Knot on Your Life

by Betty Hechtman

  Deani mentioned Iola last. “She’s the quiet one in the group, but I figure she’s hiding something under all the silence. Like maybe she’s afraid to say anything because of what she’d say if she did. Like maybe the husband she mentioned doesn’t really exist, or he does and she murdered him.”

  When I was surprised at the comment, Dean added, “Don’t mind me. I’m a mystery addict so I see plots even when there aren’t any. But I still think there is something going on with Iola.”

  “Have you ever just asked her right out?” I asked.

  “No. I mean, I couldn’t just say something like is your husband’s decaying body sitting in a rocking chair at your place.”

  I nodded, thinking that Deani hadn’t shown any interest in getting to know anything more about me, but then the retreats were all about the retreat people.

  At least she’d given me a who’s who of the group.

  Chapter 5

  “There you are,” Aileen said when Deani and I rejoined the others in the Lodge. The four women were in the seating area arranged around the huge stone fireplace. Their suitcases were lined up under the window that looked out on the driveway. “He wouldn’t let us check in until you got back.” She shot an annoyed glance toward Kevin St. John, who was behind the registration counter. He seemed to be deliberately avoiding looking our way.

  “No problem. We’re using the time to knit and have a snack,” one of the other women said. Trying not to be too obvious, I checked her out, seeing if I could figure out who she was. Deani had mentioned that one of the women was ready to video at any moment. I was sure this woman was PJ since she looked camera-ready. Her makeup was subtle but flawless. Her toast-brown hair was cut very short in a style that never got out of place. The black leggings with a long black tunic were made of a knit fabric that refused to wrinkle.

  “PJ, isn’t it?” I said, and she smiled and held out a cellophane bag with small crunchy-looking squares. I got a whiff of a buttery smell and she urged me to take one and then offered the same to Deani.

  “You don’t have to ask me twice,” Deani said, reaching into the bag after I took one. She turned to me and said, “You are in for a treat. PJ makes these, and let me tell you, when I brought some samples with the food I delivered, everyone was like, these are great.”

  I took the opportunity to pop the one in my hand into my mouth. At first it tasted of buttery toast, but when I began to chew I tasted cheese. It tasted as delicious as it smelled. “It’s like a mini toasted cheese sandwich,” I said.

  “They’re even better in soup. The cheese reconstitutes and gets almost gooey,” Deani said.

  “How do you make them?” I asked, and was about to mention my other job baking, but PJ rocked her head and smiled.

  “Trade secret. It took a lot of time and experiments before I figured it out. Hopefully they’ll be for sale soon.” She looked as if she wanted to say more, but she did the move of pretending to lock her mouth with a key.

  “Don’t feel bad, she won’t even tell us anything,” another woman said. I had the choice between her being Madison or Iola. It was almost too easy to figure that she was Madison. There was the blond hair and the hand gestures, but mostly it was that she seemed so animated.

  “Thank you, Madison. I won’t take offense,” I said. Her smile broadened, making it clear I was right about who she was.

  “Iola, I’m glad you could come,” I said to the last woman. She acted a little startled when I spoke to her, but then her mouth curved into what I could best describe as an apologetic smile. I understood now what Deani had said about barely noticing her. She had bland looks and nondescript clothes and seemed to blend in with the chair. I made a mental note to make sure to talk to her during the weekend. “I’ll take care of getting you all checked in,” I said. Deani joined the others and I went back to the front.

  “Ahem,” I said loudly when I reached the massive wooden counter. I know he knew I was there, but he still took his time before he looked up.

  “Ms. Feldstein,” he said, seeming surprised. “What can I do for you?”

  “How about checking in my group now,” I said in a pleasant tone. I was definitely annoyed, but I wasn’t going to show it. “You can just give me their keys.”

  “What kind of service is that?” he said, looking across the room at the gathering of women. “You can go join them and I’ll bring the keys over.”

