Silence of the Lamb's Wool (A Yarn Retreat Mystery) (19 page)

I was 100 percent focused on the retreat as I cruised in at the end of breakfast and grabbed a plate of hot food. With no care packages from Dane and all my running around, it seemed forever since I’d had a decent meal. I set my plate down next to Lucinda’s. I could always tell where she was sitting by the designer purse. She was making the rounds with the coffeepot. No matter how much she said she wanted some time away, she couldn’t seem to give up playing host.

“Thank you for helping,” I said as I passed her. I went past all three tables of my people, greeting them. I was relieved that everyone seemed to be having a good time and was looking forward to spinning.

I scanned the group hoping to see Wanda among them, but she wasn’t there. Nor was Crystal. My mouth was sore from smiling when I finally took my seat, but I didn’t want to let on that I had any doubts about the activities for the day.

Lucinda filled my coffee cup and slipped into the seat next to me. I thanked her for the coffee and mentioned seeing Tag at the restaurant when I’d gone to bake. “He really misses you,” I said.

“Really?” she said as a soft blush colored her cheeks. I told her about our conversation.

“Tag feels left out,” she said. “I’m sure he appreciated being able to talk to you. It is hard for him to understand the kind of friendship we have.”

“After he left, Sammy came by,” I said. As I was telling her about the magic show, there was something nagging at the back of my mind. Was it something he said?

“He’s a sweet guy,” she said and I had to agree. “Anything new about anything else?” she asked, glancing around to see if anyone was listening to us. They weren’t.

She didn’t have to elaborate for me to know what she meant. I told her about my call with Frank. “I think Nicole figured out that Cora’s brother was paying somebody off, but I can’t figure out why anyone would care about that now.” I brought up the shredded pages. “But it seems like somebody was trying to get rid of the evidence.

Lucinda hung her head. “I feel terrible. I’ve been hanging around here having a great time and you’ve been off trying to solve a mystery on top of everything else.” My friend urged me to eat. People were already beginning to get up from the tables and, in the interest of speed, I slapped the scrambled eggs between the rye toast.

I knew what she meant by “everything else.” “So you picked up on my concern about the spinning,” I said. I went to take a hasty bite of my sandwich but everyone at the table was leaving. I wrapped it in a napkin and figured I’d just take it with me. I felt like I could be honest with her and I told her how bad I felt that I had left everything in someone else’s hands. “First it was Nicole and now Wanda. If I ever put on another retreat, I’m going to know exactly what the program is going to be and how to do it. We only have today and a little of tomorrow. These people are just going to be learning how to spin. How fast does it go?”

Lucinda tried to reassure me that it would be fine and reminded me that I’m managed to overcome all the roadblocks so far, starting with Nicole’s death, then not being able to have the sheep sheared in front of the group, and dealing with Wanda.

“If you call dealing with her letting her stonewall me,” I said. As we passed one of the tables our group had taken over, I noticed that Ronny Fiore was still sitting down. I’d missed her during my early go-round and told Lucinda to go on ahead. “It’s particularly important that she has a good time,” I said. “It wouldn’t help my case if she tells her stepmother-to-be that I didn’t deliver what was promised.”

My friend headed to the door and I stopped next to the young woman. “I hope you’re enjoying the retreat, Ronny,” I said, putting on my most pleasant voice, realizing this was also a chance to find out about her and her father with a few well-positioned questions. I had learned during my time doing phone interviews that the best plan was to keep it friendly and never make it seem like an interrogation. She looked up with halfhearted interest. When I got a look at her plate, it seemed like she was dissecting the food.

“I suppose working for a hotel as you do, makes staying at another one not exactly a holiday.” She brightened at my comment.

“I can’t help it,” she said. I can’t eat a meal without wondering about the quality of the ingredients. And the rooms here.” The shake of her head made it clear they weren’t up to her standards.

“If it were up to you, what would you change?” I asked.

“Everything. We already have—” She cut herself off. “My father has already talked to Cora about making the running of Vista Del Mar a family enterprise, meaning with my experience and his know-how, we can take the burden of running it off of her shoulders.”

“I didn’t realize it was on her shoulders,” I said, seeing Kevin St. John come into the dining hall. Ronny saw who I was looking at.

