“Of course, I understand,” Mary Beth said. “I think we all have a lot going on during the summer. However, we would rotate with other artists and crafters. Richard Gilbert with the local art guild, for instance, will be holding art classes. The church’s Quilter Bees will also be participating. And you may choose the day and time you want to participate.” She paused, and then added, “I hope you will all be as generous with your time as you can. I think this is a great way to serve the community and our next generation.”
“Well, I think it’s a lovely idea,” Annie said. “I love sharing with children, and helping them discover the joy of being artistic.”
“Yes,” Alice agreed. “Remember when we worked with the high school? That was a great experience. I say we do it.”
“Me too,” said Peggy. “My Emily will be attending the day camp, and I’m sure she’d love it.”
“Shall we make it unanimous then?” Mary Beth asked, sweeping her gaze across each woman. “By all the nods and smiles, I see we have agreed. I’ll pass around this notebook. If you’ll sign your name, and what day and time you’ll be able to help, I’ll pass it on to Reverend Wallace. Thank you, ladies!”
Annie and Alice chose Friday morning for their time with the kids.
With the business part of the meeting over, the women turned their attention to projects they brought with them. Peggy was quilting a small red, white, and blue wall hanging for the Legion Hall. Stella knitted on a lacy duvet cover while Gwen, the other knitter in the group, was making dishcloths as fast as she could turn them out. They would be given as tokens at one of her many fundraising events later in the year.
Annie began working on one of the squares for her sampler afghan. She nudged Alice, dipped her head toward Alice’s tote, and then gave the half-finished square in her hand a little shake. Alice nodded, took a deep breath, seeming to make a visible effort to throw off her stress and concern. She smiled, and brought out her own sampler squares.
“Would you like to see my crochet progress?” she asked the group. Her voice was so light and so cheerful that no one would know she was worried unless they took time to look deeply into her blue eyes.
Annie was so happy that everyone praised Alice’s efforts. Kate picked up the blue and white squares and smiled.
“This is the greatest way to learn,” she told Alice. “Making a sampler will teach you so many different stitches, and then you’ll be able to use what you’ve learned in other projects. You’ve done a great job with these.” She handed the squares back to Alice.
“Thank you, Kate! Coming from you, that means a lot. And Annie is a great teacher.”
For a while, there was a small lull in conversation while knitting needles clicked, or thread whispered through fabric, or yarn slid almost silently from skein across hook. It was a moment that Annie marked and loved. She wanted to remember the peace of those few minutes. Then the phone rang, and Mary Beth went to answer it. An older woman came into the store, and Kate eagerly assisted her. When they both returned to the group, Annie cleared her throat.
“I have something to show y’all,” she said.
“Uh oh,” Peggy said, chuckling. “I’ve heard that tone of voice before, and it always piques my curiosity. Is it another mystery from the attic of Grey Gables?”
“You always pique our innate nosiness, Annie,” Gwen said.
“Pardon me,” Stella said with a sniff. “I refuse to call myself ‘nosy.’” She paused, and with a smile, concluded, “But I will agree to being called ‘curious.’”
Annie set aside her crocheting and reached into her tote bag.
“This did not come from the attic. It came from the library at Grey Gables.”
The women stopped working on their various projects and eagerly watched her lift out and unwrap the box she had swaddled with such tender care in several layers of tissue paper.
“Oh!” they murmured in chorus, as she pushed aside the last of the wrappings to reveal the carved music box.
“That’s beautiful!” Kate said. “May I see it?”
“Of course you may see it. All of you are free to examine it. In fact, I wish you would. And if you know anything about it, let me know.” Annie handed it over to Kate, adding, “It’s a little heavy.”
As the music box passed from hand to hand, Annie said, “Gram has that wonderful collection in her library, you know. She played them at least once a week when I visited during the summer. This one, though, she never took down from the top shelf, and I never really paid much attention to it until the other day.”
