Gone with the Wool (19 page)

“Here it is,” she said, and her son put it on. His cheeks were ruddy from the cool air. He modeled for the group, and they all gave their approval.

“Were you just talking about the store?” Kory asked. He had his mother's looks, but there was a stableness about him that reminded me of Gwen.

“Yes, and I was embarrassed to admit that I don't know much about the business end of it.”

I was surprised when Kory gave his mother that universal look of disbelief, as if asking how she could be so clueless. Crystal seemed like such a cool parent, I thought she would somehow have managed not to get that kind of treatment. “Do you mean that you don't know that Gamma has wanted to buy the building for years from the Hardcastle family? It seemed like she was going to manage it, but then something happened. That's one of the reasons I wanted this job. I thought I could help out.” He bobbed his head with pride. “It's so cool with school out this week that I could get all these hours.”

Crystal gave her son a squeeze. “You got the good genes,” she said. “You're nothing like your dad.” The rest of them didn't know what she meant, but I did. Her ex was a rock god jerk and had all the stereotypical traits that went with the title. She'd hung on as long as she could, but in the end, he'd been the one to cut the string when he went off with a younger woman. I noticed that Kory made no move to defend his father.

I watched it all with a strange feeling. I was still the only one who knew that Kory was actually the great-grandson of Edmund Delacorte, and that his grandmother, sensible Gwen, was Edmund's love child. He had definitely inherited
Edmund's love of Vista Del Mar. Once again I thought of showing Gwen the evidence I had. I could almost hear Frank telling me to leave it alone. And for the moment I was going to. There was too much on my plate.

Kory had an ease with adults that impressed me. He worked his way around the table, checking out everyone's work. When he got to Scott, he stopped.

“High five,” he said, holding out his hand. “I knit, too.” He seemed unusually comfortable in his skin for a kid of around fifteen, even though he looked gangly, like he still had to grow into his body. When he got back to the front of the room, he looked in my direction. “I just want you to know that the guys on the team don't think it was your muffins that made them sick. Those pumpkin ones were really good.”

I was going to correct him, as the ones I'd brought to the dinner had been corn muffins, but he was already on his way out. “Back to work,” he said, sounding upbeat. “I'm on garbage detail.”

“Love that kid,” Crystal said when he'd gone out the door. I could certainly see why.

When the workshop ended, Crystal and Wanda were done for the day and headed off. The retreaters took a few minutes to freshen up before meeting outside the Lodge. The small bus was just pulling in. I was hoping the late-afternoon activity would be more successful than the play the night before.

“A street fair, how fun. This is the best retreat,” Bree said as she got on the bus with a woman wearing an almost identical outfit. If I was naming looks, I'd call it “mother with young kids.” The jeans and hoodies with school names on them seemed comfortable and worked for a lot of different activities.

Olivia stopped as she passed me. “I agree with Bree. The retreats where we didn't leave the grounds of Vista Del Mar were wonderful, but taking part in all the Butterfly Week festivities is different and fun.” More retreaters passed me,
and they all had the same excited look. Scott took up the end of the line.

He seemed a little less enthusiastic—he said he liked the escape of spending the whole retreat away from it all. Lucinda and I got on the bus last and took the front seat. “I am absolutely not stopping by the Blue Door while we're in town,” she said.

The sun had made another appearance as the afternoon waned. The bus let us off at the edge of downtown, near the post office.

“They've done so much since this morning,” I said to the group, amazed at the transformation of the downtown area. The whole parklike center of Grand Street was filled with little white tents. Strings of lights hung from the trees, and giant monarchs were suspended from the tree limbs.

The plan was that the retreaters were free to wander as they pleased until it was time to meet back at the bus. They all took off, including Lucinda, leaving me to check things out on my own. Traffic had been blocked on Grand Street, so I walked along the pavement, curious about the little tents. The fronts were open, and I saw that there were little booths with games and crafts. I noticed something else—there was a young woman wearing a crown working in each of them. Another of the princess tasks the contestants were being judged on, no doubt. Sure enough, I saw Cora and Madeleine with a few other people walking along the street, making stops on the way. Several of them had clipboards. I continued on behind the committee, wondering what kind of booth Chloe had been given.

