Knit, Purl, Die

by Anne Canadeo

  She sat back and sipped her coffee, a flower-covered Buddha, schooling the unenlightened.

  She had spewed a lot of venom, even for Edie, but she did have a point, Lucy thought. It did seem true that a person’s deeds, good or ill, did come back to them. If you lived long enough to see it.

  But while Lucy didn’t know Gloria very well, or for very long, it was hard to believe that Gloria had been so hard-hearted and unfeeling in business matters. She was smart and tough. Nobody’s fool, that was sure. But cold and heartless? Hard to buy it, Lucy thought knowing Gloria even as briefly as she did.

  Gloria was certainly the perfect magnet for envy from many who wished that they were riding around town in a white Mercedes, had a closet full of designer clothes, size two, and piles of jewelry. And lived in a big expensive house in the Landing with a handsome younger man, waiting there with a home-cooked dinner after a busy day in the office.

  Heck, when she thought of it that way, even Lucy felt jealous of Gloria.

  “What about George Thurman?” Maggie said finally. “He’d been wheeling and dealing long before he met Gloria. I’m sure he was the one pulling the strings in those days. I don’t think she really had much to do with those evictions and all of that. I think it was all George,” Maggie said in her friend’s defense.

  Edie made a snorting sound. “Think what you like, it’s a free country. I know she’s your friend. It might have been all George back then, but it’s all Gloria since she buried him. She certainly learned her lessons well, I’ll say that for her.”

  Maggie didn’t answer. “How’s that headache, Lucy?” she asked instead.

  It had actually gotten worse, with all the arguing, but Lucy didn’t want to make a big thing about it. “Coming along,” she told Maggie. “That’s really nice yarn,” she added, trying to change the subject.

  She picked up a ball of fine, multicolored ribbon yarn that was sitting in a basket on the table and examined a strand. “Is it new?”

  “Just came in yesterday. I’m going to use it for a class this morning,” Maggie told them.

  “Very pretty,” Edie agreed. “That would make a nice baby blanket. Which reminds me why I came in here in the first place. I need some more yarn for that blanket I’m working on. My niece Miranda, down in Framingham who got married last summer? Well, she’s expecting,” Edie explained. “First couple I’ve heard of in thirty years that doesn’t want to know the baby’s sex. We have to be surprised. But what’s the point now? I don’t get it.” Edie shook her head. “Maggie found some self-striping yarn for me—powder blue, pink, and yellow. That about covers it, right?”

  “Absolutely,” Lucy agreed, though she wondered what the yellow stripes stood for. Undecided?

  “Whoops, looks like someone is spying on us …” Lucy followed Edie’s glance to the bay window at the front of the shop. Tink was staring inside, her paws up on the window ledge, her nose pressed to the glass.

  But Lucy quickly determined the dog was not pining for her negligent owner. She was stalking the window display. Maggie had found some black sheep stuffed animals in the toy store down the street and had set three in the window on some fake grass, among piles of yarn and knitting equipment. A few attractive projects hung from a clothesline strung across the top.

  Tink stared at the sheep with the same concentration she focused on squirrels she spotted out in the garden. Lucy could practically see her hot breath fogging the windowpane.

  “She’s so cute, Lucy. You can bring her in. I don’t mind, as long as there are no customers here,” Maggie said.

  “You don’t mind because she’s never been in here,” Lucy reminded her. “Believe me, it wouldn’t be pretty.” Lucy finished her coffee and stood. “I have to get home and start working anyway.”

  “I have to run, too.” Edie slowly lifted her bulky body. The little chair she’d been sitting on creaked with relief. She came unsteadily to her feet, then balanced on her large, white walking shoes that looked as soft as marshmallows.

  “Let me find that yarn you need, Edie.” Maggie stood up too and walked up to the front of the shop. “So long, Lucy,” Maggie added. “Hope your headache goes away quickly.”

  “Think I’ll go home and try a banana.”

  “Good idea. It couldn’t hurt,” Edie advised as Lucy slipped out the door.

