by Anne Canadeo
Lucy looked ready to debate the point further.
Like a dog with a bone, Maggie thought, though she decided to keep that witty observation to herself.
Before Lucy could continue her case, the shop door opened, and Dana walked in.
“Thank goodness. Saved in the nick of time,” Maggie greeted her.
Dana answered with a puzzle look.
“Lucy wants me to get a dog. She’s absolutely . . . hounding me. Pun intended.”
“A puppy, for Charles. It would make their little home complete, don’t you think?” Lucy asked Dana.
“Please don’t gang up on me,” Maggie cut in.
Dana set her large leather tote on the table. It doubled as a purse, computer tote, and briefcase for her professional files and, often even carried knitting. She searched around the top and took out a white paper bag.
“How is Charles? How does he like retired life?”
“He’d like it a lot better with a sweet little dog, I’ll tell you that much,” Lucy muttered.
“Charles is fine. Everything is fine. Just as it is,” Maggie insisted.
Dana smiled and took a container out of the white paper bag. Her breakfast, Maggie gathered, wondering which healthy choice Dana had chosen today.
“So, as much as you worried about Charles moving in, it all worked out. And I’d bet there are some unexpected pluses?”
“Quite a few. He’s happy. I’m happy. It’s all good.” Maggie felt herself blush and pulled open a carton that was sitting on the table, suddenly fascinated to see what was inside.
Dana opened her breakfast container, then fished a plastic fork and a napkin from the bag. Avocado toast, Maggie noticed, a recent favorite.
“But no wedding date yet?” Lucy asked. “Are you any closer? I don’t mean to push, but Matt and I are thinking about summer vacation, and you know we’d never miss your big event.”
“Nothing grand,” Maggie insisted. “Just our nearest and dearest. That’s all we’ve decided so far. Don’t worry. We’ll give you all fair warning.”
Dana looked satisfied by the answer and took a bite. “I’m happy to hear it’s going so well. I knew it would.”
The carton contained another order of spring inventory. Maggie checked the invoice and counted the pastel-hued skeins. “That makes one of us.”
She was partly joking and partly not. She and Charles Mossbacher had moved in together about six months ago, soon after it seemed they’d broken off for good. Charles had not only apologized in order to get them back together but had also proposed.
He’d found a solution to their bickering over her amateur sleuthing and interference with police business; he’d decided to retire from his long career as a detective for the Essex County Police Department.
Maggie had been shocked. She’d always known he was a man of solid character, but this step had gone above and beyond, and had also shown her how important their relationship was to him. Her heart had been won over before then, but his bold gesture had made his proposal all the more sweet.
Six months later, she still wasn’t totally accustomed to calling him her fiancé, and they hadn’t yet set a wedding date. It was no secret that she’d been anxious about giving up her independence. Especially since Charles no longer went out to a job every day, one that often kept him busy around the clock. But he had many interests—working on his sailboat, classes at a local university, volunteer work—and she could always hide out in her shop when she needed a break from domestic bliss.
She had to admit their lives had blended almost seamlessly, and they were, so far, very content together. Over ten years a widow, and with her daughter gone from the house for almost that long, as well, Maggie had forgotten what it was like to share her life and her home—to talk over her little problems and triumphs, to make plans with someone special, and look forward to returning to that person at the end of the day.
As she’d often told her daughter, there were pluses and minuses to every relationship. That was just a fact. But when you found someone who loved and accepted you, just as yourself, and you loved them the same way, that was a rare gift. One you should hang on to with both hands.
She had nearly ignored her own advice and had even sent Charles away for a while. Fortunately, his cooler head had prevailed.
“It was a big change, but definitely the right one for me. I’ve been alone for so long, I forgot what it’s like to share my life with someone. Someone special, like Charles,” she added.
