Sew Deadly (6 page)

She knew her face had to be bright red. “I’m sorry. The appointment book got misplaced somehow. It won’t happen again.”

He straightened up as a student approached. “Mr. Wentworth, look at my cream. It’s not so runny anymore.”

“I see that, Bobby. Keep shaking.” As the child returned to his gaggle of friends, the man trained his focus back on Tori. “Please. No apologies. Starting a new job is always overwhelming. A lost appointment book only makes it worse. But you were amazing just now.”

Amazing.

“I’ll be ready for you next Friday, I promise.”

He laughed, a wonderful sound that resonated from deep inside his chest. “I can’t wait to see what you call ready.”

“What will you be studying next week?” she asked, her face as warm as ever as her eyes studied him for the very first time. Milo Wentworth was tall—the top of his head a full eight inches or so above her own five foot five. His hair, a burnished brown, was cut short on the sides but left longish, and somewhat unruly, at the top—

“I’d like to tie that into an article we’ll be reading in Kids Quest about ancient architecture.”

His brown eyes were softened by flecks of amber—

“The problem is bringing it down to their level so as not to put them to sleep.”

He was talking. And she was missing the bulk of what he was saying.

Focus, Tori. Ancient architecture. Ancient architecture . . .

“Egyptian pyramids?”

“How’d you guess?” He ran a hand through his hair as dimples began to form beside his mouth. “You gonna have them build their own?”

“Maybe.” Realizing she was coming dangerously close to flirting, Tori decided to engage the dark-haired girl who was staring into her jar with big brown eyes. “You did it, Lulu. You made butter just like Laura did.”

The smile she got in response warmed her all over.

“Now go on over to Miss Morgan and you can try it out on a piece of bread.”

She watched as the little girl fairly skipped her way over to the bread line, her delight in her butter-making ability as tangible as the baby blue dress she wore. “She’s precious.”

“Lulu? Yeah, she’s a great kid. She loves books. Loves stories. But you saw—speaking in front of people is difficult for her. And unfortunately, reading aloud is even harder for her.” Milo raised his hands up in frustration. “I’ve tried everything I can think of to help her, but nothing works.”

“She talked when you sat next to her,” Tori said as her gaze traveled, once again, to the little girl who exuded a joy that was nothing short of contagious.

“But with fifteen other students I can’t sit next to her all the time.”

Without realizing what she was doing Tori placed a hand on Milo’s forearm. “Let me think on it this week. See if I can come up with any ideas to help her.”

“I’d appreciate that, Tori.” The slight rasp to the man’s voice startled her and she let her hand drop to her side.

What was she thinking? Was she that desperate to hear her name said correctly?

“I—uh—it looks like everyone’s finished, so I’d like to ask them a few questions before you leave. I’m working on a little project I think they can help with.” Tori strode across the room to the spot where the children were eating. “So how’d your butter taste?”

“Awesome!”

“Yummy!”

“Weird.”

You win some, you lose some.

“Now, before you leave, I need a little help from all of you. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” they said in unison.

She pulled a piece of paper and a pencil off the top of a nearby table and sat down. “If you could pretend to be a character from a storybook, who would you want to be?”

“Davy Crockett,” said the redhead.

“Robin Hood,” said another little boy.

“Cam Jansen,” offered a stocky girl with curly brown hair.

“Ooooh, Cam Jansen—a modern day Nancy Drew. She’s fun, isn’t she?” Tori asked. “How about some more ideas?”

She jotted down each and every name the children shared until they ran out of ideas. “Thank you so much for all your help.”

“Why did you need that stuff?” the redhead asked.

“Because I’m going to make a dress-up trunk so children who come to the library can pretend to be some of their favorite storybook characters.”

“Cool!”

Tori smiled. “I’m glad you think so. Now I think it’s time for Mr. Wentworth to get you back to school for lunch. So go home, tell your parents what you made today and why . . . and then I’ll see you here again next Friday.”

