“You’re looking so much better,” Gloria chirped, setting the pie container on the table.
“Better? I’m fine,” Lulu said, lifting the plastic lid. “Is it apple?”
“Apple and pear,” Gloria said, shedding her coat and hanging it on the back of the chair.
“Sounds good. Thank you, Gloria. I will really enjoy it. How about some coffee?”
Theresa plugged in the crockpot next to the coffeemaker.
“I’ll get it,” she said. “You sit down, Lulu. I’m sure this morning was very difficult. These mugs all right?” she asked, pointing to the row hanging from hooks under the cabinet.
“Those are fine,” Lulu said, sitting across from Gloria. “The soup smells wonderful, Theresa.”
“It’s beef and barley.” Theresa grabbed three mugs and filled them before placing them on the table.
“Thank you both for thinking of me.”
Theresa pulled out a chair and found a pile of papers, which she scooped up and lay on the tabletop.
“Oh, sorry! I didn’t have time to take care of this stuff,” Lulu complained, snatching the papers and placing them in her lap.
“No problem,” Gloria said with a smile. She took a sip from the black cup.
Lulu struggled with the mishmash of papers that threatened to slide onto the floor. “I’m glad you invited me to Franny’s service.”
“Of course. It wouldn’t be right not to have you there.” Gloria said.
“Art was a surprise though. He and Franny were really on the outs. He’d been hanging around again, and there were a couple of pretty loud arguments on the front porch before … Well, you know.”
“That’s too bad,” Gloria said.
Lulu rose, clutching the papers to her body. “I’ll just put these stupid …”
The papers fluttered away from her, and Gloria bent to collect them. Lulu’s face reddened.
“I heard him say some awful things to Franny the day—” she began, tearing up. She stooped to collect the stray papers and magazines from Gloria.
“It’s okay. Let me help,” Gloria said graciously.
She deposited the stack onto the counter and reseated herself.
“Which day?” Theresa asked.
“The day of the accident in the garage,” Lulu supplied with a catch in her voice.
“Did he ever say anything about the quilt?” Theresa found herself tensed for the answer.
“No, I don’t think so. Art always wanted more money. He was constantly after Franny for it. I do think he was in my garage the night … well, when Franny had the …” Her voice broke, tears welling in her eyes. She shook her head mournfully.
“Are you sure?” Theresa gasped. “Did you see him in there? You should’ve—”
“I didn’t see him, and I couldn’t swear it was his voice, but I’m almost certain there were others in the garage with Franny. But I didn’t tell the police. I was so upset. I might be wrong.”
Gloria’s and Theresa’s eyes were wide. Gloria put a hand over her mouth.
Theresa forged ahead. “Would Art or another family member take the quilt? Did he know where she kept it?”
Lulu stirred powdered creamer into her coffee. She tapped the spoon against the mug’s rim before laying it down.
“I don’t know. There were family squabbles about it once in a while. Artie probably knew where it was, like I did. I’m not sure who else would have that kind of information. Franny was pretty careful what she shared about the quilt. What about those women who were over there a few days ago?”
Theresa nodded. “One of them is a relative of Franny’s, but not a close one. She was insistent on seeing the quilt—something about her grandmother being the rightful owner. But now that Franny’s gone …”
“It’s become Albert’s problem,” Gloria finished. “Lisa Stederman Kronk called right away about the quilt. He had to give her the news about the insurance claim.”
Lulu shook her head sadly. “It’s a beautiful work of art. Priceless in many respects. It must have taken forever for those two women to sew it all by hand. I wonder if that article will still be printed about the quilt’s history. Franny was pretty excited about the historical organization’s interview. The photographer took lots of pictures too. A very attractive young woman who really knew her stuff.”
“That’s a good point. It sounds like there have been quite a few people in the house to see the quilt in the last several months.”
“Yes. Franny told me back in September that there was a lot of interest in the quilt again,” Lulu added.
“That may be why the family dispute has reared its ugly head,” Gloria sighed.