I laughed to myself when I saw it. Whoever had done the planning had picked the perfect one for her. The sign above it promised face painting and temporary tattoos, and a line
of kids was waiting. Chloe was definitely a good advertisement for it. Her orange hair stood out, and she wore a barely there skirt that made me hope she wouldn't have to bend over for anything. Her fleece jacket was open, and I caught a glimpse of something red and shimmery. Her own face had butterflies painted on the checks. A teenage girl was sitting inside the booth, sheltered by the enclosure. She'd taken off her jacket, and Chloe was applying the tattoo stickers on her arms. Her face had already been made up to look like a cat.

I stood for a moment, watching, until I sensed someone next to me. When I turned, I realized it was Lieutenant Borgnine.

“Thinking of getting your face painted?” I said, noting that his gaze was glued to Chloe. That nonsense about me being a suspect was probably just a bluff to scare me off. He was clearly still focusing on her, and I was probably right that someone had told him not to arrest her during this important week in Cadbury.

“Very funny, Ms. Feldstein. I'm not here for fun. I'm just keeping an eye on things.” He turned to face me. “What about you? Are you here for fun?”

“Of course,” I said. I had the uneasy feeling that he'd read my mind and knew that I had already planned to make use of my time at the fair to check out a few things.

I waited for him to walk away and then moved closer to the booth. Chloe looked up from her work. “Here to check up on how I'm doing?” Her tone had an edge, but I was beginning to accept that was just how she talked, and I didn't take it personally. She handed the girl a mirror to see herself as she talked. “The two sisters and their mothball committee have already been by.” Chloe gave a triumphant smile. “Let them
put this on their stuffy old clipboard.” She gestured with her elbow to the line of people waiting for her booth.

I felt for Dane. Hard as he tried to soften Chloe's edges, it wasn't going to happen. Before I could mention Lieutenant Borgnine's presence, she brought it up. “And I don't know what Lieutenant Rumpled Jacket thinks he's going to see, hanging around staring at me all the time.”

I let her talk and didn't bring up my theory that he was keeping an eye on her for now and probably planned to pounce on her after Butterfly Week ended. No doubt he was sure that she wouldn't be made queen.

“Look who's here,” a woman said from over my shoulder. I recognized the voice and turned, putting on a smile. Sammy's parents had stopped on the grass behind me.

I greeted them with a hello, but Estelle grabbed me in a hug. “You're just about family,” she said. She turned to Bernard. “Aren't you going to hug your almost-daughter-in-law?” He looked cranky but gave me an awkward hug.

Chloe observed the whole thing and gave me a dirty look. “I'm not going to tell my brother about that.” She used her elbow again to point. A new girl was in the seat, and Chloe was holding a paintbrush, ready to start. “My brother is a good guy, and I think you're just a tease.”

Sammy's parents heard what she said and gave me dirty looks in unison. Estelle looped her arm in mine and started to walk, pulling me with her. “Young lady, we need to talk.”

Young lady? Wasn't that reserved for thirteen-year-old girls?

We walked on, with Bernard trailing a few steps behind. She stopped when we reached the next booth. Crystal's daughter, Marcy, was the princess in charge of this one. There were
some folding chairs inside, along with a small table. The sign hanging off the front announced
MAKE AND TAKE
. Several of the seats were taken, and I saw a lot of glitter, construction paper and pipe cleaners.

While I waited for the inevitable lecture from Estelle, Coach Gary strolled by, wearing his Lord of the Butterfly wings, black hood and antennas. He held out a fistful of strips of blue tickets toward us. “Get your tickets! All the money goes to support the Monarch Sanctuary and the exhibit at the museum. Have some fun, help the butterflies.”

“Sammy's not here now, so you can tell us what's really going on,” Estelle said, ignoring Coach Gary. That was a pretty open-ended statement, and I wasn't sure how to answer.

“What do you mean?” I asked. Estelle's expression said she saw right through my question.

The strings of lights hanging between the trees blinked on, giving the whole area a charming look, and Estelle pointed ahead to the next booth. The princess in charge was dispensing hot drinks and donuts. A sprinkling of chairs sat out front.

I had no choice but to agree to go along. Estelle grabbed some chairs and told Bernard to get us all drinks. Bernard came back a moment later with a crankier expression.

“What kind of nonsense? They won't take cash. She said we need some kind of tickets.”

I pointed out Coach Gary, and Sammy's dad went to flag him down. “Men in butterfly wings,” he muttered when he returned, shaking his head at the absurdity.

I was glad for the delay, as it gave me time to think, but finally the three of us sat facing one another, each with a cup of hot cider and a donut with orange frosting.

