I stood with Grammie and the girls near the gravesite, the white coffin resting on the bier and waiting to be lowered. Flowers smothered the casket, including a magnificent bouquet from Mary Ellen’s garden.
Mary Ellen provided a clue to Star’s real name after she found a letter from Star’s brother, Pete Taylor. Both had been in the foster care system, separated most of the time. Pete was living in California when he last heard from his sister. But we tracked him down and here he was, standing beside his long-lost nephew, Kevin.
“Pete, would you like to say a few words?” Father McGuiness asked.
Star’s brother moved forward, a lean man with a mop of gray hair and the same eyes as his sister. He was a stage actor in San Francisco and his movements displayed a touch of graceful showmanship.
“Anyone who met Star, formerly known as Deborah”—Pete paused for gentle laughter—“never forgot her. Her smile, her gentle spirit, an ability to see the beauty in all things—that stayed with you.” He tapped his chest. “Right here. No matter what.”
Tissues appeared in the crowd, along with sniffs and blowing of noses. My eyes were definitely damp. The lace-trimmed hankies I had whipped up for my friends were getting a good workout, including mine.
Pete went on to share a couple of heartwarming stories about his sister, concluding with mention of Kevin. “One phone call changed everything. I lost a sister but gained a nephew.”
Kevin had begun to weep during his uncle’s speech, and my heart went out to him. He had never had a chance to know his mother. I’d lost mine too but cherished the eight years I had with her and my father. Despite Charlotte’s accusation, Kevin wasn’t Elliot’s child. Pete shed light on that situation, since Star had confided in him regarding paternity. Sadly, Kevin’s biological father passed away years ago.
After Kevin’s shenanigans with Elliot and me, he’d lost his code officer job. And he was also facing charges, including stealing Elliot’s keys and entering the store without permission. Now, as the two men embraced, I was hopeful that he would serve his punishment and start anew. There was already talk of him relocating to live with his uncle, once he was free to do so.
As for Nancy, she confessed to strangling Star with those archery-toned hands. She took advantage of the building water problem to lure Star there and kill her, then hid her body in the old coal chute.
Charlotte too sang like a canary. The first poisoned smoothie was meant for Nancy but the cups got mixed up. Once Charlotte realized her terrible mistake, she decided to kill Nancy anyway and make it look like a suicide. In Charlotte’s purse, police found a forged note in Nancy’s handwriting, expressing remorse over “murdering my husband.”
Needless to say, both were now facing first-degree murder charges. Detective Varney, in attendance today, was impressed by the local force’s work. That was fine with me. I preferred to fly under the radar.
Standing a short distance away beside Margery, Ted Perkins met my gaze with a nod. To many people’s surprise, Ted came forward to pay for Star’s burial, an expense Elliot had offered to cover. He was also our new landlord, a welcome turn of events. He and Elliot had bought properties jointly and they now belonged to Ted. Even better, Ted believed in bringing buildings up to code. Our storefront was slated for some major improvements.
An overgrown field of Ted’s, no longer cut for hay, was the source of the jimsonweed Charlotte used in her concoctions. As for the farmer’s extracurricular activities, he had stopped years ago, fortunately for him in light of the recent police search. Since taking over for Elliot, he’d even cut his hair, as befitted his new role as upstanding businessman, and proposed to Margery at long last.
Her sister Mary Ellen was at the funeral too, but thankfully Alfie and company had stayed home. He may have helped to save me, but I still couldn’t help feeling a little creeped out by him.
As for Gary Ball, he had admitted to me that he lied about Papa’s involvement with Star. He’d been trying to discourage me from poking around, since he was worried about being implicated in Star’s death. Her fling with Elliot had been a secret, known only to Nancy.
And the intruder who broke into the barn? One of Gary’s helpers, sent to unlock Papa’s desk and retrieve the loan paperwork. Charges were pending against Gary and the other man for that little caper. Poor Anton. He was mortified by his grandfather’s selfish and ill-advised attempt to cheat a widow. But people in town still supported the new chief, especially after he closed two murder cases so quickly.
