Knot on Your Life

by Betty Hechtman

  I let them continue on as long as I could, but Crystal pointed to her watch and began to pack up her things. “Time to call it a night,” she said. She had to repeat it several times to get their attention. “There are knitting instructions in your bag, along with the pattern for the tie.”

  “It can’t be time already,” Elex said. He held up the few inches of rows he’d completed. “This is the first thing we’ve done that seems actually mindful,” he went on. “I knew adding this was the right thing to do.” I waited, expecting him to say thank you to me and Crystal, but he didn’t. Instead, he looked at his group and repeated the brilliance of his decision.

  Sky took his attention off the door for a moment and addressed the group. “Just you wait until you experience the Sound Bath on Saturday night. I put it together and it’s going to be a mind-blowing mindful experience.” Sky turned to me. “It’s open to all the guests so be sure your group comes.” So, Kevin St. John had actually let Sky plan something. I asked for details and he insisted it had to be experienced to be understood.

  “You can’t leave us like this,” Elex said. “We need at least one more session.” Crystal looked to me.

  “I’ll see what I can work out,” I said, promising to let them know. They packed up their things and finally got up to go.

  Crystal watched them go to the door and then broke into a smile. “Now I get the clothes. You are trying to be like Steve Jobs.”

  The four of them gave her a blank look. “You’re all wearing the Steve Jobs look, the black turtlenecks and the jeans,” she said.

  “If we happen to make people think of Steve Jobs, so be it,” Elex said. There was just a touch of annoyance in his voice. “He wore blue jeans with his black turtleneck, and if you notice, we wear black jeans. It was my idea we dress this way. We all just have so much bandwidth for decision making and why waste it on clothing choices.” He pointed to Julie. “She can get dressed in a few minutes because she doesn’t have to spend any mental energy deciding what to wear. I bet it takes you a lot longer,” he said, looking at Crystal. “The point is why spend energy on unimportant decisions like what to wear or what to have for lunch.”

  “Whatever works for you,” I said. “Be sure to take your tote bags with you.” I was going to add that they could take the extra drinks, but they were already grabbing them.

  When we were alone, Crystal turned to me. “I guess Tim didn’t go along with the idea. Funny how it was the guy in preppy clothes who was the outsider.”

  • • •

  Crystal rushed off ahead and I stayed behind to straighten up. They’d left a mess. I gathered up the empty bottles and cleaned the crumbs off the table. The drinks had certainly been a hit. I’d have to compliment Cloris on her choices. I put my group’s bags back on the table and turned off the lights.

  I was wishing it had been one and done, but no such luck. I’d have to figure out how to arrange another session.

  “Case,” a voice called out in the darkness as I headed up the pathway. There was only one person who called me that. Sammy thought of it as a nickname, but really all he did was take off one letter, even if it was a syllable.

  “Sammy?” I said, turning in surprise. “What are you doing here? Don’t tell me you have some emergency magic show and you expect me to be your assistant.”

  “No, Case,” he said as he caught up with me. “But look what’s in your hair.” I looked up just as he magically made a glowing butterfly appear.

  Sammy was my ex from Chicago and he really shouldn’t have been in Cadbury. He insisted he hadn’t been following me when he showed up in the small town. Sammy was Dr. Samuel Glickner, M.D., who specialized in urology, but magic was his real passion. He’d gotten a temporary position in Cadbury doing his doctor stuff away from the critical eyes of his parents, who thought the magic business was monkey business and should be locked up in a trunk with all his illusions and the key thrown away.

  My breakup with Sammy had been totally nondramatic. It came down to the fact that he was a nice guy who had all the attributes of husband material, except one. There was zero chemistry—at least on my side. I wanted to believe his story that he was there following his passion for magic and not for me, but I had my doubts.

