Her workshop ladies—minus Deirdre, of course—had been fussing over her since her return from the hospital, refusing to allow her to cook for herself or even wash a dish. Jo felt she could get used to this very easily. Dan and Charlie had repaired her broken window before she even had time to think of it, and Carrie, Jo was sure, though she hadn’t admitted it, had mopped and cleaned inside.
Jo glimpsed Hank Schroder’s truck in the distance, and remembered how he had shown up at her door a few days ago, typically not asking but informing her that he had extra grass seed that would go to waste and since her front lawn was pretty torn up from the emergency workers, he would rake it smooth and reseed it for her. He had brusquely waved off her offer of payment, saying, with the beginnings of a grin that threatened to crack his leathery face, that he owed her one for that free soda he got from her the other night.
Hank Schroder, Jo learned with a shock, had a sense of humor.
“I know you’re just renting,” he’d gone on to say as he got to work, “but I also know your landlord, Max McGee, spends half his time in Florida and doesn’t worry about maintenance.”
“I think he might be sweet on you, Jo,” Carrie had later teased. Jo had waved the thought away with a laugh until she recalled that the entire time Hank toiled away at her lawn, he hadn’t spit once. That, plus the fact that he had taken extra time to spread fertilizer on the straggly rose bush—his version of bringing flowers to a lady?—had made her wonder.
“Can I hang this wreath outside?”
Jo refocused to see Dawn Buchmann standing before her, holding up one of Jo’s hand-trimmed Christmas wreaths. Her wreaths had been selling well today, which pleased Jo. She liked the thought of her creations decorating doors throughout Abbotsville—a much happier result of her opening up the Craft Corner, than the other, terrible things that had followed it.
“Yes,” she said, answering Dawn, “but the wreath will last longer if it has protection from wind and rain, like a front porch or at least an overhang.” Jo smiled down at Dawn’s toddler dozing angelically in the stroller beside her. “Cory’s quiet today,” she said. “In the park he ran about like the Energizer Bunny.”
Dawn grinned. “This won’t last. I’m shopping fast while I have a chance.” The young mother picked out a few other items to add to her selected wreath, until, hearing Cory begin to stir, she declared what she had gathered would do, and dug into her purse for cash to pay. As Jo bagged Dawn’s purchases, she asked softly how Pete was doing.
Dawn grimaced. “He’s still taking it hard. Pete really, really loved Genna.”
“Has he gone back to work yet?”
“Yes, but they say he’s like a walking zombie there. Everyone’s trying hard to get him through this.”
“It’s good he has so many friends.” Jo handed Dawn her bags and watched as she pushed the stroller off through the crowd.
She thought of the conversations she had eavesdropped on between Pete and Genna, both after the theater rehearsal and at the garage. Jo had mistakenly assumed that Pete was pressuring Genna to move in with him, when in fact he was pushing her to move away from Bethanne. Pete, it turned out, didn’t like Genna having a roommate who thought it was perfectly fine to sneak around with a married man. He felt Genna deserved a more trustworthy friend. In fact, rooming with Bethanne had ended up being the worst decision of Genna’s life, but even Pete couldn’t have anticipated why that would be.
Jo remembered the book of poems she had originally thought was a gift from Pete to Genna. How she wished it had been, instead of in fact being from Alden to Bethanne. Jo wished she could look down this beautiful lawn and see Pete and Genna strolling hand in hand, heads together as they read from the book’s pages. Instead . . . Jo sighed.
“Tired?” Carrie asked.
Jo looked over and smiled, shaking her head.
“You haven’t had a break for a while. Why don’t you stretch your legs? I can handle the table.”
“Maybe for a couple minutes,” Jo agreed. “Can I bring you anything?”
Carrie shook her head, holding up her half-filled soda cup, and Jo adjusted her baseball cap—a new blue one in honor of the show—and wandered off. She walked near Betsy Davis’s table, pleased that the basket maker had managed to participate after all. Clearly, from the crowd of customers gathered around her table, many others were just as pleased. The waterfowl carver’s table had drawn several of the men in the crowd, and Jo saw the table manned by the Methodist group doing a brisk business.
