The bonfire was a success, even though Marc had struggled to keep it aflame in the beginning. Sparks crackled and flew up into the darkness, while Jim and the Clark family, which included Tom, Gracie’s brother, his new wife, Kelly, Tom’s daughter, Emma, and the elder Clarks formed a circle of chairs to enjoy the evening. Haley and Max sniffed around the chairs and the card table laden with goodies, ready to capitalize on any food mishandling. Between the warm, gooey s’mores and ice cream sundaes, Gracie felt like she should have worn sweatpants to the gathering. “Has everyone overindulged sufficiently?” she asked, hauling herself from the nylon web chair.
Groans were the response.
“Take it away,” Tom pleaded. “I have no will power.”
“Yes. Put a fork in me. I am done,” Marc added.
She lifted the tray of ice cream toppings from the table. Kelly quickly joined her, gathering up the box of graham crackers and a dish of chocolate bars.
“Come on, Emma. Help us take the rest of the stuff inside,” Gracie said.
Emma wasted no time scooping up the bags of marshmallows with the dogs on her heels. Theresa followed up the rear with an armload of paper plates and napkins.
The men resettled themselves a bit further from the fire, which was now intensely hot. The yellow flames and the smoke rose straight up in the chilly night air.
“Gracie mentioned that you’re still waiting to hear about the job in Batavia,” Bob Clark said, pulling back a couple of empty chairs even with his own.
Marc nodded, stomping on a stray ember that had landed near his foot.
“It’s gotten a bit complicated because of my family situation.”
“How’s that?” Tom asked.
Marc haltingly recounted Jeremy’s violent history and the additional red tape. Not only was it uncomfortable to reveal this significant blemish on his family, but he was helpless to make any promises about its resolution.
“That stinks,” Tom said, putting his hands out toward the fire. “They must realize you aren’t connected to him though.”
“I would think so. I was up front with them from the start when I knew a security clearance was required. They dig into every nook and cranny of your life. I’m going to call them in a couple days to see if things are moving again.”
Jim stood and kicked a piece of wood that rolled out of the flames back into place.
“Be patient,” Bob said, looking up at Marc. “Tom’s been through the process a few times over the years. It always takes longer than you think, even if there aren’t any worms in the apple. Right, son?”
“Yeah. It’s always the same,” Tom confirmed. “I was in the Army and the Reserves for twenty years. I had to have a clearance redone right before my last deployment in Afghanistan. Everything is complicated.”
“That’s why I enjoy the civilian life,” Jim said. “I’ve got some control over things.”
Tom looked at Jim with a wry grin. “Really? You are the guy who’s in a partnership with my sister, right?”
The men roared with laughter.
CHAPTER 11
Theresa stood in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom. She squirmed into the teal sheath, sucking in as much as she could stand. The brocade jacket lay on the bed. She’d bought the ensemble on sale in August. Bob had protested that both children remarrying within two months of each other didn’t require two outfits. There was no way she was wearing the same outfit to two weddings so close together. Besides, such a sale shouldn’t be ignored. She’d snatched it off the rack without thinking twice. Her confidence in the power of a good foundation garment made her bold enough to purchase it, although the dress was a touch snug. The jacket was longer and more forgiving, which was a good thing. She felt like a shape-shifter these days. Who knew where unwelcome lumps and bumps would appear next? The dress finally slid on the rest of the way, actually clearing her hips. Now to zip it up.
“Bob! I need your help,” she called from the top of the winding staircase.
“What now? I’m just leaving to play golf. Last foursome of the season.”
“I need you to zip up this dress.”
“What are you all gussied up for? I thought you were going grocery shopping.”
“I am. I needed to try on the dress for Gracie’s wedding to make sure it still fits.”
Bob clumped up the stairs, a putter and cleaning cloth in one hand.
“I’m sure it’s perfect, my dear.” He tossed the golf equipment on the bed.
