Tying the Knot (10 page)

Eleanor sighed. “He did. We've been in terrible financial shape, and Patrick was sitting on a fortune. Trevor basically asked Patrick for a payoff to keep quiet.”

“Blackmail,” murmured Meadow.

Eleanor flinched at the word. “I guess so. He told Patrick that he would tell the truth about that surgery unless he gave Trevor some hush money.” She quickly added in his defense, “Patrick came off a lot cheaper than he would have if he'd lost his medical license or if the patient's relatives had sued for malpractice, believe me.”

“So Patrick
did
pay Trevor?” asked Beatrice.

“Some. He paid a bit of money. But then he didn't seem to want to pay any more,” said Eleanor.

That might explain why the man was looking for an opportunity to talk with Trevor . . . And why they'd had an argument. It sounded as if Trevor kept asking Patrick for more money instead of allowing the payoff to be final.

Eleanor looked out the window. She said in a quiet voice, “Now I'm okay, though.”

Beatrice and Meadow looked questioningly at Eleanor. “In what way?” asked Beatrice.

“The huge financial mess we were in? It's all over
now. Trevor had a life-insurance policy—a pretty big one, since he was really the sole provider. And now all the debts will be taken care of.” A complacent look settled on Eleanor's face. “At least I've got that.”

Back in Beatrice's car, Meadow whistled. “Well, I can sure see why they had financial problems. Poor Eleanor! I've never seen anything like it. And what a surprise after walking through such a meticulously kept yard!”

“Eleanor obviously has a problem with hoarding,” said Beatrice. “It's really very sad.”

“I know, but I think of hoarding as being a collection of things with no value. There were a lot of boxes of merchandise in there—some of them opened, some of them not. None of it used. And Eleanor didn't even need that stuff! I saw swimming-pool cleaning equipment, for heaven's sake. The Garbers don't have a pool!” Meadow flapped her hands around in the air.

“I'm sure the reason she was hoarding was a reaction to stress,” said Beatrice slowly. “Maybe the onset of the financial problems started it. Or maybe when their children left the nest. Of course, she said she's ready to get rid of it all.”

Meadow said, “Eleanor and whose army? It's going to take forever to get that stuff out of there, and she's probably going to have more of a struggle letting it go than she thinks. No wonder her children stayed in a hotel—they'd have had to use bulldozers to get to the guest room at Eleanor's. She needs to stop hanging out in her yard and spend some time working on the inside.”

“I wonder if her children have tried to help her
unclutter before? Surely they couldn't have simply abandoned her to it.”

“Haven't you seen all those shows about hoarding? Family always tries to help, and the help is almost always resisted,” said Meadow.

Beatrice accepted this as true. Meadow watched a lot more television than she did.

Meadow said thoughtfully, “On another subject, did you notice that she sure was down on Lyla?”

Beatrice glanced across quickly at Meadow before turning her attention back to the road. “Understandably, though.”

“But it was almost as if she blamed Lyla for everything that happened—as if Trevor were somehow the victim,” said Meadow.

Beatrice nodded. “She certainly didn't seem very angry with Trevor, even though he clearly was the source of a lot of personal pain for her.”

“It might have something to do with the fact that he's dead. No one really likes to speak ill of the dead, after all,” said Meadow reasonably. Beatrice frowned and Meadow asked, “Why? Are you thinking that Eleanor is trying to set Lyla up as the murderer?”

Beatrice shrugged. “It's awfully convenient, isn't it? Eleanor's money problems are now all taken care of. Maybe she can persuade the police to really focus in on Lyla, and then she's taken her revenge on her. I don't know. It seems like it would have been pretty easy for Eleanor to have slipped something in Trevor's drink—that's all. And I'm not sure that Eleanor is totally mentally healthy, either. And she did seem fixated on Lyla as a suspect. I thought that was kind of odd,
considering that your doctor sure seems to have a pretty strong motive.”

“Dr. Finley? Oh, he's a sweetheart,” said Meadow with a pooh-poohing motion of her hand. “I'm sure he wouldn't hurt a fly.”

“Maybe he wouldn't hurt a fly on
purpose
. But this was obviously accidental, even though it was clearly malpractice. Who knows what Patrick Finley might have done to protect his livelihood and his reputation? Trevor Garber was a disaster—exactly the kind of person you wouldn't want privy to any dark secrets,” said Beatrice, pulling into Meadow's driveway.

