Silver Six Crafting Mystery 01 - Basket Case (25 page)

“Better than I expected, but I imagine there will be items left over. Goodness, where is my head? I need to let Sherry Mae know our plans have changed. We need to be gone no later than the middle of May now. Our son-in-law is being deployed sooner than we understood, so we’ll stay with our daughter until our condo is ready.”

“You’re not buying a house?”

“We don’t want to fool with a yard and the maintenance. We’ve been spoiled living here.” She looked up at the building and sighed. “This is a wonderful building. I’m going to miss it and this town and most of all the people. In spite of all this recent trouble, we have far more good apples than bad here.”

“I’m sure you do,” I said.

“I just wish Sherry would use the building herself. I suppose the ladies do their folk art projects in the house, but Fred works in those sheds without heat or air-conditioning, and he’s not getting any younger.”

I agreed, but I’d never say it aloud. Fred seemed to be the touchiest of all the seniors about his age.

Vonnie’s husband called to her about a phone call. “Well, you tell Sherry Mae I said hi.”

“And I’ll let her know you need to vacate early.”

Surprisingly, she gave me a hug before she scurried inside. I stood a moment, looking in the window at a picked-over display of children’s toys, thinking about what she’d said. Thinking about the nice apartment upstairs and that huge workroom. Tech school students would jump at the chance to rent the apartment, and the workroom would be an amazing space for Fred to both fix things and store the finished items until the owners claimed them. But what could Sherry do with the rest of the space?

DETECTIVE SHOAR SHOWED UP TO TAKE SHERRY’S
statement and have dinner looking good in snug jeans, a white cotton shirt, and boots.

Before he began, though, he said he had a surprise for us.

He linked arms with Sherry and led us out back. I trooped out with the seniors, as puzzled as they were. When he headed past the barn to the cemetery, I was completely confounded, but Sherry’s smile grew wider.

Through the cemetery gate, he walked on to the section where the children were buried, and then I saw it. A white angel, wings intact.

“Goodness, Eric, when did you sneak that in here?” Sherry asked.

“I came through the back path,” he answered. “It’s smaller than your other angel, but that one will take a while to be repaired.”

“I don’t need the other one repaired, dear. I’d rather have yours.” She grabbed a handful of his shirt, pulled him down, and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Eric.”

Back at the house, he was all business. He interviewed Sherry for thirty minutes, alone, with the parlor pocket doors closed. That seemed an excessive amount of time to me, but Sherry was probably asking him questions, too. I hoped he was also outlining the charges against Bryan. If he didn’t fill us in, Sherry would spill.

Eleanor had seated Shoar beside me at the foot of the table. We bumped elbows occasionally, but the proximity wasn’t uncomfortable.

“So, Detective,” Dab said, “I suppose Hardy isn’t cooperating.”

“He lawyered up, which we expected.”

“Is Dinah representing him?” Sherry asked.

“I don’t know who he called, but he’ll be tried in another county.”

“Too much prejudice against him here,” Maise said with a nod.

“I do believe his aunt Corina must be up in arms.”

“That or mortified half to death,” Aster added.

“No, Eleanor nailed it. She threatened the department with everything but Armageddon when we served the warrant to search the house and garage.”

“Woman like that, nose all up in the air, her nephew in jail, she’ll hightail it out of Lilyvale. Her pride won’t take stayin’ here.”

Slow smiles bloomed around the table, mine included. Mean? Probably, but justifiable. Bryan’s aunt was a piece of work.

“Did you find more evidence?” I asked in spite of myself.

“Enough. In fact, Dab, we found your father’s hand drill with his initials burned into the handle. I can’t return it to you for a while, but it’s safe.”

“I’ll be glad to have it back when the time comes.”

Sherry cocked her head, bangs falling over her left eye. The better to see Eric, I suspected. “You never did seriously suspect me of killing Ms. Elsman, did you?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Out of academic curiosity,” I said, “why not?”

“The angle of the blow that caused Elsman’s head trauma and death indicated she was struck by someone taller or she was kneeling when struck. But I don’t make that official call.” He looked at Sherry. “I’m sorry I had to put you through the uncertainty, but—”

“Pish,” Sherry said. “You had to do your job as you saw fit. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Besides, we got to investigate like Jessica Fletcher.”

He groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

Maise soon brought out a chocolate cake Pauletta had delivered that afternoon. When we’d polished off our servings, Eric announced he had to leave, and Sherry suggested I walk him out.

