Tying the Knot

Shear Trouble

“Craig revisits endearing and familiar characters and offers readers an evocative portrait of life in a small Southern town.”

—
Richmond-Times Dispatch

“Everything wraps up in an unexpected and satisfying way in this enjoyable Southern cozy.”

—Smitten by Books

Quilt Trip

“Craig's third entry . . . stitches together an updated and creative take on an old favorite and fills the story with a cast of fully rounded characters and a creepy setting.”

—
Richmond Times-Dispatch

“[A] very Christie-esque mystery where all the suspects are trapped together and someone (Beatrice) figures out the who, why, and how.”

—Escape with Dollycas into a Good Book

“A great read with a plot that is full of twists and turns that kept it fresh.”

—Fresh Fiction

“Has the feel of an old-fashioned whodunit, complete with a group of unsuspecting quilters gathered in a mansion, terrible weather, and a killer in their midst. Craig's use of humor and adventure add to the mix, making this a very enjoyable cozy.”

—Debbie's Book Bag

“The mystery has a touch of a Gothic feel, with the killing happening on a dark and stormy night at a Victorian mansion tucked away in the mountains. The loyalty of the quilting friends makes me want to sit in with the Village Quilters Guild even if I don't know how to quilt. . . . And Craig's clever character development and sharp mystery kept me riveted to the story.”

—MyShelf.com

Knot What It Seams

“Craig laces this puzzler with a plausible plot, a wealth of quirky characters, and rich local color as Beatrice and her friends try to restore peace for the piecers.”

—
Richmond Times-Dispatch

“There are plenty of descriptions of quilts, fabrics, and patterns, along with a solid mystery, to entice any quilt lover to put down their needle and sit a spell and read.”

—The Mystery Reader

“Fans of cozy mysteries, quilting, and well-written fiction will enjoy this book and this series. I highly recommend it.”

—Sharon's Garden of Book Reviews

Quilt or Innocence

“A delightful new series as warm and cozy as a favorite quilt. Elizabeth Craig captures Southern life at its best, and her characters are as vibrant and colorful as the quilts they sew.”

—Krista Davis,
New York Times
bestselling author of the Domestic Diva Mysteries

“Sparkles with Craig's cleverness and plenty of Carolina charm.”

—
Richmond Times-Dispatch

“
Quilt or Innocence
is a delightful regional amateur sleuth due to the eccentric quilters. . . . Readers will enjoy touring Dappled Hills guided by colorful locals.”

—Genre Go Round Reviews

The Southern Quilting Mysteries

Quilt or Innocence

Knot What It Seams

Quilt Trip

Shear Trouble

Published by the Penguin Group

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First published by Obsidian, an imprint of New American Library,

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Copyright © Elizabeth Craig, 2015

Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

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ISBN 978-0-698-15506-0

PUBLISHER'S NOTE

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

    The recipes contained in this book are to be followed exactly as written. The publisher is not responsible for your specific health or allergy needs that may require medical supervision. The publisher is not responsible for any adverse reactions to the recipes contained in this book.

In memory of
Mamma

Thanks first to my family and friends for their encouragement, support, and interest in my writing.

Thanks to my editor, Sandra Harding, for her skillful guidance and direction.

Thanks to my agent, Ellen Pepus, for her responsiveness and business savvy.

Finally and most importantly, thanks to my readers. I appreciate your e-mails more than you
know.

“Isn't it wonderful to have a wedding to plan? I don't know when I've been so thrilled.” Meadow Downey gave a most un-Meadow-like squeal to emphasize the point. She waved a hand to express her excitement and knocked her red-framed glasses askew in the process. Her long gray braid swished from side to side, punctuating her enthusiasm.

Her friend Beatrice Coleman repressed a wide smile as she pushed back a strand of platinum hair from her face. But she couldn't hold back a grin. “Especially when it's not one's own.”

