’t see myself wearing floral or zebra pants like hers, or for that matter, yoga pants and gauzy tops like Jenny’s—unless I was willing to give up eating, which I was not. And to punctuate that thought, I took another bite of my muffin.
Jenny nodded enthusiastically. “It’s at the other end of Main Street. I’m there three mornings a week. If you come by, you can tell me what you like and I’ll get it for you with my employee’s discount.”
Marnie said, “I’d ask you to do the same for me, but—” She patted her ample stomach. “We’re hardly the same size. It would be difficult to convince Francine you were buying them for yourself.” I didn’t bother pointing out that being almost a foot shorter, I wasn’t exactly Jenny’s size either.
In spite of the fact that Jenny was rather flaky and Marnie was more than just a little pushy, there was something so forthcoming about these women that I really liked them. As the conversation wound down, I found myself making them promise to drop by again the next day.
Chapter 6
After washing the dishes and putting them away, I returned to my project, finished warping the loom and soon lost myself in the rhythm of my work.
I had just wound a bobbin with blue yarn and was starting a point twill when the doorbell chimed. I put down my shuttle and was walking toward the door when two women stepped in. I glanced at my watch—already past one. Time had flown.
The first woman was a middle-aged blonde in a business suit. “Hi, I’m Kate Radley.” She strode purposefully over to me and handed me her business card. I glanc
ed at the second woman as she turned toward one of my display tables. It was Susan Wood from my class.
“I’ve been meaning to drop by,” Kate went on. “I understand you’ve just moved into town. Welcome to Briar Hollow.”
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Radley—”
“Oh, please call me Kate.”
At that moment Susan turned toward me. “I was telling Kate about all your beautiful linens and how much fun I had last night.”
“Thank you. I had a good time too.” Returning to Kate, I introduced myself. “I’m Della Wright. Call me Della.” I glanced at the card in my hand, recognizing the logo of the company. “You’re with Cottage and Castle Realties.”
“Yes, I am. If you ever want to look at properties, give me a call.” I couldn’t help but wonder if Susan hadn’t told her I had already promised to go house-shopping with David.
Susan put down the tablecloth she had been admiring and crossed the room to look at the items in the maple hutch. She picked up one of my dish towels. “These are the towels I told you about,” she called over her shoulder to Kate.
Kate went to take a look. “They’re almost too nice to use.” She turned over the price tag, her forehead furrowing. “That’s a lot of money for a dish towel.” She closed her eyes, calculating under her breath. “But I suppose it’s reasonable for something that’s handwoven.” She turned to Susan. “You’re right. These would make wonderful housewarming gifts for my clients.” She counted out the pile of towels, picked them all up and brought them to my desk. “I’ll take all of these.”
“You just made my day.” I carefully folded each one in tissue paper. “I’m glad you like them. I made them myself.”
“You did?” She looked thoughtful. “Do you think you could add a small card saying something like ‘Handmade by Della Wright’?”
“Already done.” I unfolded one of the towels and indicated the thick cream-colored tag tucked inside. I had spent a small fortune on those tags, but they looked so rich with their gold lettering, they made each of my items seem more precious.
“Would you like me to gift-wrap these for you? It’s no trouble.”
She beamed. “That would be perfect.” She glanced at her watch. “I don’t have time to wait right now. How about if I pick them up in a few hours?” She turned to Susan. “Or maybe you can pick them up. Susan is my office assistant.”
“I didn’t know you worked for the same company as David.”
“I’ve been there for years.”
Kate leaned in, whispering dramatically, “When Susan told me that David had joined your group I couldn’t believe my ears. I can’t imagine David taking weaving classes.” Her eyes narrowed and she smirked as she searched my face. “Did he happen to tell you why he joined the weaving group?”
“Yes, he did.” I was beginning to suspect the real reason for this shopping excursion—gossip. Something else occurred to me as well. If it was common knowledge that David would be joining my group, that could explain why I’d had so many volunteers. Some of them might have been there looking for new gossip—a small town’s favorite activity, or at least this small town’s. My heart sank a little. Hopefully they wouldn’t leave when nothing eventful happened.
Susan wandered over to join us.
Kate continued her tale, bubbling with excitement. “I was there when it happened,” she gushed. “I couldn’t believe it. I thought he was going to kill Jeremy. If I hadn’t stepped in, I swear he might have.”
“Oh, come on, Kate. I was there too, remember? All he did was grab Jeremy by his shirt collar. And you didn’t exactly save Jeremy either.”
I laughed. “And to think that I moved here believing Briar Hollow was a sleepy little town.”
Kate’s eyes lit up again. “Don’t you believe that for one second. If you heard the stories about a few of the folks around here, your hair would stand on end. Why, even the chief of police was saying that—”
“Don’t you have an appointment in a few minutes, Kate?” Susan asked. “We’d better go. You don’t want to be late.” They were halfway out the door when Susan called over her shoulder. “I’ll be back to pick up the towels. If I don’t make it today, I’ll be by tomorrow.”