  Lucy walked home with Tink, choosing the quickest route. As the dog tugged her along tree-lined streets, she couldn’t help thinking about Gloria. Edie’s diatribe had shown their new friend in a completely new light. Not a very flattering one, either.

  Lucy had to wonder if Gloria’s reputation as the Queen of Mean was really deserved. Or was it guilt by association, her husband George Thurman being the real evil genius?

  George had been dead now for fifteen years Lucy knew, and the title still clung. Was it simply because Gloria was a woman and not rewarded for playing hardball in the business world? These days, women were in a no-win situation, expected to succeed, to be tough and shrewd … but still be “nice.” It seemed to Lucy that Gloria was subject to this ambiguous measure.

  She was also sure that Gloria had heard all the claims and grudges against her and didn’t give a flying fig what Edie Steiber, or anyone else in town thought of her. Which probably annoyed that faction even more.

  Whatever else you wanted to say about Gloria, she was her own person. Lucy definitely admired her for that.

  When Suzanne finally reached her office at Premier Properties—after driving her kids to school, dropping off the dry cleaning, swooping through the drive-thru bank window, and leaving the dog off at the groomers—she wondered if she should call Gloria first thing, to follow up on the lead from last night. Or did that seem too … desperate?

  She carefully considered the question and took a long sip of the Cranberry Detox Fat Flush Juice drink she’d brought from home. The first installment of about ten gallons of pale pink liquid she was supposed to absorb today, the only nutrient of her new diet.

  She heard Gloria’s voice on her message machine and stopped midsip.

  “Hi, Suzanne, it’s me, Gloria. I’m just calling about the house. I’d like you to stop over so I can give you the grand tour and we can talk about an offering price and all that. Let me know when you are available. My schedule is pretty open.”

  Suzanne fumbled for the phone receiver, nearly dropping the plastic bottle in her lap. She found the number and quickly hit the redial button. Gloria picked up on the third ring. Suzanne greeted her cheerfully.

  “Hi, Gloria, it’s Suzanne. I just got in the office and I found your message. I was just about to call you.”

  “Good, we’re on the same wavelength. That’s what you want in a real estate person,” Gloria replied smoothly. “I’m just sending Jamie off,” she reported. Then in a whisper added, “I swear, you’d think he was eight years old, going off to sleepaway camp for the first time. It’s cute, but I have a life, know what I mean? Oh … just a sec. He’s calling me again about something. What is it, hon?” Suzanne heard Gloria shout. “I left them out for you, right by the bed.” Then she said to Suzanne, “I’m sorry. Can you hold on a minute?”

  “Sure. No problem.”

  I’ll hang on until Christmas, Suzanne nearly told her, if it means getting your business, Gloria.

  Gloria often joked about Jamie needing attention and help from her, like a little boy, but Suzanne thought she secretly enjoyed mothering him. Gloria never had children of her own, Suzanne knew. Though she’d never said too much about it to the knitting group, Suzanne sensed Gloria felt a real lack in her life, having missed out on that experience.

  “I’m back. I think he’s finally packed. I’m just going to ignore him if he calls me again.” She took a deep breath. “Now, where were we?”

  “Figuring out a time when I can come by to look at the house and talk about the market?” Suzanne reminded her.

  “Oh, yes. Right. I’m working from home today. What’s your schedule like?”
/>   Totally open for Gloria, was the truth of the matter.

  Not wanting to sound too eager and as if she didn’t have any other hot deals going, Suzanne delayed with a little humming sound, as if she was checking her very packed schedule, trying to fit Gloria in.

  “Hmm. Let me take a look … okay, I see something. How about … eleven? Does that work for you?”

  She did need to answer her e-mails and call up a long list of open house walk-ins. Suzanne was pretty sure she wouldn’t have a nibble there. The owners of the house in question—seniors, trying to downsize—thought they were selling the Taj Mahal. The three-bedroom bungalow was anything but, crowded with knickknacks, overstuffed furniture, and about a thousand pictures of grandchildren. The kitchen and bathrooms were a total disaster and the entire place smelled like they used meat loaf-scented air freshener.

