when Adele stepped in and started ordering everyone around. CeeCee just kept putting a black border around one of the newbies' single-color squares.
Adele told Sheila, Dinah and me to get our hooks going, and then she gave a group refresher lesson to the newbies. She even handed out some sheets with descriptions of the basic stitches for them to keep as a reference. I had moved up from granny squares of two colors plus a black border to squares with four colors plus black.
Adele ran the whole meeting. Only at the end, when Adele was calculating what we had versus what we needed, did CeeCee come to and join the group. It was as if she'd awakened from a trance or something.
With a start, CeeCee began ruffling through the box of squares. When she'd finished, she looked up.
'Am I the only one who realizes we are at the end of our time? That auction is going to go on whether this afghan is completed or not. If we aren't able to turn it in, I'll look bad as your leader for not keeping on top of you, and you, the Tarzana Hookers, will look bad for not living up to your promise. But that isn't the real shame. Just think of all those dogs and cats that won't be spayed or neutered becausetheir owners can't afford it, and Hearts and Barks won't have the money from the afghan to help them. Or the seniors who won't get Hearts and Barks's assistance and won't be able to keep their pets. Or the poor little strays that won't find homes because there won't be money for the Hearts and Barks foster program.
'We've all had personal crises and other interferences with our crocheting, but, ladies, we are down to the wire and it is now-or-never time. Which is it going to be?'
Everything CeeCee said was true, and surprisingly well said after her trance state.
We all held up our hooks and waved them in a sign of unity. Inspired by her impassioned speech, we all recommittedourselves to making the needed squares. It was agreed that we'd all work independently and meet again the night before the auction to assemble our donation.
I just hoped nothing would get in our way.
CHAPTER 21
With everything on my mind, i had forgottenabout Peter's invitation to brunch until he called to give me the time and the suggestion that I might want to wear something nice instead of the khaki pants and shirts I wore all the time.
'Do you have a dress or something? It is the Belle Vue Hotel,' he reminded me.
I rolled my eyes and assured him I would wear somethingappropriate. Actually, the idea of a dress sounded nice for a change, and I found a long, sheer Indian one in my closet. It was black with tiny yellow flowers, and alwaysseemed in style. I matched it with a pair of sandals and a smaller purse than the satchel I usually carried. I did a whole number with my makeup, too, along with a competentblow-dry job on my hair.
Sometimes Peter's attention to appearances had its benefits.The Belle Vue was tucked into a canyon, and once you drove through the gate, it was like leaving everyday realitybehind. The hotel was known to be frequented by celebrities, visiting royalty and people with healthy expenseaccounts.
A valet whisked the greenmobile away, giving the old Mercedes just the slightest of disdainful looks.
I crossed the grounds, marveling how anything real could look so perfect. The lawn was a solid green carpet without a blemish on it. Carnations, impatiens and roses, all in either white or a shade of pink coral, filled the area along the walkway. They were so painstakingly maintained,there wasn't a wilted blossom or a dead head among them.
I crossed over a small arched bridge, glancing down at the stream that passed under it, joining the ponds on either side. Graceful swans glided over the water.
The peachy pink main building was small and inviting, with a lobby that looked more like a living room. When I reached the restaurant, the host announced that everyone was already seated, and led me across the patio to an umbrella-covered table surrounded by pink coral rose bushes. I was surprised at the number of people there.
I gathered that the woman next to Peter must be his date. I wondered if that meant he was serious about her, as I rarely met his women these days. I had the unfortunate habit of getting attached to my sons' girlfriends, and it got sticky when they broke up. Their solution had been to keep me out of the loop. Samuel had a woman with him as well. She was the one I'd seen manning the CD table the night I'd seen him play. But it was the person seated next to the empty chair meant for me who most caught my attention.
He stood as I approached the table, and pulled out my chair.
'Mason Fields,' he said, introducing himself, as he touched my arm. 'And you must be Molly.' I smiled tentatively,wondering what was going on.
I slid into my chair as Peter took over the job of host. He introduced the woman next to him as Sunny and mentioned that she was in development at Universal. She looked like a perfect match for Peter. Not a hair out of place; very poised and aggressive. Her clothes were elegantly casual, just like Peter's.
Samuel had his golden hair pulled back in a ponytail and was nicely dressed in a T-shirt with an offbeat open vest over black jeans. His date's name was Morgan, and something in the way she moved made me think she was a dancer, probably ballet.
Mason, Peter explained, was the lawyer he'd told me about. And also the lawyer I no longer needed now that I was not about to be arrested. So why was he here? Unless . . . had Peter decided to play matchmaker? That felt way too weird. All along I had thought he had a problem with me dating,but I realized maybe it was just a problem with whom I was dating.
I glanced over at Mason again, and he caught my gaze. He was certainly easy on the eyes. His dark brown hair was shot with silver, and a lock of it fell across his forehead and somehow gave the impression that he was sincere and hardworking.
Though Peter didn't go through Mason's credits, I realizedI knew who he was. He was the lawyer known for keeping his celebrity clients out of jail. He was always popping up on the news, giving a statement as he came out of the courthouse. Recently he'd represented a well-known actress accused of killing her husband.
The details came back to me. Everyone had thought she was guilty, but apparently, thanks to Mason, the jury had some doubts, and she got off. There had been a civil trial after it. She had lost that one and was found responsible for her spouse's drowning in the pool. Though she had to pay a hefty amount, she stayed out of jail and went on with her life. She'd probably earned the amount she'd had to pay doing her next movie. Afterward the case had been the fodderof Jay Leno's monologues for weeks.
It was a comfort knowing that Peter had set me up with an attorney who obviously would have kept me out of the big house. Except, since Mason had the reputation for gettingguilty people off, everyone would have believed I reallydid kill Ellen. It was all beside the point now anyway. I glanced around the beautiful patio, with the graceful trees offering shade and all the people enjoying the ambiance, and I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing Detective Heather wasn't going to pop out of the bushes, dangling handcuffs.
Mason started talking to Peter and Sunny about a TV show idea they were all working on, which explained how Peter had gotten Mason to show up. I realized that as far as Mason was concerned, this was a story meeting, even if it was Sunday. Leave it to Peter to work from all different angles.Mason was all smiles when he turned back to me.
'Peter said you've had a very stressful couple of weeks.' Something about Mason's manner put me at ease, and I poured out my adventure of being a murder suspect, includingmy roller-coaster ride of trying to get Will Hunter for the bookstore.
'And now I'm back to square one,' I said with dismay. 'All things considered, it shouldn't be that important, but the owner is really counting on his showing up.' I mentionedall the arrangements I'd made and the crowd it would bring in, and how I was hoping it would open the door to more celebrity book signings, since they all seemed to be coming out with books these days.
Mason listened attentively, nodding at the right momentsand smiling enough to appear to be amused by the lighter parts of the story. When I finished, he touched my arm.
'If it's any consolation, I would have gotten you off,' he said. Of course he didn't mention the stigma that would have gone with it. 'And I can help you with Will Hunter. I'll have my people track him down.'
'Mother, why don't you just get in touch with Lawrence Sheridan? I heard he's moved the PR business to his office and is overseeing it now,' Peter said.
I mentioned my unsuccessful attempts to get a call back from Lawrence. But Peter persisted.
'We saw him and his girlfriend at a charity event the other evening. He came up to me and said he owed you an apology for accusing you . . .'
