time.”
I reminded her about Mrs. Shedd’s promise of the blankets, and an expression of concern passed over her face. “I’m afraid there won’t be blankets. We’ll be lucky to get one. As soon as we show all the newbies how to cast on, we’ll teach knit and purl. I thought I’d have them make practice swatches, which hopefully we can put together into a blanket. The good part is the group is all for it.”
She invited me to stay and join them, but I passed. I started to leave, but she looked like there was something she wanted to say.
“Is there anything else?” I prodded.
“Well, yes. This is kind of awkward.” She appeared momentarily perturbed. “As I said to you before, I sincerely wish whoever was on the beach with Izabelle would just come forward and settle things.” She composed herself and began again. “When we talked to Sergeant French, we said we didn’t know Izabelle before this weekend. It just seemed like a way to end his questions.” She bent her head in a pleading gesture. “So, I’d appreciate it if you would leave it that way.”
At first I didn’t know what she was talking about. Then I remembered the way Jeen had greeted Izabelle and commented on her weight loss, and realized they obviously did know each other from before.
I said yes, without bothering to explain that even if I did say something, Sergeant French would probably file it under “annoying amateur sleuth.”
It wasn’t quite as peaceful in the crochet room. Adele stood in the front, showing off samples of things from Izabelle’s box. When I walked in, she was holding up a lap blanket made of soft gray squares with different stitches. They were joined with white yarn that also was used for a border.
Sheila was moving among the people, who were hunched over their work. Boy, did I recognize that posture. For something that was so relaxing, meditative and restoring, when you first started out, crochet was just the opposite.
If anyone knew how to deal with too-tight stitches, it was Sheila. As accomplished a crocheter as she’d become, she still slipped up sometimes and let her emotions rule her crocheting. All the Tarzana Hookers knew to automatically hand her a smaller size hook when she ended up with a row of tightly knotted stitches she couldn’t get her hook into and to remind her to take her time and make the stitches loose enough so she could go back to the bigger hook. She was so busy helping the others, she’d forgotten about her own tension. She pushed her hair behind her ear to keep it from blocking her view as she helped a man in a striped sweater. When I caught sight of her expression, she seemed animated and happy, but most of all, calm.
Adele tried to ignore my presence, but finally acknowledged it, and with a diva-ish sigh asked if I was just going to stand there or come in.
It was lucky for Adele that Sergeant French wasn’t watching her. She seemed to be enjoying being in charge all too much. She might as well have been wearing a banner that said
As soon as I brought up the blankets, Adele flashed a self-satisfied smile. “Pink, I’m way ahead of you. I already have them working on blocks.” She suggested I join them, and while I could certainly have used some crochet time, I thought it would compromise my authority to have Adele acting like she was in charge of me.
I went back outside and took a deep breath of the pine scented air. So far, so good. There was just Commander Blaine’s group to check. He had brought all kinds of equipment with him, and the room bristled with enthusiasm. He had set up several stations and was moving between them to check on his students. One group was doing origami with napkins, and another was making flowers out of radishes, cucumbers and carrots. I heard him talking about how everything they would be doing in the workshop sessions was leading up to what they would do for the final evening’s party.
His group members were all so occupied they didn’t even look up when I stuck my head in the door.
Commander Blaine didn’t seem quite as happy the next time I saw him.
CHAPTER 15
“WHAT’S SHE DOING WITH HIM?” COMMANDER Blaine said with a grunt of disgust. He wasn’t really talking to me, more to himself, as he followed me down the stairs of Lodge. His comment was directed at Dinah, who was sitting in one of the easy chairs by the fireplace, talking to Spenser Futterman. My take was a little different. Good for Dinah! She was already working on her mission, and from here it looked like she was doing a good job with the phony flirting. She was doing a lot of blinking, and her amethyst drop earrings did a jiggly dance as if she was oh- so-amused at whatever he was saying.
The workshops had broken up for the day and everyone was wandering around, still caught in the afterglow of the creative afternoon, and had changed into loose-fitting clothes. Next up was tai chi on the beach.
Commander Blaine caught up with me on the landing, and grumbled again about Dinah talking to Spenser. This time he seemed to be talking to me.
“Do you know him from Tarzana?” I asked innocently. I already knew Spenser was one of Commander’s customers. “I keep seeing him around, but he doesn’t seem to be with our group.”
“Yes, I know him,” Commander said, not taking his eyes off the couple below us. He was silent after that, and it appeared that was all he was going to say. But I wanted to know more. I had a feeling what I was about to say was going to start trouble, but it would get him to talk.
“I was just wondering about him, you know, kind of doing girlfriend duty to check up on Dinah’s guy.”
“Her guy?” Commander sputtered. “When did that happen?” He took my arm and led me back up the stairs to the empty hallway. “He’s not right for her. If you’re really her friend, you’ll tell her he’s all wrong for her.”
And then tell her you’re perfect for her, right? Actually, the more I’d seen of Commander, the more we were on the same page about that. If Dinah could get past a few details, I knew she’d appreciate his good traits.
“How, exactly, do you know him?”
“You know I have a mail center in Tarzana, right? He has a mailbox at my place, and he does his copying there. Even with the copying ability of everyone’s printer, when they need a lot done, they still come to me.” He seemed to want to dismiss Spenser and get back to talking about himself. “Maybe if you understand-” He seemed thoughtful for a moment before he spoke. “I really like your friend. She’s the first person who’s sparked any interest in me since…” His voice trailed off and he looked down. When he put his head back up, his eyes were watery. “My wife died three years ago. We’d been married for a very long time, and I fell into kind of a black hole without her. When I finally started to get myself together again, I found I was terribly lonely. And you know how they say if you think about somebody else’s loneliness, it helps with your own? I got to know some of the people who have mailboxes at my place. Most of them work out of their houses and are pretty isolated. When you have a home office, there’s no socializing in the coffee room. Sometimes I thought I was the only person they talked to all day. So, I started to organize get-togethers, and since they were all strangers, I made sure there were activities that would get them talking. And it went from there.” He was facing me. “I want you to understand that I’m not some playboy type who’s after every woman. Dinah is special to me.”
I had to admit that what he said touched me, though when he got to the playboy part, I had a hard time not laughing. If there was any label I wouldn’t stick on him, that was it. I knew from my own experience of losing Charlie how hard it is to start over again. Commander certainly had come up with a unique and positive way of handling his own problem. And probably helped a lot of his customers, too.
“Did Spenser come to your parties?” I asked, not giving up on getting information.
“No, he was never interested-or very friendly, for that matter. When I first saw him up here, he just nodded a greeting, not even a friendly hello. I think he has some kind of accounting business, but there’s something else he does. I never got a look at what he was copying, but he seemed very excited about it.”
“What about Izabelle Landers?” I asked, suddenly remembering all the handouts she’d brought.
“What about her?” Commander sounded wary.
“Did she come into your shop?”
“Sure. She had a mailbox there, too. She came in to make the copies for her workshops.”
“So you knew she was coming up here,” I said.
