by Gayle Leeson
She looked at the tag on a brown and gold tweed suit. “You couldn’t come down on this price any, could you?”
“Since you’re affiliated with Winter Garden High, I’ll give you a fifteen percent discount in honor of the play.” I thought that was a fair offer.
“I’m afraid that’s still too pricey.” She forced a brief chortle. “We couldn’t work out some sort of trade, could we? I’m a hairstylist.”
I managed a fake chuckle of my own. “I’m afraid I’m pretty low maintenance. I could hold the outfit for you, though, if that would help.”
“Is there somewhere I can try it on?” she asked.
“Sure.” I showed her to the Oriental screen that served as my fitting room.
When she emerged in the suit, it looked as if it had been made for her. And the color was perfect for her skin tone.
“That looks beautiful,” I said.
“It does, doesn’t it?” She bit her lip. “I’d really like to wear it to my sister’s house for Thanksgiving. Would you mind holding it for me until the week before?”
“I’d be happy to.”
While she was changing back into her clothes, I walked to the desk and got a notepad and pen. The woman returned before I finished the note. I’d written, Hold For. I held it up so she could see I didn’t have the rest filled in.
“It’s Diana Kramer,” she said. “I really do appreciate your doing this for me. We’ve—Fergus and I—have...” She shrugged one shoulder. “Had a little run of bad luck these past few months. You know, first one thing and then another.”
“I completely understand.” I finished writing the note and put it over the hanger’s hook. “The suit will be waiting for you when you’re ready for it.”
She took a card from her purse. “Here. In case you change your mind about making a trade.”
The card read Indulgences Beauty Studio and listed an Abingdon address.
Not gonna happen. “All-righty!”
As the woman left and I hung the suit in the atelier, I thought about what she’d said about Sandra and Mr. Talbot hanging around outside their classrooms while they were supposed to have been teaching. While I didn’t doubt Mr. Kramer had seen them together on that one occasion, would school officials truly turn a blind eye if they were aware of negligent behavior happening on a regular basis? How were the students expected to learn without a teacher? If it were true that Sandra was inattentive to her students in favor of a tryst, then I could see why some of the parents didn’t like her.
{ }
Chapter Fifteen
I
walked over to Delightful Home to speak with Connie; but since she had customers, I wandered over to her essential oil display. A new blend called Affinity was prominently displayed. Opening the tester bottle, I inhaled the fragrance and detected notes of lavender, bergamot, and some others I couldn’t identify. It was a lovely, calming scent, so I took a bottle to the register.
“I love this new blend,” I said to Connie.
“So do I. It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” Rather than ringing up the sale, Connie put the bottle to the side and said, “I’ll hold this for you until the end of the day. I don’t want you to miss any potential clients on my account.” To the two women browsing the shop, she said, “Amanda is the proprietress of Designs on You. She makes the most gorgeous retro-inspired clothes ever.”
I thanked Connie and told her I’d be back at the end of the day, but I found her behavior confusing. I could have bought the oil and been back at Designs on You within five minutes. But I supposed she had her reasons for—as Max would say—giving me the bum’s rush.
Max still hadn’t resurfaced, so I sat at the desk in the reception area with my sketchbook and worked on my ottoman design for Beauty and the Beast. Provided Frank could properly fit the “butt cage,” I should be able to dress the actor all in black with the exception of the ottoman itself. That piece of the equation was the challenge I was tackling today.
I decided my best course of action would be to basically make two large pillows—one for the front and one for the back tied together at the sides—to fit onto the cage contraption. Needing Frank’s advice, I called Everything Paper and asked Ella if she could send Frank to Designs on You when he got time.
“Sure,” she said. “I’m anxious to see this thing you two are dreaming up.”
With brief laugh, I told her, “I am too.”
Thinking I should find out a little more about the person who’d be wearing the costume so Frank could get started on the foundation of the ottoman, I got out the list of primary contacts Sandra Kelly had given me. Of course, her name and phone number were at the top of the page. Mrs. Berry wasn’t even listed, so I guessed she hadn’t intended to be such a crucial part of the production initially. Zoe’s name and number caught my eye, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Not only was she the person most likely to know the name of the person playing the role of ottoman, but she was the one I’d feel most comfortable talking with. I got my phone and called the number.
She answered with a hesitant, almost cautious, “Hello.”
“Hi, Zoe. It’s Amanda Tucker. I hope you don’t mind my calling. I got your number from an info sheet Ms. Kelly gave me.”
“Amanda, hi.” The relief in her voice was evident. “It’s good to hear from you. Did you have fun last night?”
“I did. Did you?”
“Oh, yeah. It was awesome.”
I heard a sharp female voice call Zoe’s name before her end of the conversation went silent. Had we been disconnected, or had Zoe simply muted the line? A glance at my screen told me the call was ongoing.
Forging ahead, I said, “I’m calling to see if you can give me any information about the person playing the ottoman. A friend is helping me design the costume, and it would help to know roughly how tall he or she is.”
“No problem. Carter Anthony is the ottoman, and he’s pretty short. I’d say—” Again, complete silence.