The clergymen said a prayer or two, the coffin was lowered, and the funeral was over. “That was beautiful.” Grammie’s eyes were red-rimmed. “Are you going to the gathering, Iris?” Star’s friends and family were getting together at the parish hall.
“Wouldn’t miss it.” I looked at my friends, who all nodded.
“I feel like I know her.” Madison dabbed at her cheeks with the handkerchief. “She was one special lady.”
“She was indeed.” Grammie reached for my arm and I helped her across the uneven ground. She was a bit wobbly in her high heels.
We made our way across the graveyard, joining the other mourners heading for the church. A tall figure wearing a dark suit came in the opposite direction, toward us. With a leap of my heart, I recognized Ian.
Madison grunted in approval. “Does he clean up nice or what?” Bella tugged on her arm, Sophie took Grammie’s, and within a twinkling the two of us were alone, standing beside a weeping angel.
“Hey, Iris.” His eyes locked on mine.
“Hey, yourself,” I said. A gust of wind caught my pillbox hat with cute little veil and I put up a hand to hold it.
“You look great,” he said, gesturing up and down. “Your suit.”
“Thanks. I like yours too.” I wore a black fitted suit, circa early 1950s, with a nipped-in waist and slim skirt. We fell into step, walking toward the church.
“Nice service,” he said.
“It was.” My throat thickened at the memory. “Very touching.”
We strolled in silence for a beat or two, then he said, “Ready to get back to work?”
“You better believe it.” I took his arm, just because. “What should we do first?”
* * *
The next two weeks flew past in a flurry of preparation. Painting, sanding, washing, waxing, remodeling the bathroom … it went on and on, an endless list of to-do, did-you, and oh-no-we-forgot. The signs went up, the fixtures and electronics in, and the inventory on—the shelves, clotheslines, and mannequins.
Finally, here it was, the opening day for Ruffles & Bows.
“Excited?” Grammie asked me, placing a cup of coffee beside my elbow.
I picked it up and guzzled down half the mug. “Oh yeah.” I hadn’t been able to sleep last night so when I finally dozed off, morning came way too soon.
The store was opening at noon, to give us time for some last-minute tweaks and to set up finger food, balloons, and door prizes. Madison was helping today, and Bella and Sophie promised to pop in.
Quincy jumped up on the next stool and nudged me, begging for a pat. “Today you get to come with me,” I said, rubbing his ears. “You’re going to be chief milk drinker and lap sitter. How’s that sound?” He purred loudly in response.
“No apron shop is complete without a cat,” Grammie said. “Isn’t that right, Quince?” The purring ratcheted up a few decibels.
Grammie showed me the final catering menu. “The Bean is going to deliver half an hour before we open. They’re providing plates, cups, napkins, and utensils.”
“My mouth is watering already.” The selection included miniquiches, waffle sliders, bite-sized fresh fruit and vegetables, and tiny sides of macaroni and cheese and potato salad.
Grammie laughed. “Eggs and home fries are almost ready. We’d better eat hearty, it’s going to be a busy day.”
I was chasing egg yolk with a home fry when the roar of a motorcycle caught my ear. Ian, on Papa’s BMW, circled to a halt in the do
or yard and turned off the engine. He pulled off his helmet, hung it on the handlebars, and sauntered toward the house, hotter than ever in leather jacket, blue jeans, and boots.
“Ian’s here,” I said. Somehow, in the middle of helping with the store, he’d found time to put Papa’s bike together and do a few repairs.
“On it.” Grammie turned the gas burner back on.
With a rap on the French door, Ian entered the kitchen. “Good morning.” He shrugged off his jacket and slung it over a chair.
“Want breakfast?” Grammie asked, poised to crack a couple of eggs.
“Sure thing, thanks.” He picked up Quincy and sat beside me. “Ready for the big day?”
“I am.” Then I laughed. “I think.”
His big hand smoothed Quincy’s head, making the cat close his eyes in sheer ecstasy. “Want to take a ride before you go to the shop? I got the bike tuned up and she’s running sweet.”
