Elizabeth Lynn Casey - Southern Sewing Circle 10 - Wedding Duress (11 page)

Tori had never been gladder to see a board meeting come to a close than she was at that moment. Sure, her budget report had been well received with only a small amount of nit-picking from the board members, but to know that such a brain-numbing task was behind her as she approached her last pre-wedding week was exhilarating.

Now, with the exception of her day-to-day tasks at the library, Tori’s complete focus could finally be the wedding. No longer would she have to shake herself from her daydreams about becoming Mrs. Milo Wentworth to punch numbers into a computer or bang her head against a wall.

Yet as she drove out of the parking lot behind the trio of board members and the handful of local residents who attended the meeting, she couldn’t help but give the nagging non-wedding thoughts their due.

First, there was the business with Leona not telling Margaret Louise about her fall. On the one hand, she knew it wasn’t her place to spill those beans—especially when she’d been sworn to secrecy. But on the other hand, she had to consider the very real possibility that Margaret Louise would be furious with Tori if she found out from anyone else.

Leona’s ultimate goal perhaps?

She did her best to shake the disturbing possibility from her thoughts but it didn’t go far.

And then there was the pesky feeling that Beatrice’s suspicions about Miss Gracie’s fall were true. Oh, how she tried to tell herself it wasn’t her problem either way, but every time she did, reality brought her back to the same thing: If she didn’t snoop around, who would?

“Concentrate on the wedding, Tori,” she muttered aloud as she came to a stop at the end of the lot. “Plan your honeymoon outfits, help make the favors, go home and call Milo.”

They were all good reasons to turn right toward home, but in the end, she turned left, her destination as foggy as her post-meeting brain.

Maybe she just needed a drive to get her head back on track . . .

Pushing on the radio, she turned the dial until she got to the eighties station and the music her older cousins had painstakingly exposed her to in the hope of shaping her musical tastes. How pleased they’d be at the wedding reception when they realized how their efforts had withstood the test of time.

The ending notes of one song led into the beginning of another and she did her best to focus on the lyrics and
the catchy beat. Yet five blocks later, she returned the car to silence.

What on earth was with her?

Why couldn’t she just relax?

They were two very good questions for which she wished she had no answers. But she did, even though they weren’t the ones she should have nine days before her wedding.

No, her preferred answers would be:
Nothing, I’m fine
, and
I’m just excited to get married to Milo.

Instead, they were:
I have to fix this thing between Margaret Louise and Leona
, and
How can I relax when Beatrice’s childhood governess might have been pushed to her death?

She headed out toward the southern edge of town, the tiny homes and cottages that had lined her view thus far giving way to the kind of homes one might find in a magazine. Georgina’s house was up ahead and to the left and allowed her thoughts to stray toward the reception for a few glorious moments. But as she cleared the mayor’s street and turned down another, her thoughts immediately returned to the whole business with her friends, especially as her travels took her past the home Debbie and her author husband shared with their two children.

If she was honest with herself, Margaret Louise wasn’t the only person in their circle who was fed up with Leona’s antics. Debbie, Dixie, Melissa, and Georgina were all showing signs of having hit a Leona-threshold, as well. It was certainly an issue that needed to be dealt with for the overall health of the sewing circle, but the breakdown between sisters was far more troubling.

She loved Margaret Louise, loved her generous spirit,
her hearty laugh, her adventurous soul, and her happy-go-lucky disposition.

But she also loved Leona for all the things the woman kept hidden just below the surface. Things like generosity, a listening ear, and the willingness to share life lessons when Tori least expected them yet needed them most.

She crossed through the next four-way stop and slowed as she approached a mailbox marked
BRADY
.

Sure enough, the home where Cynthia Marland had once worked was a far cry from the dilapidated bungalow she grew up in on the opposite side of town. Here, in place of appliances on the porch, there were Adirondack chairs grouped together on one side, and an inviting swing swaying in the night’s gentle breeze on the other. Instead of two dirty windows facing the road, there were nearly a dozen large picture windows perfect for seeing and being seen.

