by Blythe Baker
“Sounds like a plan!” I followed her to a few rolls of solid colored fabrics.
“What do you think of these?”
I ran my fingers across the cloth. “They feel a bit thin. I was hoping for something with a little more heft.”
“Something more like a blackout curtain? Is that what you had in mind?”
“Exactly!”
Motioning for me to follow her, the woman guided me to another selection. “How about these?”
“I actually really like this burgundy one.”
“Excellent choice. It’s one of our bestsellers.” She cradled the roll of fabric in her arms and carried it over to a table. “How much do you need?”
“Uh, I’m not really sure. I’ll need to make at least half a dozen curtains.”
“New to this whole thing, aren’t you?”
“Is it that obvious?” I smiled meekly.
With a sweet laugh, she unfolded the fabric and measured it out. “Just to me. Do you at least know how to sew?”
“Not exactly, but I figure it can’t be too hard, right?”
“You know, we have a quilting club in town. Newcomers are always welcome to show up. The ladies get a kick out of teaching young women like you the joys of sewing. I actually have a list of dates and locations by the front desk. I’ll grab a handout for you before you leave.”
My ears pricked up at the mention of the quilting club. Angela and Agatha were both members of that club. The curtains might be just the excuse I needed to get more information on the sisters. “That’s really kind of you. Thank you.”
“Of course! Always glad to help. Let’s get you checked out.”
The two of us walked back to the cash register. After taking my money, she slipped a sheet of paper with the club’s information on it into my bag. I thanked her again and left. Once I was safely in my car, I grabbed the slip of paper from the bag and skimmed over the dates and the locations for the meetings. The next meeting was at an unfamiliar address. I knew I would be running the risk of seeing Agatha Jenkins if I went, but at least it wouldn’t be at her house.
With my sights set on a new mission, I headed back home to the two old birds waiting on me. Hopefully Mamma Jackie would be done with her liquid breakfast by the time I got back. If I had thought about it, I would have gotten some extra fabric to keep Moonshine nice and cozy at night. His midnight rantings were not something I wanted an encore of.
When I got back to the house, Mamma Jackie was shuffling around the kitchen in fluffy house shoes. “Who’s there?”
“It’s just me,” I called out to reassure her.
“How was your errand?”
I warmed to the interest in her voice. She wasn’t so bad, when she wasn’t being insulting.
“My errand went well.” I set the bag of fabric in the living room closet.
Mamma Jackie came into the front room with another peach julep clinking in her glass.
I eyed it pointedly. “Are you still having breakfast at this hour?”
“Well, I have to keep my girlish figure.” She chuckled and ran her fingers through her hair as she took another swig. Her red cheeks made me think that it was possible she was overdoing her liquid diet a bit.
“Rawk! Drink up, big boy!” Moonshine shrieked randomly from his cage. I couldn’t imagine under what circumstances he would have heard those words.
“Aw, isn’t he clever?” Mamma Jackie went to the cage and cooed at the bird fondly, clearly having forgotten her annoyance with him the previous night. Then, hiccupping softly, she waddled up the stairs to the second floor, leaving me alone.
Chapter 10
When evening rolled around, I put on a conservative outfit and prepared myself to cross enemy lines. The quilting club meeting would be starting soon, and I needed to get going. Excitement bubbled up inside of me. The thrill of adventure pulsed through me. If someone had told me two months ago that I would be getting ready to crash a quilting meeting, I wouldn’t have believed them. Clopping down the stairs in my small but sensible heels, I reached into the closet where I had stored the fabric for the curtains.
Mamma Jackie was curled up with some leftovers from breakfast and a microwave dinner. “Heading out somewhere?”
“Yes. I shouldn’t be gone too long, I don’t think.” How long did quilting club meetings last, anyway?
“Well, good for you,” she said. “You get back out into the dating pool again and you’ll find a new man before you know it. Just don’t be too picky. At your age, you’re running out of time.”
I took a slow breath. “I’m not going on a date,” I began with forced civility, but she cut me off.