“I’m open from one to six on weekdays,” I reminded her. A moment later, the doorbell tinkled behind them. Through the window, I noticed Kate turning to say something to Susan Wood. From the look on the assistant’s face, I guessed she was getting a tongue-lashing. I chuckled. Jenny was right about one thing. Gossip was a popular pastime in Briar Hollow. If not for her office assistant’s interruption, I suspected Kate would have regaled me with juicy stories about every Briar Hollow resident and his uncle.
I became aware that my stomach was growling, and when I looked at the time I saw that it was already one thirty. Yikes! Matthew was due to arrive in a few hours, and I hadn’t even started moving my things out of the main bedroom. There were sheets to change and my new room to set up. I had to get going, but first—food. I hurried to the kitchen and, keeping an open ear for the doorbell, made myself a hero sandwich—salami, cheese, tomatoes, lettuce and jalapeños with a side of potato chips. I carried it to the desk. All at once, a sleepy Winston became alert. He stumbled to his feet and lumbered over, licking his chops.
“Sorry, Winnie, this is people food.” Other than his ears flickering, he didn’t budge. “What is this, a staring contest?” I took a bite, trying to ignore his soulful gaze. “Go away, Winston. Shoo.” He stood rooted to the floor, ogling my food.
“Oh, all right—but just a little piece.” He raised himself on his hind legs, trembling with anticipation as he watched me tear off a piece of Monterey Jack.
I held it over his head, ordering, “Sit.” His butt hit the floor with a thump. “Good boy.” I released the cheese and Winston snagged it in midair. A dog after my own heart—he liked food just as much as I did. I ate the rest of my sandwich, sharing the occasional bit with my buddy, who strolled away the minute it was time to clean up.
“Just like a man,” I called after him. “As long as there’s a possibility of food, you hang around. But when it’s time to clean up, you’re nowhere in sight.”
Chapter 7
The afternoon flew by in a frenzy of moving, organizing and cleaning—unfortunately without a single client coming to the door. I was looking forward to seeing Matthew again and for the occasion had changed into my favorite outfit—a short red linen dress, dangly gold earrings and my hottest shoes—red high-heeled Kate Spades. This proves it, I thought. The city side of me is not entirely gone. I posed in front of the mirror behind my bedroom door and sighed. Designer shoes were another luxury my new life would no longer allow. I put on some lip gloss and smacked my lips together.
At four o’clock I was back at my loom, hurrying to the window every time I heard a car. By six o’clock, I’d concluded that Matthew would not be arriving today. I was sure that any minute he would call to tell me he’d get here tomorrow instead. I had just resumed weaving when the doorbell rang. I slipped my shoes back on, hurried over with a beaming smile and flung open the door.
“Oh, er, hi.” I tried to cover my surprise. It wasn’t Matthew but David Swanson.
“Hi there, I hope I’m not too early?” I gave myself a mental head thump as I remembered our house-hunting appointment. He gave me a quick once-over, his eyes lingering at the edge of my short dress. “Wow. You look great.”
“Thanks,” I said, hoping he didn’t think I’d dressed up for him.
I glanced at my watch, feigning shock. “Is it six thirty already? Sorry, I was weaving, and time just flew by. Let me grab my purse and I’ll be right with you.” Winston followed me expectantly. “Sorry, Winnie. You’ll have to stay here.” Under his reproachful glare, I closed the kitchen door and hurried back to the front.
A minute later David helped me into his Volvo and we took off.
&n
bsp; “The first place I want you to see is half a mile down the street. It’s a little house very similar to Matthew’s. You could set up the front rooms for your business, the same way you’re set up now.”
“How much is the rent?”
“The owner is asking five hundred a month for a minimum two-year lease. That’s low even by Briar Hollow standards.” He slowed to a stop in front of a ratty-looking place. “Here we are.”
I took in the house, its peeling paint and rickety front porch. “Good grief, it sure needs a ton of work.” But for all its neglect, enough charm and character filtered through to make me think it was a possibility. I hopped out of the car and hurried across the street, as fast as my stilettos allowed. David unlocked the front door and we walked in.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much junk.” I was startled at the amount of furniture in the room. It was so crowded with old bric-a-brac that I could hardly visualize how it would look once it was cleared of everything. I took a few steps, wondering how I was going to make my way through without getting dust all over my sexy dress.
Next to me, David nodded grimly. “Tell me about it. I’ve been begging the owner to get rid of everything for months, but he lives out of state and doesn’t want to be bothered. Too much old stuff only makes the place less attractive to prospective buyers.”
I wandered farther into the house, sidestepping an old table piled high with chairs, almost stumbling on a rocker. Upon closer inspection, I realized the furniture wasn’t junk. It was just worn. A fresh coat of paint, a few sanded edges, and it could be transformed into perfectly attractive and serviceable shabby chic.
Looming Murder Page 5