“If this is a bad time, we can talk about it on Monday.” I certainly didn’t want to cause trouble for her. “I’ll have to take some precise measurements anyway.”
“It’s all right,” she said. “I’m guessing he’s about five-four or five-five.”
“Who?” the shrill female voice demanded before Zoe’s line was muted again.
My anger burned. “Listen, Zoe, I know my number is in your call log now. Save it and call me any time of the day or night if you need to.”
“Yep. Thanks. And right back atcha! I’d better run. Talk to you soon.” With that, the call ended.
I sat fuming at the screen and praying Zoe would be all right. Something was definitely wrong about her situation, and I felt compelled to help her.
Connie opened the reception door. “Hi. Is this a good time?”
“It is.” I put down my phone. “Your glowing recommendation notwithstanding, those ladies who were in Delightful Home did not come check out my shop.”
“Be glad.” She placed the bottle of Affinity on my desk and took a seat on the navy chair closest to the desk. “They come in about every Saturday, take any free samples I’m handing out that day, and leave without ever having bought a thing.”
I groaned. “That’s terrible.”
“Tell me about it. That’s why I didn’t want them seeing me give you a bottle of essential oil.”
“I’m paying you for that oil,” I said firmly.
Connie’s voice hardened slightly. “You are not. You’ve been wonderful to me and to Marielle. Please accept the oil as a token of my appreciation.”
“All right. But we’re friends. You know I’ll always help you in any way I can.”
She smiled. “I do know that. And it means the world to me. I feel the same way about you.” Waving her hand, she said, “Let’s not get all mawkish, though. What are you working on today?”
As I was showing her my sketch, Frank shouted “hello” from the atelier.
“We’re in the front room,
Frank,” I called. To Connie, I said, “Here’s the genius who’s going to make this costume work.”
Frank bobbed his head from side to side, apparently amused at being called a genius. He pulled the vacant chair over to the desk. “Let’s see what you’ve got there. Hmm...what fabric are you thinking for this?”
I’d only roughed out the shape of the ottoman and hadn’t considered the fabric yet. “Since it’s an ottoman, tapestry fabric would be the best. It’s awfully expensive, though. Let’s hope I can find a remnant that will serve our purpose.”
Shaking his head, Frank said, “We don’t want to put all this work into designing this costume only to settle for whatever cheap upholstery fabric we can find. Why don’t you let me paint the fabric? I can coordinate it with the set so the ottoman matches the décor.”
“I’m impressed.” I knew Frank designed many of the beautiful cards and stationery designs sold at Everything Paper, and he was a talented artist. Still, I felt asking him to custom paint material was too big an imposition. “But I can’t ask you to do that. I’m sure it would take a lot of time, and you wouldn’t make much money by doing it.”
“I don’t care. I’m not doing it for the money. I’m doing it for the kids.” He grinned. “And for me. I haven’t had a challenge like this in ages.”
“Well, all right,” I said.
Connie chuckled. “This production is turning into a Shops on Main family affair.”
“Do you think I could come look at the sets on Monday?” Frank asked.
“I think that’d be great. Plus, I can measure Carter Anthony, the boy playing the part, and get some exact measurements for you.”
“Good. I’ll look forward to jumping in with both feet,” he said. “Even though we need to measure the kid from waist to knee to know how long the supports should be, I can still get started for the framework of the ottoman itself if you can give me the dimensions.”
“How about forty inches long—that’ll give the piece plenty of room to stick out on the sides without mowing down the other actors on the stage—fourteen inches wide, and fifteen inches from knee to floor?” I measured from my own knee to my ankle to make sure that was close. “We can always add fringe or something if we need to lengthen it, but I don’t want Carter tripping over it either.”
“Works for me.” He stood and moved the chair back in front of the window. “I hope you ladies have a wonderful weekend. I’ll see you Monday.”
As he left, Connie said, “This high school play is going to end up being as well-costumed as a Broadway musical.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I said. “By the way, do you know anything about Zoe Flannagan, our stage manager?”
“No. Why?”
“She’s a terrific girl, but Sandra Kelly confided to me that Zoe’s homelife might not be the best. I’m concerned about her.”
“I’d lost touch with Sandy until recently; but if she was anything like the young woman I knew in college, she would have done everything she could to ameliorate Zoe’s situation if she thought the girl needed her help.”
{ }
Chapter Sixteen
S
hops on Main typically closed earlier on Saturdays, and I hoped to get to Winter Garden before the farmers’ market ended. I hadn’t seen Max since this morning, but I knew that being active so much of yesterday had taken a toll on her.
When I arrived at the Down South Café, one or two of the vendors appeared to be packing up; but otherwise, the event was still in full swing. I spotted Grandpa’s table, got Jazzy’s carrier from the back seat, and hurried over to say hi.
“How’s it going?” I asked, approaching the table.
“Quite well.” He reached for the carrier, as Jazzy demanded to be let out. “It’s all right, little one, you’ll be home soon.” Although the air was crisp, he placed the carrier in the shade.
“Thanks,” I said. “Would you mind babysitting while I look around?”
“Better make it snappy. We’re supposed to close up shop in about twenty minutes.”
