“I thought someone named Joan was in charge,” he said, looking confused. Scott had been the one person I hadn’t called because there was no contact information for him. I got ready to explain about Joan again.
Before I could start, Edie rushed toward him and threw her arms around him.
“Scott, you’re here. Welcome.” She turned to the rest of us. “I’m the one who got Scott to sign up for this. I found him in the yarn department at the Super Yarn Store in Chatsworth. He has a problem and I knew this retreat would be just perfect for him.”
Was it my imagination or was Scott wincing more and more as she continued? “I’m afraid she was mistaken,” Scott said. “I’m here, but I’m not really part of your group.” Edie opened her mouth, but Kris stepped in and shushed her.
I heard a car door slam outside and a flurry of conversation. I couldn’t hear any words, just the tone, and it sounded like squabbling. The door opened and two women walked in, continuing to fuss. My immediate reaction was that they were related. They both had the same cascade of brown hair, had a similar lean body shape and gestured with their hands in the same manner.
I looked at the sheets and found the one that had two names—Melissa and Sissy Patterson. I remembered that they were coming from Fresno, and I had just notified one of them about the change in the retreat. My aunt had written in “mother and daughter weekend, need some space” on the top of their information page. Kevin St. John seemed to be handling registration of the other retreaters without my help, so I went over to greet the new arrivals. I hoped Kris would join me, but she had gone off to the side and was on her cell phone.
Squaring my shoulders, I introduced myself, and fortunately Melissa and Sissy stopped mid-squabble. Although I knew it sounded corny, I told them they looked like sisters instead of mother and daughter. Melissa, the mother, loved it, but her twentysomething daughter seemed horrified.
“This weekend was her idea,” Sissy said, jabbing her finger in her mother’s direction. “I’m just letting you know I’m here under duress.”
Olivia overheard and nodded in agreement. “I second that emotion.” She held up her key. “I’m going to my room,” she said. “Don’t expect me at any of the sessions. This trip was a gift.” Everyone started saying something about it being nice, but Olivia shook her head. “It was to get me out of town.”
I traded looks with Lucinda. This was not what I’d expected at all. I thought the group was going to be much happier to be here. So far only Edie seemed enthusiastic about the weekend.
I was glad when Kris rejoined us. She seemed undisturbed by all the problems. “It’s always hard at the beginning. We all need to let go of the outside world and give ourselves over to the retreat. Me included.” She caught Olivia before she left and pressed a workshop schedule on her. “Please, at least come to the first session. Then if you don’t want to continue, no problem.”
I couldn’t tell from Olivia’s expression if she’d agreed or not. I handed her one of the individually wrapped muffins from my basket before she headed for her room. I was going to say something to Lucinda, but now she was on her cell phone. She was shaking her head and waving her hands around as she spoke. When she hung up, she shook her head with dismay a few more times. “It was one of the waitresses, telling me that Tag had just instructed everyone on the correct way to place a coffee cup on the table. He’s tried that before, but I was always there to stop him. She said he was following them around and adjusting the cups so the handles pointed to the right.” She sighed and looked toward the door. “Maybe I should go back there. Just to check on things,” she said. But her voice sounded halfhearted and it wasn’t hard to convince her to stay.
“If you go back once, you’ll be doing it all weekend, and what kind of retreat will that turn out to be?”
Lucinda straightened. “You’re right. Besides, I really need the time away from Tag or I might kill him.” She looked around furtively. “Oops, I hope no one heard me. It would sure blow the fairy-tale image.” She was referring to the story printed on the Blue Door menu that told how the couple had met up again after so many years and moved to Cadbury by the Sea to follow their dream of owning a restaurant.
Kris handed out schedules to the rest of the group and suggested everyone take their things to their rooms and get situated before the first session. Everyone but Scott took a muffin. He had registered on his own and was out of the building before I could offer it.
Once they had all left, I went back across the street to my place. My plan was to come back for the first session and make sure everything was going smoothly. Then I figured Kris would take over for sure. I’d only need to be there for meals and to take everybody to the yarn tasting. Kris would probably handle the evening events, because they were yarn related. And then the weekend would be over and I’d shut the door on my aunt’s business.
As soon as I got back to the guesthouse, I pulled out my laptop and fired it up. After hearing the story about Amanda and how she slipped off the rocks, I was curious to see what I could find out. It only took a few clicks to locate the story in the Cadbury by the Sea Herald archives. It mostly repeated what Lucinda had said, although there were a few more details. Kevin St. John was quoted as saying he noticed a Prius parked on the Vista Del Mar grounds for three days and none of the guests had claimed it. Cadbury PD had run the plates and found it belonged to Amanda Proctor of Sunnyvale who, according to the manager, had checked out on Sunday.
There was even a mention of my aunt. She was the one who suggested that Amanda might have gone for a walk. Apparently Amanda did some kind of technical work and liked the release she got from working with yarn and spending time in nature. Joan knew because Amanda had come to every retreat my aunt had put on.
I sat back from the screen, thinking that two people connected to the retreats had died. Was that a coincidence or something more?