“Charles is special. And so are you. You’re both very lucky to have found each other.” Dana’s expression turned wistful. “I wish Holly would meet someone. The right person, whom she can rely on, someone who can help her run the business and help take care of Rose. Not that she needs protecting, but someone who’s there, watching over her. As much as I try, it’s no substitute for a life partner.”
Maggie was surprised to see Dana so emotional. Her calm temperament was rarely rattled. Maggie felt certain there was something more to her reaction. Some button that had been pushed this morning or last night?
“Very true. No substitute at all,” she agreed.
“Is something wrong, Dana?” Lucy asked. “Did something happen that got you thinking about all this?”
Dana shrugged. “I’m not sure. Maybe you can tell me if I’m getting worked up over nothing. I called Holly this morning to see if she’d called the insurance company about the fence, and she told me that strange man, Carl Thornton, had already finished the repair. He must have come back at the crack of dawn.”
Maggie was surprised. “Holly said last night she was going to tell him not to come.”
“She said she sent him a text right after we left. But he never answered it. Obviously, he was determined to do the work, whether she wanted him there or not.”
Maggie wanted to laugh at the irony—it was practically impossible to find a reliable handyman even halfway as dedicated. No less one that would come at the crack of dawn and work for free. Of course, she couldn’t point that out. Dana was truly concerned.
“How did he get the supplies so quickly?” Lucy asked. “It’s not even nine o’clock.”
“Builder’s Warehouse, up on the turnpike. It’s open twenty-four hours a day,” Maggie reminded them. “Maybe he bought what he needed last night and went back to the nursery at first light.”
“On one hand, to be so intent on repairing something he’d broken shows good character,” Dana said. “But I can’t help feeling this is some sort of trick. Or maybe he’s just . . . well, a nutjob.”
Lucy’s eyes grew wide. “Tell me I didn’t hear that. A psychologist with about twenty diplomas just used the term nutjob?”
Color rushed to Dana’s fair complexion, but she had to smile. “His behavior is inappropriate, I mean.”
Maggie shrugged and closed the carton flaps. “You’re allowed to slip up here and there. It’s just us.”
“It does seem as if he was obsessed. Or has some other agenda,” Lucy added. “Trying to make Holly think he’s honest and helpful?”
Dana wiped her fingers on the paper napkin. “That’s what I’m worried about. This morning he knocked on the door quite early and told her that the repair was done. Which I found unsettling enough. But instead of just accepting her thanks and heading on his way, he talked Holly into hiring him.”
That was a twist. Maggie understood Dana’s distress. “How did he manage that? Holly wasn’t frightened of him, but she did agree that sending him on his way was the smart thing to do.”
“I thought so, too,” Dana said. “The storm last night knocked down some big branches on her property, and he offered to clear them. It is heavy work that would be hard for her alone. She hires a few helpers this time of year, but none have started yet. Mr. Thornton does seem very . . .”
“Enterprising? Manipulative? Working the angles?” Lucy offered.
“Something like that.” Dana sighed. “I asked, in a respectful way, of course, if he gave
her any references, that sort of thing. But she brushed off the question and said it’s just for the day.”
“The next thing you’ll hear is that he talked his way into a permanent job,” Lucy said.
“Exactly,” Dana said. “Her busy season is about to hit, and he knocked on the door at the perfect moment.”
Maggie could see Dana’s distress but wasn’t sure what to do or say. “I know Carl Thornton wouldn’t be your first choice, and the circumstances are odd. But we’re probably fretting for no reason. Out of mother hen instincts or something.” Maggie hoped Dana would smile at the accusation, but she didn’t. “I think you have to trust that she knows what she’s doing. No matter what we thought of the man last night. Anyone would have looked scary standing at the door in the middle of that storm.”
Dana still didn’t seem convinced.
“What if we’d met him on a bright sunny day, without a black hood over his head? Presumably, cleaned up a bit—which I assume he did, to ask Holly for a job,” Lucy added, her imagination embellishing the scene. “He definitely would have made a better impression.”
