Let it Sew (8 page)

Chapter 9

Tori was waiting on the front porch when Margaret Louise’s powder blue station wagon
came careening around the corner at a speed more in keeping with a race car driver
than a grandmother of seven. And like Pavlov’s dog, she smiled at the sight.

It didn’t matter whether Margaret Louise was picking her up for a shopping expedition,
a girls’ weekend in the mountains, or an emergency chocolate run to the bakery, time
spent together in that car was always a treat.

Pulling to a stop at the curb, Margaret Louise reached across the wide bench seat
and rolled down the passenger-side window, her rounded cheeks pushed upward by the
laugh that wafted onto the sidewalk. “I was just sayin’ to Melissa how much I miss
our snoopin’, when you called. Nearly fell down the front steps tryin’ to get over
here.”

“I didn’t mean you had to come this second.” Tori plucked her backpack purse from
its spot by her feet and hoisted it onto her shoulder before making her way down the
steps and over to the wagon. “I could have waited a little while, you know?”

“And take a chance you’d realize your big book event is tomorrow and back out? Not
a chance.”

“Oh, trust me, I’m aware it’s tomorrow. But I’ve triple- and quadruple-checked every
possible detail, and if I don’t stop, I’m going to go insane. Truly.”

The back window inched down to reveal their tried-and-true backup, as well as her
long-eared sidekick. “Paris was in need of a break, too, dear. All those dirty little
hands constantly running along her back have to become tiresome.”

Tori yanked open the door and climbed inside just in time to see Margaret Louise turn
to her sister in the backseat. “My grandbabies don’t have dirty hands.”

Leona and Paris shifted across the backseat, affording Tori a much better view of
the eye roll that accompanied the dramatic sigh. “You might find a house full of kids
running here, there, and everywhere to be relaxing, dear sister of mine, but I don’t.
And neither does my precious Paris.”

Margaret Louise’s eyebrow arched upward. “Oh? Then why does Paris wiggle out of your
arms every time you drop by Jake’s?”

“To borrow a phrase from Jake Junior—
D’uh
 . . . Because my precious angel is desperate to secure a hiding spot until I remove
her from that circus.” A second eye roll gave way to a defiant glimpse out the window.

“So she hides by hoppin’ straight into Lulu’s arms?” With a celebratory glance at
Tori, Margaret Louise swiveled her body around until her hands were on the steering
wheel once again. “So? Where to, Victoria?”

Where to . . .

That was the million-dollar question.

Only problem was, she didn’t really have an answer. Not a concrete one anyway.

“I guess I want to learn as much as I can about Parker Devereaux.”

“He’s dead, dear. What more is there to know?” Leona drawled. “He had no imagination
where footwear was concerned, and his wife should receive an Oscar posthumously for
her role as a loving wife.”

She turned back to Leona. “An Oscar? Why?”

Bending her non-Paris-holding fingers inward, Leona inspected her latest manicure,
declaring it a success with a faint nod of her head before meeting Tori’s gaze. “Why?
Why? Did she not bury the man on library grounds and then tell the world he’d up and
left her for another woman? Because if I have my facts wrong, please tell me.”

Margaret Louise peered into her rearview mirror and made a face. “Twin, must you always
be so—so sarcastic?”

“Yes.”

She had to laugh. But at the same time, she couldn’t fault the woman in the backseat
for her statement, sarcastic or not.

Facts were facts. And the facts staring her in the face were easy.

Charlotte Devereaux had essentially dropped out of sight five years earlier after
her husband of fifty years disappeared.

That same woman told everyone in Sweet Briar he left to pursue another woman.

Yet all the while, his body was buried some fifteen or so yards from the Sweet Briar
Public Library.

One could argue Charlotte hadn’t known if they hadn’t seen the sketch she’d drawn
marking the spot where her husband’s body had been buried.

But Tori had seen the sketch.

So, too, had Margaret Louise, Leona, and Debbie.