“Well, but for you it's practically a family wedding,” continued Meadow. “Wyatt's sister is finally tying the knot after fifty years. It's all very exciting.”

Meadow and Beatrice were following up on Meadow's resolution to work in more exercise by walking their dogs through their neighborhood in the tiny mountain town of Dappled Hills, North Carolina. Now
that it was April, the air had warmed enough that a morning walk required only a light sweater. The dogwoods were blooming, daffodils were waving in the breeze, and the women could feast on the view of the rolling Blue Ridge Mountains returning to vibrant life after the starkness of winter.

Meadow was wrestling with her gigantic beast, Boris, while Beatrice was taking an easy stroll with her corgi, Noo-noo. Boris was part Great Dane and part Newfoundland, which were clearly visible. It was Meadow's claim that Boris was also part corgi that Beatrice found doubtful. With Meadow always a couple of yards ahead of Beatrice because Boris was pulling her along at great speed, Beatrice wasn't sure if the walk could be considered a success. Or if it really could be termed a
walk
at all.

“It really is,” said Beatrice. “Although I would hardly call it a family wedding, Meadow. I haven't even properly met Harper. And Wyatt and I have only just started to date. It's not as if we're married.”

Meadow completely ignored this detail, continuing on with her line of thought and yanking back on Boris's halter as he tried to race off after a terrified squirrel. “Can you imagine marrying at fifty? She must be very set in her ways, don't you think? It sure would be tough trying to train a man at that point in your life. Actually,” she said in a ruminating voice, “I can't imagine trying to train a man at
any
point in life. You can see what a disaster my training of Ramsay was.”

Ramsay was Meadow's long-suffering husband and the police chief of Dappled Hills. He seemed very housebroken to Beatrice. Yes, he had a fondness for
losing his reading glasses, writing poetry, and quoting
Walden
a bit much. But he was kind and hardworking. And even seemed to pick up after himself.

“Harper was just waiting for the perfect match—that's all. Wyatt is so happy for her. He felt terrible that she and I haven't met each other, so he invited Harper and her fiancé to have supper with us tonight at his house,” said Beatrice.

“What are you bringing to the dinner party?” asked Meadow, a little breathlessly. Beatrice wasn't sure if the breathlessness was because she was always trying to persuade Beatrice to win Wyatt's heart through food, or the fact that Boris was pulling her along as if she were water-skiing.

Beatrice's already brisk walk turned into more of a jog. Noo-noo gave her a despairing look, as if her short corgi legs couldn't possibly keep pace. “I'm not cooking anything,” said Beatrice slowly. “I'm just bringing a bottle of wine.”

“But it's the perfect opportunity for you to impress Wyatt with your culinary skills,” said Meadow, disappointed. “A bottle of wine just shows you know how to shop.” She neatly sidestepped a puddle left by a brief spring shower earlier that morning. Meadow finally reined in Boris as he skidded to a stop to inspect a mailbox that apparently smelled fascinating. Beatrice gave a grateful sigh as she slowed to a walk and completely caught up with Meadow again. Noo-noo, tongue hanging out and panting, seemed relieved, as well.

“I think we're keeping it really low-key, actually.” Beatrice shrugged. “And my culinary skills are nothing to brag about, as you know.”

“A low-key dinner party?” asked Meadow. She sounded a bit scandalized.

“It's not even a
dinner party
. It's really just supper. That way I can meet Harper and her fiancé and we can have a nice evening together.”

“I think it's a little odd that you haven't been introduced to Harper before now. After all, she does go to church quite a bit,” said Meadow.

“I'm still pretty new to town, you know. Besides, I don't know everyone who goes to church, and there was no real reason for Wyatt to have introduced me to his sister before we started dating. Harper doesn't live in town, anyway.”