He’d parked back by the barn, and given the rumors that had circulated about us, I figured the ladies would be at the kitchen window peering at us. I didn’t expect to see Mrs. Gilroy’s kitchen curtains twitch, then fully part and the window be thrown open. If there had been a wall handy, I’d have banged my head against it.

“So,” he said in that deep, dreamy drawl, “are you going back to Houston tomorrow?”

My gaze riveted on his. “Tomorrow? I thought you said you’d need me to stay a few days. Until you wrapped up loose ends.”

He shrugged and moved marginally closer. “They’re pretty well wrapped, but you could always stick around. Especially now that you know about Miz Sherry Mae’s eye problem.”

“I don’t know what I’d do here. I can’t see my art degree translating well to a small-town business.”

“I don’t know about that. I’m sure you’d find some way to use your skills if you get creative.” He stepped closer still and my pulse sped. “That’s what art is about, right? Creative thinking?”

My “Uh, I guess” sounded like a glug-gurgle.

He cupped my cheek. “Nixy, I want to kiss you good-bye.”

“You do?” I asked, but was thinking,
Why not?
If he was a lousy kisser, I’d know I wasn’t missing anything.

“Yeah. You have a problem with that?”

“Can’t think of one.”

This time, I stepped closer to him, my gaze going fuzzy as he bent closer.

And then music suddenly blared from Mrs. Gilroy’s house.

We both froze, listening. He got it before I did.

“Isn’t that song from
The Little Mermaid
?”

I closed my eyes, mortified as the chorus of “Kiss the Girl” played to the entire neighborhood.

I felt him chuckle. “Don’t mind if I do.”

Before I could say boo, he kissed me. Gently, but firmly.

The earth didn’t move, but, shoot fire, it was a close thing. Now I knew what I’d be missing when I went back to Houston.

When he pulled back, the music had stopped. Mrs. Gilroy cackled.

Eric just smiled and zoomed in for another quick kiss. “I’ll see you.”

•   •   •

I BROKE THE NEWS TO SHERRY THAT ERIC DIDN’T
need me to stay in town.

“So you’re leaving tomorrow?”

“I think I will. I’m sorry, Sherry, but I do need to get back, before Barbra replaces me at the gallery.”

“You aren’t replaceable, child, but I understand.” She squeezed my hand. “You stayed much longer than you intended.”

Her bangs swooped over her bad eye. The gauze covered the cut and bump on her right temple. “Will you be okay while the others go to their volunteer jobs? I heard Dab say something about projects that are being judged tomorrow.”

“Semester projects. I thought I’d go with them. After all, we don’t do these volunteer jobs for our health. We want to pass along skills to young people. Who knows? They may be the ones carrying on the folk art festival in years to come.”

“Then I hope they’ve learned well.”

Word spread to the housemates, and it was more difficult than I thought to know I’d be leaving them. I’d revered Sherry as my aunt before this trip, but now I loved her. I’d come to love the housemates, too.

With promises that I wouldn’t leave until after breakfast in the morning, we turned in. Even though I’d bought some clothes, they didn’t take long to pack. Neither did my toiletries. I held out the gifts I’d bought at the folk art festival, though. Smelling Aster’s soaps and lotions. Tracing the delicate dips and swells of Eleanor’s lily napkin rings. Then I picked up the crocheted basket Sherry had given me tonight, one different from her usual type.

This one was made of stiffened white cotton twine, no bigger around at the bottom than the palm of my hand. She’d braided blue gingham ribbon in a small check with soft cotton twine for the handle. A ring basket, she called it. To hold jewelry. And perhaps, she’d added, to let my ring bearer carry if I got married.

I didn’t know when she’d made this. I didn’t know how she’d made it given her impaired vision. I knew I’d treasure it and that it was time to have her teach me her skills before she was gone.

I dreamed that night of the Silver Six, Mrs. Gilroy, even Sissy, and when I shot off the couch at seven, I had a plan.

I didn’t say a word about it. I needed to turn it over in my head. Go to the town square with a critical eye. Consider if the idea was worth pursuing. And I needed to be real with myself about my art gallery ambitions, modest as they were. Was I prepared to give them up to go in a new direction?

I loaded the car, ate and did KP with the seniors, then bid them a tearful good-bye. My tears as much as Sherry’s and everyone else’s. I thought even Fred got a little misty.

Car loaded. Check. Directions home. Check. Sunglasses. On.