Feeling the weight of Margaret Louise’s stare, Tori shifted her focus forward and
clicked her seat belt into place. “I think we need to take a tour of Parker Devereaux’s
life. See if maybe we can piece together the why behind Charlotte’s crime.”

“You got it!” With a tug of her forearm, Margaret Louise shifted the station wagon
into drive and pushed down on the gas, the sudden surge of power resulting in a narrow
miss with Tori’s neighbor’s car and a rapid string of prayers from the back seat.
“Woo-eee! This is fun . . .”

“So where are we going exactly?” Tori asked as the car turned left and then right
before heading toward the main road leading in and out of Sweet Briar.

Margaret Louise tightened her grip on the steering wheel and sped up as a truck tried
to pass them on the two-lane rural highway. “To the Devereaux Center in Tom’s Creek.”

“Devereaux Center?” she echoed.

“Parker was a big supporter of the mentally challenged in the area on account of Brian.
He funded the buildin’ of a special center where they could meet each other in a social
environment as well as interact with counselors trained to meet their individual needs.”
A peek in the rearview mirror, coupled with Margaret Louise’s subsequent laugh, prompted
Tori to check her side-view mirror in time to see the truck’s proximity increase to
nearly six car lengths. “It was really a beautiful thing watchin’ the way he accepted
that boy and worked to help him and others like him.”

She lifted her chin to the speed-induced breeze flowing through the car and mulled
over her friend’s words. “And Brian was the oldest, right?”

“That’s right,” Margaret Louise confirmed. “Ethan is the younger, pampered one.”

“So tell me about Brian. Who’s been looking after him these past few years while his
mother was ill?”

“From what I understand, Victoria, there’s staff assigned to him—people who cook his
favorite meals, attend to his shoppin’, and drive him to work and the center.”

Turning her head to the left, Tori took in the rounded features of Margaret Louise’s
face and found herself smiling all over again. “Work?”

“Brian is very high functionin’, particularly if there’s a strong routine involved.
Why, Jerry Lee says he’s even been known to help work kinks out of programs they’ve
brought to market.” Margaret Louise’s eyes shifted toward the rearview mirror briefly.
“Hard to imagine when it wasn’t too long ago that people like Brian were shoved in
institutions and written off as lost causes, ain’t it?”

“He worked at his father’s company?”

“Don’t sound so shocked, Victoria. Parker was smart. He got Brian involved when he
wasn’t more ’n eighteen. Started him slow, doin’ things like sortin’ mail and stuff.
But Jerry Lee said he was quick
and
curious. Before long, Brian was sittin’ at the drawin’ table, helpin’ programs get
off the ground.”

“Wow.” It was a simple word, yet it fit perfectly.

“As Parker began to travel more,” Margaret Louise continued, “Jerry Lee sort of volunteered
to look after Brian at the office. Said it was a pleasure.”

“For Jerry Lee maybe, but his wife tells a very different story.”

Bending her left leg at the knee, Tori lifted it onto the vinyl seat and shifted her
whole body to the left to afford a better view of both Margaret Louise and Leona.
“Why do you say that, Leona?”

Leona hooked Paris in the crook of her arm, stroking the bunny’s head until her eyes
began to close. Once she was asleep, Tori’s question was addressed. “Sadie Sweeney
is one of those picture-perfect women who maintains that picture-perfect image by
keeping a tight leash on the people in her life. Her friends pass their time
with her
. The charities she volunteers with
tout her
. Her husband spends his time talking
about her and their picture-perfect life together.
”

“Okay . . .”

“The problem came when Jerry Lee started coming home from work talking about Brian.
What strides he was making, what ideas he’d come up with, and what milestones he’d
hit that particular day.”

“And she was jealous?” She heard the incredulousness in her own voice and rushed to
soften it. “I mean, what was the problem?”

Margaret Louise engaged her sister by way of the rearview mirror. “May I, Twin? After
all, you only know this story because of me.”

