Thread on Arrival (2 page)

“Is everything all right?” she asked, sitting on the sofa beside me.

“Everything is great. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I noticed the sheriff’s wife and his head detective heading this way separately but divided only by a short amount of time this morning,” Sadie said, stroking Angus’s head. “That usually means someone has died around here somewhere.”

“Ha-ha. My friends can’t simply visit to chat with me?” I held my hand out toward her. “Or to put their aristocratic noses in my business?”

“Touché. . . . Do you really think I have an aristocratic nose?”

“Yes, I do. You have a very regal look about you—I’ve told you that before.”

“I know,” she said. “I just never get tired of hearing it.”

Sadie was a lovely young woman. She was tall, had an athletic build, dark brown hair, and eyes that were so brown, they were almost black. Her husband, Blake, had a stocky build, blond hair, and blue eyes. They looked like polar opposites, but they were really a perfect match. I’d known Sadie since she and I had roomed together in college. She had begun dating Blake soon after that, and the two of them had been married for a little more than five years.

“Actually, Reggie did ask me to help her with a very interesting-sounding project,” I said. I explained about the embroidery class as a therapy tool. “What do you think?”

“I think you’ll be okay as long as you don’t get too involved with your students. I mean, it’s a wonderful thing to help, and an honor to be asked, but I can just see you going out to round up all these abusers yourself.”

I huffed. “Now you sound like Ted.”

“Well, Ted is a perceptive guy. He knows—as we all do—that you tend to believe you’re ten feet tall and bulletproof rather than a five-foot-tall wimp.”

“I am so not a wimp! And I have the free weights in my office to prove it!”

Sadie laughed. “Oh, riiight. The two-pound purple-and-silver dumbbells. I’d forgotten all about those, Xena Warrior Princess.”

“I don’t know why everyone seems to think I’ll get in over my head with these students,” I said, with a sigh. “I’m a grown-up. I know I can’t save the world.”

“But it doesn’t stop you from trying. And that’s something we all love about you, Marce.” She tilted her head, making her long hair spill over her shoulder. “Which reminds me . . . Blake, Todd, and I had a wonderful time whale watching last Sunday.”

“Me, too.”

“Maybe we can do it again soon,” she said. “Or, you know, if Blake and I can’t make it, I’m sure you and Todd would have a great time. I mean, when’s the last time the two of you went on a date alone?”

“I’m not sure.” I really, really did need to make a choice between Todd and Ted soon before the warring factions got out of hand. Reggie was right—someone was going to get hurt if I wasn’t careful.

* * *

Speaking of Todd, he dropped in about fifteen minutes after Sadie returned to MacKenzies’ Mochas. I was finishing up with a customer, so he sat on the sofa and scratched Angus’s head while he waited.

When the customer left, and I was sure the other lady browsing in the store wasn’t paying attention to Todd and me—well, at least not to
me
; Todd, with his wavy brown hair and chocolate eyes, had gained more than one surreptitious glance from her—I went over and sat on the red club chair.

“Sadie sent you,” I said flatly.

He grinned. “Maybe a little.”

I arched a brow.

“Okay, okay,” he said. “She suggested I drop in and talk with you, but she didn’t exactly
send
me. It’s not like she’s my mom or anything.”

“No, she just thinks she’s mother hen to both of us. This is about the class, right?”

He glanced up, apparently caught the customer giving him the eye, and gave her a wink. I rolled my eyes. The woman was nearly old enough to be his mother.

“Just being friendly,” he whispered. “Might be good for sales.”

“Gee, thanks,” I whispered back.

“I’m really busy and need to get across the street to work,” Todd said. “But why don’t you tell me more about this class of yours over dinner tonight?”

“Sorry. I already have plans.”

He shook his head slightly. “Sadie warned me that if I’m not careful, somebody else will come in and swoop you off your feet.” He watched my expression to see if I’d give anything away.

I struggled to find a proper response to that. Todd was a great guy, but more and more, I found myself thinking about Ted . . . a lot. Ted and I seemed to have more in common, more chemistry . . . more of a chance of having something real. Being unable to find a proper response, I didn’t give one. I simply asked him to excuse me so I could check on my customer.

Todd said he’d see me later. The customer—after telling me she’d come back another time—set off after him. It was comical. I could see him talking with her, probably explaining to her that the Brew Crew wasn’t open yet. The lady was all smiles and wiggly-fingered waves as she went off down the street.