  He’d started out doing table magic on weekends at Vista Del Mar but had moved on to doing actual shows and I’d gotten hooked into being his assistant. It was supposed to be temporary, but he didn’t seem to be looking too hard for a replacement. And there was something else. Though he’d planned to be a serious magician, there had been some screwups the first time he tried to “cut me in half,” and it had turned into more of a comedy routine. The audience ate it up and he’d changed his show. He insisted that no one got him but me and I could play into the comedy stuff.

  I took the butterfly and looked it over before handing it back to him. “It’s a new prop,” he said. “Note the colors are like a monarch butterfly.” Monarch butterflies were a big deal in Cadbury since every year huge numbers of them wintered in Cadbury. The town celebrated with a whole week of activities every year in the fall.

  “It’s certainly more charming than pulling a quarter out of my ear,” I said with a smile before asking what he was doing at Vista Del Mar.

  “I got a call from Kevin St. John asking me if I could do some close-up magic over the weekend. He said something about an accident and wanting to add a distraction.”

  I told Sammy about the mindful retreat and that Kevin St. John had arranged it for the group. “It was one of his retreaters who had the accident,” I said. “He has to be freaking out. It’s bad enough when something happens to a guest at Vista Del Mar, but when it’s someone from a retreat he put together—” I rolled my eyes and put up my hands.

  Sammy looked at me. “And I suppose you know all about the accident.”

  “Know about it?” I said, shaking my head. “I ended up in the middle of it.” My lip curled in distaste with the memory. I went on to describe the scene I’d come upon and my attempt to find a pulse. “He must have slipped and fallen on his back. It was awful. I ended up with blood on my hands and clothes.”

  “You say he fell backward,” Sammy said. I thought about why I’d said that and the image of Tim came into my mind’s eye.

  “I assume that’s what happened. He was lying on his back.”

  “Did you cradle his head while you looked for a pulse,” Sammy asked and I shook my head.

  “I knelt down next to him,” I said. “I leaned over him when I went to check his neck for the pulse. I must have touched his head and his clothes.”

  “It’s not the end I usually deal with, but if he fell backward on the rocks, you’d expect the blood would be on the back of his head. How did you end up with it on you?” I’d been purposely avoiding the mental picture of Tim on the ground and now I was recalling it a second time. I closed my eyes and let the image flow. “The blood was on his face. The worst was on his forehead.” I gagged at the thought it had ended up on me.

  Sammy shrugged it off. “Maybe he moved or something.” He gave my shoulder a reassuring pat. “It’s not your worry.” He paused and took a breath. “And on another note—I was hoping you’d be my assistant for the close-up magic. We could do some of the comedy stuff.”

  “Okay, as long as I don’t have to wear that spangly romper,” I said, relieved to have the subject changed. It was more pleasant to think of Sammy’s magic act than the vision of Tim on the ground. Sammy was fine with me wearing my street clothes, even if he would be wearing his performance tuxedo.

  When we got to the driveway of Vista Del Mar, Sammy looked across the street. “I went to your place first and I saw someone going in the guesthouse with a key. What’s going on?” He sounded upset. He’d been living at a bed-and-breakfast since he’d come to Cadbury and had asked about renting the guesthouse. I knew it was a bad idea and rather than just turn him down, I told him if I ever rented it, he’d be the one. I quickly reassured him that the person he’d s
een was a woman and that the only being staying there was a tiny poodle. His mood lifted immediately.

  “Well, then, see you tomorrow,” Sammy said as he started to walk away. He turned back. “Thanks, Case. You always come through.”

  Chapter 11

  There was always a different feeling when I crossed the street to my place. I felt away from it all when I was on the Vista Del Mar grounds and back to the real world when I went up my driveway. Julius was watching from the kitchen window. I wanted to stop in the guesthouse and check on Fifi, but at the same time I didn’t. Sammy had seen Deani going into the guesthouse, but it wasn’t clear what she was doing. Was she visiting the dog, dropping her off or horror of horrors, picking her up?