Lulu began looking around, as if anxious for them to leave. Theresa glanced at her watch. She did have plenty to do herself. As if on cue, Gloria concurred.
“Let’s go, Theresa,” she said, rising from the chair. “We both have lots of errands to run.”
“That’s for sure,” Theresa agreed, catching Gloria’s signal. “My next stop is to talk to the bride.”
“Give Gracie my congratulations. I’m so happy for her,” Lulu said, scraping the chair back from the table.
“I sure will. Take care of yourself, and if there’s anything you need, just call.”
“I will, Theresa. Thank you both for coming.”
***
Gloria walked Theresa to her car, smiling and waving to Lulu, who stood at the storm door, watching her guests depart.
“I believe Lulu really does have a trip in mind,” she said in a hushed voice.
“Really? You think so?” Theresa replied, surprised.
She unlocked her car and slid into the seat, her mind racing. Lulu never went anywhere outside the state. A trip to Rochester was a big deal. Ed had traveled because of his job and took his annual fishing trip to the Adirondacks, but Lulu was perfectly happy in Deer Creek.
“Yes. A trip to sunny climes,” Gloria continued. “Those papers had a couple of travel brochures mixed in.”
“For where?”
Gloria arched an eyebrow at her friend. “Mexico and Costa Rica.”
***
“Mom! Am I glad to see you,” Gracie gushed, opening the storm door.
“Didn’t you get my texts?”
“Sorry. Marc and I were busy with his family last night, and then this morning I realized my phone was dead. I can’t believe that you found a photographer. I came up empty with the ones I called.”
“You can thank Isabelle for the photographer. It’s a good thing she has connections. You’re one lucky bride. Now, let’s go over my checklist and make sure we don’t have any other ugly surprises.”
Gracie screwed up her face, her fears realized. Isabelle now had a foothold on her wedding. She resigned herself to the checklist scrutiny. Theresa plunked herself on a stool at the granite-topped breakfast bar, pulling a notebook from her handbag. Gracie settled in next to her, determined to be pleasant. She was relatively confident that there would be no other bombshells to derail the wedding.
“All right. I think it’s all covered now,” Theresa said, ticking off the last item, “thank you notes,” on her list. She slid off the stool and walked to the French doors.
“I told you—” Gracie started, trailing behind her.
“Except for the venue. Your yard is out of the question. Be realistic.”
Ace’s backhoe sat silent and still, awaiting a miraculous mechanical organ that would bring it to life again.
“I know. I know. I suppose Isabelle’s offer still stands.”
“I would make a call to her, if you still want that outdoor wedding.”
***
Isabelle’s eyes gleamed, her fingers tracing the white railing of the classical garden fixture. “I think the gazebo is the perfect place for you and Marc. There’s plenty of room for Reverend Minders to even have a little podium. I did have an entire string quartet here.”
“I remember,” Gracie replied acerbically. “It was quite t
he event—that food fight and all.”
Isabelle avoided Gracie’s eyes and sniffed. “Anyway, mi casa is su casa.”
Gracie ate a generous bite of crow and nodded. Marc wandered around the yard, rubbing his cold hands together, uneasily waiting for the negotiations to be finalized.
“I really appreciate this, Isabelle. Your yard is lovely.”
It was the truth. Velvety grass, masses of red-and-gold mums, purple asters, the gazebo, and flagstone walkways and patio screamed first class—Better Homes and Gardens all the way.
“And as long as it doesn’t rain, it’ll be perfect.”
“It won’t rain,” Isabelle verified with a confidence that made Gracie wonder if her trying cousin had power over the weather. “There’s a high pressure area over Western New York from tomorrow through Sunday morning.”
“I see.”
Marc reappeared, a questioning look on his face. “Everything settled?”
“Of course. There was never any question that this is where your wedding should be from the start. Gracie’s lawn isn’t close to being ready for any formal event. It never was.” Isabelle pursed her lips and offered a pained smile. “You did talk with Adriana?”
“Yes. And thank you for that help too,” Gracie gulped.
