I noticed a pile of old pieces next to a stack of books. I glanced at the titles and noted they were all about textiles and fibers. Nicole saw me looking at them. She picked up a dingy-looking woven rug. “Most of the woven and knitted pieces I get don’t come with labels, so I have to figure out what they’re made of and when. It’s amazing what you can find out.”
Nicole had made the back area into her studio. Beyond, there was a half partition left from when it was a bank and a couple of cubicles that had been used for privacy when checking safety-deposit boxes. It was odd to see the thick metal door of the open vault showing over the top of the divider, with the selection of spinning wheels in front of it. She had both antique and modern machines. She’d demonstrated how they worked, but looking at them now with all their wheels, hooks and pedals, I had no idea how to use them.
I didn’t mention Wanda, but asked Nicole if she was ready for the retreat.
“You look tense,” she said to me. “Don’t worry, I can handle everything. I’ll be there tomorrow morning to teach your pre-retreat people how to use a drop spindle. And I’ll have Will bring these wheels over later in the week.”
“I need your advice,” I began, and then told her about the no-sheep-shearing situation. I didn’t have to explain. She knew right away it was Kevin St. John’s doing.
“Kevin St. John is so possessive of that place. I know all about it. Remember, my husband works for him. Though Will never has a problem with him because he just does everything Kevin’s way.”
I brought up the idea of bringing in roving and making the spinning the center of things, but she said there was no need to change anything. “Why don’t you just go to the farm and pick up the fleeces? You won’t have your razzle-dazzle beginning, but we can go from there.”
I nodded in agreement, even though I didn’t want to give up the razzle-dazzle beginning. She sensed my concern about the retreat. “Don’t worry. The group will get caught up in picking through the fleeces and washing and carding them. Everybody is going to have a great time. The first time I started with fleece and ended up knitting with the yarn, well, there was something magic about it.”
She was going to show me some handspun yarn she’d made, but the sleigh bell went into a frenzy as the front door opened.
A customer? I looked across the large space and saw a man in a familiar sports jacket. Burton Fiore? I checked beyond him, expecting to see Cora Delacorte, but he was alone. He seemed intent on his mission and didn’t look around enough to see me, walking right to the U-shaped glass counter in the center of the place. As soon as Nicole saw him she stepped away and went behind the counter. He looked down through the glass at something and they spoke for a moment or two. Apparently what he saw hadn’t pleased him because a moment later he walked to the door. Even from where I was standing, I could see that he’d left an envelope on the counter. I was going to call out to him, but when I looked again, the envelope was gone.
Nicole seemed a little disconcerted when she returned. “He was just looking for a gift for his fiancée. You do know that Cora Delacorte is engaged.”
I explained I’d just heard the news that morning. Though Nicole was new to Cadbury, her husband had grown up in the area so she knew all the local stories. I was curious about what Burton Fiore had been considering and walked to the counter and looked inside. The glass cases had an assortment of mini-treasures. Things like silver chafing dishes and old silver dresser sets. But below the spot he’d been standing, there was a pink velvet backdrop with some pieces of jewelry on it. I’d never seen anything like them. The one thing the drop earrings, the watch chain and several brooches had in common was they were all brown. The piece that really caught my eye was a wreath shape decorated with tiny brown flowers.
“What are these?” I said, looking again at the drab pieces.
“Interesting color, huh?” she said, coming to stand next to me. She slid open the back of the case and took out the pink velvet backdrop the pieces were sitting on. “They’re made out of hair.”
“Hair?” I said with a combination of fascination and distaste. She smiled at my reaction.
“I guess I thought of it more from a student of fiber’s point of view.” She took out one of the dangle earrings for me to get a closer look and I saw that the design was created by intricate braiding.
“It’s called mourning jewelry and became popular during Victorian times.”
I wasn’t sure if I understood what she was saying. “You mean it was made after someone died,” I said, putting the earring down rather quickly. She nodded and explained it was worn as a memento, similar to keeping a lock of someone’s hair. The whole hair-jewelry thing creeped me out, but the idea of it coming from a dead person’s hair was even worse. I wasn’t surprised that Burton Fiore had left empty-handed if this is what she’d showed him as a gift for his fiancée.
“These must be very expensive,” I said, and she nodded, lifting one of the price tags. When I saw it was in the five-hundred-dollar range I commented that maybe she ought to keep the counter locked.
“I don’t worry about it. Besides, locking things up is a red flag that they’re worth stealing. I’m more of a hide-things-in-plain-sight sort of person,” she said, putting everything away and sliding the back of the counter shut. “Anything really important I keep where no one would expect to find it.”
She walked me to the door and repeated the time she was coming to the retreat the next day. She had worked it out so she could be back at the shop to open at noon.
“I’ll come by a half an hour early, so we can set up things in the meeting room. I have the roving all set to go,” she said.
“Roving?” I said.
“Your people need something to spin with,” she prodded with a smile.
“Of course, you’re right. I didn’t even think about that. I’m certainly glad I hired you.”
By the time I got home, I barely had time to put the drop spindles and patterns in the three red tote bags with Yarn2Go, Fun with Fiber emblazoned on the front, and go across the street. The white van was pulling up to the Lodge just as I got there.
