Dangerous Alterations (30 page)

It was the same argument Tori had played out in her thoughts throughout the day. When she’d shelved, she’d thought of Mr. Downing’s flower book and the insidiousness of what Lynn had done when she set out to frame her philandering pharmacist husband. When she’d been reading fairy tales to a group of preschoolers in the newly reopened children’s room, she couldn’t help but feel as if Lynn had been cheated of her chance to meet the Prince Charming she surely deserved.

Either way, the situation as it played out had left her feeling blue and in dire need of a little solitude before her own Prince Charming finally returned.

Tossing her keys onto the table beside the front door, Tori wandered into her living room and plopped into the plaid armchair she’d purchased shortly after arriving in Sweet Briar. In the nearly two years since her arrival, the chair had become her place to think, to read, and to sew—all activities that afforded an opportunity to take a breath and start fresh.

Something Lynn Calder will never be able to do again.

Shaking her head free of the thought, she looked around for something, anything, that could take her mind off everything that had happened. Her To Be Read pile teetered on the corner of the end table to her left, a potpourri of mysteries, romances, and women’s fiction novels just waiting to be devoured. But to read, she needed to focus. A tall order when every little thing brought her back to the image of Lynn Calder being led away in handcuffs.

She pushed off her chair and wandered into the sewing alcove she’d created in a far corner, the depth and width of the area leaving little room for anything besides her sewing machine and a gooseneck lamp. The wooden sewing box Leona had given her after the Tiffany Ann Gilbert fiasco sat exactly where she’d left it when she got home from bringing the initial packet of pictures to Lynn in the wake of Monday night’s sewing circle meeting. Beside the box was her latest contribution to the circle’s current group project.

“So much for making comfort pillows,” she mumbled under her breath as she grabbed hold of the soft pink covered pillow and tossed it onto the couch. “Our intended recipient has shown a preference for stripes.”

A knock at her front door was followed by the sound of Margaret Louise’s voice in the foyer. “Victoria? Are you home?”

“Perhaps you should have waited to see if she came to the door,” Leona reprimanded. “If she’s home, she’ll answer. If she’s not, she won’t.”

“Leona is right. Maybe we should just wait and—”

“Oh, move out of my way, Beatrice.” Rose’s voice, shaky yet firm, preceded her frail body into the living room. “When loved ones are worried, they get a special pass. And I’m worried.”

And, just like that, the distraction she needed to get back on track stepped into her line of vision.

“There’s no need to worry, Rose, I’m right here.” She lifted her hand and waved as, one by one, her friends filed into the room.

Rose.

Leona.

Margaret Louise.

Beatrice.

Melissa.

Dixie.

And Georgina, carrying a large plastic bin.

Tori looked around at the crew as they distributed themselves around her living room in record fashion. “I’m sorry, but is there a sewing circle meeting I wasn’t aware of?”

Dixie gestured around the room. “Where’s the rocking chairs?”

“I’ll get ’em.” Margaret Louise disappeared down the hallway, the door opening and shutting in her wake. Seconds later, the sound repeated and she strode into the room carrying both rockers from the front porch. She set one down behind Dixie and the other behind Rose. “There you go, you’re all set.”

Leona sat down primly on the edge of the plaid armchair and crossed her legs. “So what’s this I hear about Lynn executing a nearly flawless attack on that buffoon she was married to?”

Georgina set the container beside Dixie’s rocker then made her way over to the couch. “Lynn Calder killed Victoria’s ex and then tried to frame her husband for the murder. Her plan was to have him locked up and then use all of Vera Calder’s inheritance money to survive while he was in prison.”

Leona’s eyebrows arched. “It’s a shame she got caught.”

Beatrice gasped. “She killed someone, Leona.”

“Technically, yes, but think of all the innocent women out there she saved from heartache at Jeff’s hands.”

“Aunt Leona, stop,” Melissa chided.

“And the one she lined up to take the fall for it? He was just as bad, worse, even.” Leona bent her fingers at the knuckles and studied her fingernails closely. “Frankly, I think that woman should have gotten a prize for her efforts, not jail.”

Tori met Margaret Louise’s eye across the room, tried her best to gauge the extent of everyone’s knowledge, but it was no use.

