by Anne Canadeo
Michael Novak. Lucy remembered him. He’d been at Gloria’s service, a smooth-looking attorney hanging out with local power brokers. He’d registered on Dana’s antenna, Lucy recalled. Dana had said he’d done some work for Gloria.
Still, Lucy had a feeling there might be something more to that story. She decided to print out the article and show it to her friends. And persuade Dana to spill the beans about Mr. Novak.
Lucy worked until the early evening, ate a quick bite, then took Tink for a walk on the beach just before it grew dark.
When she got home, she decided not to work overtime tonight on the children’s book design, and settled down with her knitting. A quick cruise with the remote yielded nothing worth watching on TV. Not even a good classic movie, which was just as well. She really didn’t feel like having any distraction right now and enjoyed the simple, repetitive stitch of the blanket squares, which grew with such quick, satisfying progress.
She’d already finished three squares since the group had started. Maggie had been right. Sometimes a simple, mindless project was just what you needed to flush out the toxins in the knitting lobe of your brain. Even better, the effort was going for a good cause, keeping someone in need warm this winter.
She was casting on for a new square when the phone rang. She let the message machine pick up, then heard Matt’s voice. She hurried to pick up before he’d barely said hello.
“I’m here for you. Just screening,” she admitted.
“So relieved to hear I rate.”
“You always rate with me,” she assured him. “How was your weekend? How is Dara doing?”
“She’s great. We had a good time. We went biking at a new park, and went over to the Children’s Museum in Boston.”
“Oh, I know that one. I took my nieces there last winter. The bubble exhibit was my favorite.”
“Me, too. I loved standing in a giant bubble. What an experience. Dara loved the whole place. She didn’t want to leave.”
Lucy laughed. “Well, you have to take her back again sometime.”
Did that sound too much like, “And I could tag along? Maybe it’s time for me to meet Dara?” Lucy hoped not. That really had not been her intention. At least, she didn’t think so.
“I’ve just been working a lot this weekend,” she reported. “I had to catch up. I lost time last week with … you know, Gloria.”
“Sure. How’s it going?” he asked in quieter tone. “How are you feeling now?”
“I’m okay, I guess. Jamie is a real mess. He stopped at the shop yesterday morning. He’s really having a rough time.”
“I’ll bet. I can’t imagine what he’s going through,” Matt said sympathetically.
“He has to settle the estate now, too. Gloria had a lot going on. It’s going to take a while to figure it all out.”
“Money causes complications,” Matt said simply. “But he should end up pretty well set when it’s all over, don’t you think?”
“Oh, sure. No question.” Lucy sighed. “But I do think it’s unfair that so many people in town think he married Gloria for her money. I don’t think it was that at all. I think he really loved her. You just had to see them together. Or the way he mourns her. It was the real deal.”
Matt was quiet for a moment. “I believe you. I don’t think an age difference matters. If it works, it works,” he said simply.
Did Matt think they worked? Lucy wondered. Or was the jury still out on that question?
“So what are you knitting lately?” he asked, changing the subject. “Anything interesting?”
Matt knew how to knit a little, too. Dara had gotten a craft kit for her birthday last year and he was such a good dad, he’d learned with her. But she couldn’t say he was really into it. Yet …
“I was trying to make you a sweater,” she admitted. “But I gave up.”
He laughed. “Well, at least you tried.”
“The knitting group is working together on a charity project—we’re making blankets for Warm Up America. They distribute the donations to homeless shelters and hospices. Places where people need warmth and comfort.”
“That’s a really nice project. If it’s simple enough, maybe I could make one with Dara.”
“It’s really easy. Maybe we could all make one together,” Lucy offered, hoping she wasn’t being too pushy now. “I am going to knit something for you, right after this project,” she promised. “I was thinking socks would be good for a start.”
“Is that a hint? Do I have cold feet?”
“Sometimes,” she admitted. “I thought I’d start with socks, and work my way up.”