“I need to be sure.” She turned her back and felt the tug of the zipper. About halfway up her back, he stopped.
“The zipper’s stuck,” Bob said.
“What? It can’t be.”
“Well, it is. I can’t budge it. I might wreck the dress.”
“There’s probably a bit of material stuck in it. Look at it and see. If there is, pull it out. Carefully.” She tried looking over her shoulder without much success to assess the problem.
“All right.” He fussed with it and finally corrected the zipper malfunction.
She felt the zipper reach the back of her neck. Turning around, she looked for her husband’s approval.
“Nice dress. I’ll see you later.” He gave her peck on the cheek and hurried down the stairs. The front door slammed, and she heard his car start up.
Sighing, she went back into the bedroom to don the jacket. Looking at herself from every angle, it seemed satisfactory, especially with a little help from her good friend Spanx. She reached to unzip the dress, and the zipper stopped halfway down. It wouldn’t go either direction.
“Are you kidding me?” she asked her reflection.
Taking a deep breath, she gave it a firm yank. It gave way, and then she felt it separate at the bottom.
“Oh no,” she groaned.
Peeling off the dress, she gazed at the broken zipper. It had come apart with no possible repair. Now what? Her sewing skills were sub-par. It was something she hated. Competently operating a sewing machine was questionable, and replacing a zipper was unattainable.
“Lulu. I’ll beg for her help. She must have enough zippers for an army.”
***
Lulu was dressed and seemed pleasant enough when the door opened. More organization had occurred, which gave Theresa hope for a recovery from the recent hoarding tendencies.
“Look at it. I won’t be able to wear it unless the zipper’s replaced.”
Lulu adjusted her half-glasses, studying the damage.
“You’re right. Everything is so cheaply made nowadays.”
“It must have been on sale for a reason,” Theresa agreed glumly. “Can you fix it?”
“I think so. The color’s a little unusual, but let me check and see what I have.”
Lulu drifted through the maze of containers, disappearing before Theresa could catch up.
“Hey, Theresa. Come here and see what you think of this match.”
“Where are you?” She’d lost her bearings in the jumble. The place was still like a rabbit warren.
“In my sewing room.”
Treading carefully between several plastic container turrets, she arrived safely in Lulu’s surprisingly well-ordered sewing room. Shelves of fabric were neatly stacked. Two sewing machines were set up, along with an uncluttered worktable. A laptop sat on a small desk. She hadn’t expected this. It looked perfectly normal.
“This is the closest color I have.”
Lulu held out an almost exact match to the teal. It was even the right length.
“That’s perfect! Can you replace it? I’m hopeless when it comes to sewing. You know that, of all people.”
Lulu laughed. “I’ll do it. The last time we sewed together, I ended up ripping out your seams at least twice.”
“Which is why I only cut out the quilt squares for the sewing circle. My mother wasn’t very good either. It must be hereditary.”
“It’s possible. I can have this ready probably by tomorrow.”
“Wonderful! I can’t tell you h
ow much I appreciate this.”
“Glad to assist the mother-of-the-bride.”
Lulu laid the dress out on the worktable and opened a wooden sewing cabinet next to it. Several pieces of colored paper fell to floor when she pulled out a large pincushion.
“Here. Let me help,” Theresa said, bending to pick up the paper. She was startled to see that it resembled some sort of foreign currency.
“I’ve got it,” Lulu said, blocking Theresa. She gathered the mess quickly, stuffing it back into the cabinet. “I’ll give you a call when the dress is done,” she said.
Lulu had gone on the defensive, focused on the dress and not on Theresa. It was time to retreat and be grateful the dress would be repaired.
“I have to run anyway. Thanks, Lulu.”
Threading her way back to the kitchen, Theresa slipped out the door, wishing she’d had a better look at whatever Lulu had stashed in the sewing cabinet. Gloria’s Honda parked in front of Franny’s caught her attention. She’d better find out why she was there.
***
Gloria Minders opened the front door for Theresa.