“I turned her in,” she finally admitted.

Leona peered at Tori over the top of her glasses. “Why on God’s green earth would you have done such a thing?”

“Because it was the right thing to do.” Margaret Louise closed the gap between the rocking chairs and the sewing alcove in several quick steps.

“Was Jeff right when he broke Victoria’s heart?” Leona asked.

“Of course not,” Debbie answered. “He was awful for doing that.”

“Was Garrett right when he took up with that little hussy in plain sight of his wife?”

“No,” Dixie chimed in. “Of course not.”

“Then from what I can see, Lynn Calder took care of business, that’s all.”

Georgina sat forward on the couch. “Do you want to know something, Leona?”

Leona flicked a bored hand in the air.

“I spoke with Mrs. Calder this morning.”

Tori took two steps toward the couch and then sat on the floor, waiting.

“Do you know what she told me?” Georgina prompted.

Heads shook around the room as all eyes focused on the town’s mayor.

“She told me she was wrong. That just because something awful was done to her didn’t mean she was justified in doing something awful in return.” Georgina turned and smiled at Tori. “She said you taught her that.”

She blinked against the sudden stinging sensation in her eyes. “She did?” she whispered.

Georgina nodded.

Suddenly, the weight she’d carried around all day dissipated, leaving her as close to content as possible at that very moment. “That helps. Thank you, Georgina.”

The first few notes of a popular emergency room drama sprang from Georgina’s pocket, earning the mayor more than her fair share of curious looks. “Excuse me, that’s the hospital.” Jumping to her feet, Georgina escaped into the kitchen.

“I know what song she has for you, Beatrice,” Margaret Louise teased. “I was eatin’ dinner with her today when you called.”

The nanny sat forward in her chair, anticipation etched across her every facial feature. “Is it ‘Lady’?”

Margaret Louise shook her head.

“ ‘Islands in the Stream’?” Beatrice asked, breathless.

“Nope, not that, either.”

“Oooh, what? What?”

“ ‘Spoonful of Sugar’.”

Beatrice made a face. “ ‘Spoonful of Sugar’?”

Dixie laughed. “That’s perfect!”

“Perfect?” Beatrice echoed.

“You’re a nanny, aren’t you, dear?” Leona mused in a voice dripping with boredom. “It’s a perfectly logical choice.”

Georgina swept back into the room bringing all further discussion on the matter to a crashing halt. “That was the hospital. I have an appointment for us to drop off the comfort pillows on Saturday morning.”

“But Lynn is in jail.” Tori rocked back on her feet, hugging her knees to her chest. “What good are they going to do now?”

“We made forty, Victoria, remember? We may have undertaken the project
because
of Lynn but the pillows we made were for women
like
her. Women who battle the effects of breast cancer day in and day out.”

Because of Lynn.

A plan formed in her head. “Do you think we could donate them in honor of Lynn? As a tribute to the strong woman she was before … well, you know.”

Georgina smiled. “I think that’s a fine idea, Victoria.”

“So do I,” Rose agreed.

She exhaled a burst of air through her lips, grateful that the drama of the past few weeks was finally behind them all. “Can I tell all of you something?”

“Of course,” Melissa answered, as all but Leona nodded. “You can tell us anything. Always.”

Tori studied Leona, the familiar tug of curiosity distracting her momentarily as she tried to figure out what the woman was doing hunched over in the chair. But, in the end, she simply pulled her left hand from around her legs and stared down at her empty ring finger. “I’m going to say yes.”

“Hallelujah,” whooped Margaret Louise as hands clapped around the room. “It’s ’bout time, ain’t it, ladies?”

“Oh, Victoria, that’s wonderful news. Colby and the kids are going to be so—”

A muffled, yet familiar jingle emerged from Georgina’s pocket, cutting Debbie off mid-sentence.

“Here comes Peter Cottontail, hopping down the bunny trail, hippity, hoppity …”

Georgina’s face drained of all color as she scrambled to retrieve her phone from the depths of her trouser pocket. Without so much as a glance at the screen, she pointed an accusing finger in the direction of the white-knuckled woman holding court in the plaid armchair. “Leee-ona!”