  I knew that he was up to something. He never tried to make things easier with my retreats. I’d barely rejoined the women when he came into the seating area. He had put the keys in little folders with the room numbers on them, along with the name of the guest, and insisted on handing out the keys himself. When he got to Deani, he looked down at her tote bag and commented on how roomy it was.

  I caught him at his game and pulled the bag open, assuring him that Fifi was safely in my guesthouse.

  “Good to know,” he said before focusing on me. “And of course, you’ll make sure the dog stays there all weekend, right? It would be terrible if anything ruined your group’s weekend.”

  I nodded but had my fingers crossed behind my back, hoping that it would cover up my lie.

  I pulled five folders out of my tote bag and handed them out, explaining they held schedules of the retreat activities and information about Vista Del Mar and activities they offered. I added that they’d get tote bags at the first workshop. Then, even though Aileen said she knew the way to the Sand and Sea building because she’d been to Vista Del Mar before, I escorted them to the moody-looking building.

  The sky was still a flat white and the light had barely changed since the morning, making it hard to decipher that it was afternoon.

  I started to do my usual spiel, pointing out the living-room-like lobby area with the comfortable chairs and glowing fire and mentioning it was a nice spot to hang out and work on their projects.

  Deani seemed most interested. “It’s available all the time, right? Like even late at night?” I nodded and she seemed relieved. “Great, there’s someplace to go if I can’t sleep.”

  Madison was checking over the schedule I’d handed out. “We could arrange our own little gathering here during free time. I know we’re going to be working on crochet things in the workshops, but I brought a couple of knitting projects with me. I saw that there’s wine in the café.”

  Aileen looked troubled. “We don’t have to spend all our time together. We could make it loose. Just come if you want to.”

  “That sounds good to me,” PJ said. “I want to get some video for my vlog.” I started to explain she wouldn’t be able to upload it, but she stopped me and pointed to the schedule. “I see we’ll be going off location for at least one activity each of the days. I’ll be able to get a signal at least and hopefully Wi-Fi then and I can upload it then.”

  I was glad that she seemed so easy about it. After what Deani had said about her and what I’d experienced with other groups, I was expecting her to make more of a fuss. I looked to see if Iola was going to add anything, but she just shrugged and said something in a low voice that I couldn’t hear.

  Now it was time to let them see the rooms. I hoped that Aileen had explained the accommodations so it wouldn’t be a total shock when they saw how basic they were. Hoping to soften the blow a little, I told them about the goodie bags I’d left.

  “I even left lavender sachets in your beds.” They had gone on ahead of me to the hallway and were already finding their rooms when I caught up with them. Madison had her door open first. She walked in and looked around and I waited for her to say something. “I love it,” she said when she came back to the doorway. “It reminds me of camp. This is going to be such a fun weekend.”

  By then the rest of them had their doors open and were going in. No one seemed bothered by the lack of TVs or phones. The clock radios got a lot of kudos for being so old-fashioned and easy to set.

  I got ready to leave and stuck my head into Madison’s open doorway. “By the way, Happy Birth
day.”

  She looked a little sheepish. “You’re a little early. My actual birthday isn’t for another couple of weeks. I’m not sure why we’re here now. Aileen insisted we come this weekend, she said there was a special deal.”

  Really? That was news to me.

  • • •

  That had gone much better than I expected. I’d left the five women to get settled and have a look around before our first workshop. The only problem was Fifi, but the dog was so tiny and Kevin would be busy with the other guests and probably forget all about her.

  I liked having a group who were already friends. I was thinking ahead of ways to promote retreats to celebrate special moments. What fun a wedding shower weekend would be. I could do baby showers and birthdays.

  I followed the path and went directly to the meeting room I’d arranged. This weekend was going to be a breeze. All I really had to do was be there for the workshops and the special activities I had planned. But there wouldn’t be all the hand-holding I’d done in the past.

  Somewhere above all the white clouds the sun was moving across the sky, but it was invisible down here. No sun meant no shadows. I was getting used to the flat light and having no idea of the time unless I checked my watch. It was just about two o’clock, which was perfect since the first workshop started at two thirty.