Special list I’d lifted from Sherry’s desk. In my bag.

I was ready.

Because the tech school campus was more or less on my way out of town, and because Dab and Eleanor followed me, I had to drive past the downtown area, wait until they turned off, and double back.

I pulled into the diagonal slot in front of the antiques store, shut off the engine, and stared at the building. I pictured the retail space in my mind. Would it work? We’d need shelves and display cases. Did the glass-front counter stay with the building? I jotted a note to myself. I knew the back space would be perfect with only a little cleaning, some minor rearranging perhaps, and some seating.

I’d want to paint the entire store. The apartment, too, just to freshen it.

By ten o’clock when Vonnie opened, I had a long list of notes and questions. I wouldn’t have all of them answered today, but I’d make a start. The idea carried risks. Every new venture did. However, if I pulled this off—correction, if the Silver Six and I pulled this off—I’d be able to stay close to them all and still do what I loved.

A while later, I waved good-bye to Vonnie, then paused outside to gaze up at the building. I could’ve sworn I saw Sissy in the apartment window for an instant, but it had to be my imagination. I’d been immersed in visualizing how well the building would work with my minor tweaks.

At ten thirty, I went to the courthouse to find Patricia Ledbetter. She helped me pore over records, gave me the scoop on property tax issues, and told me she’d love to bring Davy in if I got the plan to work. She also gave me another idea for growing the business.

I went by the Lilies Café, idly wondering if Trudy had left yet. I less-idly wondered how Lorna’s husband was doing, and it was odd to know I cared about people here beyond my aunt and the seniors.

Including Detective Shoar.

Next I stopped at Gaskin’s to pick up the photocopies, met Carter and Kay Gaskin, and looked at their Arkansas-themed gift items. Which were fine for what they were, but we’d be offering different products entirely and wouldn’t be stepping on their retail toes. Or anyone else’s that I knew of. Good deal.

Last, since the day was perfectly warm, I spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon camped out in the small gazebo on the courthouse grounds making phone calls to the people on Sherry’s list. The response wasn’t universally positive, but most were guardedly enthused by my ideas.

The seniors were due home from the vo-tech college about two thirty, and I wanted to be waiting on the front porch when they arrived. I gathered Sherry’s list, my notes, and my phone, and stuffed them in my bag. Then I drove back to the farmhouse, rehearsing my presentation.

•   •   •

THE SILVER SIX SWARMED THE PORCH WHEN THEY
saw my car parked in the front yard. I assured them all was well, then sat them down right there in the wicker and willow chairs and on the porch swing to hear me out. As I outlined my idea to open a folk art gallery in the soon-to-be-vacant store space, six pairs of eyes rounded.

My plan was for Sherry and her friends to sell folk art year-round, even teach classes to pass along their craftsmanship, and invite guest artists to teach, too. The back room would be dedicated to Fred for his fix-it business, and for classes. I wasn’t so sure about having Dab distill herbs in the workroom, but he claimed to prefer taking over Fred’s sheds.

I’d manage the gallery, and I told Sherry I’d pay rent to live in the upstairs apartment. She nixed that, saying we’d dip into Sissy’s trust for the renovations and my rent. Since this wasn’t the time to argue finances, we settled on me paying the apartment’s utility bills. I’d bring up the rent issue again later when we got the venture off the ground.

“A folk art gallery,” Sherry said again. “I just can’t get over it. Are you certain you want to give up your paying job at that ritzy Houston gallery for an uncertain income here? I’ll be unhappy if you move to Lilyvale just for me.”

“I’m anxious about this,” I admitted, “but I’m excited. And if I didn’t want to do it, I’d be back in Houston by now. Besides, I
want
to be close to you. To all of you.”

Sherry beamed through her tears, and I knew in my bones this was right. I wouldn’t have thought it a week ago, but I was ready for a new home, a new job, and, okay, potentially even a man in my life.

As the seniors chattered and planned, I noticed Eric’s truck drive by. He wheeled into the drive, parked, and hurried to the porch.

“Is there a problem? Did your car break down?”

“Everything is wonderful,” Sherry gushed, a sly yet joyful sparkle in her eyes. “Nixy is moving to Lilyvale. We’re opening a folk art gallery. Isn’t it wonderful?”

“What a creative idea,” he said with a slow smile.

His deep, dreamy drawl sounded bland, but his brown eyes blazed with warmth when his gaze held mine.

I could hardly wait to call Lilyvale home.