She had absolutely no pride left. It was all in a deep hole in her backyard.
“Adriana is the best. She’s been photographing the house for a spread in the Historic Homes magazine. I’m being featured in the January issue. Kevin knew her in college. They went to Syracuse, you know. She was selected to work with some of the finest photography artists there.”
“Interesting that Kevin knew her then. Wasn’t he in finance?”
“Kevin has so many interests. He’s crazy about fine art. He has some wonderful connections in the art world.” Isabelle looked practically beatific speaking about Kevin. “Anyway, Adriana is top-notch. You should see some of her work. It’s gallery quality.”
Marc’s face blanched. “What’s she charging us?” he whispered to Gracie.
Gracie shook her head slightly. “Not now. It’s okay though.”
“Adriana is worth every penny she charges and more,” Isabelle confirmed.
Gracie smiled and followed her cousin across the lawn to the house.
“Now, Gracie. We need to talk makeup and hair. What about the musicians? Have you booked any?”
Marc put a hand over his mouth, stifling a painful laugh, and peeled off in the direction of the driveway. Waving, he called out, “I’m going to pick up pizzas with Tom for tonight.”
What a coward!
CHAPTER 18
Lulu carefully fingered the quilts stacked in her sewing room. The batting in each was sufficient. The stitching was even and perfect, the clamshell pattern simple, but so effective with its little pockets for her purposes. The subdued color schemes for each of them should keep the quilts from drawing attention. However, the last quilt would be special. She was already stitching the small pieces together to create the complex pattern. She smoothed out the paper with the instructions for laying out the design. It was the “Blushing Bride Stained Glass” pattern. Carefully refolding the quilts, she stacked them in a plastic tub and shut the lid.
She sat at the small computer desk to check her email. It was there! She opened the message and scanned the contents. Everything was still on track for November. Printing it off, she deleted the email before shutting down the laptop. Once she finished the last quilt, the entire plan would be in motion. She would finally be on her way out of Deer Creek. The adventure of a lifetime was on the horizon in a little over four weeks. The humdrum life in a small town would be over. Why she hadn’t considered this before was shocking.
Lulu went to the kitchen and made herself a cup of coffee. Even though the loss of Franny was heartbreaking, she must focus on her own future. It was providential that the police had closed the investigation surrounding Franny’s death. Providential indeed. The other people that must have been with Franny in the garage were still a mystery. Had Art been there? It seemed like his voice at one point. The other voice was totally unfamiliar. Should she say something to the police? It wasn’t wise to pick a scab though. Poor Franny. Those plans had come to nothing now.
She wandered into the living room that was now clear of all boxes. There was plenty of space once again. She pulled the Reinvent and Recycle Company appointment card from the pocket of her sweater. The recycling company had agreed to return to finish cleaning out the garage next week. Once the building was emptied, it might ease her mind. Maybe.
Lulu gazed out the window, automatically checking Franny’s property. It now had the look of a vacant house. Her heart sank, and then she remembered that the quilt was still hidden. Franny had refused to tell her where she’d stashed it, so there would be no way Lulu could be implicated. Where was it? Should she tell someone about that? She had already told so many half-truths and outright lies to her friends. They’d never forgive her. Her head hurt. Life had become way too complicated.
***
Tom and Kelly’s home was lively with chatter and country music in the background. Several pizza boxes were open, strewn across the kitchen counters. Emma, Tom’s teenage daughter, dumped chips into a large glass bowl and spooned dip into a matching small bowl, slipping it into a metal hanger on the side of the bowl. Kelly lined up bottled water and sodas on the table next to the chips.
“Looks like we’re ready to eat,” she said to Emma, whose dark hair flowed over her shoulders.
“Good. I’m starving. That pizza smell is driving me crazy.”
“Me too. All right, everyone. Come and get it.”
The Clark and Stevens families were no slackers when the dinner gong sounded. The group descended on the kitchen immediately, loading plates with pizza, chips, wings, and a smattering of raw vegetables from the huge tray Theresa had brought.