  My nightmare scenario had Deani keeping the dog in her room and Fifi letting out a bark as Kevin St. John was in the hallway. The doors were so thin, the sound would carry and he’d barge into the room. Better to be in the dark, I thought, and I went directly to my kitchen door without a sideways glance.

  Julius jumped down and began doing figure eights around my ankles as soon as I walked into my kitchen. “I can’t stay,” I said, but even so I sat down on one of the kitchen chairs and he jumped into my lap. He rubbed against me and let out a rumble of purring as I stroked his back.

  “Don’t worry. Fifi is just a temporary guest,” I said. “Maybe a little too temporary.” If Kevin St. John found the dog on the grounds I was going to get the blame.

  I gave Julius his nightly dab of stink fish and got ready to leave. It was time to put all thoughts of Vista Del Mar and my retreat group on the back burner. I was not going to think any more about Tim and how he’d gotten blood on his face if he’d fallen on his back. It really wasn’t my concern anyway.

  The deal I had with the Blue Door was that after I’d made the desserts for the next day, I could use their kitchen to bake the muffins that I took around to the coffee spots in town. I added the perishables to the bag of ingredients I’d packed earlier. I had a whole repertoire of muffins that I made, but every now and then I made something new. That was the plan for tonight.

  There was always an issue of what I was going to call something new. I liked names like Plain Janes for vanilla muffins and The Blues for blueberry ones, but the town council had a thing about what they considered cutesy names. They wanted things to be called what they were. As if the name of a muffin was that important. I had no choice but to go along with them, so instead of calling my new creation A Raisin to Be, I’d have to call them Raisin Biscuit Muffins. Where was the romance in that?

  The streets were never busy in Cadbury, but by this time of night they were really dead. I didn’t pass another car as I drove down the street in front of my house and only passed an occasional one on the rest of the ride. The main drag in town was called Grand Street. It certainly deserved the name. A parkway ran down between the two directions of traffic, making the thoroughfare wide and impressive.

  By now all the shops but one were dark and long since closed. Light spilled onto the sidewalk in front of the twenty-four-hour pharmacy and a cluster of cars were parked in front.

  It was hard to see it at night, but the downtown area was authentically charming with a mixture of architecture. There were actual Victorian buildings painted in bright colors with fish-scale siding. Some of the shops and businesses were housed in blond brick buildings that seemed to be mid-century style. And the white stucco post office with the terra-cotta tile roof was Spanish style. The Blue Door restaurant had at one time been a residence. The wood frame building was situated so that the side of it faced Grand Street and the front on the side street.

  As I parked my car, I could see Lucinda through the uncurtained windows that faced the main street. I went up the stairs to the narrow porch that ran along the front. It was used as an outdoor seating area, but now the tables had the chairs on top of them.

  The front door really was blue—at least the bottom half. The top was glass.

  Inside things were winding down and only two of the tables were still occupied. The diners were just finishing dessert, which I noted was the pound cake I’d baked the day before served with strawberries and whipped cream.

  Lucinda rushed up to me. “Tag heard about the accident at Vista Del Mar. He’s going nuts worried that it could have been me,” she said. I glanced across the former living room that was now the main dining area. It was hard to miss Tag Thornkill. Though well into his fifties, he had such a thick head of brown hair it seemed like a wig, but it wasn’t. He was hanging over a server who was setting up the tables for the next day, readjusting the silverware as she put each piece down. The poor girl kept closing her eyes with consternation.

  “Have you heard anything more about it? Did the group he was from show up for the workshop?” Lucinda asked. She was wearing the same Ralph Lauren denim dress she’d had on when she came to Vista Del Mar. It still looked as fresh as she did. Lucinda always appeared put-together. I often joked to myself that she probably put on lipstick to get the mail.