“True. But, boy, Eleanor didn't seem to think it was such a big deal. She was totally minimizing Trevor's role in that whole mess. She remained convinced that Lyla was the one behind Trevor's death,” said Meadow, taking off her seat belt and gathering up her pocketbook from the floor of Beatrice's car.

Beatrice said, “It's going to make the quilting workshop a lot more exciting than Posy had bargained on—that's for sure.”

Meadow groaned. “I know. I was hoping to persuade Eleanor not to come. It's obvious that she only wanted to go to it because she's planning on rattling Lyla.”

“She did say that she had a lot of supplies, which I took to mean fabric and some notions,” said Beatrice mildly.

“If she can find them! I don't think she could,” said Meadow, shaking her head. “No, mark my words, Beatrice: this quilting workshop has
disaster
written all over it.”

Meadow's words rang ominously through Beatrice's head as she opened the door to the Patchwork Cottage. She half expected to see Eleanor already advancing on a hapless Lyla. Instead, she saw Miss Sissy, snoring away as usual in the sitting area in the middle of the store. Savannah was there with Smoke, and was gazing at the cat adoringly as he drowsily curled up in her lap, looking as if he were heading in the same direction as Miss Sissy.

Beatrice walked over to join Savannah. She said eagerly to Beatrice, “Isn't he the cutest? Can you see what he's wearing?”

Beatrice couldn't, not with him curled up, so Savannah held him up for a moment to show she'd put a little polka-dot bow tie on the cat. Beatrice smiled. “He must be a good boy to put up with wearing a tie.”

“He's such a good boy. I wanted to thank you again for giving him to me,” said Savannah for about the fiftieth time.

Beatrice said, “I'm glad he's worked out so well for you. I certainly couldn't have kept him—Noo-noo kept looking at me with these hurt eyes when he stayed with us. No, Smoke is definitely with the right owner.” She sat down across from Savannah and next to the sleeping Miss Sissy on the sofa.

Miss Sissy abruptly woke up with a jerk, glared at Beatrice, and then promptly fell back asleep.

Savannah shook her head and, eyebrows drawn down in concern, said, “Don't you think Miss Sissy might scare away some of the young quilters?”

Beatrice hid a smile. Savannah was usually fairly scary herself, with her bossy attitude, sternness, and perfectionism. She suspected that Smoke was proving a miracle worker by softening Savannah up a bit. “Well, you've got Smoke here to charm them, at least,” she answered.

Savannah's gaze fell to the large tote bag that Beatrice had with her. “What are you working on today?”

Beatrice reached into the bag and pulled out her work in progress. “I know we're demonstrating the easier side of quilting for the beginners. My last quilt was such a tough one that I was actually excited about doing something simpler this time.”

She opened up the quilt to show off the white background with small blocks of various shades of blue and forest green. Beatrice had machine-quilted a small brown owl perching on a leafy branch about three-quarters of the way down the quilt. The owl stared quizzically out at them.

“I thought it might be a nice gift for Piper, since she's a teacher,” said Beatrice.

Savannah was usually a fan of very precise, geometric patterns, so Beatrice was surprised when she beamed her approval. “It's very cute,” she said. “That will be a great quilt to demonstrate machine quilting to some of the group.”

“Speaking of the group, has anyone come yet?” Beatrice sat up and craned her head to look around. “I probably need to skedaddle to the back room and help Posy set up.”

“You're here pretty early,” said Savannah with a shrug. Beatrice was amazed at how relaxed the uptight Savannah was these days. “Georgia hasn't even made it over here yet. I haven't seen any of the new quilters.”

“How is Georgia doing, by the way?” asked Beatrice.

“Busy!” said Savannah. “She's spending a lot of time with Tony these days.” But instead of pursing her lips in disapproval like the old Savannah would have done, she smiled.

“That's good,” said Beatrice. “He seems like such a nice guy.”

“Hard worker, too,” said a voice approaching them. It was Meadow, holding a couple of rolled-up quilts. “Just like Wyatt.” Meadow gave Beatrice a meaningful look.

“Yes, he is. And, before you ask, I did go onto the church Web site and volunteer for the outing to the retirement home,” said Beatrice. All she needed was for Meadow to go off on another Wyatt-related tangent.

