Thread on Arrival (16 page)

He blew out a breath. “It shouldn’t bother me after all this time. We’ve been divorced for over a year.”

“Too bad hurt feelings don’t come with expiration dates,” I said. “Some wounds take a long time to heal.”

“Sounds like you know what you’re talking about.”

“I do. When I first came to Tallulah Falls about six months ago, I was nursing a broken heart over a guy who’d dumped me a year earlier. He wanted me back not too long ago, and I’d grown so much since we’d been together that I wondered what I ever saw in him in the first place.” I shrugged. “That revelation combined with finding someone far better for me . . . and
to
me . . . has made me a much happier person.”

“I’m glad for you.” He sounded sincere.

“Thank you,” I said. “I hope that happens for you sooner rather than later.”

He smiled ruefully. “That’d be nice. I cared for Susan for so long, I don’t know what it would be like to have feelings for anyone else.”

Chapter Seventee
n

A
ngus and I got to the Seven-Year Stitch with five minutes to spare. I unlocked the door and flipped on the lights before rushing to the office to stow my purse and the tote bag containing the Fabergé egg cross-stitch project. I hung up my jacket and went back into the shop to ensure all the bins were adequately stocked.

My first customer came in about ten minutes later. After that, business was sporadic enough that I had plenty of time to work on Mom’s Easter present. Sporadic business was often par for the course on sunny days. People preferred to be out enjoying the weather. They were more likely to come into the shop to stock up on supplies when it was cold and/or rainy, and they were preparing to settle in at home and work on their needlecrafts for a few days.

Angus picked up the toy Ted had brought him the day before. The peanut butter was almost gone from inside it, but Angus still enjoyed chewing on the toy. He took it and stretched out by the window in the sunshine. I sat in the sit-and-stitch square and worked on Mom’s Easter egg.

I was already imagining how I was going to embellish the egg after I’d completed the cross-stitch work. I was going to use a thin ribbon in a metallic silver to make a lattice pattern over the egg. Within each of the diamonds created by the lattice work, I’d put a small pink ribbon rose bud. I’d then decorate the lattice with clear beads and maybe small faux diamonds. I was eager to finish the cross-stitching so I could get to the embellishment phase of the project.

My cell phone rang. I was so concentrated on Mom that I expected it to be her calling. Instead it was Ted.

“Hey, sweetheart. I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to come by for lunch today,” he said.

“That’s all right. You don’t have to feel obligated to have lunch with me every day.”

“I realize I don’t
have
to, but it’s become the highlight of my workday.”

“Mine too,” I said. “Angus and I will miss you.”

Angus looked up from his toy chewing as if to acknowledge his agreement.

“May I buy you dinner before I go to class this evening?” I asked.

“Sure, that’d be great. Would you like for me to pick you up there at the shop or meet you at your place?” he asked.

“My place, please. I don’t think there are many restaurants around here that would accommodate our furry friend.”

“I know of only one,” he said.

“Captain Moe’s,” we said in unison, sharing a laugh.

“But I think it would be best to keep a certain puppy to his established routine,” I said.

“I guess you’re right. ’Til then, Inch-High.”

“’Til then . . . Tall-Dark.”

Ted laughed. “That’s new.”

“Not my best effort,” I said. “I’ll have to work on it.”

* * *

At around two o’clock that afternoon, I had a customer come in and buy ten skeins of lemon yellow yarn. I’d gone into the storeroom to get enough of the yarn to restock the bin when I heard someone come in the front door.

“Hi, there!” I called. “I’ll be right with you!”

“Okay! This is a lovely dog you have!” a woman replied. Then in a falsetto to Angus, she said, “Yes, you are. You’re a pretty dog. And, oh, what a sweetie pie you are!”

When I walked back out into the shop with the yarn, the customer was on her knees in front of Angus in the sit-and-stitch square with her arms wrapped around his neck. He was licking her ear.

“Oh, goodness,” I said. “He’ll get hair all over you. He’s shedding like crazy right now.”

“He’s fine,” she said. “A little dog hair isn’t going to hurt me any.”

“I do have a lint roller on the counter. You’re more than welcome to use it,” I said. “Let me restock this yarn, and I’ll be right with you.”

