“It will help keep you alive in cold water, should we sink,” Madison said. She tossed shoes and gloves made from similar materials out of the bag. “Booties and gloves.”
“We’re going to look so good, uh-huh.” I rolled my eyes.
“Don’t worry,” Grammie said. “No one will see it under the life jacket.”
“True,” I said. “Uh-oh. Do we have life jackets? And what about paddles?”
“All taken care of. They’re in my car.” Madison took back my outfit and put it in the duffle, then stowed it in the corner. She went over to check the catboat, making sure the paint was dry and the seams were intact. “The boat is looking good.”
I had a sudden thought. “How are we getting the boat down to the harbor?” Neither of our vehicles was large enough. And I couldn’t see us carrying it through the streets, one on each end.
“On it,” she said with a grin. “Ian is coming to get it later with his pickup truck.”
“Good call.” My heart skipped a beat at hearing Ian’s name. We had plans after the race to attend a clambake and listen to music. It would be the first opportunity I’d had to attend the festival. I’d basically been consumed with Hailey’s death and helping Eleanor, both of which were priorities, of course. But maybe it wouldn’t hurt to take a night off with my guy and eat some lobster.
A customer in the main room was looking around for help, so I excused myself and went to assist her. She ended up buying three sets of sheets from Shorehaven for gifts and a martini-themed hostess apron for herself. As I rang up her sale, she asked, “Do you sell that apron you’re wearing?” She put the glasses on a chain around her neck on her nose and took a closer look.
She was referring to the white pinafore we wore as a shop uniform. Grammie and I had designed and sewn them. “I haven’t yet,” I said. “But if you’re interested, I can do a custom order.” I hadn’t before, but custom work might be a nice addition to what we offered. Exactly when I would have time to sew, I had no idea.
“I would really like that,” she said. “I have three granddaughters who would look darling in them. Maybe you could embroider their names? Ava, Aria, and Anna.”
“Oh, what cute names. We certainly could. If you give me your contact information, I’ll send you a quote. I’ll need their sizes.”
“Wonderful,” she said, writing her name, e-mail address, and the girls’ sizes on an order form I handed her. Two, four, and six. How cute. “I would like them for Christmas, so no big rush.”
“Perfect.” I should have time to sew three small aprons before then. Maybe after fall foliage ended and visitor traffic died down—until ski season. The so-called shoulder seasons of late fall and early spring in Maine seemed to be getting shorter every year. More and more people were visiting year-round.
A couple of minutes later, the customer left with a big smile on her face and a promise to return. “I really love our business,” I said to Grammie. “It’s so much fun to make people happy.” Especially since we were sharing our passion for beautiful aprons and linens.
“I feel the same way,” Grammie said. She showed me the impressive tally of sales for the morning. She winked at me. “They seem to be very happy indeed.”
The front door burst open and Sophie bustled in, holding a huge paper bag, Lukas on her heels. He reached out to stop the door from shutting to allow Bella, who was behind him, to enter.
“Bella.” I swooped her into a hug, inhaling her light but sophisticated perfume. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”
She laughed. “I managed to sneak out for a bit. My new employee is working out really well, I’m happy to report.”
Sophie made a face of mock hurt. “I don’t get any sugar?”
“Of course you do.” Her arms were full so I hugged the whole package. “I’m so lucky, I get to see you twice today.”
“Three times,” she said with a laugh. “I’ll be cheering you on later, during the race.”
“Oh no.” I put a hand to my head. “Is everyone I know going to be watching?”
“Yes,” Grammie and my friends said in unison.
Lukas looked confused, so while Sophie set down the bag in the side room and began unpacking our lunch, Madison showed him the boat, with Quincy’s help.
“I can see you were the inspiration,” Lukas told Quincy, bending to give him a chin rub. “Good job.”