“Good timing. Come in. You can help me pick out an outfit for Franny,” she said wearily.
“You got the assignment?” Theresa asked bleakly.
“Yes. We found out last night that Albert is the executor of the will. Can you believe it?”
“Really? Then he’ll have to deal with the Stederman family. Franny’s cousin was here yesterday trying to see the quilt. A Lisa Stederman Kronk had an appointment with Franny, along with a woman from some quilting society. That was interesting and awkward all at the same time.”
Gloria rubbed her temples, closing her eyes.
“Oh yes. We’ve already had a call about her claim on the quilt. And Art has called to tell us he still has stuff in the house and that she owed him money. For some reason, Franny made out a new will about a month ago. It must be because of the divorce. Why she chose Albert as executor, I can’t imagine. I wish he’d resign from the appointment.”
“You know he won’t. He’ll do his duty.”
Gloria exhaled. “I know. Well, help me find a dress for poor Franny.”
The bedroom was gloomy. Gloria flipped on the wall switch, illuminating the small neat room. After sorting through the sparse wardrobe in the large closet, they agreed on a pleated navy blue skirt and matching long sleeve top.
“It’s appropriate,” Theresa said.
“It is. What about some jewelry?”
“Pearls would be nice, if she has any,” Theresa said, opening an old blue leather box with a broken clasp, which sat on a small chest-of-drawers. “And here’s a necklace.”
She drew the short strand from the box, handing it to Gloria, who laid the clothing, pearls, and shoes on the brightly patterned quilt that served as Franny’s bedspread.
“I’ll take this to Emery at the funeral home,” Gloria said. “They’re releasing her body to them this afternoon.”
“Was a cause of death determined?”
“It was a heart attack. She was badly bruised and had a broken wrist, but the boxes didn’t kill her, although the incident probably triggered the heart attack.”
“Lulu isn’t going to be blamed is she?”
“I don’t know. I can’t believe there would be any charges. Nothing could be proved one way or the other. Franny had a bad heart. She was trespassing, and Lulu thought a stranger was in her garage.”
Theresa wasn’t so sure. Lawsuits over everything made the news daily.
“I hope that’s all there is to it. Lulu is devastated. Has anyone told her about the autopsy results?”
“I’m not sure, but Albert plans to call on her this afternoon, and I’ll go with him.”
Gloria rummaged around in the closet, dragging out a small carry-on. She packed underwear and shoes, along with the navy outfit, into the suitcase.
“Can you think of anything else?”
“I think that covers it,” Theresa said, running her hand over the quilt on the bed. “This is really a beautiful pattern. Looks like some of Lulu’s work. Is it the Jacob’s Ladder pattern?”
“It is, and Lulu probably made it,” Gloria agreed. “Franny wasn’t much into sewing.”
They stepped back to admire the quilt with its border of hand-quilted tulips and ivy in red and dark green fabrics. The center had a dark brown calico background and muted squares of red, green, and brown. It was a striking piece of fabric art.
“Nice heavy quilt too,” Theresa said, lifting the corner. “Lulu used really nice quality fabric. I wonder if anyone will fight over this.”
“Who knows?” Gloria grumbled. “I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.”
Theresa’s gaze dropped to the cedar chest at the foot of the bed.
“Should we take a look?”
Gloria shrugged. “Why not?”
CHAPTER 12
Marc paced, the phone to his ear. The agent had left him dangling on hold for the last ten minutes.
“Mr. Stevens. I have that information now,” a gruff voice broke through the silence.
“Great. What’s the latest then?”
“We have made progress on the background check. I just need to go over the extent of your relationship with your brother, Jeremy Aiken, once more.”
“He’s my half-brother, and I don’t have a relationship with him, as I stated previously.”
“But you did visit him in prison, and you attended his trial. Is that correct?”
“Yes. It is.”
