While My Pretty One Knits (14 page)

Yes, she definitely would. And she’d go easy on the perfume this time.

When she hung up, she felt light and happy inside and, for once, didn’t stop and analyze why.

Lucy arrived at the hospital at 3:00 and told the receptionist she was there to visit her dog. She waited in the outer office, expecting the vet tech, but Matt came out instead and led her to the kennel room.

Tink was in the same type of cubicle she’d been in the day before, but she did look better, Lucy thought. She was lying down, but not flat to the floor. She started panting and seemed to smile as Lucy came closer. Matt stood a few steps back as she went close to the crate and talked to Tink.

“She looks better already,” Lucy said, turning to him.

“She’s coming around. We’re watching to make sure there’s no infection. Then she can go home. Hey, I want to show you something.” He stepped over to the metal counter on the other side of the room and picked up a small glass vial.

“This is what I took out.” He showed Lucy the clear bottle with a gross-looking orange-reddish lump inside.

Matt seemed very excited and even proud about the disgusting discovery.

“Wow…look at that.” Lucy tried hard to feign interest, but possibly the way she shrunk back, stifling a scream of “Get that disgusting thing away from me!” gave her away.

He laughed at her reaction and put the bottle down on the table.

“Do you expect me to take that home as a souvenir?”

“You don’t want it?” He looked shocked—and pretty darn cute—his blue eyes wide and clear. “Man, that’s the first thing people ask me about. I don’t know what they do with them, sell them on eBay?”

“If it came out of Angelina Jolie’s stomach, maybe.”

“Actually, I took a closer look before you came. I think it’s just a wad of yarn. Something knitted. Maybe that’s why it didn’t dissolve in her stomach acids.”

Not a big surprise, considering the dog had spent most of her time hanging around a knitting shop. Maybe Amanda didn’t feed her enough. Tink did look awfully skinny. Lucy could hardly look at the ugly glob, so she turned back to Tink and pressed her hand to the cage. Tink eagerly leaned over and licked her fingers.

“Do you think she remembers me? I mean, I only had her for what…an hour?”

When she turned, Matt was looking at her in a way that sort of made her toes curl. “I think she remembers you…you make a strong impression.”

“Well…thanks.” Lucy smiled back at him and looked away.

Should she ask him out? It didn’t seem as if she was going to find out if he was available otherwise. Maybe it was time to have that conversation before she got all carried away with this…this crush situation.

Crushing on a veterinarian…how corny was that?

“Come in my office a minute. I have something for you.”

Well…this was getting interesting.

Lucy followed him through a door on the far side of the boarding room and found herself in a small office, three of the four walls lined with tall bookcases.

A large heavy desk held a computer and phone, buried in piles of file folders, journals, and books that spilled onto the floor. A large window framed the view of an enclosed yard with a tree in the middle, decked with several bird feeders.

Matt picked up a pile of books from his desk and handed them over to her. “This should get you started. Tink seems calm but I don’t think she’s had much training. I’m not sure if she even knows how to walk on a leash.”

Lucy remembered Peter mentioning that Amanda didn’t believe in training the dogs.

She hoped Tink wasn’t difficult. That was one reason she’d been wary of motherhood, she didn’t think she’d be very good at asserting her will over another creature. Even a baby. A dog would probably be good practice.

As Matt pulled another book off the shelf, a small framed photograph flew off and dropped on the floor. Lucy picked it up and placed it on his desk, but not before taking a look at it. The photo showed Matt and a little girl at the beach. Matt held her up in the waves. They were both drenched and smiling madly. Yes, he had the terrific body she suspected.

“Sweet…is that your daughter?”

Well, this was it. No more living in blissful ignorance.

Matt nodded, suppressing a smile. “Dara. This photo is pretty old. She’s seven now.”

“She looks just like you…she’s adorable.” That was true. Lucy didn’t know what more to say.

“She’s great. I don’t get to see her nearly as much as I’d like to.”

There
was an opening for you. “Because of work, you mean?”

“I’m here too much. That’s for sure. But mostly because of her mother.” No mistaking the sour note in his tone. “We’re in the middle of splitting up and Elaine knows how to get to me.”

“That’s too bad.” Lucy really did sympathize with him yet, somewhere deep inside, her own inner seven-year-old was doing a cartwheel. “My divorce got pretty nasty at the end. But at least there were no children involved.”

He met her gaze but didn’t say anything. So now he knew she was divorced, too. If he’d been wondering. So now should she ask him out? Maybe ask if he’d seen that foreign film that was showing in town?

Lucy took a deep breath, rallying her nerve…then chickened out. She looked down at the stack of books he’d chosen for her. “Guess I have some reading to do before Monday.”