“Yeah, he helped all right,” I said, exchanging a smiling glance with Madison. “We had paint paw prints all over the store.” I put out a stack of paper bowls, forks, and napkins next to the colorful and tempting platter of tuna, green beans, hard-boiled eggs, tomatoes, olives, greens, and potatoes. The dressing was a mustard and herb–infused oil and vinegar. A pan of fluffy homemade dinner rolls and local butter rounded out the meal.
Grammie added tall pitchers of iced tea and water to the table, and we lined up to fill our bowls and tall cups. Then we sat around the long table and dug in, with Grammie and me keeping an eye out for customers. Fortunately we were in one of those inexplicable lulls in foot traffic and were able to eat without interruption.
I chased the last bite of tuna around my bowl. “So, tell us what you found out about Claudia, Lukas. We’re dying to hear.”
Before replying, he finished chewing and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “That salad was so good. Thank you, Sophie.” He balled up the napkin in his fist as he said, “I’ve got good news and bad news.” As we all continued to stare at him, he shifted in his seat and said, “Claudia de Witte was from a noble and wealthy family, well established in Antwerp for generations. She was engaged to marry Baron Xavier Delberke.”
Madison slapped her hand on the table. “Sounds like good news to me. Well, except for the engagement. Wonder what the story is there.”
Claudia’s ownership of couture clothing and expensive jewelry now made sense. She came from a wealthy family. But why had she kept her past hidden? Why had she worked as a nursemaid, one of the lowest rungs on the domestic worker ladder? In fact, why was she employed at all?
Grammie said slowly, “So what’s the bad news, Lukas? Was she running away from her fiancé?”
He pressed his lips together, then sighed deeply, as though working up to what he had to say. “No, it’s worse. Claudia’s father, Baron Adrien de Witte, was killed during a robbery. In 1932, the same year Claudia left Antwerp.”
Left or fled? Were the diamonds Claudia hid stolen? Did she have anything to do with her father’s death? My delicious lunch now sat heavy in my stomach. Putting a hand on my belly, I groaned. “I can’t tell Eleanor about this. Please don’t make me.”
The uneasy silence that fell over the table told me no one else wanted to volunteer to break the news.
“I think we need to keep digging before we say anything,” Grammie said. “Maybe it’s a coincidence. We don’t even know if Claudia was in the country when her father died.”
I felt a spark of hope. “Good point, Grammie. Lukas, do you know the actual date Baron de Witte was killed?”
“Let me double check.” Lukas pulled out his phone and scrolled through. “May first, 1932. According to the newspaper article, the butler found Baron de Witte suffering a head injury in his library. His safe was standing open and empty.” He looked up at us. “Baron de Witte was involved in the diamond trade. But there aren’t good records of what he was keeping in the safe.”
Diamonds. Like the ones from Claudia’s necklace. “Where do we go from here?” I asked. “How can we find out when she arrived? We don’t even know which ship she was on.” I thought of the trunk, which didn’t even boast a shipping label.
“I have some ideas,” Grammie said. “Some friends of mine have been tracing their ancestors through the Ellis Island website. They told me that some manifests from ocean liners are also online now.”
“Maybe we can find her name on one of the lists,” Madison said. “At least we have the year to work with.”
Madison’s optimism eased my fears of
reaching a dead end. I was usually the one gnawing at sources like a dog with a bone, but the stakes in garment history were usually pretty low. Learning the truth about Claudia was far more important. I just hoped we’d be happy with the answers.
CHAPTER 15
“A couple more feet. Come on, come on.” Dr. Horatio Morris, Madison’s father, gestured as Ian backed his truck down the boat ramp. He put a hand up. “Halt. You’re there.”
As the tall, lean physician hurried to help Ian unload our boat, I glanced around at the chaotic scene. Onlookers and other paddlers milled about, preparing for the start of the cardboard boat race under the direction of someone using a bullhorn. The creative boat designs included a dragon, a Viking ship, a race car, and a big yellow duck.
“This is fun,” Dr. Zadie Morris said into my ear. “I’ll be rooting for you and Madison.” Although not as tall as her husband and daughter, Zadie was also trim and athletic. She wore the standard summer uniform of Capri pants, T-shirt, cotton sweater tied around her shoulders, and sandals on her feet.