“I remember those days!” Alice said. “We’d sit on the window seat while Betsy wound them up and played them for us. My favorite was the small one with the mother-of-pearl shamrock. It played Danny Boy.”
“Yes, that was a lovely one,” Annie agreed. “This one, however,” she said, as the music box made the circle and was now back in her hands, “is broken. Listen.” She shook it and heard whatever was inside rustle softly. “Do any of you know someone who could repair it?”
“Maybe Dave Elliot at Elliot Brothers Jewelers would be able to fix it,” Alice said, but Gwen shook her head.
“I rather doubt it,” she said. “I think he only repairs watches and clocks. And his brother Dean doesn’t do repairs of any kind. He’s all sales and traveling to shows. Of course, it can’t hurt to ask,” she added with a smile. “Leave no stone unturned, I always say.”
“My Wally might be able to help you, Annie,” Peggy said. “You know how handy he is.”
“Yes,” Stella said, nodding. “Wally Carson is about the best handyman Stony Point has. That fellow can do almost anything.” She glanced up from her project to meet Peggy’s eyes. “You’re very lucky to be married to such a fine man.”
Peggy beamed. “I know!”
Her pride in Wally caused Annie to miss Wayne more than ever, but she smiled at Peggy, so happy that her friend had such a great marriage.
“Can everyone be really quiet for a moment?” Mary Beth asked. “Shake the music box again, please, Annie.”
Mary Beth cocked her head to one side, like a robin, and listened while Annie shook the box. She chewed the inside of her lower lip for a minute, her gaze thoughtful, and then she shook her head. “I don’t know. Doesn’t sound broken though, does it? It sounds more like something is in there.”
“Oh, maybe it’s a ring! Or a diamond bracelet,” Alice said, all but clapping her hands in anticipation. “Wouldn’t that be fabulous, Annie?”
Annie rattled the box again.
“I agree with you, Mary Beth,” she said. “It doesn’t really rattle like a broken part. It shifts, like … like something soft, not metallic.”
“Not a piece of hidden jewelry then,” Alice said, making a face.
“I don’t think so,” Annie said, with an apologetic smile. “Sorry to burst your bubble, friend.”
“Take it to Wally,” Peggy said again. “He’s at the library today, building some new shelving for the nonfiction section.”
“I’ll do that,” Annie told her. “Thanks!”
4
After the meeting broke up and everyone went their separate ways, Annie said to Alice, “Let’s have lunch at The Cup & Saucer.”
Alice smiled brightly, but then the smile slid off her face as if someone had stolen it.
“I … I’d like that, but maybe some other time,” she said, looking away.
Annie was pretty sure she fully understood what had stolen that smile and had replaced it with worry. She treaded gently, because she did not want to wound her friend’s pride with a display of charity or pity.
“Oh, please, Alice,” Annie said. “Peggy said they have bread pudding today, and you know how I love bread pudding. If you’ll save me the experience of having lunch alone, it’ll be my treat. Please. For me? For old times’ sake?”
Alice met her eyes, and Annie knew her friend saw right through the ploy, but she gave in.
“Old times’ sake, eh? Wel
l, OK then. But if I’m doing this huge favor for you, you absolutely must show me how to make the basket-weave stitch.”
“The basket-weave stitch? I’ll be happy to. That stitch gives so much texture to anything you make. But you need a little more practice with the basics before you learn it. Why the basket-weave?”
Alice shrugged. “Because it’s pretty, and as you said, it adds texture. I can see that from the illustrations on the sampler pattern. I really want to learn to make it.”
“And so you shall,” Annie said, steering her toward the The Cup & Saucer, “when it’s time for you learn it. In fact, by the time you’re ready, you’ll have mastered more of the craft, and it won’t be so hard for you to learn.”
Alice sighed with mock despair. “All right then. But if I’m having lunch with you, you must teach me when the time comes.”
“You know I will,” Annie laughed. “It’s a deal.”
The lunch crowd had dwindled somewhat by the time the duo walked into the cozy diner and found a booth near a sunny window.