A pair of two-seater sports cars parked in the circular driveway hinted at the kind of furnishings and gadgets that filled the home—furnishings and gadgets Cynthia had likely only heard about from classmates growing up.

It wasn’t a lifestyle Tori needed, yet it was one she could imagine some seeing as their ultimate brass ring.

The question, though, was how difficult it would be to let go of that ring after touching it for several months . . .

Tori couldn’t imagine killing to reclaim possessions, but then again, she hadn’t grown up the way Cynthia had.

The vibration of her phone echoed against the cup holder where it resided, prompting Tori to pull alongside the curb and check the Caller ID screen.

Margaret Louise.

With a single tap of her finger, she took the call. “Good
evening, Margaret Louise, isn’t this a nice surprise? How are you?”

“I think the real question is how are you? Did you survive another meetin’ with Winston?”

“Winston and the rest of the board were fine. Nothing awful to report.”

“I got the rest of the weddin’ favors done this evenin’. Lulu helped,” Margaret Louise chuckled although the sound seemed a bit forced to Tori’s trained ear. “That’s another thing crossed off your list, Victoria. It won’t be long now, huh?”

She pulled her attention off the Bradys’ home and focused it on her friend. “I’m hearing something in your voice. Is everything okay?”

“Everything is fine. I had a nice dinner with Jake and Melissa and those grandbabies of mine and I stopped in for a visit with Mama on the way home.”

“How is Annabelle?” To anyone listening in, the question might seem rather generic, but when it came to Margaret Louise and Leona’s mother, it was far more specific than it sounded.

“The nurse on duty said Mama only took two things from the man sittin’ next to her at dinner. But he didn’t mind none. In fact, he said she could keep ’em.”

“Is this the man who they say is smitten with your mama?”

“One of ’em.”

Tori savored the first real laugh she’d had all evening then summed it up in a quick sentence for her caller. “So Leona came by her ways honestly, I see.”

“Can we not talk about my twin? She has a way of ruinin’ many of my conversations this week.”

“Oh?”

“Jake pulled me aside after dinner this evenin’ to tell me I needed to make amends with Leona. Can you imagine?
I
need to make amends with
her
?”

She seized the opening Margaret Louise’s story gave her to side with the woman’s son. “I don’t think he’s saying you’re at fault for what happened at the circle meeting, I think he’s just reminding you that Leona is your sister and family has to get past the bumps.”

“I can’t forgive her for what she did to Rose on that TV show of hers. I reckon those two will keep fightin’ until the day Rose dies, but it’s always been confined to our meetin’s . . . where there are plenty of us to step in and call Leona on her ways. But on Sunday, she did it in front of the entire county in a way that had everyone but us laughin’ at Rose!”

It was the same point she’d used as a reason to delay calling Leona back after their meeting Monday night, and for driving past her home without really stopping the next night. Yet it was a point that receded into unimportance the moment she’d learned of Leona’s accident.

Because when push came to shove, Leona mattered to Tori. And Tori knew Leona mattered to Margaret Louise.

“I talked to Rose the day after our circle meeting,” she shared as a lead-up to the news that had to come out. “I vented my frustrations over Leona’s behavior just like you’re doing with me now. And you want to know something?”

“What’s that, Victoria?”

“Rose actually defended Leona.” The sharp intake of air in her ear told her to keep going. “I could hardly believe it. In fact, I even tried to argue with Rose about it, but she was the bigger person, as always.”

“There’s no excusin’ what my twin did. No excusin’ at all.”

“I agree. I truly do. And I believe we’re all going to need to sit down with Leona when she’s well again and help her understand that what she did was wrong—”

“Well again?”

Tori paused in confusion. “Excuse me?”

“You just said we’re goin’ to need to sit down with my twin when she’s well again.”

So I did . . .