“Casey,” an excited voice said. I recognized the short frizz of Bree’s blond hair as she got out of the Vista Del Mar van. She still looked the part of the harried young mom in unglamorous jeans and a gray hooded sweatshirt.
“It’s good to be here again.” Olivia Golden lowered her head as she stepped out after Bree. Olivia’s reddish hair had grown since I’d seen her last and now went below her ears instead of hugging her almond-shaped face. She looked around and took an appreciative breath of the cool damp air. She seemed glad to be here and looked very stylish in her dark slacks and rust-colored cowl-necked sweater.
“No secret what I have in here this time,” Scott Lipton said, swinging his soft-sided briefcase as he got out last. Bounded out was more accurate. To prove his point, he unzipped the top and displayed his knitting. He seemed a lot less tense than he’d been at the last retreat and had loosened up from the button-down business attire he’d arrived in before.
The three swarmed me and we did a group hug before I escorted them inside the Lodge. I handed each of them a tote bag and helped them get checked in. Once they had their keys, the three of them looked at the surroundings and seemed surprised.
“Things have changed around here,” Bree said, directing her attention to the seating area. She did a few minutes on how much she liked the new leather furniture and the rug underneath. She had a puzzled look as if she realized something was missing, but couldn’t place what.
“It’s the TV,” I said. I left it at that, not sure how to break the news to her about Vista Del Mar going unplugged. She had spent the last retreat glued to her phone and tablet so she could stay in touch with her kids.
“A piano,” Olivia said, walking over to it and hitting a few of the keys. “What a nice idea.” I mentioned I’
d heard there were going to be sing-alongs in the evening.
Scott had already set his briefcase on the long table and pulled out one of the chairs. “What a perfect spot for knitting.” I know that I shouldn’t have, but I still did a double take when he took out a ball of powder blue yarn and a pair of circular needles with something lacy hanging off. There was nothing wrong with a man knitting; it just wasn’t the usual sight.
Still, when I saw the happy look on his face as he began working the needles, anything weird went away.
“I better tell them I arrived,” Bree said. I knew the “them” referred to her young sons and her husband. She was better than last time, but I could see she was still nervous about being away from home. Before I could intervene, she had her cell phone out and her fingers were moving over the screen. She stared at the phone and started to move toward the window.
“It won’t help,” I said, putting my hand on her arm to stop her. I took a deep breath and explained the new policy of Vista Del Mar to the three of them. Bree’s face crumbled. Olivia said it was no problem for her because there was nobody she wanted to talk to anyway. It took a moment to cut through Scott’s bliss at knitting and then he seemed a little concerned.
“It’s not that you can’t make phone calls,” I said, leading them around to the alcove where the three phone booths had been added. I unfolded the door to one and Bree looked in. I wondered if she’d ever even used a pay phone before.
Will walked across the large room with a hammer swinging from his tool belt. When he saw us hanging around the phone booths, he came over.
“So somebody is going to use them,” he said in a good-natured voice. “I just finished installing them.”
I introduced the caretaker to Bree, Olivia and Scott. “He keeps this place working.”
He gave us a self-deprecating smile. “I love doing it. It’s a pleasure to take care of something as historic as Vista Del Mar. I hope you appreciate how unique it is.”
“Will’s wife, Nicole, is supervising the fleece-to-fiber part of the retreat.” I did a few minutes on her background and told them about her store-cum-studio downtown. Will seemed to be beaming with pride as he wished them a great retreat and went on his way.
“Nicole is giving you guys your own spinning class tomorrow morning,” I said. I gave them the time of the class and said it was one of the few things planned for their pre-retreat. I mentioned there were also activities put on by Vista Del Mar. “I made sure you were staying in the same building and there’s a cozy living room in it where you can get together and work on the projects you brought along.”
“That sounds great,” Bree said. “Remember how I was so stuck on only doing projects that were the same as everybody else’s?” She pulled out something in different shades of red. As she unfolded it, she explained it was free-form knitting. “You just make it up as you go along, doing whatever stitches you want. It’s going to be a scarf and probably kind of crazy looking.” We all admired the interesting-looking piece as she said she was excited about working on it.
“Don’t worry about us. If they run out of things to do, I have something,” Olivia said. “You all might remember I was a little upset about my husband getting remarried last time. I was doing a pretty good job of feeling sorry for myself. Then I realized the best way out of it was to stop thinking about me and think about other people.” She had a very large canvas tote bag and pulled a knitted square out of it. “I started making squares to sew together. Then I give the blankets to people in need. I made up some directions.” She looked at the other two. “Maybe you’d like to make some.” Olivia also had a couple of works in progress with her.
“I can make squares or work on what I brought with me,” Scott said. “All I want to do is knit.” He said it was much better now that he’d come out and admitted to his wife and family that he was a knitter, but he realized he didn’t need to tell everybody. There was no reason his boss or other people who wouldn’t understand had to know he was a yarn lover. “But here, there is complete freedom to give myself over to it.”
I was relieved with their attitudes. I showed them the Cora and Madeleine Delacorte Café and then walked them to the Sea and Sand building, where they were all staying.