“Cora is such a dear, but she has left entirely too much up to him.” Ronny glanced around at the groups in the emptying dining hall. “You must realize how dated this place is. Imagine a bunch of modern buildings, rooms with flat-screen TVs, luxury bathrooms, and Wi-Fi everywhere. Knock down all these trees and put in a golf course.” As she went on I realized she could have been describing any of a bunch of local resorts.

“But the whole atmosphere of Vista Del Mar would be gone and its unique beauty. That sort of place would lose all the retreat business,” I said.

She turned and looked at me like I was crazy. “That’s the point. We don’t want groups expecting reasonable rooms that include meals. Instead of offering all these quaint little meeting rooms, we’ll put in some luxury villas. If we decide to keep it as a conference center, we’d put in a big structure that could attract high-end groups for conventions and meetings.”

The more I listened, the more horrified I got. I’d had the feeling both she and her father were taking mental measurements of the place and thinking about changes. I had no idea they were that far along. I half expected her to pull out some blueprints.

“And Cora agrees with all this?” I said.

“I’m sure she will. There’s no reason to worry her with it now that her head is filled with wedding plans. I’m going to help her with everything.”

It seemed like an opening and I mentioned that I’d seen her father in The Bank talking to Nicole. “Cora’s so lucky to have him. I suppose he wanted to get her something really special. Everything Nicole had was one of a kind,” I said.

She gave me a strange look. “You must be mistaken. I’m sure he’s never even been in there.”

Sometimes my attempts to get information didn’t work out. Either Ronny was lying or she didn’t know why her father was in the store. I reminded her that the workshop would be starting soon. I probably should have been glad that she didn’t seem enthused. At least I didn’t have to worry about her being disappointed.

People were milling around outside before the different morning workshops began. I rushed on ahead and went directly to the room where the spinning wheels were set up. The wood paneling and brown carpet made it much darker than the other room we’d used. There were plenty of windows, but they looked out into a thick stand of trees. As soon as I turned on the lights it seemed a lot more inviting. Folding chairs had been arranged around the couches and easy chairs to accommodate the whole group. A fire had been laid in the fireplace, but not lit.

Wanda came in at almost the same time I did. As she went to open the bin she’d left the day before, I mentioned that there didn’t seem to be very much wool. She turned and glared at me. “There wouldn’t have been even that much if Nicole had been running this.” The little woman in lavender slacks and another blah sort of floral top didn’t wait for a comment from me, but grabbed a handful of the rolls of wool, and like a whirlwind began to distribute them.

Will came in and lit the fire. Afterward he came over to me. “I just wanted to stop by to make sure you had all the supplies you needed,” Will said. There was something sad in his gaze as he looked at the spinning wheels and I imagined that he was thinking that Nicole should be the one there now. I brought up my last trip to her store and asked if he’d made sure that the lock was secure on the back door. He shrugged off the question with a heavy sigh. “That place is just a heartache to me now.”

I didn’t want to let on that I’d figured out the importance of the ledger sheets, but wondered if he knew. I took a chance and mentioned it seemed like someone had been shredding the sheets and asked him if he had any idea why. I was curious about his reaction.

When I checked his expression, he seemed unmoved. Finally his blue eyes flared. “I know about your sleuthing, but please just let it be.” He sounded tired and drained. Trying to keep going as if nothing had happened had to be wearing. Could Will be hiding a dark side under those scruffy good looks?

I mumbled an apology as someone from the kitchen staff came in looking for him and said the sink had backed up again. He sighed and went to follow the woman.

In the meantime, the retreaters had begun to come in and all my attention went to them. Lucinda waved as she walked in with Olivia, Scott and Bree. Crystal and Ronny Fiore came in last. Wanda had finished her task and was patrolling the front of the room. When Crystal and I tried to join her, Wanda made us both join the group. This was her moment and clearly she wasn’t going to share center stage with anyone.

If I hadn’t been so worried about the job she was going to do, I might have enjoyed the workshop. She had everyone take out their drop spindle and pick up the strand of yarn she’d left on each of the chairs to use as a lead.

Wanda glared at Crystal and me. “What are you two waiting for? Get your spindles and yarn.”

I was hoping just to be an observer, but Wanda was unmoving until I found the tote bag I’d made up for myself and one of the extras for Crystal. We took out our spindles and found the length of yarn we’d been sitting on.