Leona flicked her hand in indifference then looked back down at Paris as Margaret
Louise took over the story. “Jerry Lee and Sadie were high school sweethearts. She
was the prom queen of her graduatin’ class, he was the promisin’ football star she’d
had her sights on since freshman year. And aside from an underclassman who caught
his eye midway through their senior year and periodically throughout the next year
or so, Jerry Lee was pretty smitten with Sadie.”

Palmetto trees whizzed past the driver’s-side window as Tori took in everything she
was hearing. “So they got married and had kids, right?”

“Accordin’ to Dixie, they got engaged ’bout two years after graduatin’ from high school,”
Margaret Louise confirmed, “but they didn’t have any kids. She didn’t want them. I
suspect that’s because she didn’t want Jerry Lee’s attention on nobody but her. Worked
for her for a whole lot of years ’fore Parker brought Brian to work.”

“He was that taken with Brian?” Tori asked, her curiosity beginning to grow.

“At first, I imagine he took Brian under his wing out of a sense of loyalty to Parker . . .
for bringin’ him into a company that was startin’ to gain attention. But as the company
began to earn more and more money and Brian continued to show up and work as hard
as he was, Jerry Lee’s desire to help Parker out shifted into genuine interest and
pride in the boy’s accomplishments.”

“Which meant the focus came off Sadie, yes?” The pieces were beginning to fall into
place, the picture they formed more than a little disturbing.

“Precisely,” Leona declared. “It became all she could talk about at society events,
charitable drives, and the beauty shop. She found it deplorable that her husband was
being used as—and I quote—a well-paid babysitter.”

“Do you think he was?” It was a question she hated to ask but one she needed to explore.

Margaret Louise sighed. Loudly. “I think he was a friend. First to Parker and Charlotte,
and then to Brian.”

“And he stuck with Brian even after Parker allegedly took off?”

“The two of them been runnin’ the company ever since, sendin’ Charlotte checks like
clockwork just so that worthless piece of garbage could pilfer it right out of her
pocket.” Margaret Louise let up on the gas pedal as the turn for Tom’s Creek approached.

“We’re talking about Ethan now?” Tori asked.

“Who else?” Margaret Louise piloted the car right, the back end of the wagon kicking
up dust as they left pavement in favor of gravel. “Charlotte signed the checks, Frieda
deposited them, and Ethan became good friends with the ATM.”

Tori rested the back of her head against the window and sifted through everything
she’d heard thus far. What it all meant, if anything, was unclear save for one thing . . .

Ethan Devereaux wasn’t nice.

He wasn’t nice at all.

The car slowed again, this time turning left into a parking lot containing a bright
blue half-sized bus and a white four-door sedan.

“Looks like you’re about to meet Jerry Lee.” Margaret Louise maneuvered the station
wagon around the bus and pulled into a vacant spot beside a large green Dumpster,
her finger drawing Tori’s attention to the sedan parked to the left of the modest
building’s side entrance. “When Parker left, Jerry Lee stepped in to fill his role
here, too.”

For a moment, Tori simply sat there, studying the building’s well-maintained grounds,
which included a circular walking trail and a few benches. “I wonder if he knows,”
she mused as her gaze moved from the grounds and the building to Margaret Louise.
“About Parker.”

“Livin’ in a town that thrives on gossip the way Sweet Briar does? Why, I reckon he
must. But there’s really only one way to find out for sure, and it ain’t by sittin’
here in the car wonderin’ if he does, now is it?”

Chapter 10

The Devereaux Creek Center for the Mentally Challenged was, without a doubt, one of
the happiest buildings Tori had ever entered. The sunshine yellow walls that greeted
visitors and clients alike created an instant mood lift, as did the happy music wafting
out of a nearby room. Artwork ranging in ability from childlike to near professional
lined both sides of the front hallway with an accompanying miniature plaque attached
to each picture boasting the name and age of its artist. Comfy couches and bean bag
chairs were scattered around an open area that might normally be a waiting room in
a doctor’s office yet presented itself as a family room there at the center.