“You go ahead, Iris,” Grammie said. She glanced at the clock. “There’s plenty of time.” Guessing my next objection, she said, “I’ll bring your change of clothes and Quincy, in his carrier.”
After breakfast, I pulled on a leather jacket and boots and donned the helmet Ian brought me. A thermos, water, and snacks went into the saddlebag before I climbed aboard, slinging a leg over the passenger seat. My feet found the pegs.
“Ready?” he called over his shoulder after starting the engine.
I wrapped my arms around his waist. Oh yeah. “I’m ready.”
We rolled down the driveway. “North or south?” he asked.
“South. To the lighthouse.” We could make up for the canceled trip out there several weeks ago.
He turned the throttle and we shot along the road, forcing me to clutch his waist even tighter, to lean my head against his broad shoulder. Not the worst situation I’ve ever been in.
We puttered through downtown, slow enough to sit up straight and look around. The Ruffles & Bows sign was up over the door, and the window display looked great, a family of mannequins barbecuing, dressed in fifties outfits and aprons. Yes, even Daddy Mannequin.
I suppressed a squeal. Only a few more hours until our storefront went live.
After leaving town behind, we soon reached Hemlock Point Road, which featured a series of winding curves and stunning vistas perfect for a motorcycle ride. Our destination, Hemlock Point lighthouse, stood on the very tip of the peninsula, a classic white structure with a keeper’s cottage. The Coast Guard still used the light but there hadn’t been a keeper in residence for decades.
“Mom told me the historical society wants to start a lighthouse museum,” Ian said as we took off our helmets. This early in the day, only one or two other vehicles were in the parking lot, and on the rocky shore below, a couple of people walked dogs.
Ian’s mom. Thankfully she had softened toward me, now that Ian had been cleared. The last time I saw her at the library, she even apologized for locking me out. She thought someone had left the back door open.
“I heard about the project at the Lobster Fest meeting,” I said, studying the charming little cottage. “Some of the funds we’re raising are earmarked for the museum.”
We fell into step, ascending granite ledges toward where the lighthouse sat on a lawn edged with pink beach roses. “Maybe we can volunteer together,” he said.
I smiled to myself. “Sure. Sounds fun.”
A sunny rock provided the perfect seat to sit and watch waves crashing below. For a time, we were silent, allowing the salt air and the relentless beat of water against rock to seep in and soothe. Then we drank coffee and chatted about this and that. Ian ate both muffins.
The sun rose toward noon and we packed up to go. “Iris.” The tips of Ian’s ears reddened and he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Want to go out to dinner? Friday night, maybe?”
“I’d like that.” Again, we fell into step, moving in a unison that felt natural and easy.
“There is one thing.” He halted, green eyes darkening as he stared down at me. “I was engaged. Last year.” He glanced away, looking out to sea. “The wedding was supposed to be this summer.” Another beat. “Now she’s engaged to my best friend. Well, my former best friend.”
“Ouch.” I winced in sympathy. “I had a bad breakup too, before I moved home.” Not nearly as gut-wrenching, pull out your heart and stomp it though.
Ian rubbed the back of his neck. “So, I guess what I’m saying is, I’d like to go slow. Take our time. Play it by ear.” He grinned. “Use a lot of clichés.”
“We can do that.” I sent him a sly glance. “Baby steps it is.”
He laughed. “Touché.”
* * *
Ian pulled into the alley and stopped the bike near the Wagoneer and Madison’s Mini. “I’ll be in later,” he said. “But if you need me before then, give me a buzz.”
“I will.” I slid off the seat and inhaled a deep breath. Showtime.
“Iris, you’re here.” Grammie greeted me in the back hall. “Your clothes are in the bathroom.”
I hung my jacket on one of the pegs beside the back door and went to change. Off went the jeans and T-shirt, on with a pink dress with white collar and cuffs and a full skirt. One of the Ruffles & Bows pinafores went over my head, comfortable T-strap pumps on my feet. I brushed my hair, fixing the helmet head, and put on fresh makeup.