Alice looked around. “This is such a sweet little place,” she said. “Comfortable and cute, and it always smells good.”
Annie took a deep breath, trying to detect the fragrance of cinnamon in the bread pudding.
“I sure hope they have some bread pudding left,” she said, looking toward the kitchen.
“Didn’t you have breakfast, Annie?”
She shook her head, a little shamefaced. “I know I should, but sometimes I just get busy …”
“Well, the way you’re carrying on about bread pudding, I thought maybe you’d skipped meals for the last three days.”
Annie laughed.
“You have to admit, Alice, the bread pudding here is the best in this part of the world. It’s almost as good as my Aunt Susan’s.” She smiled, and added, “Thank you so much for coming to lunch with me today. It’s nice to treat ourselves this way from time to time.”
“It is nice, isn’t it? Thank you for inviting me, Annie.”
The waitress brought menus, and as soon as she walked away, Alice leaned toward Annie, her eyes bright and curious.
“So, Annie?” She spoke as if they’d been discussing something significant moments ago.
“So … what?”
“I’m waiting.”
Annie frowned slightly, giving Alice the full benefit of a confused look.
“What are you waiting for, besides lunch?”
Alice leaned back and huffed loudly.
“I know you, Annie. You went home yesterday and called that mysterious phone number, didn’t you? What are they trying to sell you? Burial insurance? A condo on time-shares? Aluminum siding?”
Annie smiled and shook her head.
“I didn’t call.”
Alice raised one eyebrow, lifted one corner of her mouth and looked completely skeptical.
Annie put up one hand in a gesture of promise.
“I didn’t call it,” she said, “but I did look it up online.”
She sipped her water, pretending to be nonchalant. She opened her menu, hoping Alice would take the hint, but figuring she wouldn’t. And she didn’t.
“Annie Dawson!” Alice said as sharp and sudden as a rifle shot. She leaned forward again, shaking her index finger six inches from Annie’s nose. “Do not play games with me, girlie! Tell me right this instant who owns that phone number!”
Annie sucked in a deep breath, feeling a slight flush rise in her face.
“Someone I used to know,” she murmured. “Hmm. Crab salad sounds good today, doesn’t it? And lemonade.” She hoped to distract her friend, but she should have known better. She wasn’t surprised when Alice blew out an exasperated breath hard enough to breeze through Annie’s hair.
“Who? Who did you use to know? When I hear terms like that I always suspect some sort of romantic interest.”
Oh well, Annie thought, shaking her head and giving in a little. “It was just a boy who lived next door to my Aunt Susan down in Texas.”
“I thought you said the call came from Cooper City, Arkansas.”
“It did.”
“Uh huh.” Alice gazed at her steadily. “Why do I get this strong notion you aren’t telling me everything?”
Annie watched a light flicker in her friend’s eyes, and she wanted to quench it before Alice got wound up. Fortunately, the waitress returned right then, pencil poised above her pad. Annie smiled at her gratefully. She knew sooner or later, Alice was going to worm out every tidbit about Grady Brooks, but at least Annie still owned a few more moments of peace.
“Let’s see. Everything looks so good,” she said, stalling under the guise of perusing the menu.
“We’ll both have crab salad and lemonade, and some bread pudding, if you have any left,” Alice said.
Annie gaped at her when Alice snatched the menu from her fingers and handed both menus to the waitress.
“Hey!”
“You said you wanted crab salad and lemonade, Annie. Not less than a minute ago. And you’ve been whining for bread pudding since we were at A Stitch in Time.”
“OK. All right, then. Yes,” she said to the waitress. “Crab salad.”
“And lemonade and bread pudding?”
She nodded. “And I wasn’t whining,” she told both women.
As soon as the laughing waitress left with their twin orders, Alice gave Annie a look that said she wasn’t going to listen to any more nonsense. Anyone in the diner could see Alice was fairly bursting with curiosity, and Annie knew her friend was set to probe. But Annie had another trick up her sleeve, one that would work better than a phony study of the menu.