“See you in the morning,” I said as I turned to go. I didn’t add what I was thinking. This time no one is going to die.
6
Tuesday morning I awoke to find Julius draped across my chest, but at least there was no phone call this time. I didn’t rush to get up and enjoyed the luxury of lying in bed for a few minutes more.
I’d finished off the evening doing my baking at the Blue Door. Even with the retreat, I had promised Tag Thornkill that I would keep to my regular schedule of baking. When I’d left the restaurant, a chocolate cake with buttercream frosting and a carrot cake with cream cheese frosting sat under glass domes looking delicious. I’d taken containers of The Blues muffins with me and left them at the usual spots around town. My last stop had been the Cora and Madeleine Delacorte Café. It had been late and the Lodge was empty when I set down the package in front of the closed door.
Julius made it clear that my extra minutes of rest were up when he went from lying on my chest to standing on it. I rolled on my side to push off his poking paws. “You can’t be that hungry,” I said, putting on my slippers. “I left you that cat food that smells like prime rib.” Julius was already walking across the room, stopping in the doorway to see if I was following.
When I got to the kitchen I saw the kitty prime rib appeared untouched.
“You don’t know what you’re missing. This is high-quality stuff,” I said, pushing the bowl toward him. He seemed to consider it for a moment then walked toward the refrigerator, looking up at me with a meow to be sure I understood what he wanted. I extracted the multi-wrapped stink fish and then held my nose as I pushed back the layers of plastic.
Julius rubbed against my leg as I went to his bowl and mixed a little stink fish with the other cat food to flavor it. Well, really to fool him. As soon as I stepped away, he was on that bowl like butter on popcorn.
I sat down with my instant coffee and instant oatmeal and thought I should have got going earlier and had my breakfast with the early birds. The dining hall excelled at breakfast. Visions of hotcakes with melted butter, scrambled eggs and crispy hash browns danced through my mind. My mouth was starting to water and I regretted not having at least brought home one of the muffins. I’d been so busy baking for everybody else, I forgot about me.
I drained my cup and finished the oatmeal. It was time to face the day. I had to laugh when I passed Julius’s bowl. He had managed to eat all the stink fish and leave all the kitty prime rib behind. His meal must have tired him out, because I found him napping on my pillow as I went to get dressed.
An hour later I was on my way across the street to meet up with Nicole. I’d just gotten to the stone pillars at the entrance of Vista Del Mar when I realized I’d forgotten something. I was so focused on the early bird group and their tote bags, I’d completely forgotten I was getting a lesson, too.
Other than the three I’d made up for Bree, Olivia and Scott, the tote bags weren’t finished. The bags and stuff to go in them were in the converted garage. I’d decided to keep them away from Julius after I’d found out the hard way that anything he could climb or jump in, he would. I could only imagine what he would have done with all those tote bags. Somebody might have gotten a surprise cat in with their drop spindle.
I stopped off in my former residence, grabbed one of the bags, put one of the drop spindles in it and retraced my steps. No surprise the sky was white. Though this morning it was a very thin white that was turning apricot as the sun melted the layer of clouds.
Once I was on the grounds, I passed a group of people carrying yoga mats and heading toward an open area. One of them turned and gave me a head bow and said “Namaste.”
&
nbsp; “Namaste back to you,” I said, hoping it meant something nice.
I was a few minutes late and hoped that Nicole was already in the meeting room, setting things up for the spinning lesson. She had such limited time for the lesson, I wanted to make sure my people got the whole hour. The meeting room was really a small building set amidst the larger ones that had the guest rooms. It had been built more recently, but done in the same style of dark wood shingles so that it blended in.
A walkway led through an open area of dry grass. The door was unlocked, but when I checked inside the room, no one was sitting at the long table set up in the middle. I pulled out one of the chairs and sat down, expecting that any second Nicole would walk in with some kind of explanation.
After a few minutes, I took out my smartphone to call her, but remembered that there was no signal. Could there have been a misunderstanding about where we were supposed to meet? I walked out to the other meeting room I was going to use for the retreat and saw it was presently filled with the red- shirted group. I continued on, thinking I could use the phone in the Lodge. I was about to climb the stairs when I saw Bree running down the boardwalk. She reached the end and charged across the grassy area toward me.
“Call 911,” Bree called breathlessly. She was holding her phone trying to explain she couldn’t call. We rushed inside the social hall together and I explained to the woman behind the registration desk that there was an emergency.
It was a small town on a weekday, when there wasn’t a lot of tourist traffic, so the Cadbury Fire rescue ambulance arrived in a few minutes. They cut the siren on the red vehicle as soon as they entered the hotel and conference center grounds, but they still managed to be an attention-getter as they stopped on the roadway next to the Lodge. It helped that the morning workshops had all ended and everyone was hanging around getting ready for lunch. As the two men in dark blue uniforms got out and grabbed their equipment, the barefoot yoga group gathered around and a bunch of people in red polo shirts came out of the Lodge and stopped on the wooden deck to watch.
Silence of the Lamb's Wool (A Yarn Retreat Mystery) Page 5