“Twenty minutes?” That didn’t give me much time, but I wasn’t about to waste it complaining.
I made a beeline—pun intended—for the Landon Farms Honey table. I’d heard it was delicious and wanted to get a jar. I was also able to snag a bag of apples and an embroidered tea towel during my whirlwind shopping spree.
“Looks like you did all right, Pup,” Grandpa said when I returned to his table with my arms full.
“I did. I’m going to take these things to the car, and then I’ll be back to help you gather up your things.” Holding up the bag of apples, I asked, “Won’t these taste great baked with cinnamon?”
“With a dab of whipped cream on top?”
“You bet.” I grinned. “Now that we’ve got tomorrow’s dessert figured out, we should probably think about the main course.” I went ahead and put my purchases in the car.
On my walk back to Grandpa’s table, I slowed when I heard two women discussing someone who could only be Sandra Kelly.
“My daughter was in her class and thought the world of her,” one said, “but she did say Ms. Kelly was awfully flirty, especially with Mr. Talbot.”
“What is wrong with that man?” her companion wondered. “Why in the world would he risk his beautiful wife and daughter for her?”
“Honey, that’s the million-dollar question. Maybe now that she’s dead, he’ll come to his senses.”
The pair went into the café, and I hurried to the other side of the parking lot where Grandpa had already started putting the items he hadn’t sold into his truck.
“Give me a hand with this tablecloth, would you please?” he asked.
As I picked up the cloth, I said, “You’re not returning home with much. You’ll need to bring even more stuff next week.”
“Afraid not. I was late to the party—this is the last Saturday Amy is doing the farmers’ market.” He shrugged. “I wish I’d known about it sooner, but I enjoyed today. And I’m on the vendor list to be contacted if and when Amy decides to host another event. Plus, a few people are interested in having some custom work done—enough to likely keep me busy for the next few months.”
“I’m glad. I believe you might have another helper for the play sets.” I told him about Frank wanting to attend rehearsal on Monday and how he was helping me with the ottoman costume.
“The more the merrier.” He took the folded tablecloth from me and placed it atop a box of smaller items before collapsing the table. “I like Ella, but I feel like she can probably be a bit much to deal with. It’ll do Frank good to spend a few evenings away from her.”
“I think so too.” Lowering my voice, I asked, “Were a lot of people talking about Sandra Kelly today?”
“Not to me. Why?”
I relayed the conversation I’d overheard.
“I’ve heard the kids joking around about Ms. Kelly and Mr. Talbot while working on the sets,” he said. “I didn’t know the man was married though.”
“I didn’t either until Ella mentioned it. She indicated that infidelity with Mr. Talbot was the reason Ms. Kelly’s marriage broke up. But, in the end, Mr. Talbot decided to save his marriage.” I frowned. “I guess I just imagined that if the two of them were flirting as much as everyone said, things had ultimately not worked out with his wife.”
“I’d have thought if Mr. Talbot had wanted to rebuild his marriage, he’d have taken a job somewhere else,” Grandpa said.
We finalized our plans for lunch the next day, and I took Jazzy and left. I decided to see if I could find a yearbook for Winter Garden High online. If not, I could try to find one on Monday. But the women I’d heard talking had spoken about how foolish Mr. Talbot was to risk his family over Sandra Kelly. And while I wholeheartedly agreed, I wondered what was so special about him that Sandra would destroy her marriage over him and then engage with him again after he’d already rejected her.
JAZZY WAS THRILLED to be out of her carrier at l
ast. I was afraid she might pout at me all evening, but after a can of her favorite food, I was forgiven.
Grandpa bowed out of the afternoon’s play rehearsal. He had promised to call the numbers out at the Bingo game at church that evening.
Not many people did show up at the school. Mrs. Berry busied herself with the few actors who’d arrived, and Zoe came to the backstage corner where I’d set up a portable sewing machine, ironing board, and privacy screen.
“Hi,” she said. “How sad are we that we actually showed up here on a Saturday?”
“Pretty sad,” I admitted. “Is your mom working?”
“Yeah.”
“Did I get you in trouble with her earlier?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Nah, she was just being loud. That’s why I kept muting her.”
“The joke you made about—”
“About her drinking,” she interrupted. “That was dumb of me to say.”
“I know you were kidding. But if she needs help or you need help, I’m here.”
“And I’m here, if you need help.” She grinned. “That’s why I’m back here—to see if you need any help.”
After thirty minutes, Mrs. Berry called off the practice and said she’d see us all on Monday. I offered Zoe a ride home, but she declined, saying she was going to a friend’s house. Once again, I wished she’d trust me with whatever was going on in her life.
JASON WAS BRINGING a pizza over later, and we were going to watch a movie. After such a stressful week, we’d agreed a night in would be ideal. I didn’t know whether or not it would turn into the movie marathon date I’d hoped for—I’d likely need caffeine to keep from conking out during the first one—but I was definitely looking forward to cuddling on the sofa with Jason.
Inspiration struck, and I called to see if he wanted to bring Rascal with him. That way, he could stay longer and give Rascal more attention. Win/win in my book.
“You’re the sweetest girl in the world,” he said, “but I was just about to call you.”