“She doesn't, but she doesn't live far from Dappled Hills, either. Just let me know how it goes,” said Meadow. “I'm curious about Harper's fiancé, Daniel. I know he grew up here, but he was gone for so long. It's been ages since I've last seen him. I remember him as a serious kid. He's younger than I am, and the same age as my youngest sister. He was very smart and kind of quiet. The kind of kid who always had good manners when speaking with adults. He's a lawyer, isn't he? Not that we don't have enough of those around town.” Meadow rolled her eyes.

“He is, but I think he works pro bono half the time. Daniel sounds like a good guy.”

“Well, be sure to give me the scoop. I'm interested in his best man, too—I've been hearing some gossip lately about Trevor Garber.” Meadow waggled her eyebrows in what was supposed to be a telling manner.

“Considering this is Dappled Hills, I can't say I'm
surprised. Everyone seems to know everything around here. What are you hearing about Daniel's best man?”

“I hear he's behaving sort of out of character. And there are rumors”—here Meadow dropped her voice into her usual loud whisper, as if someone could hear them out on the quiet road—“that he might be having an affair.” Then she jerked forward abruptly as Boris took off at a full gallop again.

“I doubt I'll hear much about that at supper tonight,” said Beatrice, jogging ahead again. But you never knew. Not in Dappled Hills.

Meadow gave a gasping laugh as Boris dragged her forward. “Do you think I'm really getting exercise doing this? It feels like I'm just being pulled along. If I put roller skates on, I bet I'd end up across town in minutes.”

“Whatever you're doing, it's exertion, all right.” Beatrice smiled ruefully as Meadow went flying forward again. Beatrice decided she and Noo-noo were done with running to catch up and instead ambled toward their friends.

Eventually Meadow was able to tighten her grip on the leash and slow Boris down to a more leisurely pace. When Beatrice caught up with them, she gave Beatrice a curious look. “Have you been able to see much of Wyatt these past few weeks? It seems like he's been in charge of tons of activities at the church lately.”

Beatrice cleared her throat. “We've seen each other, yes. Maybe not as much as I'd like to, but I understand about how busy he's been. And when you're a minister, you're never really off. There are always people to
visit—folks in hospitals, things like that. It's sort of the point of the job.”

“I'm guessing,” said Meadow archly, giving Beatrice a sideways glance, “that the best way for you to spend more time with him is probably by spending more time at the church. Right? Volunteering there, helping set up events, attending events. That sort of thing. After all, you're the one who's retired. So, technically, you have more free time.”

Beatrice admired a row of azalea bushes as they walked past. She'd have to take a more scenic walk with Noo-noo tomorrow. This one was flying by. “Technically I
do
have more free time,” said Beatrice. She was amazed lately how the days seemed to just disappear in a puff. Retirement was growing on her. But Meadow had a point, and it was one that Beatrice had been considering, too. The only thing that was really holding her back was the thought that a lot of extra socializing was going to be in order if she really started spending time at the church. Beatrice didn't mind a little socializing, but always quickly felt as though she wanted to retreat. She thought longingly of her hammock and her book.

“It's something to think about, anyway,” said Meadow. She was fond of planting ideas in people's heads. “Although I'll miss seeing you if you spend more time with Wyatt. The sacrifices I make! Well, I'm sure tonight there'll be lots of talk of wedding planning. I hope it will be a beautiful wedding. Although the other night on TV, I saw this really horrifying show. It was sort of like watching a train wreck—I couldn't seem to pull myself away from it. It was called
Worst Wedding Day Disasters Ever!
and there was everything from a
typhoon to the groom not showing up and a deer running into the ceremony and charging around the sanctuary. Scary stuff!”

“Well, none of that is going to happen during Harper and Daniel's wedding next month. When was the last time you saw a typhoon here in North Carolina? Daniel sounds too responsible to skip out on his own wedding. And I'll personally ensure that the door to the sanctuary remains closed throughout the ceremony. I defy any deer to run through. It's going to be a lovely service.”

Why did Beatrice feel as though she should be knocking on wood?

*   *   *

Wyatt's house was a stone cottage very similar to Beatrice's. It sat on the property of Dappled Hills Presbyterian Church and had been the manse for years.