  The doors to both of the meeting rooms in the Cypress building were open. The workshops for all the different groups tended to start around the same time, so it figured that the room next to ours would be occupied at the same time ours was. The other one was larger and seemed like a cave somehow. I guess it was the dark green paint on the walls. The only window looked out on an enclosed courtyard with a few plants surrounded by rocks.

  I walked in our room and smiled at how inviting it was by comparison. We had a window that looked out on the path. The walls were white and there was a fireplace.

  I’d barely walked into the smaller room when Cloris joined me pushing a metal cart. When I’d seen her earlier she’d been wearing a blazer that the staff working the desk wore. Now she had on a white smock she wore when she was on kitchen detail.

  “They have you working everywhere today,” I said.

  “I was just filling in this morning,” she said as she unloaded a metal urn on the counter and hung a sign on it that said Coffee. “Back to my regular duties, catering and kitchen.” She moved the other urn onto the counter and hung a sign that said Hot Water. “It was a mess this morning. All of those people wanted to check in early and the regular clerk didn’t show up. Mr. St. John was caught off guard. He didn’t seem to expect the two groups to arrive when they did.”

  “I get the group with the vests and binoculars are birders. But what’s the story of the group in black?”

  She smiled. “They’re from Silicon Valley and want to clear their heads or something. They’re here for a mindfulness retreat.”

  “Did they realize they were going into an unplugged zone?” I asked. “Those techie types must freak out without all their electronics.”

  “I didn’t hear anyone complaining. I think part of the mindfulness thing is going unplugged.”

  “What about the guy in the leggings. How does he fit in?” I asked, thinking back to seeing him in the Lodge.

  “That’s Sky Brooks,” she said with a smile. “And don’t call those leggings. He was very specific that they were yoga pants.” She continued with her work. “He’s the one who opened that yoga and Pilates studio on Grand Street in beautiful downtown Cadbury. Mr. St. John hired him to be the facilitator.” She laughed at the word. “From what I heard, Mr. St. John put together the activities and schedule and all. Sky is just supposed to pull it off.”

  “His name isn’t really Sky, is it?” I asked.

  “I saw the form he filled out to get paid and it said Robert,” she said with a chuckle. “I don’t really know him, but I hope he isn’t as pretentious as his name. I do know that he really wants this gig to work out. But Sky has his work cut out for him. Mr. St. John wants all the retreats or events he arranges to be optimally profitable, which means spending as little as possible putting them together.” She straightened a chair that had gotten moved as she brought in the cart. “I hope your group appreciates all the extras you give them.”

  “I guess my focus is on making a successful retreat more than a bigger profit.” I laughed. “Maybe I should be more like him, then I wouldn’t have to do a bunch of jobs to make ends meet. Lucky for me that my aunt left me her house or I’d really be in trouble.”

  “I think your way is better,” she said as she finished up. When she wasn’t working at Vista Del Mar, Cloris was studying hospitality. It was one of the reasons why she actually wanted to try working different jobs at the hotel and conference center. Lately, she’d changed her playful look to something more serious. Her warm brown hair was now chin length in a sleek style. She tended to wear slacks and a sweater, which she covered with whatever uniform went along with her current duties. She always seemed upbeat and as if she really liked whatever task she was currently performing at Vista Del Mar. She was also my conduit for inside information.

  She rolled her eyes. “Mr. St. John has a lot riding on this mindfulness retreat he organized. He thinks it will lead to others, which will give him even more free rein to run Vista Del Mar as he sees fit. I heard him say that he knows how to handle the Delacorte sisters.” She shrugged. “He told the bird people that next time they should let him do it turnkey for them. You should have seen the look on the face of the woman who organized it. You know that phrase if looks could kill? I don’t think he even cared, though. He just wants to control everything and make the biggest profit possible.”

  They were not comforting words. If Kevin St. John started running a bunch of retreats, it was only a matter of time before he figured out a way to push me out.