“Wow, this is really nice,” she said, looking around. “The place just makes you feel
all warm and happy inside, doesn’t it?”

“That’s certainly the intention.” A tall, lanky man Tori judged to be in his mid-seventies
strode into the room with a generous smile that stopped just short of his eyes. “Welcome
to our center, is there something we can help you with . . .” His words trailed off
as the identity of Tori’s friends clicked inside his head. “Oh. Margaret Louise. Leona.
What a nice surprise.”

Leona lifted her cheek for a kiss then took advantage of her sister’s moment in the
sun to smooth her skirt, perfect her ankle-cross pose, and give her salon-softened
gray hair a playful toss. If the man noticed, though, he didn’t let on as his focus
left Margaret Louise in favor of Tori. “Hi, I’m Jerry Lee Sweeney. I don’t think we’ve
met . . .”

Tori stepped forward, her hand quickly disappearing inside his strong grasp. “Hi,
Jerry Lee. I’m Tori Sinclair, a friend of Margaret Louise and Leona.” When his grip
loosened, she stepped back and swept her hands outward. “This place is amazing.”

“And it’s only the beginning,” Jerry Lee said with obvious pride. “C’mon, let me show
you gals what we’ve done with this place.”

Room by room, they made their way from the front of the center to the back, marveling
at the care and thought that went into its creation. At the doorway of each splinter
room, Jerry Lee would give a little explanation.

“The game room is interactive, as you can see—Ping-Pong table, air hockey, checker
area, puzzle table. The idea was to provide our folks with a fun way to engage with
one another while working on things like eye-hand coordination, acceptable sportsmanship,
and good old-fashioned fun. Since yesterday was Thanksgiving, most of our clients
are with family this weekend. But on a normal day, this room is brimming with activity.”

“I bet it is,” Tori said across Leona’s shoulder.

The next room was a reading room, only instead of being lined with bookshelves the
way the library was, it held cozy reading nooks with what appeared to be audio equipment
attached to each and every chair. Margaret Louise and Leona parted from their shoulder-to-shoulder
stance to allow Tori easier access to a room they all knew had piqued her curiosity.

“Are those headphones?” she asked, crossing to the first of six stations lining the
room.

“They sure are. While a few of our clients are traditional book readers, many benefit
more from audiobooks. These stations allow them to sit comfortably while they listen
to whatever adventure they’ve chosen as their book of choice.”

She felt a familiar excitement bubbling up inside her chest at the power of books.
“How do they choose the titles they want to hear?”

“Easy.” Jerry Lee lifted one of six colorful binders from a small table and handed
it to Tori. “They make their selection from one of these.”

With eager fingers, Tori opened the binder to reveal the first page of a brilliantly
formatted catalog that utilized the most effective way of reaching its intended audience.
Page after page depicted the covers of hundreds of books with a one-sentence description
written in big, bold type. “Oh, Jerry Lee, this is wonderful . . .”

“Victoria is Sweet Briar’s head librarian,” Margaret Louise offered by way of explanation.
“Nothin’ gets this child more excited than books.”

“Good thing Milo isn’t around to hear you say that,” Leona mumbled before glowering
at her sister over the elbow to the side she hadn’t expected.

“Like the game room, this is a favorite among our folks.” Jerry Lee took the closed
binder from Tori’s outstretched hand and placed it back on the table. “Sometimes I
like to just stand in the doorway and watch their expressions as they hit an especially
exciting part of whatever story they’re listening to. It’s like they’re there in that
make-believe world, living a completely different life for a little while.”

“One of the best parts of reading for anyone.” Tori took one last look over her shoulder
before following Jerry Lee and her friends back out into the hallway and on to the
next stop in their tour.

A quick flick of his hand bathed the next room in fluorescent overhead light and solicited
a near ear-piercing squeal from Margaret Louise. And it wasn’t hard to see why. The
state-of-the-art kitchen sprawled out in front of them boasted endless counter space,
multiple ovens, and a baker’s rack with an all-too-enticing supply of mixing bowls
and pans.