“So, what do you think might be inside that music box?” she asked.
The ploy worked as Alice jumped on the question with eagerness.
“I don’t know. As we discussed at the meeting, it doesn’t sound heavy, like jewelry or gold or a key, does it? But maybe money—the folding kind, of course. A letter? A postcard? Someone’s report card?”
“Say! You have a fertile mind!” Annie said. “I hadn’t thought of that. In fact, until we talked about it at the meeting I’d just assumed it was a broken part rattling around.”
“You must admit it, Annie, we crafters are clever and wise.” She tapped her temple with one finger and wiggled her eyebrows.
Annie laughed at her.
“Yes, so clever. So wise.”
“And beautiful,” Alice added, preening and fluffing her hair.
“Oh, absolutely and above all, beautiful. Both of us. But I sincerely doubt someone hid a report card in there.”
They giggled like a couple of schoolgirls, and then Annie asked, “Alice, do you remember Gram ever trying to play that particular music box?”
Alice narrowed her eyes in thought, as the waitress returned with their lemonade.
“No,” she said, slowly shaking her head. “Not that I recall. In fact, Annie, I don’t even remember that music box. And it’s so much larger than the others, you’d think it would stand out in my memory. Are you sure it was in the collection when we were girls?”
“Oh, I definitely remember it,” Annie told her, “but Gram kept it on the highest shelf in the corner. She’d get it down when she was dusting, and she’d let me look at it, but she always held it while I looked, and then she’d put it away.”
“Did you ever ask her to play it?”
Annie frowned. “I don’t remember a specific time that I asked, but I’m sure I did. I mean, the way I loved music boxes, that would have been a logical thing to do, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, it would have. And I for one would very much like to know what’s in there!” Alice said. “You’ll tell me as soon as you find out, won’t you?”
“Of course!” she sipped her lemonade. “In fact, I will tell everyone in the entire Hook and Needle Club, because I believe all the ladies would like to know.”
“I bet I know what it is!” Alice said suddenly. “I bet it’s a photograph.”
“It might be.”
“Or a newspaper clipping.”
“That’s possible. But why would any of those things be inside the music box?” Annie asked.
“To hide them, of course!” Alice’s eyes sparkled. She loved fun and mystery more than anyone Annie knew. “Maybe the photograph is of an old love, or maybe it’s a clipping about a murder that the murderer himself hid.”
“Oh, for goodness sake!” Annie said, laughing. “More than likely it’s just a piece of paper the maker or manufacturer enclosed that describes the music box and who made it. A hallmark, if you will.”
Alice made a face.
“That is so logical that it’s boring. Sometimes, Annie, you sure know how to take the fun out of things.”
“Be that as it may, I’m taking it to Wally, anyway. A photograph or newspaper clipping should not be able to stop the key from turning.”
Alice’s eyes lit up again with a new idea. She leaned forward.
“But a big wad of cash might stop the whole thing from working,” she said gleefully.
“Oh, Alice,” Annie said, laughing harder. “I hardly think there’s a big wad of cash in that music box. Anyway, the main thing is, I want to hear the music.” The waitress approached with their plates. “Speaking of fun, here’s our lunch—and our bread pudding!”
They began to eat, but Annie knew her friend would soon return to the subject of the phone calls if Annie failed to keep her mind on other topics. Plus, what Annie had on her mind right then was far more important than any silly discussions about faded schoolgirl crushes.
“I have an idea,” she said.
Alice looked up, her fork halfway to her lips.
“You are a creative woman, Annie. What’s this new idea?”
“I want to have a huge party at Grey Gables.”
Alice grinned, put down her fork, and leaned forward a little.
“Ooo! I like that idea!”
“I thought you would,” Annie said.
“When do you want to have it?” Alice asked. “Who are you going to invite? What can I do to help?”
“I’m thinking we’ll have it next weekend.”
The Unfinished Sonata Page 3
