Cross-Stitch Before Dying (2 page)

“You’ll get your share, buddy,” Ted said.

“Especially after Reggie gets here,” Manu added.

“I’ll grab us some paper plates, napkins, and sodas,” I said.

Ted and I usually ate in my office; but since Manu and Reggie were joining us, we’d need to dine in the sit-and-stitch square.

When Reggie arrived, I put the cardboard clock with the plastic hands on the door indicating I’d “be back” in half an hour. I didn’t lock the door, but I hoped any customer who might come by during that time would respect our desire to eat lunch uninterrupted.

As we ate, I explained about Mom’s new project and advised Reggie that Mom had requested her specifically because she did such gorgeous chikankari work. Reggie was sporting some of that white-on-white embroidery today on the fitted cuffs of her cream-colored tunic. Unlike her husband, who favored Western dress such as jeans and plaid shirts, Reggie preferred her traditional Indian attire of flowing tunics with matching pants or saris.

“I’m flattered that your mother thinks I’m good enough to be of help,” Reggie said, lowering her head in modesty and pushing her silver wire-framed glasses up on her nose.

“Good enough?” I scoffed. “She wants you to give the rest of us—including her crew in San Francisco—a crash course!”

“I’m looking forward to seeing this movie,” Manu said. “Sonam Zakaria was an incredible talent.”

“Yes, she was,” Reggie said. “But she had such extreme highs and lows in both her career and her personal life. Who will be playing her in the movie?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I didn’t think to ask Mom when I was talking with her.”

“Will you have to go to San Francisco?” Ted asked, tossing a piece of pizza crust to Angus.

“I should go at least overnight to get a feel for the designs and what Mom will need,” I said. “But most of our actual work will be done here. Reggie, I’d love for you to go with me to San Fran. How about this coming weekend? Maybe we could all go.”

“I’d like that,” Reggie said.

“Great. I’ll check to see if Mom thinks it’s a good idea. If she does, I’m sure the studio will pay for our flight, and we can stay with her. We could try to get a flight out right after work tomorrow evening and. . . .” I noticed the guys were looking at each other. And although I couldn’t read their expressions, I knew Ted well enough to realize that one or both of them would not be going to California. “What?”

“Ted and I can’t go,” Manu said. “Our robbery suspect escaped this morning.”

“Escaped? How?”

“He punched the deputy who was cuffing him, and then he got away,” Ted said. “He apparently ran through one of the shops and out the back where we think there was a car waiting.”

“You believe he had an accomplice?” I asked.

“He would have had to have,” Manu said. “He got away too easily.”

“We’re thinking he must’ve hidden in the trunk or the back floor and that his driver simply merged into the traffic and fled the scene while we were still combing the shops for our suspect,” Ted said.

“Oh, my goodness. That’s terrible.” I placed my hand over Ted’s. “I’ll call Mom back and ask her to get someone else.”

They all spoke at once.

“No, you won’t,” said Ted.

“Over my dead body,” Reggie chimed in.

“That’s not necessary,” Manu said. “We’ll catch this guy . . . hopefully before the sun sets today.”

“Still, I don’t think it’s appropriate to leave and go to San Francisco,” I said.

“It’s a perfect time to go,” Ted said. “If we don’t catch this guy, Manu and I will be working around the clock to find him. You and Reggie might as well enjoy yourselves.”

I turned to Reggie.

She shrugged. “He’s right. Let’s go. We won’t do them any good by pacing the floors and wringing our hands at home. Trust me—I’ve been there and done that.”

“Besides, somebody has to babysit.” Ted inclined his head toward Angus.

“Our men are too busy for us this weekend, Marcy,” Reggie said with a wink. “We might as well skip town.”

I smiled uncertainly. “I’ll make the arrangements.”

A
fter lunch, I called Mom. “Reggie is on board,” I said. “In fact, she and I want to visit you this weekend so we can get a better feel for the project.” I had no intention of worrying Mom with the fact that the gunman Ted had pursued this morning had escaped. I might tell her over the weekend during our visit if he hadn’t been recaptured by then, but not now.