“Oh, Jerry Lee, do they get to bake by themselves?” Margaret Louise whispered in an
almost childlike voice.

“They do, with supervision from one of our volunteers to make sure there aren’t any
mishaps. But all in all, our folks do a really nice job.” Jerry Lee pointed toward
a long bulletin board across a side wall then down at the bulge beneath his shirt.
“These are some of the recipes that are responsible for me looking like this.”

Margaret Louise moved in for a closer look. “Oooh, teddy bear bread. That’s one I
need to make with Lulu and Sally over the holidays . . . Oh, and look at the cupcakes,
they’re darlin’.”

“There’s something about making an edible treat that makes our folks come alive. It
gives them such a sense of pride and accomplishment when they make something that
can be enjoyed by others.”

“Could you use another volunteer from time to time?”

The hope in Margaret Louise’s voice was unmistakable as was the resulting surprise
and cautious optimism in Jerry Lee’s.

“We’d be honored,” Jerry Lee said before leading them back out into the hallway and
toward the next room in the center—one outfitted with a desk and chair, a cash register
and conveyer belt, a restaurant-style table, and a computer terminal.

Tori turned to Jerry Lee. “What’s all this?”

The man’s chest lifted beneath his gray button-down shirt. “This is what I call the
Career Role Play Room. Very often people with these types of obstacles find their
way into very specific jobs—baggers, busboys, greeters, those sorts of things. And
by providing a snippet of those environments here, we’re allowing our folks an opportunity
to practice the skills they’ll need to secure such jobs.”

“What kind of things can they do on the computer?” Leona slid the tips of her fingers
over the terminal.

“Depends on the person and their abilities. Some can’t get past turning the machine
on, while others can put a trained computer tech to shame.” Jerry Lee stood in the
center of the room with his arms crossed. “Unfortunately, the first group is seen
by the working world as not worth the effort, while the second group can’t seem to
achieve the respect they deserve.”

“What you’re doing here is really very special.” Margaret Louise and Leona nodded
along with Tori’s words. “I had no idea a center like this even existed.”

A flash of something ignited behind Jerry Lee’s eyes, only to extinguish just as quickly.
“That’s because Parker wasn’t about doing this for glory or accolades. He did it for
Brian and for kids
like
Brian. Though what’s going to happen to this place now remains to be seen.”

“So then you’ve heard?” Margaret Louise prompted.

Lines Tori hadn’t paid much attention to until that point deepened beside the man’s
eyes and mouth, aging him beyond his seventy-plus years. “Yeah. I heard. Though I
have to admit, I’m having a mighty hard time digesting it all.”

Reaching out, Tori placed a gentle hand on Jerry Lee’s arm. “Margaret Louise said
you were friends with Parker Devereaux for a long time.”

Jerry Lee nodded. “I can’t really remember a time Parker wasn’t part of my life. But
it’s more than that. I was there when he met Charlotte. I was the best man in their
wedding party. I was there when they learned of the challenges Brian would face in
life. I was there when Ethan came along twelve years later as the son with no problems.
And I was with them when”—the man gestured around the room—“they dreamed up this place.
Now I’m supposed to be able to accept the fact that a woman I grew to cherish every
bit as much as Parker
murdered
him?”

She hadn’t considered that aspect of their grim discovery. And judging by the way
Margaret Louise and Leona looked to the floor at the man’s admission, she wasn’t the
only one.

“I think we’re all havin’ a hard time wrappin’ our brains ’round that one,” Margaret
Louise mused. “And an even harder time tryin’ to imagine
why
.”

“Or
how
.”

Three sets of eyes turned to stare at Leona with Margaret Louise putting words to
what was surely in all of their minds. “Do you mean how she killed him?”

“That’s certainly of interest but not something we’ll probably ever know when all
that was left was a shoe, a picture, and an artificial hip.”

Jerry Lee dropped his hands to his sides. “Picture? What picture?”