Before leaving our roomy, remodeled, accessible bathroom, I checked my appearance in the mirror. Reflected back at me was the co-owner of the hottest new store in town.
In the future classroom space, Sophie helped Madison and the male server with red hair place platters of food on a long table. Since we weren’t ready to hold classes yet, we had put up posters detailing future offerings and created a sign-up sheet for a mailing list. The chest we rescued from the basement stood by the wall. The little drawers held antique buttons—bone, glass, china, and wood. By their age, we guessed the chest had belonged to Buckley Dry Goods, which made it doubly special.
With a huge smile, Madison turned to the young man. “Hi, I’m Madison. What’s your name?” She was also wearing a pinafore over a floral skirt and coordinating T-shirt.
“Brendan,” he said, his eyes on his work. Seeming to feel Sophie’s glare on the back of his head, he mumbled, “Nice to meet you.” Then he lifted his head and gave her an absolutely beautiful smile. “Madison.”
Madison sent me a grin of triumph. She’d finally cracked his sullen shell. “How was your ride?” she asked me in a teasing tone.
“Hot,” I said. After a beat I added, “The temperature is soaring out there. Might hit eighty.”
Madison scoffed at my sidestep but Sophie’s brows rose in interest. “What ride?”
Wandering over, I stole a carrot stick. “Ian took me for a ride on Papa’s BMW. We drove out to the lighthouse.” I took my time chewing and swallowing, knowing I was torturing my friends. “And he asked me out to dinner.”
Madison yelped, then clapped a hand over her mouth. “You two make the cutest couple.”
“We’re taking it slow, so no, not a couple yet.” I gave Sophie a hug. “Thank you so much. Everything looks fabulous.”
“Glad to do it.” She returned the embrace. “Congratulations, Iris. The store is gorgeous.”
“It’s not bad, is it?” I took it all in, pride radiating warm in my chest.
Furnished and filled with inventory, the shop had an intimate yet playful feel, with delights waiting around every corner. Creamy walls cast a cheerful glow, and the schoolhouse lamps and carved Victorian counter gave the place a touch of elegance.
“It’s fabulous,” Madison said, taking a turn to hug me. “Great things are ahead.”
Holding Quincy in her arms, Grammie appeared in the doorway to the main room. She also wore a pinafore over a pretty pink dress. “It’s almost time, Iris. I thought I would let you do the honors.”
Bella rushed in, her hair windblown. “Am I too late? My employee finally arrived.” She pat
ted her chest. “I ran all the way up the street.”
“You’re just in time,” Sophie said.
“All right.” Madison pumped her fist. “Let the games begin.”
As the town clock struck the first beat of noon, I unlocked the front door and turned the window sign.
Ruffles & Bows was officially open for business.
Read on for an excerpt from
THREAD AND DEAD
BOOK TWO IN THE APRON SHOP SERIES
By Elizabeth Penney
Coming soon from St. Martin’s Paperbacks
“Quincy, please.” I picked up my orange tabby “helper” for the third time and set him gently on the floor, then opened the box flaps. Inside was a collection of aprons I’d nabbed at an auction, colorful prints featuring tomatoes, cherries, watermelon, and corn on the cob … perfect for our new “summer bounty” window display. The Fourth of July theme had come down, and these new pieces were going up today, to celebrate this glorious, all-too-short season.
“Ooh, I love those,” Grammie said, handing me a cup of freshly brewed coffee from our favorite place, the Belgian Bean. My grandmother, Anne Buckley, was my business partner in Ruffles & Bows, a vintage apron and linens shop in Blueberry Cove, Maine. Like me, she wore the signature store outfit, a white ruffled pinafore over mid-century-inspired dresses.
I took a sip of rich, dark coffee, then set the paper cup a safe distance away. “Look at this one.” The half-apron was pure confection, white organza embroidered with bunches of cherries and trimmed with red rickrack and bobbles.
“Gorgeous.” Grammie rubbed the silky fabric between finger and thumb. “The variety of apron styles and themes never ceases to amaze me.”
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