“Yeah, guess you do. Hope you don’t have any big plans for the weekend.”

Was he trying to figure out if she was available, and was this not a perfect opening for her to ask if he had plans for the weekend…and if he wanted to see a movie with her? Did she have to be hit over the head with one of these dog-care manuals? If she didn’t live large now and take no prisoners, Phoebe would never forgive her.

The phone rang.

Matt glanced at it, then hit a button and picked up. “Yes? Oh…right. Better put her on.” He covered the receiver with his hand. “Sorry, I have to take this.”

Lucy nodded. “That’s all right. I’ve got to run. Thanks for the books.”

“You’re very welcome. See you.” He smiled briefly, then turned his attention back to the phone call. Lucy slipped out of the office and closed the door.

Well, she’d definitely made some progress. At least she knew he wasn’t married…and he knew she wasn’t, either. Lucy knew she made it too complicated. She’d do better next time. If he didn’t ask her out when she came back to pick up Tink, she would ask him.

Then she could go from worrying about if he was single to worrying about being his first relationship after a divorce—the kiss of death. Everyone knows that’s the transitional relationship and it never works out.

Either way, it was definitely time to take this situation out of the kennel room.

O
n Saturday night, Lucy was content to stay home, watching an old movie and feverishly knitting the sock monkey hats. She was not a huge fan of Bette Davis. Her favorite actress of that era had always been Katharine Hepburn, who seemed so witty and capable, and as if she’d be a good friend. Lucy could not say the same about Bette. She’d love to hang out with Bette, but wouldn’t trust her alone for very long with a boyfriend. Bette and Katharine had both been avid knitters, however, so on that score at least they remained tied.

Lucy could rarely resist a showing of
All About Eve
on the classic film channel. The story did not show women in the best light, she realized, with the fawning unassuming Eve Baxter pretending to worship Margo Channing, while all the time scheming to ruin her. But it was believable, Lucy thought. Ambition and a hunger for public acclaim was a powerful motivator and could drive a person to all kinds of desperate acts.

At one point in her life, Lucy had practiced Margo Channing’s peerless line so many times, her throat had gone hoarse from imitating Bette’s famous low notes.

When the famed screen moment arrived, Lucy put her knitting down, sat up straight, and delivered the dialogue aloud along with the television, as if participating in some bizarre religious ceremony.

“
Fasten
your seat belts…it’s going to be a
bumpy
night…”

At least the hazy lavender fog of loneliness that had swirled around her last night had mysteriously burned away, most likely due to the anticipation of picking up Tink…and seeing Matt again on Monday.

Her knitting was going well and that always improved her brain chemistry, Lucy reflected. Maggie had managed to coach her over the phone through a rough patch or two and Lucy was now clicking along, finished with the first hat and well into the second.

Progress was a good thing, since Sophie and Regina had just sent a diplomatically worded e-mail, asking when the hats might be done. These trendy apparel items had a short shelf life and besides, it was almost spring. But Aunt Lucy had reassured them, the hats were nearing completion and, as Yves St. Laurent once said, “Fashion fades, style is eternal.”

These hats had real style.

On Sunday night, in the middle of
60 Minutes
, the hat project hit a snag. Lucy found herself short of the correct weight cream-colored wool for the second monkey’s face. She decided she’d stop at the Black Sheep on Monday, before she picked up Tink. She could also pick up the dog sweaters. The impromptu life-coaching session with Phoebe had made her forget the carton.

On Monday morning, Lucy got the all-clear sign from the vet tech, Amy, to come in. Tink had done well over the weekend. She was active and eating “and passing waste appropriately.” She was ready and eager to go home.

Lucy drove into town at 9:00. Although the Black Sheep wasn’t open for another hour, she saw Maggie’s car out front and knocked on the door. Phoebe answered.

“So, how’d it work out with Dr. Doolittle? Did you ask him?”

“Hey, Phoebe. What’s up? How was your weekend?” Lucy backtracked over the usual niceties.

“You wimped out, right?”

Lucy jammed her hands in the pockets of her down vest. “I was just about to ask him when he got a phone call and I had to go.”

Phoebe’s expression showed no sympathy. She wasn’t buying it.

“I definitely made progress. He told me he’s divorced. Or almost. And he has a daughter who’s seven. Her name is Dara.”

“I don’t like the ‘almost’ part,” Phoebe said wisely. “If you’re almost divorced, you’re almost married, right? Does that sound good?”

Lucy wasn’t wild about the almost part, either. But hey, nobody’s perfect.

“Phoebe, marriage is like a refrigerator. You have to rock it back and forth a few times before it tips over,” Lucy said in his defense.