Wanda surprised me by giving easy-to-follow instructions on how to attach the yarn. She moved right on to the actual spinning and ordered everyone to take out a roll of the washed and carded wool. She demonstrated how to fold the wool over the end of the yarn. Then she gave her spindle a whirl and showed how the bit of wool twisted into a strand. Of course, it wasn’t as easy as it looked. I wished I’d paid more attention when Nicole had first demonstrated how to do it so that I could have helped the others instead of struggling myself. Luckily, Crystal was experienced and in no time had a long length of yarn coming off the spindle.

Wanda moved around the room like a force of nature. When she saw the quality of Crystal’s work, she sent her off in the other direction to aid the fledgling spinners. Then Wanda began to go through the group, taking people to the spinning wheels. They were already set up with some spun yarn, so it was more about adding than starting from scratch. It also seemed to be more about the experience than producing much yarn.

Spinning was second nature to Wanda, but she was able to break it down to teach it. I imagined she taught golf the same way. She kept repeating the instructions and the group started getting the hang of it.

The time flew by and in no time the lunch bell was ringing. I urged everyone to leave their newly spun yarn and go eat. Wanda went with them, but Lucinda and I stayed behind. I was shocked at the paltry amount of yarn that had been produced.

“The whole point of this was to end up knitting with handspun yarn,” I said in dismay.

Lucinda tried to be encouraging. “Now that everybody knows how to spin, they’ll probably make a whole bunch this afternoon.”

We looked at each other and neither of us believed what she’d said.

Wanda was standing by the door as the retreaters came back after lunch. The trouble with stopping for the meal was that they had all lost momentum, or really the rhythm of spinning. It wasn’t quite as bad as starting all over, but it wasn’t too far off. Could everyone really forget what they had learned that fast?

Undaunted, the small stout woman demonstrated how to use the drop spindle all over again. She asked Crystal to handle the spinning wheels. I was glad that I seemed to remember how to use the drop spindle. I kept feeding more tufts of wool onto the strand coming off the spindle and giving it a turn. I wasn’t exactly doing a jig while I did it like Wanda did, but I was making progress.

When Wanda came by, I pulled her aside. I started with a compliment. “Thank you for stepping in. You’re doing a great job.” Okay, maybe I was buttering her up before I brought up the yarn situation. “I really see your point. I don’t think Nicole would have been able to handle this.” Wanda’s face lit up.

“Finally you’re beginning to see the light,” Wanda said in a triumphant voice. Just then Will went by the window. “In a town like Cadbury we appreciate old-fashioned values and he personifies them.”

“I get the feeling that Will is kind of the town gem,” I said. She watched a gust of wind blow open his flannel shirt. “You know, the guy who was a high school hero and has hung on to the title. I understand he was the prom king and your sister was the prom queen that year.” I left it hanging, curious what she’d say.

“Half the girls in the school were hoping he’d ask them to prom. In the end he picked out a girl who probably wouldn’t have had a date otherwise. That’s the kind of guy he is.” She made a face like she was considering whether to continue or not. “I know I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but when he could have had any girl in town, why did he marry an outsider?”

“I suppose you consider me an outsider,” I said. Wanda looked me up and down.

“Not completely. You seem to get along.” She put her hand out toward the group. “You’re bringing business to town. You seem to play by the rules.”

“What rules?” I asked, surprised at her comment. I’d always thought I followed my own drumbeat and she was basically saying I was a conformist.

“You fit into the parameters of the town. Even what you call your muffins.”

“Oh, you mean because I stopped calling the blueberry muffins The Blues?”

She nodded, but I wasn’t there to talk about me. I went back to her sister and the prom and asked how upset she was that Will didn’t ask her.

“She was the prom queen and she thought he liked her, so she sort of expected it. The trouble is Will acts like that to everybody. You know, when he talks to you, it seems like you’re the only person in the world and what you have to say is the funniest most interesting thing he’s ever heard.”

“It sounds like you have a crush on him,” I teased. A bad move. Wanda’s demeanor stiffened as she announced she had a husband and wasn’t into romantic fantasy. She was about to move on. I looked at the off-white wool that was turning into a creamy-colored yarn. There wasn’t enough yet for the women to have to take it off the spindle and make it into a ball, and I seized the moment.

“I think we need a plan B,” I said, showing off the small amount of actual yarn on my spindle.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said in a snippy voice. “Everything is under control.”

“But if you could just let me in on your plans, it would help. I don’t know if you remember, but they’re supposed to at least start work on a shawlette.”

I looked her in the eye, expecting her to see my point. Instead she put her hand on her hip and held the other one out. I couldn’t help it, I immediately thought of those song lyrics about a little teapot that was short and stout.