He didn’t answer for a minute. “Good plan … which reminds me, I really called to see if it was too late to come over. Feel like some company?”
Lucy had to smile. “Wow, that was smooth.”
“Is that a yes or a no?” he asked with a laugh.
“That’s a yes. Just give me a minute to straighten up.”
“Okay … but just a minute.” He sounded eager to see her, as if he had really missed her. Lucy had missed him, too, truth be told.
She hung up the phone and put her knitting aside. She was glad she’d spent a little time yesterday cleaning the cottage and had changed the sheets on the bed.
“Your pal Matt is coming over,” she told Tink.
Tink stared up at her, wagging her tail wildly, her tongue hanging down to her chest.
“That is sort of my feeling about it, too,” Lucy admitted to her canine confidante. “But drooling is not attractive. Men say they like it, but they really don’t, hon. Trust me on this.”
Chapter Eight
Lucy woke to the sound of rain on the roof and windowpanes. She realized it was still very early. The bedroom was practically dark and the alarm clock wouldn’t go off for hours. How nice, she thought. She snuggled even deeper under the quilt, circled by Matt’s arms and warm body, thinking how pleasant rain could be on a summer morning.
Then she remembered it was Monday and they both had to get up and start the week. Tink must have heard the bedsprings creak, her canine ears on superalert. Lucy heard the dog trot quickly down the hallway and then enter the bedroom, where she promptly pounced in her daily wake-up-call manner.
Matt pulled Lucy closer and murmured into her hair.
“You shouldn’t let her jump up on the bed like that. You have to train her better.”
“Thanks for the advice, Doc. Any charge for that?”
“Let’s see,” he said, rolling her over. “Give me a minute. I’ll think of something.”
• • •
By the time her alarm clock finally sounded, Matt was gone and Lucy was forced to start the day. The rain continued steadily, preventing a long walk with the dog into town.
Lucy called Maggie in the afternoon, but they were interrupted by the UPS man delivering a shipment of hand-dyed wool that Maggie had been waiting for.
“That reminds me, I’m flying along with my blanket squares. I definitely need more blue yarn.”
“Come by tomorrow, I’ll have it ready,” Maggie promised. “I think Jamie’s going to stop in around lunchtime. I called him yesterday, to see how it’s going with Martin Lewis and all that. He wasn’t around, but he just left a message.”
“I’ll come at noon then. I’d like to see him, too.”
Lucy did want to see Jamie and also wondered how the appointment had gone. She hoped he didn’t have to wait too long to settle Gloria’s estate. He’d said there was a bank account and credit cards, but what if the process dragged on? How long could those resources last? She wondered what he’d do.
Get a job, like the rest of us? a little voice replied.
She didn’t know why, but that option for Jamie seemed off the table—right now, anyway. He’d have to put his artwork aside if it came to that and that would be a real shame, she thought.
Lucy woke early on Tuesday and got a few hours, of work done before she headed into town at noon. Monday’s rainy ski
es had cleared and she blinked at the bright sunlight as she emerged from the cottage’s cool interior.
It was a funny thing about her aunt Laura’s old cottage. It always felt cool in the summer, with a breeze wafting through from the front door to the back porch, and no need for air-conditioning, maybe because the neighborhood was only blocks from the beach. But it was also snug and warm in the winter; good insulation and a wood-burning stove helped. The old-fashioned design was amazingly compact and energy saving, and Lucy felt herself right on track with the less-is-more trend.
When she arrived at the knitting shop, she found a few customers milling around inside, examining yarn and paging through pattern books. Maggie had the shop arranged so that her customers felt comfortable knitting and socializing all day, or just having some alone time, in a comfortable environment. Like a Starbucks but with loads of yarn and needles, Lucy sometimes thought.
She saw Phoebe helping an older woman at the back of the shop, consulting a pattern book as they examined some skeins of light blue yarn.
Maggie was at the other side of the store in a nook where she kept her spinning wheel. She wasn’t spinning herself, but showing someone else how to do it. A pale yellow fleece sat on the spindle and a thin fiber strand extended out to the wheel.