“That’s wonderful. I was thinking of coming to you, but your coming here will be much better. You and Reggie can visit the set, meet with Henry and some of the other cast and crew members, and Reggie can show my in-house embroiderers some of her chikankari work,” she said. “When will you be here?”

“I haven’t made the travel arrangements yet—I’ll do that as soon as we’re finished talking—but we hope to leave right after work tomorrow.”

“Great. Of course, the studio will reimburse your travel expenses. You’ll be staying here with me, won’t you?” she asked.

“As if I’d stay anywhere else,” I said.

“I knew
you’d
be staying with me, but I wasn’t sure about Reggie. Do you think she’ll be comfortable here?”

“I didn’t ask her, but I believe she’ll be perfectly comfy in the guest room. By the way, Ted and I had lunch with Reggie and Manu today. The two of them knew all about Sonam Zakaria and are looking forward to seeing the finished movie.”

“That will certainly please Henry,” said Mom. “He’s been worried that a movie set in India might not play well in the United States. Naturally, I reminded him of the successful reception of
Slumdog Millionaire
.”

“Naturally,” I agreed. “Reggie and Manu wanted to know who Henry cast in the starring role, and I had to admit I have no idea.”

“Remember Babushka Tru from the sitcom
Surf Dad
? She was the youngest daughter.”

“I remember that show,” I said. “She was so cute! Didn’t she go on to play in a couple of family films?”

“She did. And then she got involved in drugs and made a mess of her life. She’s hoping this movie will be the blockbuster she needs to get back on Hollywood’s radar.”

“Is she nice?” I asked.

“I haven’t met her yet. I’m supposed to meet with Henry and the cast in the morning to discuss wardrobe.”

“Well, good luck.”

She huffed. “I might actually need it with this crew.”

•   •   •

As soon as I’d finished talking with Mom, I made travel arrangements for Reggie and me. We were going to fly out of Eugene. It would have been a little cheaper to fly out of Portland, but Eugene was closer. Besides, the studio could afford the extra couple hundred dollars we were spending on the flights, especially since we were flying in business class and saving them a bundle over what they were used to paying for first class. After making the arrangements, I sent a text to Reggie giving her the details.

A customer came in and bought several skeins each of pale pink and white yarn. Her daughter was expecting twin girls, and she was knitting blankets for them. I congratulated her and gave her fifteen percent off.

“It’ll be my gift to the babies,” I said.

“Thank you,” the woman said. “I’m sure I’ll be back in to see you soon.”

As she waved good-bye and left the store, I thought that if her daughter was anything like my friend Riley Kendall, the woman would be back in often over the next few months. I remembered how many things I’d made for Riley while she was pregnant with her daughter Laura. She’d commissioned me to embroider bibs, blankets, and even burp cloths. And I believe Riley enlisted every knitter in Tallulah Falls to knit white blankets for the child.

Riley was one of the busiest attorneys in town. When she’d gone back to work after Laura’s birth, she had simply taken the baby with her. Since Riley’s administrative assistant was her mother, the situation worked out especially well.

I was planning on calling Vera as soon as I got time, but then I looked up and saw her strolling through the door.

“You must have ESP,” I told her, as she bent down to hug Angus.

“Not ESP, dear. If anything, I have OLD. I can’t for the life of me remember how to make a Colonial knot.”

When I first met Vera, she was a rather matronly, mousy-looking woman with a husband who’d never fully appreciated her. Since his death, she’d blossomed into a confident, self-assured woman. She dressed more fashionably, had added blond highlights to her brown hair, and had become a pro at makeup application. She was in her late fifties to early sixties, but her transformation had taken at least ten years off her appearance. She’d recently begun dating Paul Samms, a reporter for the
Tallulah Falls Examiner
.

“Well, come and sit down with me, and I’ll remind you about Colonial knots . . . after I tell you my news—actually, it’s
your
news too, if you want it to be.” I took her by the arm and ushered her over to the sofa facing away from the window.