  She noticed the tin on the counter and opened it. “Yum, the butter cookies look delicious.” I offered her one and she gratefully accepted. “Wow, up to your usual standards,” she said, taking a crumb off her finger. She produced a long lighter and lit the fire. The kindling caught and it gave off an inviting glow. “Anything else?” she said as she pushed the cart toward the door.

  “Who has the room next to us?” I asked.

  “The mindfulness crew,” she said. “I hope they aren’t trouble.”

  Chapter 6

  I checked my watch. Crystal wasn’t late—yet. But then her habit was to cut it pretty close to the start time. I pulled out one of the chairs and took out the pink triangle hanging on the small circular needles. It really was the perfect project to carry around. I did the first two knit stitches and then the yarn over, which would increase the number of stitches in the row by one. I still had a long way to go before I’d begin decreasing the number of stitches in each row. In the end I’d have a lovely square with a pattern of open spaces along the sides. I’d already completed a number of these washcloths and every time I used one it made me feel good to know that I’d made it myself. I was getting up my nerve to make one for my mother. I’d find some fancy soap to include with it and mail it off to Chicago.

  I sighed wondering if she’d be impressed. My mother was a cardiologist who literally fixed broken hearts. Making a washcloth didn’t really put me in the same league. She was having a hard time facing that the apple had fallen so far from the tree. As much as I argued with her, I kind of understood.

  I heard the sound of someone coming in and glanced at the doorway just as a man walked in. I recognized the short dark hair and sharp features of the man I’d encountered in the hall. I supposed he technically was a man since he appeared to be in his mid-twenties, but something about his look made “guy” seem like a better description.

  “You’re next door,” I said, gesturing toward the next-door room. He ignored what I said and came further into the room. He gave me a cursory glance before going back to checking out the room.

  “The bag lady,” he said, and I winced at th
e title.

  “I’d rather be known by my name. Casey Feldstein,” I said. I expected him to introduce himself, but he seemed most interested in his surroundings.

  “This is much nicer than ours,” he said. “The fireplace, the drinks.” He walked over to the counter with the coffee and tea service. Without asking for permission, he opened the tin. “Cookies with chocolate, hmm, looks good.”

  “I always bake some treats for my group.” I did a little side pitch on the other baking I did, mentioning the desserts I made for the Blue Door and the muffins for all the coffee spots in town. I was wasting my breath because he seemed to have no interest in what I was saying.

  “Can I take one?” he said. By now I’d dealt with all kinds of people so I wasn’t totally surprised by his brashness. I’d made extra so I told him to help himself. Without hesitation, he picked up one of the small fluted paper cups holding one of the cookies and popped the treat into his mouth.

  I watched his eyebrows go up in surprise. “This is really good. We should have something like this.”

  “You’ll have to talk to Mr. St. John,” I said. “I understand he put together your retreat.” I gestured around the room. “I arranged all this for my group,” I said, still holding the knitting needles. I wasn’t accomplished enough to be able to stop knitting when I was in the middle of a row and quickly continued on with the stitches.

  “Oh,” he said as his brow furrowed. He stepped closer and watched as I finished the row. When I set it down on the table, he picked it up and looked it over. “Is there a theme to your retreat?” I thought the guys from Silicon Valley were supposed to be shy and nerdy. He seemed to be neither. He’d come in and made himself at home. I wasn’t sure if it was confidence or a sense of entitlement.

  “Ours is all about yarn craft and it’s a birthday celebration. I’m hosting a group of knitters who requested learning how to crochet. They’ll also be going whale watching and wine tasting.” I pointed to my work in his hand. “That’s knitting and this is crochet.” I grabbed one of the crochet hooks and a ball of cotton yarn. Crystal had taught me the basics of crochet and I made some chain stitches and a short row of single crochet. I opened the bin that had the supplies for my group and took out a finished sample of the shawl the group would be making. “By the end of the weekend they’ll either be finished making one of these or close to it.” He kept looking around and seemed unsettled.