“A laminated photograph of Parker and Charlotte on their wedding day.” Leona’s shoes
made soft clicking sounds against the linoleum flooring en route to the desk on which
she, eventually, perched. “I was referring more to how she got his body into town
and buried him on the library grounds.”

“Maybe that’s where she killed him,” Margaret Louise suggested.

“Maybe. But that doesn’t answer the other how.”

Tori felt her eyebrow rise. “The other how?”

Keenly aware of her position in the spotlight, Leona took a moment to check her nails,
smooth her hair, and perfect her already perfect posture. Then just before everyone’s
undivided attention turned to irritation, she gave the explanation they were seeking.
“Five years ago, Charlotte was what? Sixty-seven, sixty-eight years old, right?”

“She was sixty-nine,” Jerry Lee confirmed.

“So she was sixty-nine. Five years ago, you were fifty-eight, Twin. What’s that got
to do with anything—”

Leona’s gasp echoed off the walls, calling even more attention to the instant red
of her cheeks. “I’m not sixty-three!”

“The hell you ain’t.” Margaret Louise made a face before addressing Jerry Lee. “My
sister lives in a bit of a dream world if you can’t tell . . .”

Mouths continued to move around the room as the true meaning behind Leona’s words
hit Tori with a one-two punch. “Oh, my gosh . . . that’s it! That’s what’s been bugging
me this past week!”

Margaret Louise held her hand up in front of Leona’s face, successfully thwarting
any further discussion on their shared age. “What’s it, Victoria?”

“Charlotte was
sixty-nine
,
Margaret Louise. Most sixty-nine-year-old women aren’t strong enough to dig a grave
on their own. They’re just not.”

“
I
will be,” Margaret Louise boasted with her hands still splayed in front of her sister’s
face.

“But”—Tori pointed to Leona—“
she
won’t. Not for that kind of menial labor, anyway.”

Leona shoved her sister’s hand out of the way but not before giving Margaret Louise
an evil eye to end all evil eyes. “Which was exactly my point had I been
allowed
to make it.”

“And it’s a good one.” Tori wandered around the room, passing the makeshift grocery
checkout and the single-station restaurant setting, only to turn back when she reached
Leona. “Which means someone helped her dig that hole.”

Jerry Lee staggered backward into the door frame. “But who would help her do that?”

“Someone who was tryin’ to protect her?” Margaret Louise suggested.

Leona waved her sister off, her anger over the outing of her true age still alive
and well. “I think we need to focus on the why first. Having that will make figuring
out the who a whole lot easier.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Tori retraced her steps back toward the open doorway. “Jerry
Lee, I want to thank you for giving us a tour of the center. Seeing the thought and
care that went into making this place has been an honor. Truly.”

The heartache-induced lines softened momentarily to reveal a face lit with pride.
“Watching your ideas become reality is incredible all on its own. Watching them impact
others and knowing you’re responsible for that impact takes it to an entirely different
level. Suddenly, all the mistakes you made in life don’t seem so overwhelming.”

Tori thought back to the library—to the children’s room born in her imagination, realized
through passion and hard work, and cherished by many. Jerry Lee was right. Making
a difference in another person’s life by way of a dream was something worthy of pride.
It made all the stress, all the expense, and all the second-guessing worth it.

Jerry Lee walked them to the door, his footsteps slowing every few steps to make sure
the lights were off in each and every room they passed. “If there’s any hope of saving
this place, I need to make sure all unnecessary costs are at a minimum.”

“Save it? Save it from whom?” Leona questioned as Tori and Margaret Louise stopped
to hear the man’s answer.

“Parker saw the center as important and, thus, worthy of whatever expenses it incurred.
The Prince, however, doesn’t share those feelings.” When they reached the front room
with its cozy couches and colorful bean bag chairs, he took a moment to shake their
hands. “Margaret Louise, anytime you’d like to volunteer in one of our cooking classes,
give us a shout. I’m sure you’d be a hit.