In a flash, sixteen eight-year-olds were on their feet and falling into line.

“What do we say to Miss Sinclair, boys and girls?” Milo asked.

“Thank you, Miss Sinclair!”

“You’re very welcome.” She watched as the class began filing out the door then looked down as she felt a tug on her leg.

Lulu.

“Laura Ingalls.”

Tori squatted down to eye level with the little girl. “What about Laura, sweetheart?”

“I want to dress up like
her
.”

Ahhhh.

Softly, she tapped the child on the center of the nose. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll put her on the very top of my costume-making list if you’ll read with me for a few minutes next week.”

The little girl’s body began to sway back and forth ever so gently.

“Just you and me. No one else.” Tori nudged Lulu’s chin upward until their eyes met. “Can you try? For me?”

The child’s nod was barely discernable, but it was there.

“Good.”

Tori straightened up as the child spun in a circle and fell in place at the back of the line, her black hair bobbing as she followed her classmates past their teacher and out the door.

For a long moment Milo Wentworth simply stood holding the door open, his eyes locked on Tori’s as his students waited patiently on the sidewalk. Finally he waved, his mouth forming a single word as he turned away.

A single word that looked a lot like
amazing
.

Chapter 5

If it was possible, Georgina Hayes’s home was even bigger than Debbie Calhoun’s. But what Debbie’s may have lacked in size, it more than made up for in warmth and coziness.

Tori stepped onto the freshly waxed wooden entryway flooring and waited as the housekeeper closed the door. “Miss Georgina is in the study with a few of the other women.”

Hoisting her bag higher onto her shoulder, she turned and smiled at the unassuming woman with the trademark bun and aproned dress who’d rescued the plate of chocolate chip cookies from Tori’s hand the second she’d entered the home. “Where would I find the study?”

The woman’s face reddened. “Oh I’m sorry. I just assumed you knew. I’ll—”

“It’s okay. Really. Just point me in the right direction and I’ll get myself settled while you greet the next guest.”

“Victoria! I thought that was you.” Leona came around a paneled corner, her face beaming as she waved off the housekeeper. “How are things going?”

“Great.” Tori bestowed a quick hug on the antiques shopkeeper then patted the pocket of her pants. “I brought a list of the character costumes like Rose requested.”

Leona’s soft brown eyes clouded momentarily, her voice dropping a few decibels. “You might want to hold off on that. See how the aura is first.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“She came this time.”

“Who?”

Leona’s pointed look was all the answer she needed.

Dixie Dunn.

She felt her shoulders slump, her stomach churn.

“Now don’t you worry, dear. You’ll win her over just as you’ve won everyone else over. You just need to take it—”

“A little slow, I know.” Tori opened her bag and peered inside. “At least I still have some work to do on the tassel.”

“Good.” Leona’s arm slipped inside Tori’s and gently tugged. “Now let’s be social, shall we?”

As they walked together down a long, chandelier-lit hallway, Tori couldn’t help but feel the excitement mounting inside. Sure, she was apprehensive about her first meeting with the infamous and deeply wounded Dixie Dunn, but even more than that she was simply glad to be with the group of close-knit women who had made her feel so welcome the week before.

The days since their last sewing circle had been filled with odd and frustrating mishaps from which she’d emerged—so far—fairly unscathed. But still, how many more flat tires was she expected to endure? And how many times could the boxes of old books she worked all day to remove seem to multiply tenfold overnight?

“Why don’t you two just slow down a country minute and let a slightly plump twin sister catch up.”

Leona extricated her arm from Tori’s as they turned. “Margaret Louise, we didn’t hear you.”

“Ha! I haven’t heard that many times in my life.” The woman planted a kiss on her sister’s cheek then pushed a covered plate at Tori. “This is for you. For what you’ve done.”

Tori looked a question at Leona before meeting Margaret Louise’s eyes. “What did I do?”

