“Greenberg,” he answered; he clenched his jaw a few times while he listened. When he hung up, he announced he had to go to work. He straightened his tie and ran his hands over his hair as if that would make him look shower fresh. He bent over Jeffrey to awaken him. “I’ll drop him off at home on the way.”
I’d been concerned about Jeffrey being at their place alone at night so much and Barry had told me he had an arrangement with a neighbor. If Jeffrey needed anything he could go there. I knew I should let it go, but he looked so peaceful and as much as I knew I should stay out of it, it bothered me to think of him home alone all night.
“He can stay,” I said, hoping I wasn’t making a mistake. Isn’t that how it had started with Cosmo?
THE NEXT MORNING THERE WAS A NOTE NEXT TO me. It said, “Thank you. Please consider this the advance notice you are always asking for. Jeffrey and I would like to take you out to dinner at the restaurant of your choice.” He’d signed it, “Love, B.” I read it over and smiled. How could you not melt for a guy who would sign a note
The couch was empty, the blanket neatly folded on the pillow I’d put under Jeffrey’s sleeping head.
I showered and got dressed and did some chores around the house. Considering my previous night, I felt amazingly refreshed. I packed up my crochet goods and made sure the plastic bag with the hanky was in my bag. I was going to show it to Sheila.
The bookstore was in better shape than I’d expected. Patricia had been truthful about one thing: She made sure things were put back where they belonged. Rayaad said a crew had been waiting when she opened the bookstore. They had moved everything back, picked up stray coffee cups and even put the best sellers back on their table. The only person not happy about it was Adele. It gave her one less thing to tattle on me about.
As I approached the event area, I heard Adele telling everyone at the crochet table about the previous night’s
“Pink really called it that,” she said. I was relieved that she’d dressed semicasual today after all the business attire and crocheted ties. She wore black leggings with a brick red baby-doll tunic and a bunch of beaded necklaces. She finished it off with a print scarf wound around her head. Adele went on about how Eduardo had been an innocent bystander and had gotten punched for no reason. “I’m going to make sure nothing like that happens at the Milton Mindell signing,” she said, her voice full of self-assumed authority. I hoped Mrs. Shedd realized she’d created a monster when she said Adele could help with the book signing.
I almost didn’t recognize CeeCee. The stylist had dressed her in loose gray slacks, ballet flats, a white silk blouse and a black sweater—probably cashmere—tied over her shoulders. Her hair was now a natural shade of brown and had been poufed into a style that practically covered her face. The feather bangs were so long they were in her eyes. She looked good in a Lauren Bacall sort of way, but not like the CeeCee we were used to.
All eyes were on me as I set down my things, then came the torrent of questions about the night before. CeeCee wanted to check my work to see how I was coming along and wanted to know why Patricia and Dinah were AWOL. And what had happened to the ballet dancer I’d brought?
I started at the end first and told them about Morgan passing out from not eating and that for now she’d gone home with her mother.
“I should have talked to her,” CeeCee said. “Maybe if she’d heard about my portion control plan, things would have been different.” I wanted to explain that you had to eat something to be concerned with portions.
Even with all her book sales, Patricia had left in a huff after her event. The evening hadn’t gone the way she’d wanted, and I think she blamed me. For all her talk about how wonderful our project was, I wondered if she’d ever show up again. In any case she’d given CeeCee several knitted shawls on the sly, so she’d really done her share. I had a feeling I was no longer part of the team.
Dinah was another story. She had a legitimate reason for her absence. She’d called me in a frantic state. The kids were throwing up, and it had been a long time since she’d dealt with that kind of cleanup and needed advice. Under the circumstances she couldn’t leave them with a babysitter or take them to child care, and Jeremy had been gone when she woke up. Too bad Patricia wasn’t there. She probably would have had some good hints on the cleanup.
My gaze met Sheila’s and she smiled wanly. No drumming or tight stitches, she seemed to have turned all her nerves inward. That made me more uneasy than her finger tapping. With all the tension and nerves roiling around inside her, building up heat and energy, I feared she would suddenly explode. I hoped I was wrong. She appeared to have a rhythm going, and I watched the ball of golden honey-colored yarn jump as she finished a row of stitches
Eduardo was sitting near Adele, though I suspected she thought he was sitting
I did a row on my shawl, then I brought out the plastic bag with the hanky and showed it to Sheila. “Do you have any idea what this is?”
She picked up the plastic bag and examined the contents. “It looks like a handkerchief,” she said.
I rolled my eyes and explained I knew it was a handkerchief. “I was hoping you could give me some information about it, like when it was made.”
She paused and took a few long breaths. “I’m trying something new for my anxiety. When I get tense I count to five as I inhale and then do the same when I let the air out. It’s supposed to do something to fool your vagus nerve.
“As long as I never hear from Detective Gilmore again, I’ll be fine,” she said with a sigh. She turned the plastic bag over a few times and looked closely at the filigree-like edging around the fine cotton center. “It might be Victorian,” she said. “No, change that to First World War.” She turned it over again. “I’m really not sure. The class I’m taking now is geared toward designing wardrobes for robots and space creatures.” I saw her do her breathing move, and when she let all the air out she asked where I’d gotten it.
“She found it at the Cottage Shoppe, dear,” CeeCee blurted out. “Molly, didn’t you say you thought it was connected with the murder?” She gestured toward the red spots. “That’s not blood. It’s tomato soup.”
Sheila’s breath turned shallow, and she dropped the bag as though it were a scorching poker.
I put my head down in dismay. So much for keeping its origin a secret. When I looked up, the whole table was staring at me again.
I went through the story, saying I’d picked it up by mistake. I told them the whole no-show sock thing but left out that I’d been under Kevin’s desk at the time. Where was Dinah when I needed her? She could corroborate my story. Her ex ought to be at her house cleaning up after his own kids. This situation was worse than if she’d met a new guy and was caught up in that infatuation fog that made you forget all your other friends.
“Pink, you’re losing it. Isn’t that called shoplifting?” Adele said. She had moved her chair so close to Eduardo’s they knocked into each other.
“It’s not shoplifting if the thing you pick up is crumbled up and has soup on it, and most of all, isn’t for sale,” I said, giving Adele the evil eye. I reached to get it back, but Eduardo asked if he could look at it.
He turned the bag over, examining it from all angles. “This looks like Irish crochet.” When he saw my quizzical expression, he explained he was a McGurk on his mother’s side, and he went on to tell us a bit about his family. Eduardo had a deep, melodious voice and a charismatic smile. He could have been telling us the history of dirt and we all would have happily listened. Luckily, the story he told was much more interesting.
“My Gran Maeve wanted to pass on the knowledge of Irish crochet, but we were a family of boys.” His blue eyes sparkled with good humor. “I was the last to come along, and she realized there weren’t going to be any girls to teach, so I got the gift.”
Eduardo pointed to the wide scallopy edging of the handkerchief. “This isn’t what most people think of when you mention Irish crochet. Most of it is made of motifs like flowers and leaves, sometimes around cord to give it more of a three-dimensional appearance. My gran taught me how to baste the motifs to some fabric like muslin and then join them with Clones knots or picot filling stitches.” He looked down at his hands and chuckled. “I’m afraid that even with all her lessons I was never that good.”
His Gran Maeve had told him about the history of it as she tried to teach him how to do the fine work. “The craft was created during the great potato famine and saved many families. It was based on Venetian lace that had been available only to the very rich people. My ancestors created a new craft and made money to feed their