“That’s a nice, bright color,” the customer said, moving onto the sofa. She was a thin woman of average height—taller than I—and she had light gray hair that was cut to frame her face. She wore jeans and a green plaid shirt, and if I’d had to choose one adjective with which to describe her in the moment we’d met, I’d have said “sweet.” The woman simply radiated kindness.

I restocked the yarn and returned to the sit-and-stitch square. “I’m Marcy, by the way. Welcome to the Seven-Year Stitch.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Marcy. I’m Christine. I don’t know how I’ve missed finding your shop before now. It’s absolutely charming.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you found us,” I said. “And you are too, aren’t you, Angus?”

Angus wagged his tail . . . which was what he was doing even before I asked the question, but I reasoned that he wouldn’t be wagging his tail if he wasn’t glad.

“Angus,” Christine said with a smile. “Did you have him with you when you got your oil changed this morning?”

“No. I left him at home. I’d gone to see Riley Kendall and her baby, and I don’t think Riley is ready to introduce Laura to Angus yet.” I frowned slightly. “How did you know . . . ? Are you Jared Willoughby’s mom?”

“I sure am. He brought me your card when he came by for lunch today, and I told him, ‘I have to get over there.’” She laughed. “I knew you must not have had Angus with you when you were at the garage or else Jared would’ve mentioned him. He did enjoy meeting you.”

I drew my brows together. “If he truly did enjoy meeting me, then I’m surprised.”

“He told me you asked about Susan,” she said.

I nodded. “She’s in a candlewick embroidery class I teach on Tuesday evenings.”

It was Christine’s turn to frown. “Susan is taking an embroidery class? That doesn’t sound like the Susan
I
know. How is she doing in the class?”

“Well, the class has only met once.” I grinned. “I’ll keep you posted.”

Christine still looked confused about her former daughter-in-law enrolling in my class, so I added, “Maybe Susan is taking the class to support her friend, Mary Cantor.”

She sat back against the sofa cushions. “That explains it.” Like her son had done this morning, Christine’s face hardened.

“You don’t like Mary?” I asked.

“I don’t even know Mary. I only know that once Susan met her and then set her cap for Mary’s husband, she was done with Jared.”

My jaw dropped.

Christine smiled wryly at my stunned expression, her face softening slightly. “I sort of doubt Mary knows the real reason for Susan’s friendship with her either.”

“Do you think Adam and Susan are having an affair?” I asked.

“I don’t know.”

“But Adam has the reputation of having a bad temper and . . .”

“Of mistreating his wife and daughter,” Christine supplied.

“Well, yes,” I said. “And Susan
knows
that.”

“She doesn’t care,” Christine said. “Susan wants what Susan wants. The only thing that frightens me is that she’ll give up on Adam and go running back to Jared . . . only to end up breaking his heart all over again.”

“I hope she doesn’t. He deserves so much better than that.”

“I agree. He told me you’d been through a rough situation too and that you’d given him a pep talk,” she said. “Thank you for that.”

“You’re welcome,” I said. “Once he finds the right girl, all the pieces will fall into place. He’ll realize Susan never really was the one for him.”

“Well, between you, me, and Angus, I’m rather disappointed that you found your Mr. Right. You’d make me the perfect daughter-in-law: you love dogs, you have this cool shop where I could get a discount on all my knitting supplies, and you’re easy to talk with.”

I laughed. “You’re easy to talk with yourself. And since your son was nice enough to work me in on the spur of the moment for my oil change, I’ll give you the one-day pretend daughter-in-law discount pass of twenty percent off your entire purchase. How’s that?”

“I should refuse your generous offer,” Christine said, with a grin. “And I would, except for one thing.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“For just today, I want to have a daughter-in-law who makes me proud . . . even if she is only pretend. I couldn’t possibly pass that up.”

When she said that, she nearly made me cry. What’s more, I began to see Susan in an even more negative light than I had when I’d left Riley’s office that morning.

* * *

Even on busy days there was generally a lull around three o’clock in the afternoon. I attributed this phenomenon to the fact that school was dismissed at around that time and that many of my patrons either picked up their children from school or made sure they were home when their children got there. Since I hadn’t lived in Tallulah Falls a full year yet—I’d arrived here the previous fall—I hadn’t been able to determine whether the three o’clock lull occurred during summer break or not. It would be interesting to see.