Shortly after Beatrice rang the doorbell, Wyatt's sister, Harper, greeted her with a warm smile and a hug in Wyatt's small entryway. “I feel as if I know you already—Wyatt has spoken so much and so highly of you, Beatrice. I'm sorry we haven't met before now. I have a bad habit of sneaking into church right before the service starts and then hurrying back out afterward.”

Harper was tall and thin like her brother, but didn't yet share his silver-streaked hair. She appeared to be in her early fifties and had an understated elegance about her, reflected in her crisp chinos and cotton button-down blouse with a leaf-and-dot print. She had high cheekbones and a wide, generous mouth. Beatrice followed her into a sparsely but comfortably decorated living room with thick throw rugs on the wooden
floors, colorful paintings with scenes from nature, and ultrasoft sofas and armchairs.

Her fiancé, Daniel Kemp, rose to shake Beatrice's hand. He looked as if he had a tendency to be on the serious side, but his eyes were kind and his smile was genuine.

Beatrice took a seat next to Wyatt on a cushy, warm brown sofa. She asked Harper, “So, how did you and Daniel meet? Did you know each other when you were children? Daniel, you are originally from Dappled Hills, aren't you?”

Daniel nodded, carefully adjusting his black-framed eyeglasses. “I knew Harper growing up, but we weren't friends then.”

Harper laughed. “That sounds awful. It's just that Daniel seemed much, much older when we were kids. You know how it is when you're in school. He was two grades ahead of me, and that felt like decades. We were in the same youth group at Dappled Hills Presbyterian and saw each other there a little. Wyatt's and my father was the minister then, so we were at about every youth event there was. And Daniel was also there often, although he hung out with the older kids, of course. When he moved back to Dappled Hills from Charlotte, he rented a house right down the street from me, and that's when we finally found out how much we have in common.”

Beatrice asked Daniel, “What made you decide to move back home from Charlotte? It must be a huge change for you after so many years.”

Daniel smiled at her but seemed to choose his words carefully. “My mother lives in assisted living here and
I wanted to move closer to her. And I always planned on coming back home to Dappled Hills . . . because that's how Dappled Hills feels to me. Like home.”

Harper quickly changed the subject, perhaps sensing that Daniel wasn't comfortable as the center of attention. “Beatrice, I understand that you were an art-museum curator in Atlanta, and that you know a lot about setting up exhibits and making displays appealing. I wanted to get your thoughts on some flower arrangements I'm making for the wedding.” Harper's intelligent brown eyes gazed earnestly at her.

Daniel gave a good-natured groan. “Wyatt, I guess this is where we bow out of the conversation. We'll have to talk about fly-fishing or football or some other manly activity to counteract the wedding planning.”

“I want your opinions, too! You just aren't as experienced in this area as Beatrice is. And, honestly, the biggest parts are already taken care of. We've got the catering set up and the reception location reserved. Now I need to catch up with the decorating, and I'm in a bit of a time crunch, since the wedding is in a month. My thought is that although I want to keep the wedding simple and traditional and low-key, I really want to incorporate quilts and quilting into the ceremony and reception—as a tribute. You've probably heard that Wyatt's and my mother was a member of the Village Quilters,” added Harper.

Wyatt looked abashed and Harper said, “You didn't tell her?”

Beatrice blinked. “I'm surprised that
Meadow
didn't tell me. After all, she lives and breathes the Village Quilters guild.”

“Not only Mother, but
Granny
was also in the guild. And I have a feeling that Granny's mom was in it, too, but I never asked Mother. You always think you have so much time with your family, and then one day they're gone and you never had the chance to ask questions.” Harper swallowed hard and then continued in a firm voice, “So, that's why I want to bring quilting in. Besides, quilting has been a big part of my life, too. One of my earliest memories was of Miss Sissy guiding my hands as she showed me how to quilt my first pattern.”