“There you go … very nice. Just keep an even tension, not to loose or too taut. You don’t want to snap it,” she encouraged her student.
She looked up and noticed Lucy, then quickly came over. “Good, you’re here. Let’s go out to the porch,” Maggie suggested. “I need a break.”
Lucy went outside again and Maggie followed, scooping up a few balls of wool from the counter in the middle of the store.
“Here’s your yarn. I even rolled it for you.” Lucy had already taken a seat in a wicker chair and Maggie handed down several balls of blue yarn.
“Wow, what service. What a nice shop. I ought to come back here sometime.”
“We aim to please,” Maggie assured her, taking the seat nearby. “There’s Jamie, I was wondering what happened to him.”
Lucy looked up and saw Jamie’s shiny black BMW convertible pull up to a space in front of the Black Sheep. A sweet ride, truly deluxe. Was it in his name or Gloria’s? Did he own it outright or still need to make big payments? So much to worry about now that he hadn’t given a thought to when Gloria was alive, she realized.
He hopped out and came up on the porch. He was carrying two big shopping bags and set them down in front of Maggie.
“I brought you something. Some of Gloria’s wool and needles and all that. I thought she would want you to have them,” he added.
Gloria was a dedicated knitter and had money to spend on any yarn that struck her fancy, so Lucy suspected she had a giant stash tucked away somewhere. Jamie just hadn’t come across it yet. But these two bags, brimming with goodies, were a generous sample.
She peaked in a shopping bag and spotted the fine tangerine yarn from Gloria’s last project, the mist lace scarf. It made her sad to recognize it.
“Don’t you want to keep some, Jamie?” Maggie asked with concern. “Not now, but someday, you might want to start knitting again.”
A serious expression dropped over his face. “Maybe … but I’d rather just go out and buy new stuff. It would remind me too much of her to use any of this. You take it. Give it to someone who can’t afford supplies or something.”
“Oh, don’t worry. It will go to good use,” Maggie assured him. “We’re making a blanket for a charity. We’ll probably make a few before the winter and I might even hold a workshop for the cause. I can use some of Gloria’s yarn for that. I think she’d have liked the idea.”
“Yes, she would have.” He nodded in agreement and sat down on a wicker chair across from them.
“So, how did it go with that attorney the other day? Martin Lewis?”
Jamie shook his head, looking disturbed. “Not well. Not what I expected, anyway.”
“Oh, what do you mean? Isn’t the will clear?” Lucy asked.
“The will is clear. No problems there. But Gloria’s investments and all these properties … it’s a big mess. He hasn’t even gotten very far into it yet, but it doesn’t look good. She put a lot of money into real estate the last few years and the lawyer said when the bubble burst, her fortune took a big hit,” Jamie reported honestly.
“That is bad news,” Maggie said. “She certainly never let on to me that anything was amiss with her business interests.”
“Me, either. And I was her husband,” Jamie reminded them. “How did she keep this from me?” he sounded very sad, almost angry. “She should have trusted me. She should have confided her problems. She should have let me help her.” He looked up again, his big blue eyes sweeping over them.
“Yes, she should have,” Lucy replied quietly. “But maybe she didn’t want to … to worry you. You were busy with your own work and trying to get a start with your painting. I know she really wanted you to focus on that.”
He stared at her a moment and then let out a long sigh. “That probably was part of it. She was too … protective or something. She didn’t think I could handle the truth, I guess …”
Or maybe worried that if her much younger husband knew she didn’t have a fortune, their hot romance would suddenly cool? Even Gloria must have had her insecurities about the relationship.
“Gloria was like that. Very independent. She never wanted anyone to see any weakness in her,” Maggie said quickly. “It wasn’t just you, Jamie.”
“Yes, I guess so. She hated to look weak or needy. But she just held all that worry inside and … maybe that’s why she got so upset that last night. And ended up having the accident.”