Had I seen that exchange take place with Ted rather than Todd, it wouldn’t have been so cute. It would have irked me . . . made me a little jealous. Of course, Ted wasn’t the type to wink at a random woman just to be friendly.

My mind drifted to what I’d wear for our date this evening.

Chapter Two

T
ed picked me up at around six o’clock. I’d changed into a pink-and-white floral pencil skirt with a white V-neck sweater. I wore nude pumps, diamond stud earrings, and a diamond pendant. If I’d had time, I’d have curled my short platinum hair just a teensy bit. But I didn’t have time, and judging by the smile on Ted’s face, I thought I’d done okay anyway.

“You look gorgeous,” he said.

“Thank you.” He’d changed into black slacks, a white button-down, and a black leather bomber jacket. His hair was still damp from a recent shower, and he smelled fantastic. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

“I guess we’d better go since you have to be back at the library by eight.”

“And where is it we’re going?” I asked.

“Zefferelli’s.”

“That new Italian place? I’m impressed. Did you have trouble getting reservations?”

“Nope.” He winked. “The owner is an old friend. Sometimes it’s good to know people in high places.”

I linked my arm through his. “Yeah. It really is. Blake and Sadie have been trying to get in for two weeks. Every time they’re free, the restaurant is booked.”

Zefferelli’s was wonderful—from the elegant walnut furniture and pastel blue linens to the Pollo alla Parmigiana to the hazelnut gelato. Even better was the company. I was growing more and more comfortable with Ted—not the kind of comfortable you get from your favorite sneakers, but the kind of comfortable you get from being with someone you totally get and who totally gets you.

* * *

I was a little harried but still on cloud nine when I pulled into the parking lot at the library that evening. I’d been afraid I’d be late, but there didn’t appear to be any lights on in the building even though Reggie’s car was there. I thought maybe Manu had come to take his wife to dinner to thank her for helping out with his domestic abuse victim assistance program. Although there were white rocking chairs on the porch of the Victorian-style house that had been converted into the Tallulah Falls library, the air was cool so I decided to wait in the Jeep.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when someone rapped on my window. I sighed in relief when I saw that it was Reggie. I opened the door, grabbed my purse and the tote containing the embroidery kits, and jumped down out of the Jeep. In case you’re wondering, I’d traded the pencil skirt for a pair of jeans before heading over to the library.

“Are you trying to scare me to death?” I asked, as I clicked the remote to lock my doors.

Reggie chuckled. “No. Sorry about that. I just wanted to show you where to come in.”

I followed her to the back of the building. She took a key from her pocket and unlocked a door leading to a part of the library I’d never seen. There was a light hanging above a long white folding table, which was flanked by gray metal folding chairs.

“Not the Taj Mahal, I know,” Reggie said. “But we have to be extremely careful with these women and take every precaution to ensure their safety and the safety of any children they may bring with them.”

“I understand completely.” I glanced around the rest of the room. There were shelves lining the walls. Most of the shelves contained old books that needed to be repaired or discarded, but some contained office supplies. There was a countertop that contained snack items and a coffeemaker, and a small refrigerator occupied the corner nearest the door leading into the main part of the library.

“This serves as our all-purpose storage room, break room, party room . . .”

“And hiding place,” I finished.

Reggie nodded. “And hiding place.” She glanced at her watch. “Officer Dayton is outside helping get students headed in the right direction, and the van from the sheriff’s department should be here any minute.”

“There’s an officer posted outside the library?” I asked. “I didn’t see anyone.”

“Nope, but she saw you,” Reggie said with a smile. “She radioed and told me you were in the parking lot.”

I remembered Officer Dayton from the night someone broke into Blake and Sadie MacKenzie’s house. She was a pretty, auburn-haired woman with dark green eyes. She’d taken a no-nonsense approach to her job that evening, and I had no doubt she was taking this assignment just as seriously . . . maybe more so.

“Is there anything I can do to help you get things set up?” I asked.

She nodded toward the tote. “Are those the embroidery kits?”

“Yes. I brought fifteen. Do you think that’ll be enough?”

“It should be. Let’s fan them out across the table,” she suggested. She looked at me and then did a double take. “You look awfully cheery tonight—I’d say downright flushed. What have you been up to?”