“Whatever.” Phoebe sighed and checked her nail polish, an unusual shade of purple that reminded Lucy of Halloween. “So what about the dog? Did you get her yet?” Phoebe was definitely eager to meet Tink. Lucy secretly eyed her as a potential pet sitter. She suddenly knew how new mothers felt, meeting responsible teenagers who liked children.

“I’m just on my way to pick her up. But I forgot the pet sweaters. I thought I’d give them to the animal hospital.”

Phoebe nodded, looking impressed. “Nice touch.”

“I thought I heard your voice.” Maggie came out of the storeroom. “Aren’t you picking up the dog this morning?”

“I’m on my way. But I forgot the box with the pet sweaters.”

“Oh…right.” Maggie frowned. “I know I saw it someplace. Peter brought over the rest of the stock yesterday. It’s just a huge mess in here. It’ll take me weeks to sort it all out.”

“God, I hope not.” Phoebe moaned.

The shop’s usual tidy appearance had given way to some disorder, Lucy noticed, with cartons stacked against the walls in all the rooms and bags of yarn tucked into random nooks and corners. Lucy could only imagine what the storeroom looked like right now.

“I can get it another time, Maggie.”

“Let’s take a fast look. It should be right on top. Come on back with me,” she beckoned.

The storeroom was even more crowded with cartons than the front of the shop. “I think I marked the outside of the carton, but I’m not sure.”

While Maggie started on one side of the room, Lucy checked the other. They’d barely begun when Phoebe poked her head in the room. “Maggie, Cara’s here.”

Maggie looked surprised but pleased. “She is? I’ll be out in a second.”

She turned to Lucy. “I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t worry, I can handle it.”

Lucy kept searching. Some of the cartons were marked and some were not. She thought she remembered what the box looked like, but faced with an entire roomful, she couldn’t be sure.

Phoebe poked her head in the room. Lucy thought she’d come to help but was sadly mistaken. “I’m heading out. Got an early class but I’ll be back here later. Let me know how it goes with the dog, and Doolittle.”

So Matt’s nickname around here was going to be Doolittle? Darn it. Lucy hoped that wouldn’t catch on.

Lucy glanced at her watch. The vet tech had told her to come at 9:30. They needed to clean Tink up and check her stitches. Lucy had ten minutes more. She didn’t want to miss Matt if he’d made time to see her.

She heard Maggie’s and Cara’s voices out in the shop but couldn’t discern their conversation. Suddenly, Maggie appeared in the doorway carrying a big bouquet, Cara standing behind her.

“…and there’s even more in here.” Maggie walked into the storeroom and headed for the sink with her armful of flowers.

Cara stood in the doorway and gazed around in awe. “Whoa…you’d never think Amanda had so much stock in that tiny shop. Look at all this. You won’t have to buy any yarn for a year.”

“That’s what I’m hoping…Lucy, look at these beautiful flowers Cara gave me.” Maggie ran some water into a tall blue vase.

Lucy stood up. “Very nice…Hi, Cara,” she said finally.

Cara smiled and waved. “Hey, Lucy. I didn’t even see you back there. How’s it going?”

“Oh, can’t complain…”

Before she could say more, Maggie cut in. “You didn’t find the box yet, I guess?”

“Not yet, but I’ve narrowed it down to this corner.”

“Let me help you.” Maggie snipped the ends off the flower stems and placed them in the water. “All the buttons are in the drawers by the table,” she told Cara. “Just help yourself. I’ll be right out.”

“Don’t rush.” Cara disappeared back into the shop and Maggie came over to help Lucy.

“Cara stopped by to thank me for the book signing. She brought these flowers, isn’t that sweet?”

“Very thoughtful,” Lucy agreed. “Have you heard anything more about Seabold’s Hardware?”

Maggie shook her head. “Not much more than what Edie told us. But a few other store owners got in touch with me over the weekend. They want the police to get in gear and catch this person. I agree. I can’t understand why it’s taking so long. Probably because they are looking in all the wrong places.”

Maggie met Lucy’s gaze. Because their detectives seriously consider people like me suspects, Lucy knew she meant to say.

“What can the business owners do?” Lucy asked.

“Not much,” Maggie admitted. “The chamber of commerce has written a letter to the mayor and police chief. A woman’s been murdered in cold blood, for goodness sake. And now another store has nearly been broken into. It’s really the county that’s handling the investigation but we’ve decided to start at the village level. All of the members have signed.”

Lucy wondered if it was wise for Maggie to sign a letter of complaint, all things considered. But she had every right; she owned a business and was rightfully concerned.

“Not that these bureaucrats pay much attention to our complaints,” she added.

“It’s good to get it out there. Maybe the newspaper will pick up on it and do a story about your protest,” Lucy suggested. “Then they’d have to pay attention.”