Maggie sighed. “Poor Gloria. I hope that isn’t how it came about. I hate to think of her feeling so alone and troubled. When she had all of us to turn to.”
Jamie shook his head sadly. “Me, too.”
It was big news. Lucy didn’t know what to say.
“So, what happens now?” she asked him finally. “Do you just wait and see how the estate sorts itself out?”
“Sounds like there’s not much I can do. Mr. Lewis told me that it usually takes around three months. But Gloria’s estate is more complicated so it will be longer. He needs to make sure that anybody who thinks they have a claim has enough time to come forward. It’s the law or something. I’m not really sure, but this whole process is watched over by the court.”
“Right, I knew that. Even if you have a valid will, the court makes sure debts and taxes are settled first. Like the funeral costs and medical bills. That money goes out before any beneficiaries can receive an inheritance,” Maggie explained. “The heirs are actually getting what’s left over, no matter what the will says they are due.”
She had gone through the process when her husband died and appeared to remember it well.
“That’s right. Though it sounded a lot more complicated when he explained it to me.” Jamie’s tone was flat. Disappointed? Surprised? Lucy couldn’t quite pin it. Just plain drained. He was emotionally exhausted. Anybody would be.
He sighed again and rubbed his hands across his eyes. “I don’t know … he was going on so long with all these legal terms. I didn’t understand half of it.”
Lucy glanced at Maggie. Jamie wasn’t at all business-minded. She was sure the conversation with Martin Lewis about the probate process had sounded like a foreign language to him. But most people, unfamiliar with the process, would find it confusing. It wasn’t just Jamie.
“So you don’t have any idea what the liabilities are,” Maggie clarified.
“Nope … I don’t even know what she owned, all the real estate around town. Mr. Lewis is making an inventory of the estate. He’ll show it to me when it’s done, of course. But that will take a while, too. I’m sort of in limbo right now.”
“Maybe Suzanne could help you,” Lucy suggested. “You should give her a call.”
“That’s a good idea. I’ve gone through piles of
papers at home, but I can’t figure out half of it.”
“What about the house? Is that part of the estate?” Maggie rose and picked up the watering can. She walked to the nearest window box and began deadheading the petunias.
“The house is in my name. Mr. Lewis says that’s clear.”
“Oh, that’s good to hear.” Maggie glanced at him over her shoulder. “One less thing to worry about.”
“I guess.” He paused and let out a long breath. He stared out at the street, his jaw set. Lucy sensed there was something else troubling Jamie, even more than he’d told them.
“Is there something worrying you about the house, Jamie? Did you decide not to sell it after all?”
He turned to her, then shook his head. “No, I need to sell it. There’s no question now.”
Lucy felt he was trying to say that he had even more reason now than just his grief over Gloria.
“You mean, to pay back Gloria’s debts?” Lucy asked, feeling puzzled.
“Yeah, but not the ones Lewis is figuring out.” He took another deep breath. “I had this … this visit from these guys Sunday night.”
Maggie left the window box and quickly returned. “What kind of guys? What are you talking about?”
“Big guys. With thick necks … and gold jewelry? The kind you see in the movies?” he said with a shaky laugh. Jamie was not a small man. If he was calling some other guys big in such an awed tone, they must have been total hulks.
“What did they want?” Lucy prodded him.
“Gloria owes somebody lots of money. They didn’t say who. I assume it’s their boss. They want it … and they don’t want to wait for the estate to go through probate.”
“Oh.” Maggie’s expression fell. It didn’t sound good to Lucy, either. “She took some sort of … shady loan?”
Jamie nodded bleakly. “They didn’t spell it out for me, but that’s what it boils down to. A private loan. From private people who like to be paid back quickly. With interest. Lots of it.”
“But you can’t pay them back. Not right now,” Lucy insisted.
“That’s what I said. But they didn’t like that answer.” Jamie held up his right hand, which was covered by white first-aid tape that wrapped around the base of his thumb and wrist.