  “The group did show up and they seemed to blame his fall on his leather-soled shoes and bad judgment,” I said, setting down the recycled shopping bag full of ingredients. “I got the feeling they were more concerned about how his death was going to affect their business than the loss of him.” I explained what their business was and that from the way they talked about Tim and the way he dressed it seemed like he was an outsider.

  “You don’t think that someone might have wanted him out of the way,” she said, dropping his voice.

  “You mean like someone made it happen?” I started to say there was no reason to suppose that, but then I thought about what Sammy and I had talked about and at the same time there was something in the back of my mind trying to get my attention. I closed my eyes for a moment hoping that the hidden thought would suddenly appear front and center. It didn’t, and finally I put up my hands and said, “I don’t know.”

  “Just be glad you don’t have to concern yourself with it,” Lucinda said with a smile. “Even if I did tell your group that you’d be in the know about the investigation.”

  “I will have to let them know that Tim died.” My friend gave me a reassuring pat on my shoulder just as Sammy had done.

  The two couples got up and went to the front to settle their checks. Tag went to take care of them and the server cleared the two tables.

  Lucinda glanced at the couples as they went out the door. The server took off her apron and left a moment later. “That’s it,” Lucinda said. “We’re officially closed. The pound cake was a big success, as usual. We sold out of the apple pie hours ago. Those couples both ordered their dessert when they made their reservation.” She pointed toward an empty pedestal stand on the front counter and all that was left were a couple of crumbs.

  “I’m glad the pound cake worked out so well because I’ll be making more tonight,” I said. It was hard to do the baking when I was in the middle of a retreat, so I tended to make standbys that I could practically make in my sleep. I’d thought about making one for Madison’s birthday, but she’d made such a point that it wasn’t really her birthday that I let it go.

  I picked up the bag and went toward the kitchen. The chef came out and grunted a greeting at me. I was used to this changing of the guard by now. He was territorial about the kitchen and always seemed a little perturbed that I was taking it over. I understood because I viewed him as being an intruder in my space.

  My first order of business was the desserts for the restaurant, and once I put on my apron, I began to lay out the ingredients. Lucinda poked her head in to tell me they were leaving and the place was mine.

  As soon as I heard them go out the door, I went into the dining room to turn on some music. I liked to bake to soft jazz. Something felt off and I stopped in the middle of the room and looked around with an uneasy feeling. I felt as if someone was watching me. I went to one of the windows and looked out. A dark SUV was parked next to my Mini Cooper. It didn’t seem like anyone was
in it.

  I went to the front door and tried to look out on the porch, but I couldn’t make out much in the darkness. I had started to think that I was being foolish. The car parked out front didn’t mean anything. The side street was all residential and someone could have parked there and gone to one of the houses.

  Even so, I couldn’t seem to shake the feeling. Maybe if I checked the porch and saw that no one was there I’d calm down and be able to get to my work. I had my phone in my hand as I pulled the door open and stuck my head out. I gave the porch the once-over and was about to chide myself for my foolishness and go back inside when I heard a rustle. I looked over the dark area again and this time I saw something move in the shadow.

  “Who are you and what do you want?” I said, trying to make my voice sound big while fighting the sudden adrenaline flow.

  There was no answer and I remembered my phone. I swiped on the flashlight and pointed it at the corner.

  Chapter 12

  “Deani!” I said. The big sound had gone out of my voice and the adrenaline flow had taken over and I sounded high-pitched and squeaky. “What are you doing here?” She was slender and even though she had the tote bag the size of a small suitcase that could have had who knows what inside, I didn’t really see her as a threat.

  “I was hoping to get away without you seeing me,” she said. She seemed to be backing toward the stairs at the end of the narrow porch.

  “Not without an explanation. Why don’t you come inside.” It was more of a command than a suggestion. I opened the door wider and waited until she complied.

  She seemed uncomfortable as she came into the restaurant. She looked around at the empty tables. Just then a fuzzy white head popped over the top of the tote bag. Fifi saw me and let out a yip.