“When is Aunt Gracie getting here?” Emma asked her father, who was stuffing himself with a mouthful of pepperoni and cheese pizza.
Tom held up a finger, requesting more time. Emma laughed.
“Pretty soon,” he managed after washing the pizza down with Mountain Dew.
“Which means she’ll be really late,” Emma said.
Tom nodded. “There are a lot of last-minute things when you’re getting married,” he said. “You know how it was with Kelly and me.”
“Ugh. You guys were a mess,” Emma groaned. “I thought Aunt Gracie would be different.”
“I guess not,” he said, catching Kelly’s eye. His wife leaned against the range, giving him a wink.
He wasn’t sure how Gracie would survive Isabelle’s help. Three days—that seemed doable. Marc seemed relaxed though. Of course, he might be in denial. And Isabelle and Kevin were invited to this informal bash tonight. No wonder Gracie was late. He’d have done the same, if he could.
Marc’s family was nice enough. His sister seemed a little high maintenance. He liked the brother-in-law, Larry, and Marc’s mom. Both appeared to be easygoing and down-to-earth. Larry was in technology, testing anti-hacking software for banks. Violet still worked part time at a law firm. Her specialty was legal research. The doorbell rang, and Kelly opened the door for Isabelle.
***
Gracie left her seat at the picnic table at Inspiration Point and walked over the stone bridge to the lookout spot. There wasn’t much to be seen now that it was dark, but she wasn’t ready to leave Letchworth Park yet. Placing her hands on the wall, she leaned over, staring into the inky, deep gorge below her. The soothing sound of the Middle Falls was comforting and peaceful. An owl hooted nearby, and she heard wings flapping overhead. Instinctively, she ducked and saw the large bird veer off into the woods down the trail to the south. In spite of her near-death experience not far from where she stood, the location had always been where she went to think. From the time she’d been a teenager and able to drive, if something was bothering her, she headed for Inspiration Point for perspective. She lov
ed the limestone and shale walls that towered over the Genesee River, which wound northward through the park.
The generosity of William Pryor Letchworth had given her this unique retreat. He’d gifted the spectacular stretch of river gorge and his Glen Iris home situated by thundering falls to the people of New York State in 1910. Three generations of her family had enjoyed the state park with innumerable picnics, hikes, and family reunions over the years. The history and the beauty of the place were woven into her. A part of her identity. It was easy to picture Mary Jemison, The White Woman of the Genesee, on a trail or an Iroquois brave hunting in the dense woods that followed the river to the Mt. Morris dam.
She zipped up her fleece jacket. Her breath was white in the air. The afternoon’s long phone call with her cousin necessitated some time to clear her thoughts and regain a pleasant attitude before she clobbered anyone within arm’s length. Her head was still buzzing with instructions and critiques from Isabelle. Makeup, hairstyle, no iPod music, more flowers, more everything. She’d politely refused further assistance, but saying “no” didn’t always dissuade Isabelle from her perceived mission.
Her family and Marc’s were waiting for her at Tom and Kelly’s. She’d been here since the kennel closed, which was over two hours ago. The crisp air filled her lungs, and her brain felt energized after two draining days of chaos and a backyard full of problems. A couple of cars drove past on the main road, no doubt heading to the park’s exit. She walked quickly to the red RAV4 and turned on the ignition.
***
The lights in Deer Creek were warm and homey, the streets predictably quiet. She drove down Oak Street, which would take her to Ivy Lane, where Tom and Kelly lived.
Before the intersection with Ivy, she noticed a man dressed in a dark hoodie and matching pants jogging on the sidewalk, slowing as he passed the Walczak house. For a moment, she thought he looked familiar. He was familiar. The athletic silhouette looked a lot like Kevin. He was supposed to be at Tom and Kelly’s. She couldn’t be sure who it was. The runner sped up again. A beagle appeared from the darkness, running ahead of the man, as her phone rang.
Pins & Needles (A Gracie Andersen Mystery Book 5) Page 10