“Right now, I think Leona is dealing with too much to have us shove her face in what she did. But in a few weeks, when she’s up and moving around again, it’ll be time to talk. In the meantime, I have to agree with Jake. Leona is your sister—and my friend—no matter what she’s gone and done.”

Margaret Louise’s normally boisterous voice dropped to a tortured whisper. “Tell me, Victoria, what happened to my twin?”

Tori nestled her cheek against the seat back and gazed out the passenger side window at the Bradys’ home once again, the welcoming porch light doing little to illuminate the path of the figure exiting the door off the left side of the darkened home . . .

Jerking upright, Tori narrowed her eyes in an effort to make out any details of the figure that would confirm his or her identity, but it was difficult in the dark.

“Please, Victoria, I have to know.”

The figure slunk along the hedge line that bordered the western edge of the Bradys’ property then took off in a run toward a parked car on the other side of the road that Tori hadn’t noticed until that moment. But as she
watched, the figure looped around to the passenger side of the waiting car and yanked open the door, her identity and that of the driver visible for one illuminated moment before the occupants sped away.

“Victoria?”

“Huh? What?”

“What’s wrong with Leona?”

Leona . . .

Leona . . .

She willed herself to focus on the voice in her ear even as the image recorded by her eyes seared itself into her thoughts. “Leona fell after the meeting the other night. She fractured her hip and had to have surgery. She’s at Tom’s Creek Hospital and in a fairly decent amount of pain, but she’s being released tomorrow and she’s positively giddy at the notion of going home to Paris.”

Under different circumstances, she might have been offended by the wordless hang-up that followed her announcement, but considering she’d just witnessed Beatrice’s prime suspect sneaking out of the Bradys’ house and into her boyfriend’s car, she decided to let it slide.

Tori was just shelving the last of the returns from the overnight drop box when Georgina Hayes paraded her way through the front door and over to the information desk. Dropping a large manila envelope onto the counter, the statuesque woman pulled her trademark straw hat from her head and looked around.

“Hello, Nina. Is Victoria in her office by any chance?” Georgina nudged her chin in the direction of the envelope and then covered it with her hat. “I’ve got something I’d like to discuss with her if she is available. It shouldn’t take long.”

Tori exited the self-help aisle and winked at her assistant. “I don’t know, Nina, should I find some time to spare for our mayor?”

Georgina spun around, knocking her hat and the envelope to the floor as she did. “Oh. Victoria. I didn’t know
you were there.” The woman reached down, retrieved both items, and placed them back on the countertop. “I heard the board meeting went well last night.”

“It did.” Tori stepped through the opening in the semicircular desk area and tapped Nina on the shoulder. “If you want to take your lunch now, I’ll hold down the fort. But be sure to check the shelf below the coffeemaker first. I stopped at Debbie’s on the way in this morning and bought you a treat.”

Nina’s eyes widened with unrestrained hope. “A blueberry scone?”

“How’d you guess?” she teased.

“Mayor Hayes, if that envelope contains a list of signatures from residents demanding you institute a Victoria Sinclair Day in Sweet Briar, I’d like to add my name.” Nina vacated her stool, squeezed Tori’s hand, and then headed in the direction of their shared office across from the children’s room.

“Nina has a point, you know. Victoria Sinclair Day would be good for local businesses,” Tori joked as she claimed Nina’s stool and smiled up at her sewing circle sister. “Especially Debbie’s Bakery and Shelby’s Sweet Shoppe. In fact, in celebration of my day, it could be a rule that folks
have
to eat chocolate.”

Georgina tried her best to bite back a smile, but she wasn’t fast enough.

“Admit it, Mayor Hayes . . . you’re considering it, aren’t you?”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Georgina grabbed hold of the envelope again and came around the desk to claim the second stool. “I was hoping you might consider being a
part of the Buy Local Task Force I’m trying to get off the ground.”

“A task force, huh? That’s usually a code word for meetings,” Tori quipped, only to backtrack when Georgina’s expression fell. “I’m not saying I’m opposed to it, but there’s only eight more days until my wedding and then I’m gone for a week for my honeymoon.”