I looked at my watch and calculated the time difference in Chicago. Frank would be in the office. Since he was a private investigator, I was curious to see what he thought.
And with that I punched into my phone the number of the detective agency where I’d temped. “Feldstein!” Frank said when he heard it was me. “Where are you?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I had more temp work for you, but when I called I got a disconnect notice.”
I gave him the short version of where I was and what I was doing, and as I spoke I heard a protesting squeak from his chair. Frank resembled the Pillsbury Doughboy more than James Bond. His office chair reclined, and he always seemed to be pushing its limits.
“Baking desserts and muffins and a yarn retreat? What’s a yarn retreat?”
“Knitting,” I said, trying to make the answer as basic as possible. “That’s kind of why I called. I need some advice.”
Frank chortled. “Feldstein, you want knitting advice from me? I’m not Miss Marple.”
I read him the article about Amanda’s death and then told him about my aunt Joan’s hit-and-run accident. “So, what do you think?”
“About what? Are you asking if I think they’re connected? In a word, no. Sorry about your aunt and that woman, but sounds like it was just bad luck for both of them. Don’t get your underwear in a knot over it. Let it go.” I heard him chuckling. “Feldstein, I just can’t see you with a bunch of knitters.” Then he hung up.
“You and me both,” I said to myself.
4
BARELY AN HOUR LATER, I WAS BACK AT VISTA DEL MAR waiting in a small building called Cypress. It consisted of a big room that could be divided, but we had the whole thing and it was to be our meeting room for the weekend. I was early and gazed out the windows toward the dunes that ran along the edge of the Vista Del Mar grounds. The area was in the process of being reclaimed, and the sandy area was off-limits to people. But it was okay for the two deer I saw wandering among the Menzies’ Wallflowers with their bright yellow petals, the Beach Sag
ewort and the Mock Heather before disappearing in a stand of tall bushes.
You couldn’t tell that it was afternoon by the color of the sky. It had been white since dawn. It was hard to tell it was spring, too. Year-round it was always like this, chilly and damp. I was grateful for the inviting fire crackling in the comfortable room’s fireplace. A long table was set up with chairs around it. In the corner there was a sink and a counter. A coffee and tea service had been brought in. I added a plate of fresh butter cookies I’d baked while I stopped home.
Kris and Edie arrived together. Kris did a little shiver as she walked in and pulled the cream-colored shawl around her more closely. Edie trailed her talking a mile a minute. I envied Edie’s cappuccino-colored sweater. It looked cuddly and warm.
“At least you two showed up,” I said. “I’m not so sure about the others.”
Kris nodded with a knowing smile. “This group seems a little more difficult than the ones we’ve had in the past,” Kris said. Something in her manner made me feel that even though this group was a problem, she’d be able to handle it. I supposed it came from being a teacher and getting used to being in charge. I had never gotten the hang of that position when I was a substitute teacher, which was probably why I left that job.
“Yes, but Joan would have known what to do with them,” Edie added.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m doing the best I can.” I didn’t want it to happen, but my voice sounded a little warbly and I had the desire to leave—well, run away. It had only been a few hours and it was clear I was already a flop. I literally had to hold on to the seat of the chair to keep from bolting.
Kris threw Edie a dirty look and turned to me. “I’m sure Edie didn’t mean that the way it sounded. You’re doing great. Giving out the muffins was a wonderful idea.” She glanced toward the counter and saw the plate of cookies. “And you brought more sweets. It’s a nice touch.”
“Thanks for the pep talk. But Edie’s right. My aunt would have handled things better,” I said. My comment caused Edie to gush about how sorry she was and how thoughtless her comment was as she rushed over and hugged me.
“Don’t worry about this group,” Kris said. “I’ve worked a lot of retreats both big and small and everyone comes around. Besides, I have something up my sleeve.”
I felt relieved at Kris’s confidence and wished I had even half of it. But then she was an expert at knitting. Realizing she was only a few years older than me, I asked her how she’d earned the title of master teacher. She seemed flattered at my interest, and while we waited for the others to show up, she told me her background. She practically had to put her hand over Edie’s mouth to keep her from chiming in.
“I learned to knit when I was in high school,” Kris began. “Then I needed a job with flexible hours when my kids were small, so I got a job in the local yarn store. I seemed to have a knack for helping the customers with their projects. By chance I heard the instructor had bowed out of teaching an advanced knitting class in the extension program of the local community college. Sometimes you just have to seize the moment,” Kris said, explaining that even though she wasn’t exactly a master teacher then, she talked her way into getting the class. “I kept learning more, and pretty soon I was teaching classes around the Monterey Bay area. I began to sell some patterns to yarn companies, and suddenly I had a career. I’m afraid master teacher sounds better than it pays, though. Doing the retreats really helps out. When I met your aunt, she had been using Gwen Selwyn from Cadbury Yarn to do knitting classes for her retreats.” It seemed like she was going to end there, but then she continued. “Let’s just say I made the classes more contemporary. Joan particularly liked putting on these Petit Retreats because she got to be one of the participants.”