Marc closed his eyes, remembering the handful of times he’d ever seen Jeremy. The gaunt face and hate-filled eyes of the young man, ten years his junior, were burned into his memory.
“Jeremy was introduced to our family when I was about eighteen. He was seven or eight. His mother tried to coerce my mother to take him in. She had a new boyfriend who didn’t like Jeremy. My father was out of the picture for them and us. I felt sorry for him. He was a just a little kid, but it would’ve been crazy for my mom to do that. His mother was a piece of work. She had a lot of nerve coming to our house.”
“Was that the only time?”
“No. I attended his trial with my father. The old man hadn’t bothered to be involved with Jeremy until then. He was sick and was trying to make amends with his children. I went because I was curious to see this monster who’d been a cute kid on our doorstep eleven years earlier. Then I visited him in prison to tell him that Dad had died. I felt it was the right thing to do, whether he cared or not. That last time was a little over two years ago. It was in March.”
“All right. Thanks for the information. I hear congratulations are in order for you.”
“I guess so. Thanks. The big day is coming up in a few days.”
“Well, all the best. Try not worry about this. We’re on top of it.”
“Any idea of the timeframe?”
“It won’t be much longer, but I can’t give you an exact date, of course.”
“Of course. Thanks.”
Marc shoved the phone into the clip on his belt. If they’d been on top of it, he wouldn’t be answering the same old questions again.
***
Gracie sat in the kitchen, sorting through the mail. Several cards addressed to her and Marc were interspersed with the junk mail. Most likely wedding wishes. She put them off to the side for later. She and Marc could open them together. He should be coming to work on the yard any time. The sound of a tractor growled down the road, and the accompanying smell of the load behind it overpowered the pleasant cinnamon-scented air freshener. Haley trotted to the kitchen door, whining.
“You probably want to go roll in that.”
A deep familiar bark corrected her. A German shepherd, with a lolling pink tongue, appeared at the kitchen door. Max and Marc were here.
Marc barely escaped the colliding dogs, who jumped and woofed playfully, tags jingling. The pair ran for the French doors. Gracie hurried and let them out to play in the yard.
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“Everything okay?” Gracie asked, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him.
He nodded and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close before releasing her.
“I talked to the agent who’s working on the clearance today. I had to answer the exact same questions about Jeremy again. I don’t think they believe me.”
“Have they made any headway?”
“I think so, but he won’t say how much longer. Let’s hope it’s soon, like this week. I need a job.”
Gracie was loading the dishwasher and immediately stood upright.
“I know you do, but you’ve got to relax. I’d like to enjoy this wedding week since everything is under control. You’ll be gone a lot once you take the job with DACO. I like having you around. Can’t we both appreciate this lull in activity?”
Marc’s tense jaw relaxed, and he gave her a tenuous smile.
“We can. Guilty on being too jumpy. Now, what do you want me to do about the lawn?”
***
The mower shot out grass mingled with yellow and brown leaves, scenting the air with a rich, earthy fragrance. Gracie grabbed the rake leaning on the screen of the patio and quickly formed manageable piles for transfer to the composter behind the fence. The dogs seemed reluctant to move from the back corner, where they were sniffing intently. Marc had to get off the mower and shoo them away. They trotted back to the patio, and after a minute of circling, the Lab and shepherd finally flopped to the paver floor. Gracie stopped raking and took a moment to enjoy the domestic scene. It was so normal, so right. In a week, they’d both be living here, making a new life together.
Marc finished the lawn, and they loaded the clippings into the wagon. The lawn looked good. The cool weather would keep the grass from growing too quickly, although a frost was predicted for at least two nights before the wedding. Everything would be perfect for Saturday afternoon.
She pulled her hair back from her face, holding it behind her head. The short summer style she’d had for the Arizona vacation had grown out, and the unruly auburn curls were back. Digging into her jeans, she found a hairband in the pocket and wrapped her hair snugly in place.
Pins & Needles (A Gracie Andersen Mystery Book 5) Page 6