“Bless your heart, Victoria, I’m not talking about right now. I’d be a fool not to realize how busy you are. But I was hoping you might help me after you’re back home and settled in with Milo.” Georgina worked the metal clasp at the top of the envelope but stopped short of removing its contents. “And I’m not talking about five meetings a week. No, I’m talking about a meeting once a month. Tops.”

“Once a month might be doable.” She glanced toward the front door as it swung open and then waved as Lana Turner, owner of Turner’s Gifts ’N More, stepped inside. “Welcome to Sweet Briar Public Library, Lana.”

Lana’s smile widened as she acknowledged Tori and then Georgina. “Mayor Hayes, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Why? I read,” Georgina joked. “Though I will admit that my standard reading material is far less exciting than anything you’d find here.”

Tori swiveled around on her stool and positioned her hands atop the keyboard. “So what can I help you find, Lana?”

Ducking her head to the left and then the right, the platinum blonde scanned their immediate surroundings before finally reengaging eye contact with Tori. “I know I’ll
probably be stoned for admitting this out loud, but here goes. I’ve fallen behind on Colby Calhoun’s books and I really should catch up before I’m at a party and someone outs me.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” Tori pulled her hands back off the keyboard and pointed toward one of the most requested shelves in the entire library thanks to the homegrown author’s standing in the community. “I think his most recent title is still checked out, but all his others should be there.”

“Thanks, Tori.”

“Lana, could you hold on a minute?” Georgina requested as she reached into the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper with black-and-white pictures, captions, and text boxes. “I was planning to stop by your shop later this afternoon to show you the mock-up for my Buy Local brochure anyway, so showing you now will save me a trip.”

With quick hands, Georgina folded the pamphlet as it would appear to a reader and handed it to Tori. Then, reaching into the envelope a second time, she pulled out another copy and did the same for Lana. “I was hoping you both could give it a quick look and tell me your first impressions—you know, what speaks to you, what doesn’t, what might be a good addition or point to hit, that sort of thing.”

Tori set the pamphlet next to the computer and took in the whimsical font used to encourage people to keep their money in Sweet Briar. “I think this font puts an almost-too-playful aspect on the message and I’m not sure that’s what you’re really trying to do, is it?”

Georgina rested her chin on tented fingers. “Absolutely not. Encouraging folks to spend their money here, as
opposed to Tom’s Creek or Reed’s Corner, is serious business.”

“Then find a serious font.”

“While I agree with Tori, I do think you can find a font that is both serious and inviting.” Lana pointed at the picture beneath the opening title and scrunched her nose. “But this picture on the cover? It
has
to go.”

Tori studied the picture of the well-dressed man standing halfway up the steps of Brady’s Jewelry. The snapshot itself was a good one, although another round of cropping might not be such a bad idea . . .

“I could move it inside, I suppose,” Georgina mused, “but I thought it was good because you can see some of the other shop signs in the background.”

“Oooh, you’re right. I can actually make out Shelby’s Sweet Shoppe behind him, and a little bit of Calamity Books beyond that.” Tori readied her hand to move onto the inside section but looked at the picture one last time. “Yeah, I think it’s a good shot for the cover.”

“For me, this picture makes me want to toss the whole thing in the trash without reading any further.” Lana pulled her focus from the pamphlet and the offending picture and fixed it instead on Georgina. “I realize that not everyone will see this picture as hypocrisy at its finest, but
some
will. And that, right there, is reason enough to remove it entirely if you’re even remotely serious about this whole Buy Local initiative.”

Tori caught the look of shock on Georgina’s face and knew it surely mirrored her own. But it was the mayor who questioned it first. “Hypocrisy? What are you talking about, Lana? Jim Brady has kept his business in this town
despite the availability of storefronts in areas with far more foot traffic than we see in Sweet Briar.”