  Most of the phone numbers jotted on the open house sign-in sheet would be fake, of course. So the task would not take very long at all.

  “Eleven would be fine,” Gloria said.

  “I’ll pull up some recent sales in your area, so we have some comps to look at. And I have a few very nice listings on the water you might be interested in looking at, too. We can get a photo tour of most of those on my laptop.”

  “Sounds terrific, Suzanne. I think we’re going to have a great time doing business together.”

  “Looking forward to it.” Suzanne assured her. They said good-bye and she hung up the phone.

  This could be good. This could be very good. Good for the twins, who already needed to start with the orthodontist, and the final payment due on the fancy drama and dance camp that her daughter, Natalie, was headed for in August.

  The market had been absolutely dead these last few months. It had gotten so bad, Suzanne had even considered jumping ship and trying something new, though she wasn’t sure what. Her husband Kevin’s construction business wasn’t nearly as busy as it had been the last few years and they relied on her income to make ends meet.

  The ends weren’t meeting so well lately, as much as Suzanne tugged and stretched, like trying to fit herself into some beloved, prepregnancy pair of jeans.

  Then out of the clear blue, Gloria comes along and drops this Godiva gift basket of sales commissions right in her lap.

  All Suzanne could say was, “Bless that woman. Bless every highlighted hair on her head and every synthetic, inserted part of her.”

  Suzanne’s appointment with Gloria took over two hours, longer than she’d expected. But the grand tour of the house—she had only peeked at the interior the night before on a trip to the bathroom—was even better than she’d imagined, with huge rooms and stylish decorating that complemented the architectural features perfectly. This place was going to show like a room set in Better Homes Than You’ll Ever Live In.

  The meeting wore on and they hit their stride, sipping iced tea poolside, with Gloria positioned on her favorite chaise, busily working on her knitting. Suzanne had left her knitting bag in the car. She never brought it to a meeting like this and even though Gloria encouraged her to fetch it, she was content to focus on business.

  Good thing, too. Because just as Suzanne thought they had wrapped up the conversation, discussing the sale of Gloria’s house and her purchase of new property, the Godiva gift basket of commissions got even bigger.

  “Does your office handle commercial property, Suzanne?”

  “Yes, we do. Absolutely. We do a lot of that, in fact.”

  Ca-ching! Suzanne hoped the dollar signs weren’t showing too boldly in her wide, surprised eyes. She slipped on her sunglasses just in case.

  “I have a few properties in town I’d like to put on the market. There’s a condo in the Windward Shores development, you know, near the golf course?”

  Gloria turned her project to the other side and examined her work. The fine lace shawl was getting longer, covering her lap and slim, tan legs, down to her knees.

  “Know it well.” Suzanne nodded.

  A condo in Windward Shores? Sweet … there was always demand for that development, even in a down market.

  “It’s a nice unit, on an upper floor with a great view. I’ve been renting for a few years, but it’s so much work. Tenants moving in and out. And if they’re troublemakers, I just don’t have the time to deal with all the headaches and phone calls from the condo board. Now that I’m married, I can’t just work my life away, twenty-four/seven. There has to be time for Jamie.”

  “Absolutely,” Suzanne agreed sympathetically. “Once your married, it’s a whole different ball game.”

  Though she was not quite in the same ballpark where Suzanne played, Suzanne could see how Gloria’s workaholic tendencies might get the best of her. If she didn’t have Jamie, what was there besides work to distract her? No children. No family nearby. No intense hobbies, besides knitting, not that Suzanne had ever heard about. She had an active social life, plenty of friends and invitations. But a lot of that was work related, as well.

  “There’s also a building in town. Two stores on the bottom and a floor above with three apartments.” Gloria mentioned the street address. “The same story, too many headaches. Tenants driving me crazy. I hired a management company to deal with it, then they were calling me night and day. I know it’s a slow market, but there are still people out there with money, looking for good, sound investments. Don’t you think?”

  “Plenty of them,” Suzanne agreed. There had to be. Suzanne was determined to find those people, too, if she had to track them down with bloodhounds and high-tech surveillance equipment.

  “That’s good to hear,” Gloria said with another warm, approving smile.