“Lucy’s right,” Maggie said. “And she wouldn’t keep him on without some references, would she?”
“I don’t think so.” Dana’s frown softened. “But I plan to do just that—get another look at him. I told Holly I would give Rose a lift to Dr. Riley’s center this afternoon. Rose knows how to drive, but she actually doesn’t. It’s too stressful for her. I can save Holly a trip, and while I’m at the nursery, I can size up Mr. Thornton. Maybe get a better impression?” She sighed, her head tilted to one side, as she nibbled a crust of the toast.
“Good plan.” Maggie recalled how the old man had looked positively ghoulish backlit by the lightning flash. Any other impression would be a good one, she thought.
“I don’t know that it will make any difference. But it might give me some peace of mind. Holly has been running the business on her own for a long time. It’s definitely not my place to comment on who she hires to help her.”
“I’m sure you respect her boundaries. But, on the other hand, I think Holly counts on your opinion and your advice. I don’t see any harm in checking out Thornton,” Lucy told her.
“If you want a second, second opinion on Carl Thornton, I’m happy to tag along. I’d like to see where you’ve been working, too. It will help me figure out what sort of knitting lessons I should plan for a larger group there.”
Dana’s expression brightened, and Maggie knew she’d said the right thing. “Are you sure it’s no problem to leave the shop?”
“My able assistant manager will be here, holding down the fiber fort.”
“That’s why I get the big bucks, ladies.” Phoebe’s voice proceeded her, as did the clunking sound from her heavy black boots as she descended the staircase that led down from her apartment. “Though I’d call this place more of a fiber castle . . . a magical fiber castle. And I’m like the assistant magical fiber fairy.”
She appeared at the bottom of the steps—looking very much the part of an assistant fairy, Maggie thought—wearing black leggings and suede boots that reached above her knees and a flowing white peasant blouse with a long lavender vest on top. The fuzzy fringe border looked like Fun Fur. Maggie knew Phoebe had designed the piece herself, and it was a very popular pattern on her website.
Phoebe’s thick hair was gathered at the back of her head in a hairstyle she called “a sloppy bun,” and it certainly fit that description. The punky blue streak contrasted vividly with her dark tresses. Her dark eyes were lined with kohl, and large hoop earrings, the circumference easily as wide as Phoebe’s slim waist, hung nearly to her shoulders.
Hula-Hoops, Maggie called them. “You can slip those off anytime and get some exercise,” Maggie had once suggested. Phoebe, who was a good sport, had laughed at the possibility.
The Hula-Hoops were worn in addition to the many and varied piercings on her ears and nose. Maggie did not approve of pierced body parts and tattoos, but she could see how it helped some express their identity, mark themselves as unique and unconventional, in case there was any doubt.
Phoebe was all of that and more. And young enough to get away with her style choices. For now anyway.
Phoebe’s design specialty was socks—unique footwear that was actually too eye catching and amazing to be hidden under shoes and boots. A corner of the shop displayed Phoebe’s socks and other handmade items, and she also sold her wares at outdoor markets and on her website, Sox by Phoebe. But she still filled all the orders herself and was wary of spreading herself too thin and diluting her brand.
She experimented with all types of knitwear and fibers, often combining textures, colors, and stitches that Maggie would not dare to blend in her wildest dreams. And yet in Phoebe’s talented hands, the combination was practically always a great success. Maggie had long ago realized that Phoebe was far too talented to remain her assistant forever. Someday, she would spread her fiber fairy wings and move on to great heights. But for now, it was a pleasure to have the little punky sprite around, for countless reasons, the least of which was her refreshing personality and perspective.
“So that makes me the head fiber fairy?” Maggie asked.
Phoebe had ducked into the storeroom a moment ago and now emerged with a mug of mint tea. “How about queen of the fiber fairies? I like that much better.”
Lucy laughed. “You’ve always seemed majestic to me, Maggie. You just have that dignified air. I’m leaving before Phoebe decides what my title should be.”