Jo heard a wail and turned, realizing her ear had grown attuned enough to identify its source: one of Mindy Blevins’s twins. Jo told herself she should learn their names because the poor things shouldn’t perpetually be known as “the twins.” Perhaps, she thought, once they passed their wailing stage and she could actually converse with them, she would get the names down. She spotted Mindy, and when Mindy in turn caught sight of her, she sent her husband off in the direction of the ice-cream table with the toddlers and came over to Jo.
“How’re you doing?” she cried. “I don’t know how you managed to put all this together in your state.”
“With lots of help,” Jo insisted. “By the way, thanks for the dish of lasagna. It was great.”
Mindy flapped a hand. “It was nothing. Have you heard the latest about what’s going on with Deirdre?”
“Only that she’s still being held in custody, despite her husband and lawyer trying their best to get her out on bail until the trial.”
“Can you believe it? And they’re actually claiming insanity and insisting she needs treatment.”
“She was sane enough to try to fly out of the country the minute she learned I’d survived. Thank heavens I came to enough to tell somebody what she had done, before she got away.”
Jo remembered the struggle with the paramedic over her oxygen mask. He thought she was delirious, but she was thinking clearly enough by then to want to clear her own name from the false evidence Deirdre had left behind.
“I knew there was something about her I didn’t trust,” Mindy said.
“You did?”
“Absolutely! I mean, this was a woman who didn’t know beans about doing crafts. Plus, anytime I happened to show her a really cute picture of the babies, she’d pull out a photo of her dogs. I mean, I ask you!”
Jo grinned. Deirdre should have known better, if she were trying to ingratiate herself to the group, than to offend a doting mother that way.
“Loralee didn’t like her much either,” Mindy said.
“I picked up on that, and I’ve been meaning to ask her why.”
“Ask me why what?” Loralee slipped next to Jo from behind, with Ina Mae closing the final gap in the small circle.
“Why you didn’t like Deirdre, even before all this happened,” Jo explained.
Loralee made a face. “I’ve watched her at the charity balls. She was all charm, but I could see it was only to the people that could be useful to her. Deirdre had lofty goals, that was clear, but the better I got to know her, the more it seemed those goals were set only to prove that she was better than everyone else.” Loralee shifted the bag in her arm, tucking the pink frame deeper inside. “It was sad, really,” she said. “Even those dogs of hers, whom she obviously cared about. They couldn’t be just any dogs. They had to be expensive, high-maintenance pets to impress everyone.”
Loralee squeezed Jo’s arm. “I’m just so sorry I never shared any of this with you before. You might have been more wary of her.”
“There’s a big leap from seeing a person as self-centered,” Ina Mae said, “to seeing them as a potential murderer.”
“Yes, there is,” Jo agreed. “I had trouble with that myself, until she actually showed up in my kitchen with a gun. If you had said anything much earlier, I probably wouldn’t have taken it very seriously.”
“Terrible woman,” Loralee said, her lower lip beginning to tremble.
“Why don’t we check out those baskets now, Lora
lee?” Ina Mae said, obviously deciding it was time to change the subject. “It looks like the crowd has thinned a bit around the Davis table.”
“I’d better get back to the kids,” Mindy said, taking off in her own direction, leaving Jo on her own. She glanced over at the Craft Corner’s table to see if Carrie needed help yet. Things looked quiet, so she decided to pop into the clubhouse for a quick visit to the restroom before setting her friend free for her own break.
The light indoors was much dimmer than the bright sunshine outside, and Jo’s eyes worked at adjusting to the changed light. As she headed down the hall, she saw only a shadowy form standing at the doorway of the restaurant, but as things grew clearer, she realized it was Lieutenant Morgan. She instinctively stopped.
This was silly, Jo told herself, even as she edged closer to the wall. Morgan was no longer the enemy. His simmering suspicions had been extinguished as soon as he learned about Deirdre’s attempt on Jo’s life. He had told Jo so, at the hospital, when he came for the details of her story, and related the events of Deirdre’s arrest at Baltimore-Washington International Airport. He had even apologized, much to Jo’s amazement, for any “inconvenience” his investigation may have caused her.
