As much as I hate to do it, I think I’ll have to sleep with one eye open around Shep from here on out. I’m not running out of Starry Falls just yet, but once that vision comes true, and it’s confirmed that Shep has been playing poker with me in the dark, I’ll have no choice but to flee the scene.
Shep nods my way. “That’s okay, we don’t have to talk about it anymore.”
“Darn right we don’t.” I reach down, scoop up some of that icy white stuff, and form a hard ball before chucking it right at his chest.
“Whoa.” He chuckles as he quickly makes his own snowball and beams me in the hip.
Shep and I have a snowball fight for the ages before we head back to the cabin, laughing all the way like drunk teenagers. We enjoy Nana Rose’s cookies before enjoying those steamy kisses with each other.
I might as well toy with him in the best way possible while I have the chance.
And yet my heart breaks a little with each deceptive kiss.
Oh, Shep. How I hope I’m wrong about all of this. And if I am, I’m going to marry you.
And if I’m right, I just might kill you.
After all, what’s another homicide in Starry Falls?
Kidding.
I think.
Chapter 9
Stitch Witchery is kind of a big deal at the Mortimer Manor.
Long before I ever arrived, Opal Mortimer invited every person with a crafty mind to the library right here in the heart of the manor so the like-minded crafty folks could spend an hour or two with other like-minded people in what Tilly indelicately referred to as a stitch and bitch.
The library itself is a mahogany wonder with dark wooden shelves everywhere you look. Embedded in the molding you’ll find carved angels and devils, gargoyles, and every other creature determined to give you nightmares. Some of the books here are so old I’m afraid to touch them, with their carved leather exteriors and their yellowing pages, so brittle they fall apart in your hands. Almost all of the newer books were donated from the local library, and the rest were castoffs from the townspeople themselves.
Our usual yet adorable decorations are the hundreds of cats that mill around inside of the manor. You can find them tucked in every nook and cranny here in the library. And seeing that it’s Christmastime, Opal had the manor’s handyman, Mud, put up evergreen garland and colorful twinkle lights lining all the bookshelves.
There’s a four-foot tall plastic snowman at the entry, and a few well-placed holiday wreaths, but the best part of the décor is all the holiday fine china spread out over the marble checkout counter. Of course, the cats are still the furry little stars of the show. I don’t think we’ve had a single function at the manor without them.
I hold my own cat, Pixie, close as we take in the melee already well underway. I ran into Hazel this afternoon and that peppy little spook asked me to bring my sweet cat by this evening. She said that Pixie wouldn’t want to miss out on the big surprise she has in store for me.
I glance over to the checkout counter at the dozens upon dozens of teacups and teapots. Traditionally, Stitch Witchery calls for all of Opal’s finery, which is legion, but seeing that it’s Christmas, the only teacup, teapots, and saucers that need apply are those with a holiday theme. And believe me when I say, Opal owns every single line of holiday-inspired china on the market. She’s got your Spode, your Villeroy and Boch, Fitz and Floyd, and just about every other fine china designer in all of creation. I must admit, the Christmas china is by far my favorite. Don’t get me wrong, I love her vast collection of delicate teacups and teapots, but there is something special about the holiday appeal of it all.
We’re hardly out the gate with Stitch Witchery and already the room is humming with women. The elongated tables have been joined as one, and there’s nary a vacant seat left open. It’s mostly women, but there is a small smattering of crafty men. The crafts range with everything from knitting, needlepoint, crochet, cross-stitch, embroidery, latch hook, punch needle point, diamond painting, and I think there’s someone on the end working on a puzzle. The sound of their voices rise high and light like the happy hum of a beehive, and every once in a while the room quiets to a hush as everyone tries to listen in on a juicy bit of gossip.
Then there is the comfort, which is code for whiskey. It was Opal who originally put a spot of the hot sauce into her tea, and once I told her we should extend the offer and start charging those interested, she hopped right on board the tipsy express. Out of all of the schemes Opal and I have concocted to turn a dollar, Stitch Witchery and its famed comfort is the most profitable of them all.
Right now, Flo and Thea are manning the comfort station. Tilly and her daughter Jessie are working intensely on projects of their own, while Opal heads my way.
Tucked in Opal’s arms are King, the Bengal leader of the feline pack, and Lucky, a black, one-eyed cutie pie who is my next target to cat-nap as my own.
Opal has on an emerald velvet cape, the frilly green dress on underneath that looks as if it was pulled straight from the seventeenth century, and enough thick chunky jewelry around her neck to qualify as a diamond studded millstone. Her silver tresses have a lavender twinge in this light, and her lipstick is dragon’s blood red. That’s her go-to lip color pretty much year-round.
Opal touches Lucky’s nose to Pixie’s. “I’ve got one word for you, Bowie