“Thanks. Madison is hoping we win the grand prize.” I rolled my eyes. “Fat chance. I’ll be happy to make it across the harbor without swimming for it.” The thick life jacket was biting into my waist, so I pulled it into a better position. The wet suit wasn’t too uncomfortable, though, despite my fight to tug it on. An hour later, I had almost gotten used to wearing something resembling a rubber swimsuit from the 1920s.
“That’s it,” Madison said, directing her dad and Ian as they carried the boat to our spot in the lineup. “Put it right here.” They set the boat gently onto the cement ramp, the bow in the water. Once the race started, we’d push off and climb inside—volunteer pushers would give us a boost to send us on our way.
“Is that an apron you used for a sail?” Zadie asked, lifting her sunglasses for a better look. “The whole thing is very clever. A real catboat.” She turned to smile at Grammie, who was coming to join us.
“The design was all Madison,” I said. “And the apron is to promote the store.” We’d painted S.S. RUFFLES & BOWS across the stern (even though we were using human power, not steam). The thought of steamships made me think of Claudia again. I planned to start researching tomorrow. Right now I had to survive a boat race.
Ian came up beside me and gave me a kiss on the lips. “Good luck, babe. I’ll be waiting with a couple of cold ones after.”
“Awesome. I’m looking forward to the clambake.” Down on the rocky beach, people were already tending the seaweed-heaped underground pits holding lobsters, clams, and corn on the cob.
“You look cute, by the way,” he said, pushing back a strand of my hair. His arm was warm around my (very corseted) waist.
“Thanks.” I snickered, plucking at the skintight neoprene. “I hope I can get it off later. It’s welded to my body.”
“All right, teams,” bellowed the man with the bullhorn. “Are you ready?”
Paddles in hand, the teams gathered around their boats. Grammie and Zadie retreated to stand with other spectators while Horatio and Ian prepared to push us. Both wore shorts and water shoes so they could wade in up to their knees.
“Three … two … one … GO!” the caller yelled.
Gripping the side of the boat, I stepped into the water, the icy temps immediately freezing my calves. But my toes were still warm in the booties. Amazing.
“Get in,” Madison called, holding the boat steady.
I more or less fell in, almost braining myself with my paddle, then struggled to a seated position and crossed my legs. Ian and Horatio held the boat for Madison to climb inside, in the back. As the more experienced paddler, she was going to steer us.
With a mighty shove from our pushers, we glided out into deeper water. So far, so good. No leaks.
“Paddle,” Madison said. “On the left.”
I dug the paddle in, working feverishly to move us toward a course marked by yellow buoys. We had to weave our way through them and then across the harbor to another landing.
Shouts and screams erupted to my right and I looked over to see a boat taking on water and sinking, forcing half a dozen people to drop into the water. Worse, they were blocking other boats right behind them, almost like a traffic jam.
“Bummer,” Madison said. “They must have had too many people.”
“I hope that was it,” I said, still not confident that the cardboard boats would hold up long. To check how far we’d gone, I glanced back at the shore. From his position next to Grammie, Zadie, and Horatio, Ian waved. I waved back by lifting my paddle. A short distance from Ian, a figure in a blue windbreaker was snapping pictures of the scene. When he lowered the camera, I saw it was Theo. He started weaving through the crowd, headed toward the other side of the harbor. He probably wanted to take pictures of the winners, I figured.
“Paddle on the right,” Madison called. We were on a collision course with another boat, and with laughter and deft movements of our paddles, disaster was averted.
Now, finally working together in a rhythm, we circled the first of the buoys. “One more down,” Madison said, as behind us another boat floundered, the crew unable to coordinate their movements. Then they started laughing, which made them even more helpless.
“Yahoo!” I called when we deftly whipped around the next buoy, bringing us into the lead. I glanced at the shore to see if Ian noticed. He did, giving us a two-handed victory shake. Then I saw Theo, strolling along a deserted dock—and a figure in a black hoodie right behind him, walking with hood up and head down. What was that about?