She had brought up the anonymous letter Deirdre had sent, and he had waved it off, saying—though Jo only half-believed it—that they seldom paid any attention to such things. She and Morgan had parted on good terms, so Jo should be able to walk up to him casually and wish him a good afternoon. What was holding her back?
She heard the clicking of high heels, and her gaze shifted farther down the hall, beyond Morgan. A woman wearing a light, fluttery dress came toward them. Morgan reached out for her hand, and he leaned forward to place a kiss on her cheek. She slipped her arm through his, and they disappeared together into the restaurant, Jo pressing deeply into her shadowy niche as she watched.
So there was a woman in his life.
So what? That certainly didn’t matter to her.
Did it?
Jo decided it was past time to get back to Carrie. She quickly went to the restroom and then hurried back out to the craft show.
“Have a good break?” Carrie asked, as Jo slipped back into her chair.
“Uh-huh.”
“Anything wrong?”
“Not a thing.”
Carrie’s gaze remained fixed on her, so Jo added, “Except the refreshment stand ran out of mocha chocolate chip ice cream.”
“Mmmm.”
“Hi, Mrs. McAllister.” Jo, glad for the distraction, looked up to see a pretty girl in a flowery sundress, her blond hair curling around her face.
“Tracy! I almost didn’t recognize you with your hair down. And not standing behind the tennis desk in a green polo. This must be your day off.”
“Yeah.” Tracy grinned. “Busman’s holiday, huh? But I wanted to see how the craft show was going. And I, uh, kinda wanted to talk to you, to tell you I was sorry for not helping you more.”
“Tracy, you helped me a lot!”
“Really? I just felt like I should have done more. It was just hard, you know, talking about the people I worked with behind their backs and all.”
“I understood that, Tracy, really I did. And I admired your loyalty. There was no way you could have known what all was going on.”
“I wish I did. I felt so bad when I heard what happened to you.”
“Thank you, Tracy. The good thing is that it’s all over.”
Tracy nodded, her face serious. “Did you know Bethanne quit?”
“She did?”
“Uh-huh. She found a job at a tennis place in Texas. She said she wants to put this all behind her.”
“Oh, well, I wish her good luck.” Jo knew Bethanne would have to testify in Deirdre’s trial eventually, but didn’t mention that to Tracy. It would be quite a while before interest in Bethanne’s part of the whole mess waned and she could live more or less anonymously again. There had been a high cost for Bethanne’s brief fling, and the payments, Jo feared, would last a long time.
Tracy said her good-byes and Jo thanked her for stopping by. Carrie, who had been sitting nearby, said, “She seems like a nice girl.”
“Yes, she is.” Carrie had a speculative look in her eye, and Jo asked, “What?”
“Oh, nothing, I was just wondering. Do you think she and Pete Tober might make a good pair, someday?”
Jo laughed. “Ask me in a year or two, when they might be more ready.”
“Okay. I’ll make a note of it. Oh, there’s Dan and Charlie. Yoo-hoo! Over here!” Carrie waved them over.
Jo watched the two head over, delighted to see the easy-going compatibility evident in their body language and facial expressions. It had been missing for too long.
“How’s the work going?” Carrie asked once they reached the table. She leaned over for a quick kiss from Dan.
“Pretty well. We moved most of the furniture out of the living room. I forget what we decided about the bookcase. Did you want it left downstairs, or what?”
Dan had a short lull in his remodeling business and to Carrie’s delight was getting a start on putting down hardwood floors in the downstairs areas.
“The bookcase can go upstairs in our room. Remember, we measured the corner by the front window to see if we could squeeze it in there? It should fit.”
“Okay. You and I can handle that, right Charlie?”
“No problem.” Charlie nodded. Jo remembered that Carrie said Charlie had recently started weight lifting. He was interested in building up his fifteen-year-old muscles, perhaps stinging a bit from Hank Schroder’s remark, that day, on his puny build.