“I just signed on to help prepare the wool and spin it,” Wanda said. Then she suggested that if I was so concerned about how much yarn was being spun, I should make better use of my time and start working my spindle.

Lucinda had heard it all and had a raised-eyebrow worried look. By the end of the session, it was clear I wasn’t the only one who’d noticed how little yarn we’d all produced. I heard someone say we’d be lucky to have enough yarn to make a shawl for a Barbie doll.

Around three, we took a break. Lucinda went on ahead to the café. I stopped at the message board to see if there was anything from Maggie. The big board was covered with small pieces of paper and though they had the recipients’ names written in large letters at the top, there was no order to their arrangement. The only solution was to start at one side and go through them all. Somewhere in the middle, I saw one with my name on it and pulled it off.

It seemed like everyone at Vista Del Mar had had the same idea about taking a break in the café. The line snaked all the way out the door. When I looked inside, I saw that more tables had been added and were quite close together now. Lucinda was almost the next person to be waited on and I quickly joined her, getting a few dirty looks from people who must have thought I was cutting the line.

Hoping to calm their fury, I pointed to my friend and said we were together.

While we waited I took out the note. “I finally heard back from Maggie,” I said.

“What did she say?” my friend asked.

I held up the small piece of paper. “Not what I was hoping for. Just that she’d remembered something, but no details. I really need to talk to her. I did tell you that because of the muffin type, it seems like the items were purchased on Monday morning instead of Tuesday.” I was purposely vague, not wanting the people around us to know what I was talking about.

We got a couple of passion fruit ice teas and started to walk back. The rest of the group trailed along with us. I couldn’t help it, but I started to walk on ahead with a bad feeling.

When I got to the meeting room, it seemed to be as we’d left it. There were retreat tote bags spread all over the floor and drop spindles sitting on most of the chairs. The spinning wheels had been left in midspin. Everything seemed okay except for one thing: Wanda wasn’t there, and when I looked for her tote bag, it was gone.

I waited as the rest of the retreaters returned, and when Crystal came in I pulled her aside.

“You know Wanda better than I do. Is it her MO to just take off?”

For all of Crystal’s fun earrings, heavy eye makeup and corkscrew curls, she looked around the room with a serious expression. “She’s gone? Are you sure?” I pointed out that her tote bag was missing and Crystal finally agreed.

I shook my head, thinking of what Wanda had said about having everything under control. Right. Under control because she was going to disappear.

Lucinda joined us and realized who was missing. “Maybe we should make other plans,” Crystal said. “I could call my mother and see what yarn she can get together at the store that looks like handspun. The only thing is, she wouldn’t be able to get it here for this session. But maybe for the one tomorrow morning.”

I cleared my throat to speak. There was no reason to hold off on the truth anymore.

“I’m sure you’ve all been looking for Wanda Krug,” I said. “She’s been unavoidably detained. The schedule says you’re supposed to start working on your shawlettes. We’ll have to table that until tomorrow,” I said, “because . . .” I was winging it now, hoping some words would come to me. Olivia stepped to the front of the room.

“What Casey is trying to say is that, instead of starting the shawlettes now, we’re all going to work on a charity project.” Olivia held up a handful of squares. “We need more if we’re going to have enough for a couple of blankets.” She asked if anybody needed yarn or needles. A ripple of laughter went through the room as everyone pulled out both items from their tote bags.

“Thank you,” I said to Olivia when everybody had started knitting.

She knew that Wanda was a stand-in and had figured out what had happened. “It’s the least I can do. You and the group helped me look at things in a new light. I feel like I owe my happiness to that retreat. After dinner we can start putting the squares together.” Her eyes were shining and her smile lit up her almond-shaped face.

Olivia pushed one of the kits on me and said I looked like I needed some knitting therapy. She was right about that.

The group seemed to have no problem with the change in plans and soon there was the soft click of needles as a bunch of conversations started. I envied how they could talk and knit. I still needed to concentrate on my stitches and the best I could do was listen.

There was a lot about their husbands, children and grandchildren. A reminder of all that I didn’t have. One woman seemed particularly perturbed about a baby blanket she’d made for her grandchild. Her daughter-in-law had called the pink blanket sexist.

“There are some traditions that shouldn’t be messed with. Pink is for girls and blue is for boys.” Apparently I could also knit and think. Her comment stirred something in my mind.