“Look out, Iris!” Madison called. We were about ready to hit the next buoy.
“Sorry,” I called back, paddling furiously to correct. “I got distracted.”
We finally made it through the gauntlet of buoys and were on our way across a stretch of clear water to the landing area. People were gradually filtering over there, eager to see who would win the race. I looked for Theo but didn’t see him. But the person who had been following him was now heading swiftly up the dock toward Main Street. How strange. I hoped Theo was all right.
A cold trickle of water brought my attention forcibly back to the boat. With a thrill of alarm, I noticed a trail of water seeping in from the front corner. In fact, I was now sitting in a puddle. I would have noticed sooner but the wetsuit had insulated my rear. “Madison. I think we’ve got a leak.”
“No way,” she scoffed. “We taped this boat up good.”
With a chuckling gurgle, water started coming in on my left. “Uh-oh. We just got another leak.”
Madison made a disgusted sound. “You’re right. It’s coming in back here now.”
I started paddling faster, hoping we could make land before the boat took on too much water. But the trickle soon became a stream of ice-cold salt water, and right in front of my eyes, the pieces of the boat started to come apart. “We’re not going to make it, Madison.”
“I see that. Help!” she shouted, waving her paddle. “We’re going under.”
I copied her, waving my arms. On shore, people starting pointing and talking to each other. Ian put both hands around his mouth to yell, “Hang on! Help is coming.”
The water was lapping around my waist. It felt like sitting in a cold bathtub. But oddly enough, I wasn’t freezing cold. The wetsuit must be helping.
A motorboat engine started over by the docks and soon a skiff nosed out into the harbor. I recognized Jake’s red brush cut at the helm. “Yay, Jake is coming to save us.” He buzzed toward us, not too fast since he didn’t want to make a wake and swamp the other boats, which had passed us. It was every team for itself out here in the dog-eat-dog world of cardboard boat racing.
Jake’s engine throttled down as he came alongside us. With his help, we managed to climb into his boat. In my case, it was more like rolling over the gunwale and plopping inside like a beached porpoise. The cardboard boat came into the real boat with us. We couldn’t leave it in the water, like floating garbage. I held the mast
with the apron still attached, now a flag of surrender.
“I don’t understand why it fell apart,” Madison said as the boat hummed back to the docks. “I built it just like they said.” Judging by what Madison told me, many videos had gone into the building of that boat.
“Me neither.” I shifted to a more comfortable position, the water inside my suit squishing about. I couldn’t wait to change. Dry clothing would feel heavenly.
As we approached the shore, the crowd began to cheer and clap. To ham it up, I waved our apron flag. “The mariners return,” I called. “Saved from the deep.” More cheering greeted my cry. I waved the mast again and grinned, thinking we might make it into the newspaper. They always printed two pages of shots from the festival, plus more on their social media pages. Cameras clicked away and I spotted Lars in the crowd, but I didn’t see Theo anywhere, which was surprising since he’d seemed to have his camera at the ready.
Ian moved toward the shore, ready to help us disembark. “What a disaster,” he said, gripping the bow of Jake’s boat and tugging it onto the shore. “You were doing so well.”
“Don’t remind me,” Madison said with a groan as she jumped out of the boat into the water. “That spa day was within our reach. But now it’s been snatched away.”
Grammie and Madison’s parents hurried up. “My heart was in my mouth,” Grammie said. She gave us both a hug, careful not to touch our soaked lower bodies.
“I could tell the boat was sinking,” Zadie said, also embracing us. “I was worried hypothermia would set in and you would drown.”
“That’s why they were wearing wet suits and life jackets, dear,” Horatio said. “Plus there was a harbor full of boats ready to come to the rescue.” He nodded at Jake. “Like the gallant Jake.”
“True,” Zadie said. “But a mother is always going to worry.” She put a hand on Madison’s shoulder. “Is there anything I can do for you right now?”
Thread and Dead--The Apron Shop Series Page 13