“I don’t know about moving that highboy we got from your Aunt Aggie,” Dan said. “I’m thinking maybe we should ask Phil from next door to give us a hand on it.”
“Dad! The highboy’s nothing!”
Dan grinned at Charlie. “That old monstrosity’s no featherweight, son.”
“Monstrosity!” Carrie protested.
“If Charlie could drag my dead weight,” Jo put in, “all the way from the garage entryway to the front lawn, he’s got some good muscles on him.”
“I didn’t drag you that far, Aunt Jo,” Charlie said, looking perplexed. “You were only a couple feet from the front door.”
“What?” Jo knew she hadn’t made it that far. She remembered being pulled across the kitchen floor. Or did she?
“Yeah, I almost stumbled on you when I came from the bedroom. It was dark right there.”
“That’s right, son. I remember you telling us about that.” Dan clapped Charlie’s shoulder, his chest swelling just a bit. “Well, we’ll give the highboy a try, just the two of us. But right now we’ve got to run down to Home Depot for . . .”
Jo saw Dan’s lips moving but she had tuned out. Was she mistaken? The memory had seemed so clear. But her brain was fuzzy at the time, starved for oxygen amidst all the carbon monoxide coming from her lungs.
Jo looked off, over the green lawn, then up to the bright blue sky.
Mike? Do I remember right or not?
“See you later,” Dan said as he and Charlie turned to go.
“Good luck,” Carrie called, then, as they disappeared into the crowd, said to Jo, “I never thought I’d be so glad for Dan not to have a job, at least temporarily. Just think, before long I might be able to pack those silly dust sheets away for good.” She reached for the sweater draped over the back of her chair and pulled it over her shoulders. “Brrr, I think the temperature’s dropped lately. You feeling cold?”
Jo shook her head.
“No,” she said, hugging herself. “As a matter of fact, I just had quite a warm feeling come over me, something I haven’t felt in a very long time.”
She smiled.
Make Jo’s Woodland Wreath Yourself—It’s Easy!
(See the actual wreath at http://www.maryellenhughes.com)
MATERIALS:
1 24-inch Canadian blue spruce artificial wreath
> 2 Curly willow branches
1 4-inch bird’s nest
4½ yards of #9 plaid wire-edged ribbon
Raffia
1 bunch mini mountain-holly sprigs
1 bunch red berry sprigs
7 Mixed sugared fruit (60mm.)
6 Pinecones
1 2½-inch sitting red cardinal
1 2½-inch flying red cardinal
Wire, pipe cleaners, glue gun
Fluff your wreath. Cross the curly willow branches at the base and wire together, and then wire them to the wreath on a diagonal. Clip wire ends. Pull top end of one branch around top of wreath and wire to end of second branch.
Make a looped bow with 4 yards of ribbon. Secure in center with a pipe cleaner. Make a flat bow with several strands of raffia and place behind ribbon bow. Attach both to wreath at base of willow branches with pipe cleaner. Repeat for a smaller bow with remaining ½ yard of ribbon and raffia, and attach to wreath diagonally across from first bow.
Tuck bird’s nest horizontally into wreath to left of large bow, and glue in place. Glue sitting cardinal in nest. Glue flying cardinal diagonally across from nest.
Tuck holly and red berry sprigs about the wreath, and glue in place.
Tuck sugared fruit and pinecones around the bows and about the wreath, and glue in place.
Design by Julie Black (http://www.blackeyedsusanflorist.com)
Carrie’s Chili
Carrie makes a chili much like the recipe my mother sent me years ago, which my family always loved. It’s tasty, easy, and great for cool nights.
1 lb. lean ground beef
1 medium onion, chopped
2 to 3 ribs of celery, diced
1 16 oz. can of tomatoes
Small can of tomato sauce, if desired
1 10 ¾ oz. can of condensed tomato soup
1 teaspoon of salt
⅛ teaspoon of pepper
1 teaspoon of chili powder, or more to taste
1 16 oz. can of kidney beans, or pork and beans (we like
Wreath of Deception Page 22