“You’d better spill before I burst,” she said, taking her seat. “At first, I thought you were going to tell me that Ted had proposed. But I don’t know what that would have to do with me.”

“It’s a little early in our relationship for that, don’t you think?”

She shrugged. “You never can tell. So what
is
your news?”

“Mom has taken a job where she’s going to need lots of embroidery help,” I said. “She’s asked me to enlist the aid of Tallulah Falls’ finest stitchers, and you’re one of the first people I thought of.”

Vera’s eyes widened. “Seriously? You’re asking
me
? I just told you I can’t even remember how to make a Colonial knot.”

“One, I’m going to refresh your memory on those Colonial knots, and you’ll be doing them like you’ve been making them all your life. Two, I doubt we’ll even have to make Colonial knots for this project. And three, you’ll get paid and might even get to visit the movie set.”

Although I knew she didn’t need the money—her parents had left her a small fortune—Vera loved prestige.

“Will we get to attend the premiere?” she asked. “With all those stars? And the paparazzi?”

“It could happen,” I said. I didn’t really have a clue. Nor did I have a desire to attend the premiere. But if Vera did, I was pretty sure Mom could pull some strings and make it happen.

Vera clasped her hands together and gazed up at the ceiling. “Paul will definitely want to do a piece on us for the paper.”

“That would be great.” I bit my lower lip. “Before we get to that Colonial knot, do you know anyone off the top of your head who could watch the shop for just a little while on Saturday? I’m going to San Francisco.”

“You’re going to San Francisco?” she asked, lowering her eyes to meet mine. “Is it about the film?”

I nodded. “The film is about a Bollywood star named Sonam Zakaria, so Reggie and I are going to visit Mom to learn what we’ll be doing. We’ll probably bring some things back with us, so we can go ahead and get started on the embroidery.”

“This is so exciting,” she said. “Will we be learning that Indian embroidery Reggie does?”

“More than likely. I’m hoping it’s similar to either candlewick embroidery or crewel . . . something everyone is already fairly familiar with.”

“So tell me more about the movie,” Vera said. “Who will we be costuming?”

“Mom said the film’s star is Babushka Tru. She was a child star and is hoping to make a comeback with this movie.”

“I remember Babs. She was that adorable preschooler from
Surf Dad
.”

“That’s her.” I tried to gently prod Vera back to answering my question. “About Saturday. . . .”

She flicked her wrist dismissively. “I can handle the shop. Don’t worry about it.”

“I can’t impose on you that way, Vera. I thought maybe you knew of some college kid or someone who could use a few extra bucks and wouldn’t mind being here for the day.”

“It’s no imposition. Thanks to you, I’m going to take part in making a movie.” She smiled. “You never know, they might even let me be an extra or something. This is so fun and exciting. I’ll be glad to watch the shop. Just show me how to work the register, and Angus and I will take it from there.”

“Well, you don’t have to stay all day. And I’ll pay you—”

“You will not,” she interrupted. “And of course, I’ll stay all day. The more people who come in, the more people I can tell I’m getting ready to work on a movie.” She grinned. “You can bring me a loaf of sourdough bread, though. There’s nothing like sourdough from San Francisco.”

“Consider it done. Thank you so much.”

“Thank you for letting me be a part of costuming stars,” she said. “By the way, does Angus need a sitter while you’re gone?”

“Nope. Ted has to work this weekend, so he’s taking care of him.”

“Have Ted bring him by the shop on Saturday morning. The pup can hang out with me while Ted is busy. Besides, the regulars would be disappointed if he wasn’t here.”

I gave Vera a quick hug. “You’re the best.”

“I know. Now hurry up and show me how to make a Colonial knot so I can go tell Paul that I’m—I mean,
we
—are in the movie business.”

•   •   •

Though I typically taught embroidery classes on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday evenings, I’d given the spring session’s Thursday slot to help a domestic abuse victims’ group learn to do cross-stitch and needlepoint. The members of that class had recently completed their projects and had moved on to beading, so my Thursdays were now free until summer. I was glad about that . . . this evening, in particular. I needed to pack, plus I wanted to enjoy some time with Ted before I left. This would be the first weekend since we began dating that we’d be apart. Sure, we’d only been together for six weeks, but still. . . .