“That would light a fire under them,” Maggie agreed. “The police have to catch this creep. Before he or she strikes again.”

The image was chilling but very possible, Lucy thought. She didn’t want to imagine who might be next.

Lucy had finished her side of boxes and Maggie swiftly checked the last few. “I don’t know, I thought the box of sweaters was back here. Maybe they’re in one of the boxes in the shop.”

“All right. I’ll just take a quick look outside before I go.”

The two women left the storeroom and Lucy headed for the closest stack of boxes, in a corner of the back room. Cara stood at the big oak table nearby, sorting through a pile of buttons.

“Looks like I came to the right place. You have an amazing selection.”

“I try to keep it interesting.” Maggie sat at the table and picked up a card with burnished metal disks. “I took a lot from the Knitting Nest, but nothing special.”

“I don’t want anything wooden or stamped metal.”

“Of course not. Too obvious,” Maggie agreed. “Did you look in that bottom drawer? There are some big ceramics. I think they would go well.”

Cara picked up a big shopping bag that was on the floor near her feet. She put it on the table and pulled out a long coat sweater made of brownish wool with a hood and bell sleeves.

Lucy thought it looked like a monk’s habit but what did she know?

“Here’s the sweater, let’s see how some of these match up,” Cara murmured. She smoothed out the front of the sweater and placed a button on the placket.

“How did the audition turn out? You never said,” Maggie reminded her.

“It went pretty well. I’m still waiting for the final word but it looks like a go.” She turned to Maggie. “You can be my guest sometime.”

Maggie looked embarrassed but complimented. “Me? What would I do on TV?”

“The same thing you do here. You could do a lesson. Argyle or maybe some spinning?”

“Oh…maybe. That reminds me, do you need a wheel? That’s about the only thing left at the Knitting Nest. It was a big one, nearly new. Peter Goran said he’d deliver it, too.”

“Really? Maybe I’ll call him about it,” Cara said. “We could use it on the show. I am serious about you coming on as a guest, Maggie. It would mean a lot to me.”

Lucy could tell by Maggie’s tone that she was flattered. “Oh…we’ll see. You get the job first. Then my people will call your people.”

Cara laughed. She paused in her button search and smiled down at Maggie, resting her hand on the older woman’s shoulder. “I really have you to thank, Maggie. For all the encouragement you gave me back in high school. I loved art, but I never thought I had much talent or could really get anywhere. My mother’s a great person, but she always focused so much on my looks. All she ever wanted for me was to nab a rich husband.”

Which still wasn’t out of the question, Lucy wanted to remind her. Cara stood an excellent chance of having it all, if anybody did.

“Oh…don’t be silly.” Maggie patted Cara’s hand. “I didn’t have much to do with it. You’ve worked hard and anybody could see you have talent. I just knew you when, that’s all.”

Lucy felt a bit uncomfortable, being privy to the private scene. She focused on the cartons, knowing she had time for just this pile.

Flipping open the flaps on the box on the very bottom, she finally found the sweaters.

“Here they are.” Lucy stood up and held up a sweater for Maggie to see.

“Thank goodness. I thought I was losing my mind. I could have sworn it was back in the storeroom. I’m sorry I made you look through all that stuff back there.”

“That’s all right. I’d better get going.”

“Lucy’s getting a dog. She rescued one of Amanda Goran’s pack. Amanda’s husband is giving them all away.”

“Oh, how nice of you to do that. I love dogs,” Cara said kindly. “Did the police catch anybody yet?”

“Not yet,” Maggie reported. “Amanda’s husband doubts they’ll ever find the person who did it. He thinks it was a robbery but the police keep questioning him about it,” Maggie added. She glanced at Cara but didn’t say more.

Maggie had neglected to add that the police were questioning her also, Lucy noticed. But maybe she was embarrassed to tell Cara about that situation?

“Do they really think it’s her husband? Oh…that’s awful.”

“Yes, it is, if it’s true. Now this other break-in—attempted break-in, actually—at the hardware store seems to support Peter Goran’s argument that there’s some cold-blooded killer on the loose, and the police are too busy trying to prove him guilty to catch the real criminal.”

“Another break-in? When did that happen?” Cara asked.

“Friday night. At Seabold’s Hardware. The store was closed and someone broke a window in the back but the alarm went off and apparently scared them away,” Maggie explained.

“Really? I didn’t hear about that.” Cara seemed concerned. “Guess I haven’t been keeping up with the local paper.”

Lucy zipped up her down vest, grabbed the carton, and slipped out the door, leaving Maggie and Cara to sort through the puzzling events surrounding Amanda’s murder and the piles of button possibilities. She expected both conversations would take some time. Maggie hadn’t even opened the drawer that held the toggles yet.