“Did you?” Meadow's face lit up. But then it quickly darkened again. “So, you've decided to actively pursue spending more time with Wyatt. That means
I
won't
get to see you as much. And that makes me sad. We already don't spend as much time together as I'd like to, Beatrice. The sacrifice that I've made by suggesting that you volunteer in order to spend more time with Wyatt—it boggles the mind! Now you're condemning me to spend my free time visiting with
Ramsay
. Ramsay, who will nod as I talk but actually be thinking about the last incredibly boring book he read.”

“You could always watch
Wheel
with him,” said Beatrice, hiding a smile. Ramsay, literary as he was, was a huge
Wheel of Fortune
fan.

Meadow made a face at her and stomped off to the store's back room to help Posy with the setup.

Miss Sissy woke up with another start and glared around her suspiciously. “What's going on?” she croaked.

“Meadow was having a hissy fit,” said Savannah absently. She tickled Smoke under his chin.

Miss Sissy turned her attention to the cat. “I want to hold him,” she said, with a stubborn set to her chin.

Savannah demurred. “Smoke isn't really used to anyone but me, Miss Sissy. He might not like it.”

Miss Sissy growled, “Cat! I want the cat!”

“I'd better get going with the setup,” said Beatrice, hastily leaving before Savannah recruited her to protect Smoke from Miss Sissy's clutches.

The back room was already fairly set up. There were extension cords on long tables, and the sewing machines were ready to go. Posy was busily hanging some machine-quilted quilts up for demonstration, and Beatrice helped her hang a few. “How many new quilters are we expecting today?” she asked Posy.

“It looks as if we'll have eight altogether,” said Posy
in an excited voice. “I think that's a nice size, don't you? It's a large enough group so that we're not wasting our time, but small enough that we're able to give individual help. Thanks so much for being one of the helpers, Beatrice.”

Lyla was helping Meadow lay handouts by each sewing machine. She grinned at Beatrice and pushed a strand of wavy hair out of her pretty, heart-shaped face. “It's exciting, isn't it? If we can hook a younger generation into quilting, it will bring fresh ideas to the craft, too. And it's not as if you have to be retired to have the time to quilt. There are ways to fit it into a busy schedule.”

“Oh, you don't have to convince me,” said Beatrice with a laugh. That laugh cut off as she noticed that a glowering Eleanor entering the door. She looked a bit more disheveled than usual, and her gray hair in its pixie cut looked as if it had either been windblown on the way over or hadn't been brushed that day.

Beatrice heard Posy take a deep, steadying breath before she said in her sweet voice, “Eleanor! So good to see you here at our class. But you've come a little early—we're still setting up. Would you like to have a seat out in the shop? I put out some refreshments out there, too—you could have a pimento cheese square and some iced tea.”

Meadow caught Beatrice's eye and winced. This was exactly what Meadow had been worried about.

Eleanor didn't appear to be listening to Posy at all. She continued staring darkly at Lyla, who was looking increasingly uncomfortable. Lyla said quietly, “It's great to have you here, Eleanor. You could always put down your pocketbook wherever you want to sit and
we could keep an eye on it for you while you're waiting in the store.”

Again, Eleanor didn't seem to register what Lyla was saying; she just continued staring at her with a cold fury.

Miss Sissy scurried into the room with her oddly galloping gait, followed by an anxious Savannah, who hovered closely, as if Miss Sissy were on the continual verge of dropping Smoke. Miss Sissy was in a much more cheerful mood and held what looked like a very contented Smoke in her arms. “Nice cat,” she grunted. She seemed oblivious to the tension in the room, and plopped down in a chair against the back wall to stroke the cat.

Finally, Eleanor started talking. And she spoke as if no one were in the room except for her and Lyla. “You killed Trevor.” Her gray eyes were fixed on Lyla.

Lyla, sleekly dressed in a black knit top and jeans, gaped at the disheveled woman in front of her. “Eleanor. Eleanor, you don't know what you're saying.”

“I do! Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. You wanted Trevor, you got Trevor, and then you wanted rid of Trevor. Then you wanted rid of him for
good
. I know what you did.” Eleanor's voice was steady and without inflection.

Lyla's face was white, and the hand holding the handouts trembled. “Eleanor, you've had a huge shock with Trevor's death. I understand that. But you know I wasn't anywhere near Trevor during the reception. I was trying to avoid him, actually, and I was very busy at the sign-in table with the guest quilt.”

Eleanor's voice grated. “Maybe you were at the
guest quilt some of the time. In fact, I know that you weren't there
all
the time. All I know is that you're the one responsible. You killed him, just as sure as if you'd held a gun to his head and pulled the trigger.”