“Sammy is a grown man, and he needs to be able to live
where he wants and do what he wants,” I said. “Like follow a hobby if it makes him happy. You need to let him make his own choices.” I covered up my emotions by taking a sip of the spicy cider. I felt good about what I'd said. It was all true, and I hadn't made any false claims about our relationship. I should have known they wouldn't just accept it.

“We are not going to just stand by and watch Sammy throw away his career,” Bernard said.

“He's not throwing away his career. People around here need a urologist,” I said, and Estelle rolled her eyes in annoyance.

“We heard that your baking career is on the skids,” she said. “Something about some of your muffins poisoning some kids? Both of you are being ridiculous. I don't know why Sammy is the way he is about you, but I can't change that. We know Sammy isn't the problem about a wedding.” She paused to let it sink in and looked at the donut, making a face at the sweet icing. She shook her head and pushed it back over to her husband.

I couldn't help it—I just lost it. “Where did you hear that about the muffins? It isn't true. There's no way some corn muffins could have given anyone food poisoning.”

Estelle looked at her husband. “Bernard, honey, where did we hear that?”

He thought for a moment. “It was in that coffee place. Someone came in and was buying a bunch of muffins, and a person in line mentioned they'd been baked by Casey and hadn't they heard about some people getting sick.”

“I thought that was over with,” I said, mostly to myself. Then thinking out loud, I muttered, “I'm going to have to find out what really happened.” I spoke directly to them. “My
baking career isn't on the skids. There was a temporary dip, but that's all. Why can't you let Sammy and me decide about our own happiness?”

I set the drink and donut down and left in a huff. Did they think their behavior was making me want them as in-laws?

They had gotten me riled, and I needed to calm down in order to deal with everything else going on. I walked the length of the booths and then crossed back to the sidewalk. All the stores were staying open extra hours, and most had some kind of sidewalk sale going on in front of their places.

I passed several of my people, and they all seemed to be having fun. Finally, I turned off on a side street. I hadn't really thought about where I was going until I realized I was in front of Cadbury Yarn. Even though it was off the main street, Gwen had strung lights and set things up on the front porch. All the chairs were full of people knitting and crocheting. There was a table of yarn bargains to the side.

I went inside. Gwen was working the register and had extra help with the customers. I looked around the converted bungalow with new interest, knowing the connection it had to Rosalie Hardcastle. It almost struck me as funny that I'd thought Gwen had a secret boyfriend when I'd seen her with the man I now knew was Hank.

I was always amazed how things seemed to go in waves. As crowded as the porch and store had been, it suddenly emptied out, leaving only a couple of browsers.

Gwen greeted me as I walked up to the counter. “The store looks great,” I said.

“We try to do something special during the street fair.”

“You'll probably get some of my people wandering in.” I told her that I'd bused them in as part of the activities.

I took a deep breath and then said, “I know who the man in the storeroom was.”

Gwen looked like she'd gotten an electric shock. “I don't know what you mean. There was no man in the storeroom. It must have been a shadow or something.”

“I know it was Hank Hardcastle,” I said.

Gwen appeared panic-stricken. “Please, just let it be.”

I leaned closer to make our conversation seem more personal. “I know you're probably afraid to talk about it. I talked to somebody else in the same situation.” Gwen's eyes opened wider in surprise.

“What? You mean I'm not the only one?” I nodded, and she sighed in relief. “I don't know why it should make me feel better that someone else is in the same boat.”

I wanted so badly to say, “And that boat is?” so she'd tell me exactly what had happened to her. I really had no idea if it was the same thing as what had happened to Liz.

It must have been terrible for Gwen to have to keep everything to herself. Just the few words from me seemed to have lifted a tremendous weight off her shoulders.

“I had no idea there was anybody else. Rosalie said it was only me.” Gwen took me into the storeroom and offered me a chair. “It's much more private in here.” She suddenly looked worried. “Crystal doesn't know, does she? Or Kory?” I assured her that I hadn't said anything to them.

“When Rosalie came to see me, I thought it was to talk about me buying this place. It's no secret that I've been trying to do that for a long time.” Gwen looked angry as she relived the moment. She took another of the chairs and sat. “All these years and there was never a problem with the Hardcastle family. They were fair about the rent and took care of the
bungalow. And then Rosalie took over.” Gwen's voice was full of disgust. “I have to tell you that when she was killed, I was sure they were going to come after me. That somehow the police knew that she had told me she was raising my rent to an impossible amount unless I took her in as a partner in the store.”