Regardless, I used today’s break as an opportunity to call Mom.

“Congratulations, love,” she told me. “J.T. called me last night and is psyched about this new project. I understand it’s been upgraded from documentary to reality show.”

“Yeah . . . how about that?”

“You don’t sound terribly excited about this opportunity. J.T. tells me he’s grooming you for a recurring role as an expert in all things textile and embroidery related. Think of what a boon that would be for the Seven-Year Stitch.” She paused. “Is that it, darling? Are you nervous about appearing on-screen?”

“A little,” I confessed.

“Don’t let that stress you out. I’m already planning on doing your outfits myself. You’ll look stunning. And then all you have to do is be yourself and let your personality shine through.”

“I appreciate that you’re willing to coordinate my costumes—I mean, outfits. I really do. It’s just that I’m beginning to worry about the impact the show could have on our quaint town.”

“That’s nothing to be concerned about either,” she said. “From what I’ve gathered from J.T., there’s only so much ground that can be covered in Tallulah Falls. Then they’ll spread out through the rest of the coastline and, eventually, the state. Trust me, they’ll be intent on getting in, getting the footage they need, and getting on out.”

“You don’t expect the film crew to be too intrusive then?” I asked.

“Not at all. The reason reality shows are currently popular with television executives is because they’re easily and cheaply made. And I’d say that within a couple months, they can get enough material to last for an entire season.”

“I never thought of it that way.”

“I know the show isn’t the only thing on your mind, though,” Mom said. “What else has you so pensive? Is it the Cantor murder?”

“That’s a large part of what’s bothering me, but a new wrinkle has been added to that story just today.” I explained about Riley’s animosity toward Susan, my oil change at Susan’s ex-husband’s garage, and Jared’s mom’s visit. “Riley and Jared’s mom paint a very different picture of Susan Willoughby from the one I had. Now I’m wondering if Susan is a whacked-out seductress or the devoted friend I’d imagined her to be.”

“My money is on the whacked-out seductress,” Mom said.

“You honestly think she’d leave Jared, who appeared to be a really nice guy who’d been devoted to her, for
Adam
?” I asked. “Granted, Adam’s good looks might’ve turned her head momentarily. But would she give up her loving home in the hope of running off with an alleged wife beater?”

“In a heartbeat.”

“Huh?” I asked, surprised by Mom’s quick answer and matter-of-fact tone.

“Of course, she would. Darling, I work with actors, actresses, directors, producers, and screenwriters. This sort of drama is commonplace.”

“There,”
I stressed. “In the world of Hollywood and make-believe—not here . . . not in the real world.”

“The world is the same wherever you go,” Mom said. “You have people with high standards and values as well as people with low ones no matter where you are.”

“But it makes no sense. Susan would prefer to leave a man who adores her and wants to make her happy in order to chase after one who might not even want her?” I huffed. “Can you explain that to me?”

“Sure. Didn’t you say Riley told you that Susan was mean to Jared when they were attending school together?” she asked.

I confirmed that’s what Riley had said.

“That tells me she had no love or respect for the man even then,” Mom said. “She was merely using him to either get out from under her parents’ thumb or to bide her time while waiting for someone more exciting to come along . . . or both.”

“I think a lot of us go for the ‘bad boy with the heart of gold,’ but wouldn’t Susan think better of her choice once she realized Adam was abusive to his wife and daughter?” I asked.

“Not in the least,” she said. “Susan has deluded herself into thinking that she’s not the mouse Mary is and that Adam wouldn’t treat
her
that way. Why, in her mind, he probably only treats Mary poorly because Mary deserves it. Or it’s because Adam doesn’t love Mary.”

“You really should be writing your own screenplays, Mom. You have a knack for this.”

She chuckled. “Maybe I should write a screenplay. Maybe I
shall
 . . . when I retire from costuming.” She paused. “Susan’s duplicity—if true—certainly puts a new slant on Chester Cantor’s murder, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t follow you,” I said slowly.

“It opens up a whole new world of what-ifs. What if Susan and Adam were having an affair, and Chester found out about it? What if Chester confronted Adam or Susan or Mary with his findings? What if his death had nothing to do with the tapestry after all? What if he was killed so he wouldn’t reveal someone’s secret?”