“Somebody was signing their work,” Adele said, holding up what she’d done. She seemed distressed that everyone was paying more attention to the talk about the segment producer’s yarn plant.
Nell’s eyes suddenly showed some recognition. “I remember the cactus now. I made some joke about it once since she didn’t have a window, it was the only kind of plant she could have. She didn’t even crack a smile. That was crochet?” Nell sounded genuinely impressed. “I guess making something like that wouldn’t be as fast as this, huh?” she said, pointing at Rhoda’s demonstration piece.
“Don’t worry about making anything that complicated yet.” CeeCee pushed a hook and a ball of cotton yarn toward Nell, while Rhoda handed out sheets for everybody with instructions and patterns for the pieces she’d brought in. She’d added suggestions for ways to personalize each piece.
I took some extra. I knew Sheila and Eduardo would both love the idea. Eduardo had been missing so many of our get-togethers I was really beginning to wonder what was going on with him. I knew he was trying to branch out from modeling. He’d been concerned about the kind of offers he’d been getting. Sheila said she’d heard Eduardo asking the owner of Luxe for some advice about owning a business.
“I spent the afternoon with Rhoda,” Elise said, showing off the cell phone sock she’d made. “I call it the Anthony,” she said, referring to the vampire who crocheted. It was black with a red corkscrew hanging off it. She handed it to CeeCee. “I was hoping you could give it to Hugh Jackman next time you see him.” There was swoon in Elise’s birdlike voice.
Everybody started working. CeeCee watched her niece and helped her with the first row and took out a stitch marker and stuck it in the last stitch so she’d be able to see where a row ended.
I started on a change purse. The group became silent as our hooks flew and objects grew right in front of our eyes. For the first time since the incident, the worry disappeared from Nell’s face. I would bet money that, at least for a moment, she’d forgotten all about being a murder suspect. I, however, couldn’t forget and, while I was working, kept my eye out for Bob.
CHAPTER 14
“SIMI VALLEY?” DINAH SAID. “HE WANTS YOU TO move to a condo in Simi Valley?”
“It’s not exactly the ends of the earth,” I said. “And he just had some info on a couple of condo developments. It’s not as if he put down a deposit or anything.”
Dinah looked at me with concern. “Are you so sure?” She mentioned a trip to Hawaii Barry had planned to the point of buying nonrefundable tickets without consulting me. “He just seems to act on things,” she added.
“He wouldn’t,” I said. I hoped the tinge of doubt I suddenly felt didn’t show in my voice.
When the group had broken up, Dinah and I had gone to the cafe. Mr. Royal was still manning the counter and I was determined to wait for Bob. I assured Nell I’d let her know as soon as I talked to our barista about his sweetener purchase. She and CeeCee left to go shopping for buttons and beads to put on their impatient crochet creations. Adele rolled up her fancy wooden hooks and went back to the kids’ department. Rhoda couldn’t wait to tell her Hal about the success of her crochet idea. I think Elise went to the movies to see
“We might as well have a coffee while we wait,” I said. I wasn’t totally brokenhearted that Bob wasn’t back yet. I was glad to have some time to catch up with my friend. The whole condo concept was new to her. Ever since she and Commander Blaine had become a couple, it seemed like she had less and less time to hang out. Was I jealous? Jealous that she didn’t have time for me or that the man in her life made plans and kept them? Commander was his nickname. I never got it straight where it came from other than his real name was Sylvester. You could say he was the other extreme from Barry. Commander always seemed to have something planned, usually involving doing something nice for other people, like the senior karaoke event. But then it was easier for him to figure his time. He owned the local Mail It center and had regular hours.
It wasn’t Barry’s fault. It was part of being a homicide detective that dead bodies, clues and runaway suspects came up when they came up, with no regard to convenience. Still, it was hard to deal with and even harder now that my best friend wasn’t around as much.
I was truly happy for Dinah. After a long line of jerks, she’d finally connected with a winner. It showed in her face, too. Her eyes were always animated but seemed even brighter now. The way she wore her short hair gave her a playful look, and the way she’d swirled the pink-and-brick-colored scarves together added a rakish touch.
The cafe was busy, which was a saving grace for the bookstore. It had been genius on Mrs. Shedd’s part to come up with the idea of having freshly baked cookies. Bob had come through by being a fabulous baker. He might write about aliens in his spare time, but his baking was definitely down to earth. The trays of cookies in the display case were almost empty.
I noticed Dinah surreptitiously glancing at her watch as we discussed Barry’s plan for our future together.
“Do you have to go somewhere?” I asked finally, and she looked up with a guilty smile.
“Commander volunteered our services at the square dance and ice-cream party at the Tarzana Park Recreation Center, and I promised to help set up. You ought to come.”
I started to automatically say no, but she worked on me until I said I would try to make it. Why not? It sounded like fun. Right? Saturday night was when people went out and did fun things or at least stayed home together and did fun things. Not like Barry and me. More often than not, I’d end up crocheting in front of an old romantic comedy and he’d end up at the morgue.
Dinah sat back and said she still had time before she was supposed to meet Commander. “It was so different when I was just involved with jerks. They all seemed to always have one foot out of the door. Commander actually wants to spend time with me, and he wants me to be part of the things he does.” Dinah rolled her eyes as if even she couldn’t quite believe what she was about to say. “He even likes to talk. And talk about us.”
We both laughed. Wasn’t that the universal complaint about men? As much as they didn’t want to talk to their girlfriends, they wanted to talk about their coupleness even less.
“Men, go figure,” I said, throwing up my hands.
“Who’s talking about us?” a male voice said. I looked up, and a man with an impish smile and tousled brown hair leaned on the chair back next to me. “Can’t live with us or without us,” he said with a good-natured twinkle in his eye.
“Something like that,” I said.
“Sorry for jumping into your conversation. I have a bad habit of eavesdropping and then adding my comments. I don’t think we’ve met. I’m D. J. Florian,” he said. “Molly Pink, right? Mr. Royal pointed you out. He said you’re the one to talk to about the setup for the faux book signing.” He’d caught me off guard, and instead of explaining the whole thing about Salute to Chocolate, I just asked him for his phone number. Nobody could find a piece of paper, and then he pulled a scrap out of his pocket and wrote his information on it. He smiled at Dinah and said he didn’t mean to ignore her, and they introduced themselves as I slipped it in the pocket of my suit. He looked around as he turned the chair he’d been leaning on and straddled it, facing us.
“I’ve gotten to love this cafe. It’s certainly a lot better than the donut shop I hung out at when I was on the skids. What a great place to do my blog.” I noticed a laptop set up on a table near an outlet, and I realized I’d seen him in here before. I just hadn’t known who he was. “Any idea of when Bob will be back?”
“Soon, I hope,” I said before explaining to Dinah about D.J.’s blogoir.
Dinah, forever the English instructor, made a face at the word, and D. J. rushed in to explain that he’d coined the word to describe a new literary form.
“I describe my book as a blog mixed with a memoir,” he said. Dinah was curious what it was about. I tried to be diplomatic and say that he’d turned his troubles into something good, but he laughed and took over. “Molly is being too kind. I was a mess. There’s a reason I call the book
Bob was wearing a suit and he looked about as comfortable in it as I was in mine. I got up and blocked his path. “I need to talk to you.”