“Ditto here.” Dana also rose from her chair, then gathered her trash and her tote bag.
“Fiber fairy friends. What else could it be?” Maggie decided. “What time should I be ready?”
“How about noon?” Dana replied. “Is that a good time for you?”
“Perfect. I have a class today that ends at noon—Spring Garden of Felt Flowers. I’ll need just a minute or two to clean up after they go.”
Dana had followed Lucy toward the door. She turned and waved. Or was that a royal flourish? “As you wish, Your Majesty,” she said.
Maggie smiled in answer. At least Dana looked more cheerful leaving than she had when she’d arrived. Even if the joke is at my expense.
She closed the door behind her friends and recalled the silent promise she’d made last night, that she would try to find some way to help the Pipers, too.
She hadn’t expected an opportunity to present itself this quickly but was glad now that she’d seized the chance. Would she and Dana be able to discern if the stranger posed any threat?
And would Holly heed a warning?
Chapter 3
There was a little traffic on Main Street at noon, but Dana easily maneuvered around it and headed for Beach Road, which led out of town and toward the nursery.
“Thanks for coming with me, Maggie. Part of me feels as if I’m being intrusive and second-guessing Holly. Another part feels as if I’m racing to her rescue.”
Maggie was amused to hear her friend admit the conflict. She usually seemed so clear and settled about things. “Maybe it’s a little of both. But safety always wins out over remaining silent, in my mind.”
“That’s a good rule. I’ll remember it . . . And I didn’t mean to broadcast Holly’s private matters, either. About dating and all that. But I know you and Lucy won’t tell anyone.”
“Of course not. I think it must be hard for Holly to get out and socialize with so many responsibilities. I can see why that concerns you, too.”
“It does,” Dana admitted. “She claims she has no time to date. But sometimes I wonder if she was traumatized by her first real relationship, with a boy she dated in high school.”
“Was it a bad breakup? That can be very hard when you’re young.”
“It was more involved than that. He was driving the night Rose was injured. A motorcycle rider was killed in the accident. George and Ava wouldn’t allow Holly to have any contact with him after that. The boy w
as eventually arrested and went to jail.”
“Holly’s been through a lot in her young life, hasn’t she?”
“Yes, she has,” Dana said quietly. “Enough to make her feel it might be safer to remain alone and unattached. Despite being lonely.”
Maggie understood why Dana hoped Holly would find someone to share her life. It would certainly set Dana’s mind at rest, but these things had to come in their own time, in their own way.
The passing scenery looked much different today than it had the night before. A bright, warm sun bathed the fields and woods with golden light, and a clear blue sky arched above. The heavy rain had washed the air clean, and the countryside looked refreshed and eager for spring.
They arrived at the Pipers, and Maggie had a clear view of the land behind the house. There were mostly acres of planting beds, with tufts of bright green leaves just starting to push through the dark soil.
“Holly said they’re working behind the house. That’s where most of the branches fell. I don’t want to be too obvious, though she’ll probably guess what I’m up to,” Dana added. “I just want to get another look at the guy. A good look. And exchange a word or two. But if I seem too nosy, Holly might be offended.”
Maggie met her glance. “It’s tricky. Let’s just play it by ear.”
Dana walked toward the back of the house, and Maggie fell into step beside her, glad she had stuck with her trusty weatherproof walkers this morning as they marched across the wet grass. The ground was muddy from the rain, but an avid gardener herself, Maggie loved the smell of damp earth, and it definitely felt good to be walking in the brisk air.
Maggie heard dogs barking outside the house this time, and the sound of wood being sawed, a sharp metal edge grating in a steady rhythm.
As they followed a path and came around to the back of the house, she saw a large square of white picket fencing and Rose’s dogs romping within. The dogs chased each other and tugged on balls and toys, generally making the most of their time outdoors. Dogs did love to play, didn’t they? It brought a smile just to watch them.