“Come with me—I want everyone to hear.” Margaret Louise wrapped a chubby hand around Tori’s upper arm and fairly dragged her the rest of the way to the study. They’d barely stepped a toe into the room where the sewing circle was being held when Leona’s twin bellowed their arrival. “Hello everyone, we’re here.”

Greetings ensued, followed by the claiming of chairs and appropriate lighting. Once they were all settled, Margaret Louise got straight to the reason for her hallway gratitude.

“Do you know what Victoria’s done in the span of just a few days?”

All eyes turned on the new librarian. Including those belonging to an unfamiliar woman in her seventies.

Dixie Dunn
.

Tori swallowed and shifted uncomfortably in the leather armchair she’d selected. “Margaret Louise, I—”

“On Saturday, I had Jake’s kids. He went down to Pine Grove to visit Melissa so I hosted Baking with Nana Day.”

“She’s Nana,” Leona said from her own leather-bound chair.

“So there we were, rolling out our cookie dough, when I realized one of them was missin’.”

Tori looked a question at Leona.

“One of the grandkids. Jake’s given her six.”

Tori nodded and caught back up with the one-way conversation pouring from Margaret Louise’s mouth.

“I leave the lot of them playin’ with flour and go off in search of that knee-baby of mine.”

Knee-baby?

As if she’d read her mind, Leona leaned to the side and whispered in Tori’s ear, “That means the second youngest child in a southern household. Which will have to change when Melissa has number seven.”

Good grief, she was going to need a dictionary of southern expressions before the next meeting.

“So off I go. In search of Lulu,” Margaret Louise continued.

Lulu?

Tori’s mouth dropped open.

“Do you know what she was doing when I found her?” Margaret Louise looked around the room for an answer to a question she didn’t intend anyone to answer. “She was reading. Out loud. To her stuffed animals.”

Leona’s hands clapped in the air, a smile spreading across her face like wildfire. “Oh, Margaret Louise, how wonderful!”

“What does Victoria have to do with that?” Rose asked from her perch next to Dixie.

“I’ll tell you.” Margaret Louise took a rapid inhale/ exhale and then began a tale which included Lulu’s trip to the library on Friday. As she relayed everything she’d learned from her pint-sized granddaughter and the child’s teacher, Tori felt her face grow warm with pride.

“How wonderful, Victoria.” Georgina nodded her head softly, a genuine smile playing across her lips. “That’s exactly the kind of community outreach the board is looking for—outstanding.”

A snort from the far side of the room brought an end to the jovial mood.

“The board also understands the importance of preparedness.”

Tori stared at the woman. What was she saying?

“Dixie, now is not the time,” Debbie said softly.

“Of course it’s the time. If Margaret Louise is going to paint a picture of our new librarian, it’s only fair she gives the
whole
one.”

Too stunned to speak, Tori simply waited.

“She was unprepared for Lulu’s class visit.
Unprepared
. . . as in caught completely off guard despite the fact Mr. Wentworth had a long-standing appointment.”

All eyes turned on Tori once again, questioning.

“The appointment book Nina keeps at the front desk has gone missing.” She looked down at her hands as the explanation slipped from her mouth, weak and pathetic. The plate Margaret Louise had handed her still sat in her lap, covered.

“Missing?” Dixie prodded. “How can an appointment book that has been all but nailed to that table for forty years go missing?”

How indeed.

Margaret Louise’s strapping and good-natured voice took charge once again.

“Missin’ or not, Victoria landed on her feet quite well from what I hear. Do you know those children made homemade butter just as Laura Ingalls did? Lulu was so excited about it, she insisted we make our own for the cookie recipe.” Margaret Louise looked around the room before bringing her focus squarely onto the town’s former librarian. “As we made it—and I must say all that shakin’ may have helped shed a pound or two—Lulu talked about the differences between how we get food now and how they got it then.”