“Don’t rush home. I’ll hold down the fort until you get back.”
Oh joy. I gritted my teeth. Mamma Jackie was a dish best served in small portions. “You have my number if you need anything,” I said.
“Yes, yes. Now, go!” She shooed me out the door. Her eyes never left the romance novel clutched in her hand.
Out in the car, I pulled out the sheet of paper with the address on it and punched it into the GPS on my phone. The house wasn’t too far from my grandmother’s. It seemed like most places were close by. That would make a good selling point when I finally put Grandmother’s house on the market after the renovations.
Within a few minutes, I was parking on the street outside of a white colonial home. Perfectly trimmed hedges lined the edge of the porch. There were a few other cars already parked in the driveway and along the street. Nerves tumbled around in my empty stomach. I double checked the address with the sheet of paper from the fabric store. This was the place. My feet carried me up the brick driveway. Hesitation weighed down my hand as I prepared to knock.
“Come on, Maddie. You can do this.” I took a deep breath and forced myself to knock.
“Hello?” An older woman with wispy white hair opened the door.
My tongue swelled to fill my mouth. I swallowed hard and tried to sound casual. “Hi! Is this the quilting club?”
“It sure is! Are you here to join us?”
“Would that be okay? I bought some fabric to make curtains, but I’m a little lacking in the sewing skills department. I was hoping maybe you and the rest of the club could give me some pointers.”
“We would love to! Come in, come in! I’ll introduce you to the girls.” She ushered me inside and closed the door behind me. “Ladies, we have a newcomer!”
“Oh, and she’s a young one, too.” A woman with obviously died red hair looked up at me from something she was knitting.
“It’s always nice to have young people involved. Homemaking is a dying art these days,” said a third woman in the living room. She nodded to enforce her opinion as she spoke.
The white-haired woman who had let me in did the introductions. “I’m Betty Jameson. That is Carla Mayflower with the crochet hooks, and Lilly Michaels is the one cutting fabric squares for a wedding ring quilt she’s working on.”
“I’m Maddie.” I smiled shyly and held up the sack of fabric in my hand. Was crocheting different than knitting? Maybe I knew even less than I thought I did.
“Are you married, Maddie?” Lilly studied me as she cut fabric.
“Uh, no. I’m not. I just went through a divorce actually.” It was odd to be confiding in strangers, but I thought that if I opened up to them, then maybe they would be more willing to talk to me about the Jenkins sisters.
“Oh, you poor thing!” Betty reached out and squeezed my arm. “Have a seat, honey.”
“Would we know your ex-husband? Is he local?” The woman named Lilly stopped cutting squares for a moment.
“Lilly! Stop trying to find someone else for your granddaughter to marry. She loves Frank.” Carla’s brow furrowed in disapproval.
“I don’t like Frank. I’m making this quilt for them because it’s expected of me, but you best believe I’m stitching it together with evil thoughts. If I think about them breaking up while I make it, this quilt will eventually dri
ve them apart.”
“Ahem!” Betty cleared her throat loudly and turned her eyes to me.
“Um, no. My ex isn’t local,” I answered the question. “I’m from Winchester. I actually only moved to Little River after my grandmother passed away.”
“We’re sorry for your loss.” Betty’s sweet eyes filled with sadness. “You know, we recently lost one of our own as well. Since you’re new to town, you may not have heard, but one of our members—Angela Jenkins—was murdered in a public garden. Such a shocking thing to have happen.”
I debated telling them I owned the garden, but settled for a smaller piece of the truth. “I had heard about that, actually.”
Lilly spoke up. “No need to act sorry for it on our account. I thought we should throw a party, but these two were against it.” She chopped angrily at the different patterns of fabric in her lap.
“Huh?” I was a little shocked to hear someone say something like that. Of course, it wasn’t totally unbelievable just going off of my own brief interactions with the Jenkins sisters.
Shooting Lilly a harsh look, Betty tried to salvage the conversation. “Well, Angela and Agatha are a bit of an acquired taste.”