  Be still, my greedy little heart! Suzanne could not imagine what she’d done to deserve this bounty of good fortune. All in one morning?

  “I think we’re going to do a lot of business together, Suzanne.” Gloria smiled at her.

  “Bring it on.” Suzanne laughed. She was trying not to sound too eager. But it was a challenge.

  Chapter Three

  Suzanne climbed back into her family-size SUV a short time later, a victory prize tucked into her slim leather case—the signed contract for exclusive sales representation on Gloria’s house. And Gloria’s promise to work with Suzanne on finding a new home for herself and Jamie was another reason to leave Sugar Maple Way with a smile.

  Gloria had been interested in at least two of the properties Suzanne had showed her, via virtual tours, and wanted to see them right away. Meanwhile, Suzanne had clients on her list that had been looking for a new house in The Landing for a long time and were likely possibilities as buyers. She was going to make calls and set up appointments as soon as she returned to her office.

  And the icing on the cake was the condo and commercial building that Gloria wanted to sell. Suzanne was not experienced with commercial property and would need some help on the building, but she was happy to share that commission, which would be a mother lode if it ever came through.

  Not “if.” When, she reminded herself.

  It’s going to happen. It is going to happen for me, Suzanne chanted to herself, remembering her sales motivation CDs.

  All in all, it was shaping up to be a good day, a good way to wind up an otherwise totally flat-ass, boring week.

  Suzanne felt so good as she cruised back to town, she decided to ditch her detox juice fast—which she had kept now for a full … five hours?—and celebrate with a BLT. She was allowed a break for lunch and she decided to bring her sandwich over to Maggie’s shop so she could share her good news.

  She picked up a tasty sandwich at her favorite deli, then drove up to the knitting shop. Perfect timing, too, she realized. As she parked near the Black Sheep, she spotted Dana, sitting in a wicker chair on the porch, eating lunch and working on her argyle vest.

  Phoebe was also outside and waved as Suzanne walked up the flower-edged path. Maggie’s helper was tending to the window boxes with a watering can, sprinkling most of the water on her long Ind
ian-print cotton skirt and sandal-covered feet. Probably a welcome relief on such a hot day, Suzanne thought.

  With her long dark hair bunched up in a ponytail, Phoebe’s magenta streak was pulled taught, glinting in the sunlight and reminding Suzanne of a pink zebra stripe.

  “Hey Suzanne,” Phoebe greeted her. “I hear you guys really partied last night at Gloria’s. Sorry I missed it.”

  “We missed you, too, Phoebe,” Suzanne said sincerely. “But it wasn’t that wild. We weren’t dancing on the tables or anything.”

  “That’s not what I heard. Maybe you don’t remember that clearly? Dana says she has pictures … for a price.”

  Suzanne finally realized Phoebe was teasing. “That’s supposed to scare me? You should see the ones my kids take. The twins sneak up with their camera phones while I’m wrestling with the trash bag, or crawling around, looking for stuff under the beds. Or sometimes they catch me asleep on the couch and get right up under my nose and …”

  Suzanne heard Dana laughing. Phoebe held her hands up. “Too much information.”

  “No problem,” Suzanne replied with exaggerated charm.

  Phoebe drifted to the far side of the porch with the watering can and Suzanne took a seat near Dana. “Nice job. I like your technique.”

  “Don’t mess with me. I’m invincible today. I’m Super Real Estate Woman, able to leap gated communities in a single bound.”

  Dana seemed impressed. “Any particular reason for this power surge? Or is it just a hormonal swing?”

  Suzanne pulled out her BLT, set it squarely on the wicker side table, and inhaled its enticing aroma before peeling back the paper wrapping.

  “I just got back from Gloria’s. She gave me an exclusive on her house, and I’m making appointments to show her two properties on the water this weekend.”

  “Good work.” Dana put down her knitting. Her face lit up with a smile.

  “Wait, there’s more. I was just about to wrap up the visit when she asked if our firm handles commercial property. She has a building in town she wants to sell and there’s a condo at Windward Shores that she wants to unload, too.”