I decided to make him a nice meal. On one of our first dates, he’d made chicken piccata for me so I thought this time I’d make him something Italian. I mentally scanned the contents of my pantry and fridge. I had all the ingredients for lasagna. Plus, I could run out to the grocery store after dropping Angus off at home and get a loaf of garlic bread and the ingredients for a tossed salad. And I knew just what to make for dessert.

What had started out as a boring, overcast Thursday had quickly become an exciting day.

•   •   •

Angus and I arrived home at around five fifteen. I let him romp in the fenced backyard while I ran back out to the grocery store. Afterward, I hurried upstairs to shower and change. Once I was dressed and had finished fussing with my hair and makeup, I went back downstairs, set the oven to preheat, and got out my favorite peanut butter cookie recipe. I hadn’t made the cookies in years, so I hoped they’d be as tasty as I remembered.

I quickly mixed the flour, brown sugar, butter, vanilla, egg, and crunchy peanut butter together and then formed the cookies on the cookie sheet. Like any experienced peanut butter cookie maker, I flattened them slightly with a confectioners’ sugar-dipped fork. Still waiting for the oven’s preheating indicator light to go off, I placed the cookie sheet on the counter and began preparing the lasagna. I was browning the ground beef and waiting for the water for the pasta to come to a boil when I heard a click telling me the oven was ready. I placed the cookie sheet into the oven and continued my lasagna preparations.

By the time the cookies were done, I was ready to layer the lasagna. I placed the cookie sheet on a wire rack and layered the lasagna ingredients into the long, rectangular pan. I placed the pan into the hot oven and set the timer.

The cookies weren’t really cool enough to eat yet, but I had to try one to make sure it would be good enough to serve to Ted. If they weren’t good, I’d planned to serve ice cream and not mention the cookies. I tried one. Oh. My. Goodness. They were so good. Warm . . . gooey . . . yummy. . . .

I opened the back door. “Angus, come here! You have
got
to try these cookies!” Sometimes it’s so great to have a best buddy on hand to share things with.

He came galloping in to oblige me. I put a cookie into his bowl and he virtually inhaled it.

I didn’t have a formal dining room, but my kitchen was huge. The cabinets were pine, and I’d found an ash square table and four chairs that matched them perfectly. My dishwasher, refrigerator, and microwave were white. And I had blue granite countertops.

For this evening’s dinner, I’d placed a light blue linen tablecloth and napkins on the table. In the center were two single silver candlesticks with white taper candles—lit, of course, after I’d let Angus go back outside. I’d sliced the bread and had it in a bread basket with a warming trivet in the bottom. A bottle of Sangiovese was chilling in an ice bucket near Ted’s place setting.

When Ted arrived at around seven, I met him at the door. I was wearing a lacy black top and white slacks.

“Wow,” he said. “Something smells wonderful.”

I playfully punched him in the arm. “You were supposed to say, ‘Wow. You look great.’”

“You
do
look great.” He smiled. “And you smell wonderful . . . and whatever you’re cooking smells terrific, and. . . .”

“Okay, that’ll do.” I stood on my tiptoes and pulled his head down to mine for a kiss. “I made lasagna and peanut butter cookies.”

“Where’s Angus?” Ted asked.

“He’s in the backyard. He’s already given his seal of approval to the cookies. I’ll save him some lasagna, and we’ll let him in after we eat,” I said. “I wanted our meal to be uninterrupted.”

He kissed me again. “I like uninterrupted.”

“I know you do.” I took his hand and led him to the kitchen.

“Any luck finding the gunman?” I asked.

He sighed and shook his head. “The night shift is following up leads. I’ll stop by there on my way home and see if they’ve dug up anything new.”

I hugged him. “I think that was the scariest thing I’d ever experienced this morning—you disappearing around the corner with that guy . . . hearing the gunshots. . . .” I shuddered.

“Let’s not think about it. I don’t want it to spoil our evening. Plus, I’m starving.”