I blushed. “Nothing. Ted took me to that new Italian place for dinner is all. I’m probably flushed because I thought I’d be late getting here.”

“So how
was
Zefferelli’s? Or did you notice?”

“I noticed,” I said. “It was wonderful.”

“And Ted?” Reggie asked.

“Oh, yes. He’s wonderful too.”

She chuckled. “I was asking what he thought of the restaurant, but I guess that answer says it all.” She shook her head slightly. “I’m so glad he’s found you. After his divorce, he was so bitter. I was afraid he’d never find the right woman.”

I arranged the cross-stitch and needlepoint kits on the table. “What happened to cause the divorce . . . if you don’t mind telling me?”

“I don’t mind at all. Ted’s ex-wife, Jennifer, simply wasn’t cut out to be an officer’s wife. She couldn’t handle his irregular hours or his job hazards.”

I frowned. “Was Ted a police officer when they met?”

“Right out of the academy,” she said. “So, yes, Jennifer definitely knew what she was getting herself into—or, at least, she
should
have. Maybe she was so taken in with his good looks, charm, personality, magnetism—whatever—that she thought she could convince him to change career paths.”

“Was there an impetus that made her realize that was never going to happen?” I asked.

“I think Jennifer decided she wanted to have a baby . . . just not Ted’s baby. She didn’t want her baby’s father to be a policeman. It was
too risky
, she said.
Some criminal could come after our baby. Or you could be killed
.” Reggie scoffed. “I think mainly she just had a whole lot of growing up to do. She got married, realized life wasn’t the fairy tale she’d imagined it to be, and then ran out on Ted.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I was too at the time,” she said. “But, even then, as hurt as Ted was, I think her leaving was for the best. He’s moved on, and frankly, I think he’s happier now than I’ve ever seen him . . . so far.” She winked.

I busied myself with straightening the embroidery kits. Fortunately, the van arrived, and I didn’t have to discuss Ted’s happiness any further.

The women began filing in. There were five of them. They couldn’t have been more different or, yet, more alike. They ranged in age from—given my best guess—eighteen to sixty. Two were well dressed, one was poorly dressed, and the other two appeared to have been clothed with whatever was available at the shelter. I made a mental note to go through my closet to see what I had that I could donate. All of them glanced at Reggie and me and then lowered their heads before taking a seat at the table.

“Hello and welcome,” Reggie said in a booming voice. “We’re so glad you’re here.”

No one responded. I noticed the youngest had a black eye and a split lip, and tears sprang to my eyes. I quickly turned away and almost bumped into Officer Dayton.

She gave me a sympathetic nod. “Would you give me a hand with something outside for a sec?”

Not trusting myself to speak, I merely followed her outside.

“It’s tough to see these women like this,” said Officer Dayton. “But you have to just be glad they’re here. They’re trying to escape their situation and make better lives for themselves.”

“I know,” I said. “You’re right about it being tough to see, though.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” she said, with a rueful smile. “I’ve only been on the force for a few months, but already I’ve seen worse. Are you able to go back in now?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“No problem.” She turned to a woman and a teenage girl who were coming up the path. “Hi, there. The meeting is right through that door. I’m glad you guys could make it.”

When the woman and the girl had gone inside, I asked, “Do you know them?”

Officer Dayton nodded. “Yeah . . . they’re in a rough situation. That’s Mary Cantor and her daughter, Melanie. Mary’s husband is abusive not only to her but sometimes to his daughter and his elderly father as well. Mary won’t come to the shelter because she’s afraid to leave Chester, her father-in-law.”

“But isn’t there somewhere he could go? A men’s shelter?”

“There is,” she said. “But it’s more of a halfway house. It’s no way near as secure as the women’s shelter. Besides, she says he needs her and Melanie. And I have no doubt he does.”

Officer Dayton stayed outside, and I went back inside. We waited a few more minutes, and another three women joined us before we began.

* * *

I had trouble learning everyone’s names, mostly because no one talked for the first fifteen or twenty minutes of the meeting other than to give monosyllabic answers to Reggie’s questions. After she introduced me to the group, they spoke very little to me other than to tell me what type of embroidery—needlepoint or cross-stitch—they preferred and to choose a kit.