“That’s like saying acid is an acquired taste.” The more Lilly talked, the more I was starting to think I had stumbled upon Mamma Jackie’s soulmate.
“Yes, stop pretending, Betty. We all know how horrible the twins are—or were.” Carla clicked her crochet hooks together.
Betty responded, “You’re just still upset that she ran a campaign to take the club presidency away from you, Carla. But, it doesn’t matter what the Jenkins did in the past. A woman died. We need to set aside our opinions and support Agatha. She’s grieving after her sister.”
Lilly pursed her lips sourly. “Well, grieving or not, I still never liked either of them. Although with Angela gone, at least Carla is president again. I don’t think I could take another week with Angela in charge.”
The sound of a doorbell chiming interrupted the conversation. Betty stood up and excused herself. “I’ll go get the door.”
Left alone with the two quilters who had an obvious dislike for the Jenkins sisters, I leaned in and spoke softly. “So, you two really didn’t have a high opinion of either of the sisters?”
“Heavens, no! The only people those two cared about were themselves. Did they care that I served this club loyally since it was founded? No. They just wanted it all to themselves.” Angrily, Carla began unraveling the crocheted yarn she had been working on. In her distraction, she had messed up the size of her rows.
“Thank you for coming today. We missed you last week.” The volume of Betty’s voice at the door was exaggerated.
“Shh!” Carla and Lilly ended the conversation with a series of shushing noises and went back to making themselves appear busy.
“Ladies, look who came to join us!” Betty said brightly.
Beside Betty in the doorway to the living room was Agatha Jenkins. Agatha’s eyes were sunken and dark. Her hair was limp and greasy from not showering.
Agatha froze as she took in the contents of the room. Then, one furiously trembling finger shot out at me. “You! What are you doing here?!”
“You two know each other?” Betty voiced the one question that was suddenly on everyone’s mind. I could feel four pairs of eyes on me, watching for my reaction.
“She’s the one that owns that horrible tea garden! She’s the reason Angela is dead!” Agatha declared.
Silence filled the room. Blood drained from my face.
The first to speak again was Betty. Her voice was a nervous whisper. “Maddie, I think you’d better go.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice. I grabbed my bag of fabric and left the house. On my way out, I thought I saw an approving smile on Lilly’s face. My cheeks burned from shame at getting caught by the quilting club. I hadn’t lied to them, but my conscience was far from clear. Bolting to my car, I sped away from the little white home and all of the hostility housed in it.
Would wanting to be the president of a quilting club be enough motive to kill someone? Neither twin was exactly a beloved pillar of society. I might not have learned how to make curtains, but I couldn’t say the evening was entirely wasted. Knowing that the sisters grated against everyone made me feel better about my snap judgment dislike for them.
Agatha was still sticking to her story that I was involved in her sister’s death. Even if none of the women in the quilting club had a strong motive for murder, they made it clear that both Jenkins sisters were difficult to stomach. With so many enemies, it might be harder to find the murderer than I had anticipated. The truth was that I barely knew the twins. They could have any number of people who had a reason to kill them, and I would never know it. Still, the fact that it happened in the tea garden made it seem personal. There was something nagging at the back of my mind. I couldn’t believe that the whole incident had nothing to do with me. Fretting over the lack of fruitful developments, I drove back to my grandmother’s house.
When I walked into my living room, I wasn’t surprised to see Mamma Jackie dozing on the couch. A glass of peach julep tilted precariously in her hand. Looking at her then, she seemed so much more fragile. My usual annoyance at her seeped away, and I gathered up an afghan and draped in gently over her. My fingers loosened the glass in her grasp and placed it on a coaster.
I spotted Moonshine’s cage in the corner of the living room. There was no blanket draped over the metal. Not again. Never again. I marched purposefully over to him and shrouded him under a sheet that had been tossed in the floor by his cage. I wasn’t going to give him the chance to belt out another scream in the middle of the night.