So, now I had the answer to Kevin St. John’s earlier question about why my aunt had opted for these less-profitable events. I didn’t want to say anything, but if he took over, it was very likely that this was the last of the small gatherings.
“She’s just being modest,” Edie said. “She’s also won all kinds of awards and ribbons. She’s like a superstar of knitters.” Kris flushed at the description but seemed to like it.
Lucinda came in and looked at the empty room.
“I was beginning to wonder if you’d given in and gone back to the restaurant,” I said to my friend as she pulled up a chair.
“No way.” She glanced at the other two and cringed. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I love Tag and the restaurant, but even fairy-tale couples need some time apart.” She looked at the empty table. “Where is everybody else?”
“The others didn’t exactly seem happy to be here,” I said. “What am I going to do if they all suddenly want a refund because Joan isn’t here?”
“Don’t worry, they’ll come,” Kris said in her perky cheerleader voice. “And if the past is any example, you’ll see—I’ll win them over.”
Bree arrived next. She sat down and laid her cell phone on the table. She took off the hooded gray sweatshirt with the school name on it. Underneath she had a navy blue long-sleeved T-shirt, a hot pink shirt that peeked below the hem and jeans. Olivia marched in and sat down with a thud. It was as if she wanted everyone to know she was there under protest. Melissa and Sissy were fussing as they arrived. Melissa was concerned that her daughter wasn’t warm enough in her rolled-up jeans and short-sleeved T-shirt. Sissy kept insisting she was fine even though I caught her shivering.
Scott came in last, hung by the door and kept his eye on the window. What was he so afraid of? Or maybe the question was who?
Kris welcomed the group again. Scott finally sat down, but at the far end away from all of us. Bree’s cell phone began to beep loudly, and she held her hand up apologetically.
“My boys got some app on their game gadgets that turns them into walkie-talkies. I have to take this. It’ll just be a moment.” She headed outside and started pacing up and down in front of the window while she talked. Judging from her body language there was trouble at home. Maybe now the kids were claiming their father wanted to feed them kibble for dinner?
Edie got up and went to stand at the head of the table with Kris. “You guys are going to be so happy with this workshop.” The repeat retreater pulled out her smartphone and flipped through a bunch of photos and then held it up. “This was the last retreat.” She walked around the room and showed each of us a number of photos. “Don’t they look like they’re having a good time?” she said, flipping through them again herself. “Oops, I didn’t mean to show these,” she said, gazing down. I strained to see what she was looking at. Even though it was an odd angle, the first photo was of a man in a baseball cap with the sunset behind him, and the next one was of Kevin St. John talking to Gwen Selwyn, the yarn store owner. Edie moved to the head of the table. “I’ve got to get some shots of this group.” She got us all to gather around the retreat leader and snapped several pictures.
When Edie sat back down, she flipped through the photos on her phone again. She seemed to stop on one and stared at it for a long time. She looked up at Kris and started to say something but stopped herself, which I found amazing after her verbal Olympics.
“Thanks for sharing the pictures,” Kris said, and Edie almost bowed. “I know if Joan were here, she’d tell us to get started.”
Scott stood up. “Is anybody going to tell me what happened to Joan Stone? She’s the reason I’m here.” He pointed at Edie. “You sold me on this retreat. You said that Joan put on these amazing weekends.”
Kris’s expression became somber. “I’m sorry. I thought Casey had told everyone. Joan was killed in a hit-and-run accident a few months ago.”
My automatic response was to say that I didn’t buy that it was an accident and give the reasons. But I kept it to myself this time. It wasn’t their problem; it was mine.
Bree returned appearing drained, her blond hair even frizzier from the dampnes
s in the air. “You don’t really think my husband gave them beer and said they could stay up until midnight, do you? How am I going to get through this weekend?” she said, slumping into one of the chairs.
“You could start by turning off your cell phone—and your mommy brain,” Edie said.
Olivia seemed oblivious to all the fussing and was staring off in space.
“One of the great things about a retreat is leaving everything behind,” Kris said in a pointed manner. “Let’s all put away our cell phones.” She demonstrated by picking up Edie’s and making the screen go dark. “I want you all to just focus on being here and immerse yourself in the wonderful weekend we have planned.” She nodded toward me to indicate I was part of the we.
“Let’s get started,” she said.
“But we don’t have anything to work with,” Lucinda said. “The instructions said we didn’t need to bring anything.”
“Well, I have something,” Bree said, dropping a blue tote bag that said Serrania Elementary School on the table. She began to pull out some yellow yarn and a couple of needles so long they looked like fencing foils.
Olivia began to fumble through her purse. “I have something, too. I always carry a little project just in case.” As she pulled out a plastic bag with multicolored yarn and the same kind of silvery double-ended needles I’d seen at my aunt’s, a pill bottle came with it and rolled across the table. The ever-eager Edie grabbed it before it went off the table. She read the label.
“Sleeping pills? You won’t need those here. The sound of the waves will lull you to sleep. Just open your window and—”
“My sleeping issues are none of your business,” Olivia said, snatching the bottle back and putting it in her bag.
Yarn to Go Page 4