Once everyone had chosen a kit, there were five left—three cross-stitch and two needlepoint. Reggie took the needlepoint hot-air balloon, and I took the cross-stitch kitten sleeping on a pillow. Working on our own kits allowed Reggie and me to work and to converse with the women without causing anyone to be uncomfortable.

Melanie, Mary Cantor’s daughter, was sitting between her mother and a woman named Susan. She had chosen a cross-stitch kit of a long-eared puppy with a bedroom slipper dangling from his teeth. “I like this dog,” Melanie said to no one in particular. “He’s cute.”

“Maybe one day we can have a dog,” her mother said.

“I hope so.” Melanie sighed.

“I have a dog,” I said. “His name is Angus. He’s an Irish wolfhound, and he’s bigger than I am.”

“That’s not saying much,” said Reggie with a laugh. “But, seriously, when Angus stands on his back paws, he’s over six feet tall.”

“Wow,” Melanie said. “Is he scary?”

“Not at all,” I said. “Maybe your mom can bring you by the shop to see him sometime. He loves having visitors!”

“Can we, Mom?” she asked.

“We’ll see,” Mary said.

“Grandpa wants you to take the tapestry to her shop so she can see how old it is,” Melanie said.

“I said we’ll see.” Mary didn’t look up from her needlepoint rose.

I wanted to ask about the tapestry, but I didn’t want to cause Mary—or especially Melanie—any discomfort. I waited until after the class and spoke with Mary discreetly.

“What sort of tapestry was Melanie talking about?” I asked.

Mary gave me a half shrug. “Pop has this piece of embroidered cloth that he thinks is a treasure map. Frankly, I don’t even think it’s that old, but he thinks it’s an antique and that it could be the answer to our prayers. When I told him about class tonight, he got really excited and wanted me to show you the tapestry so you could confirm how old it is.”

“I could probably look at it and tell you,” I said. “I’m really good with textiles.”

“I’d rather you look at it and tell
him
,” Mary said. “If you could convince him that it’s not what he believes it to be—some ancient treasure map—then maybe he’d leave with us, and Melanie and I could get out of that house. As it is, he won’t budge.”

“Why not?” Reggie asked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop—but I couldn’t help overhearing. Your father-in-law is an adult of legal age and of good mental capacity, isn’t he?”

Mary nodded. “But he keeps telling me he has a plan. He believes that this grand scheme of his is about to come together and that he, Mel, and I can go far away where Adam will never find us . . . at least, until Adam comes to his senses and agrees to get help . . . which—if he honestly thinks Adam will ever do that—makes me question Pop’s mental capacity.”

“He just hopes, Mom,” Melanie said quietly. “I do too. I love Dad. He gets upset sometimes . . . that’s all.”

“Pop encourages us to go on without him, but I’m afraid to leave him there alone with Adam.” Mary raised her eyes to Reggie’s. “Will you visit with Pop . . . see if you can talk some sense into him? If you could persuade him to leave, we could go tomorrow.”

Reggie put her needlepoint kit down on the table, removed her glasses, and pinched the bridge of her nose. “What if Adam sees me? He knows I’m Manu’s wife. He’ll know something’s up.” She lowered her hand. “I’ll be happy to call Chester and speak with him over the phone.”

“That won’t work,” Mary said. “He doesn’t hear well over the phone. He doesn’t hear well at all, for that matter, but in person, he can lip-read.”

“Adam doesn’t know me,” I said. “I wouldn’t mind going and checking out the tapestry. Maybe if Chester learns it isn’t authentic, he’ll decide to go with you.”

Mary shook her head. “According to Pop, Adam doesn’t know about the tapestry.”

“Then I won’t go as an embroidery shop owner.” I mulled this over for a second, wondering what my excuse would be. Door-to-door salesperson? No, there aren’t that many of those around anymore. Census taker? Charitable donation seeker? Then it came to me. “Reggie, doesn’t the library have a book – mobile? If so, couldn’t we use that?”

“We do have one,” Reggie said.

“What’s a bookmobile?” Melanie asked.

“It’s someone who delivers books to shut-ins,” I said, my gaze encompassing her, her mother, and Reggie. “A bookmobile would provide me with a legitimate excuse to be there, and if Adam is at home, then I can actually talk with Chester about books. When I come back with the books he’d like to read, then maybe Adam won’t be there.”

“That could work,” Mary said. “Chester loves to read . . . especially old history and shipwreck books.”

“What do you think, Reggie?” I asked.