My bed called to me from upstairs. I sighed and lumbered off to my room. Once I flopped down on the bed, I picked up my phone. Still nothing. I fought back the urge to call Drake. No. He needed to call me first. I didn’t want to seem desperate. Not knowing about the will was making me anxious. Maybe I should have had a peach julep myself. Trying to clear my burdened mind, I eventually drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 11
Work the next day went by quickly. Kelly still hadn’t made any slip-ups, but I wasn’t quite ready to scratch her off of my suspect list yet either. There were fewer visitors than the first day when we reopened after the police investigation, but it was still busy enough that I wasn’t worried about income. Aside from the murder, the tea garden seemed to be doing exceptionally well—well enough that my feet were aching from serving customers in the giftshop all day.
After driving home from work, I dragged myself into the house and closed the door behind me. Light from the television bounced off the walls and flickered as the scenes changed. The smell of peaches told me that my ex-mother-in-law must be close by. Moonshine was mocking phrases from the television in the living room.
A few floorboards creaked. I looked up from putting down my keys to see Mamma Jackie walking casually towards the stairs. “Oh, there you are, Maddie. I’m just heading up for a nap,” she said. The bare-chested man on her romance novel gazed longingly into the distance.
“Okay. Have fun.” I smiled, a little relieved that her mood seemed good and that she was already going to sleep. It would give me a chance to have most of the house to myself. I hadn’t really enjoyed my solitude until I had to share the house with Mamma Jackie and her parrot. Now, I cherished a few moments to myself.
Just as I was about to slip off my shoes and find something to eat, there was a knock on the door. Who was it this time? Another troublesome ex-family member? Groaning softly, I tucked my red hair behind my ear and pulled open the door. A man with thick eyebrows stood in front of me.
“Good evening, Miss Morgan,” he said. “I’m Daniel Walker. We met in the garden parking lot before.”
I stared blankly at him for a moment.
“I own the rock quarry on the land next to yours,” he reminded me.
“Oh, yes. Of course.” I hadn’t recognized him at firs
t. Honestly, I hadn’t given him a second thought since that night.
“I took the liberty of looking you up when you never called me.”
“Called?” It was unnerving to have a stranger on my doorstep without warning.
“Yes. About the business proposal I have for you.”
An insincere apology bubbled out of my mouth. “Oh, yes. I’m sorry about that. I’ve just had a lot going on lately.”
“May I come in?” Before the question was even fully formed, Daniel Walker pushed past me into the house. “You have a lovely home.”
“Th-thank you.” I said uneasily. I was suddenly very grateful to have Mamma Jackie and Moonshine staying with me. At least I wasn’t really alone with this unexpected stranger. Even if my ex-mother-in-law wasn’t in the same room with us, it gave me some comfort to know she was nearby.
Mr. Walker marched across my uneven floors towards the living room. His gait had a former military quality to it. His squared off shoulders made him seem larger than before. I fiddled nervously with my hair and followed him.
The sound of flapping wings and clicking talons filled the room with chaos. “Rawk! Dog breath. Rawk!”
“Moonshine!” I rushed over and grabbed the water bottle under his cage. The parrot seemed particularly upset over the man’s unwelcome presence, and I wasn’t sure I could blame him.
“Rawk! Slimy snake!”
“Hush, you!” I sprayed him with the water and covered his cage again. “I’m sorry about that,” I told my guest.
Chuckling, Daniel Walker waved away the insults hurled at him by the bird. “Why don’t I just tell you why I’m here?”
“I think that would be best.”
“I want to buy the tea garden from you.”
“What?”
“Yes. I want to buy the garden and the empty acreage behind it.”
“What would you want with the garden?”
Daniel Walker planted his feet confidently on the floor. “To be honest, I’m more interested in the land than I am the garden. I want to tear it down and expand my quarry. Let’s be frank, Miss Morgan. The land has little potential for you—especially now that a deadly crime was committed there. If anything, you should be relieved to have someone take it off your hands for you. Now, even though the land doesn’t have much to offer you, it’s of value to me. I’m willing to pay you a fair price.”