Miss Sissy, eyebrows pulled together in a ferocious expression as she clutched Smoke protectively, barked at Eleanor. “Enough! Go!”

Eleanor still stayed focused on Lyla. “You didn't even
want
him. Why did you have to mess everything up?”

Lyla glanced around at the other quilters and said in a quiet voice, “Eleanor, there's a time and a place to discuss this. But it's not now. The students are going to be arriving any minute for my workshop, and this is important to Posy and to all of the quilters. I'll speak with you about this later, I promise.”

Eleanor still stood still with a bullish expression on her face until finally Miss Sissy again bellowed, “Go!” Eleanor bolted out the door.

Lyla swallowed, and her shoulders seemed to relax as they heard the door to the Patchwork Cottage close behind Eleanor. She'd really left. “May I . . . Could everyone excuse me for a couple of minutes?” she asked. Lyla quickly strode out of the room in the direction of the ladies' room.

“Oh dear,” said Posy, looking distressed. “Poor Lyla. And poor Eleanor, too.”

Meadow was more to the point. “What on earth did Eleanor think she was doing? At a
quilting
workshop? Like she couldn't just wait for Lyla in the parking lot afterward and rip into her then?”

Miss Sissy said, “Poppycock!” She was so
agitated-looking that Savannah quickly rescued Smoke from her possession.

“No harm done to the workshop, Meadow,” said Beatrice. “No one's gotten here yet, but now is the time they should start coming in. Here, let me finish distributing those handouts.”

They finished getting the room ready and then greeted the new quilters as they arrived. Lyla quickly returned with a big smile for the quilters, and only the brightness of her eyes indicated that she'd recently experienced some strong emotion.

Posy introduced Lyla, and Lyla spoke for a while before demonstrating how to get started with machine quilting. She explained straight-line quilting and demonstrated everything from threading a machine to turning corners and securing the thread. Posy also spoke in her gently excited way about the types of notions and fabrics and other supplies that she had available at the store. Finally, Posy showed them a complete project they could make, and the fabrics they would need to quilt it.

Beatrice murmured to Meadow, “Posy has done such a great job picking out a good first project. These large pieces are going to require a lot fewer seams. It sure makes it easier to be accurate. And the fact they're doing a small project—a baby quilt—makes for a more attainable goal, I think.”

“And not only are the pieces Posy chose large, but they're squares.
So
much easier than triangles,” said Meadow.

Beatrice agreed. Sometimes she still had trouble with bias edges necessary for triangles.

Soon the women were on the sewing machines, with the Village Quilters standing by, watching them work and leaning in to give advice when needed. Beatrice loved the fabrics on the finished quilts that Posy had on display. The finished baby-girl quilt blocks sported different shades of pink with everything from hearts to flowers with vinelike green stems, little chickens, and to rosy balls. The baby-boy quilt had blocks in color order, with the darkest blues at the top and the lightest toward the bottom. The individual blocks had blue trucks, blue sailboats, and a whimsical blue polka-dot pattern.

The beginning quilters were attentive and seemed enthusiastic, which was the very best outcome one could hope for. They ranged in age from a thin, bespectacled girl in her late teens to a beaming, prematurely white-haired lady in her early sixties, but most of the quilters were in their mid-twenties. There was one couple in the room, and they seemed very quick to catch on and feed off each other's ideas.

Beatrice stood near the teen girl's sewing machine to jump in whenever she had a question. The girl, who had a shy smile, introduced herself as Susan. Although her actions were at first tentative, her eyes brightened as she started catching on, and Beatrice sat down at the machine beside her and worked on the owl quilt she was making for Piper. While they worked, Susan excitedly asked about good patterns for beginners and the most important notions to have starting out. Beatrice loved seeing how quickly she and the other new quilters became engaged in their projects.

There was quite a line at the check-out counter as the quilters, excited by the possibilities of the craft, bought
notions and fabric. So, despite its beginning, the day was definitely a success.

Meadow and Beatrice helped clean up the back room while Posy manned the check-out counter and Lyla helped advise the new quilters on purchases. Meadow said in an aside to Beatrice, as they gathered up trash and took quilts off the holders, “Whew. That turned out better than I thought it would. When Eleanor showed up and started throwing accusations around, I thought the quilting workshop was going to be a total disaster.”