Lana gazed back down at the pamphlet, gave the inside and backside a precursory look, and then handed it back to the mayor with a shrug. “I’m not questioning Jim’s loyalty to this town as a business owner, Mayor Hayes. I’d be a fool to think something like that, let alone voice it.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Tori asked.

“This brochure is about keeping our money in Sweet Briar, yes?” Lana twisted the ends of her stylish bob between the fingers of her right hand then released it to point at Tori’s pamphlet in response to Georgina’s nod. “How can we expect our residents to do something the man on the front of the brochure doesn’t do? I mean, it’s like my grandfather always said, ‘If it’s good for the goose, than it’s good for the gander.’”

“Are you saying that Jim doesn’t keep his money local?” Georgina questioned. “Because if you are, you’re off base. I see Julie at Leeson’s Market almost every time I’m in there. And it wasn’t more than a week or two ago that I saw Jim coming out of
your
store, Lana, with a series of gift bags in his hand.”

“I’m not saying he doesn’t shop in town, because I know he does. But I also know he and his wife just bypassed a local company in order to patronize one overseas.”

Suddenly, Lana’s words made sense, even if they were more than a little misguided. “Normally, I’d stay out of something like this simply because I don’t feel I have enough information to weigh in,” Tori said. “But on this particular subject, I think I do.”

Turning her body to face Tori, Lana leaned her elbow
atop the counter for support. “Okay, enlighten me. Please. Because I will never understand taking work away from one of our own in order to give it to someone overseas.”

“From what I’ve heard from multiple sources, the Bradys have always hired their nannies locally. Perhaps even from the same local agency.”

“The Nanny Go Round Agency. That’s right here in Sweet Briar,” Lana confirmed. “And yes, that was my understanding about the Bradys as well. Until recently anyway.”

Tori rushed to correct the image of a family she really didn’t know. “Keep in mind that only changed because of a life-or-death situation they encountered with the last nanny from Nanny Go Round. Their kindergartener almost died on the second day of school this year because of an allergy Cynthia failed to mention to the teacher. That’s a serious screwup, Lana—one that had the potential to end that little girl’s life.”

“Wow. I didn’t realize . . .”

“And even my assistant, Nina, mentioned how inattentive this particular nanny seemed to be with the youngest Brady, too.” Tori dropped her voice to a near whisper despite the absence of any patrons at that moment. “Nannies aren’t supposed to be that way. It’s their job to be on top of everything where their employer’s children are concerned.”

“Okay. It certainly makes more sense now, but why couldn’t they just hire a different nanny from that agency? Why bring one in from another country?”

“First of all, I believe it was Julie who made that choice. At least that’s what our friend, Beatrice”—she pointed between herself and Georgina—“told me. But regardless,
I think it’s a little understandable that a parent wouldn’t want to chance their children’s well-being with another nanny from the agency where they hired Cynthia.”

Georgina slipped Lana’s pamphlet back into the envelope and stood. “In Jim and Julie’s defense, I can see why a suggestion from Beatrice Tharrington in regards to a suitable nanny would be taken seriously. Beatrice has been with the Johnson family for years now and she’s not only been a wonderful companion for their son, Luke, but she’s also been a tremendous asset to our community, helping to sew costumes for our Memorial Day parade each and every year.”

“And now that this British woman is dead, will they go back to Nanny Go Round?”

“That will be their decision, of course,” Georgina cautioned. “But if they
don’t
, I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same under similar circumstances.”

Lana shot her hands up in defeat. “Okay, okay, I stand corrected. But you have to know that if I had that impression when I saw your brochure, it’s likely others will, too.”

“And they’ll be wrong,” Georgina interjected.

“But will they be standing next to someone who can tell them that when they look at your brochure and contemplate throwing it in the trash?” Lana tapped her hand on the top of the counter and then turned toward the shelf containing Colby Calhoun’s books. “It’s something you need to think about if nothing else. In the meantime, I’m going to get caught up on my reading—which, I’m pleased to point out, is in support of a
local
author.”