“I brought them back with me one summer. It was a year or so after Susan moved to New York. She’d written me that she was planning to be in Stony Point again, and I thought it would be fun for us to look at the letters we wrote when we were ‘little kids.’ We were all grown up then and beyond that kind of silliness. Guess I never got back home with them, and of course Gram would never throw anything out.”
“And that was when?”
“About the time I turned 15.”
Alice shook her head. “Practically ready for the old folks’ home by then, huh?”
Annie laughed. “You want some coffee?”
“That’d be great.”
The two women went into the kitchen. Alice sat at the big kitchen table while Annie filled the coffeepot.
“You and Susan must have had a good time looking at those letters,” Alice said.
“Actually, she didn’t end up coming after all. She had a chance to be in a dance troupe that summer and didn’t make it back to Maine. I never saw her again, and we pretty much lost touch after that.”
“Yeah, I know how that can be. I bet she did all right as a dancer, tall and slim and pretty as she was. I remember wishing I had long blond curls like hers. She came back, you know. To Stony Point.”
“She did?”
“I’m pretty sure she did. Couldn’t tell you exactly when—a long time ago—but I did hear she was back. I never really kept up with her, though. John and I had our troubles, and then the divorce, and everything made it pretty hard for me to mind anyone’s business but my own. Susan must have left again sometime. She’s not here now, that’s for sure.”
Annie sighed. “That’s too bad. We always had such a good time together. Gram taught us both to crochet.”
“Yeah, she was over here all the time.”
“Now, don’t be jealous. Gram spent plenty of time with you, and when it mattered too.”
“She did that.” There was a sudden wistfulness in Alice’s expression. “I could still use her advice and her shoulder to cry on.”
“Me too.”
Annie swallowed down a sudden tightness in her throat. Gram hadn’t been gone long, and sometimes Annie ached just to hear her voice again. But Gram wouldn’t have held with self-pity. Not for a minute.
Annie cleared her throat. “Now what about the banquet? The message I got wasn’t very specific.”
“Neither was mine,” Alice said. “Do you have any ideas?”
“Not really. I thought I could make some of Gram’s pies to take, but other than that I don’t know. I’ll be happy to help however I can, of course, if I’m still here.”
“I guess I’ll make my usual pumpkin bread. I know Pastor Wallace likes it, but it would be nice to try something new once in a while.” Alice’s voice brightened. “Maybe we should put our heads together and figure out something fresh and exciting for this year.”
Annie frowned. “Are you sure you don’t remember anything else about when Susan was here? After she came back from New York, of course.”
“I thought we were talking about the banquet.” Alice glanced over at the gurgling coffeepot. “And I thought you invited me over for some coffee.”
Annie laughed and got the cups.
2
The next morning, Annie parked her burgundy Malibu in front of the stately white-columned Stony Point library and went inside. She stopped for a moment in the foyer, loving the feeling of being surrounded by so many books and promising herself a return visit when she had time to spend the whole morning browsing. Then she went into the Great Room and up to the Circulation Desk.
“Good morning, Grace,” she said softly, and the petite woman behind the desk looked up with a smile.
“Well, hello there. Just a sec.” Grace turned to the low shelf behind her, found a book tagged Dawson, and handed it to Annie. “Is that what you’re after?”
“Oooh, pretty.” Annie opened the decorating book she had requested and flipped through a few pages. “I already see a couple of things I’d like to try at Grey Gables. Thanks for requesting it for me. I didn’t know interlibrary loans were so fast.”
Grace winked. “Depends on who you know.”
“I guess you know just about everybody in town. Do you remember Susan Morris? She’s about my age. Moved to New York maybe about 1980.”
“Morris?” Grace drew her dark brows together, thinking. “That’s quite a while ago. Was she any relation to the Morrises who lived way out on Elm Street? Ellen and Jack?”
“Those were her parents’ names, if I remember right. You don’t know where Susan might be now, do you?”
“No. If she’s still in Stony Point, she doesn’t come to the library. I guess I could see if she has an active card, but I think I’d remember if she checked anything out more than once or twice.”
“Would you mind looking?” Grace looked at her a little oddly, so Annie added, “Susan and I were good friends when I used to come here for the summer, but we’ve lost touch. I’d like to know how she’s doing these days.”
“All right, let me check for you.” Grace tapped a few keys on the computer keyboard. “No Susan Morris in our database. If she had a library card, it was before we computerized in 1985. Do you remember her address?”
Annie tried to picture the envelopes that were still lying on the coffee table in her living room. 214? 216?
“I think it was 214 Elm.”
Grace keyed in the address. “Not Morris.”
“Could you try 216?”
Grace obliged and then shook her head. “Sorry.”
With a sigh, Annie handed Grace her library card. “Well, thanks for trying, anyway. I guess I’ll just take my book and be on my way.”
Grace scanned the card and the book, and handed them both back to Annie. “If there’s something else I can help you with, just come back anytime.”
Annie left the book in her car trunk and walked up Main Street. The Cup & Saucer was gearing up for the lunch crowd, so she didn’t stop in to talk to Peggy Carson. She’d see her at the next meeting of the Hook and Needle Club. Instead, she went straight to A Stitch in Time.
“Annie! What are you doing here? I didn’t expect to see you until the meeting on Tuesday.” Mary Beth came from behind the counter with a smile on her roundish face. “You must have run out of something.”
“Actually, I decided I’d like to make myself a nice, thick sweater.”
Mary Beth’s smile broadened. “So you’re staying in Stony Point after all.”
“Now, now. Don’t jump to conclusions. I’m just making a sweater, not a commitment. How are you stocked for new and delicious crochet patterns?”
“How about we have a look? Do you have anything specific in mind?”
“Just something nice and warm. I’m not sure what I want, but I’ll know it when I see it.”
Annie and Mary Beth went over to the wall that housed needlework patterns of all kinds. There was a generous section of leaflets and books for crocheted sweaters, and the two women spent several minutes investigating and discussing a variety of them. Mary Beth made a few suggestions, but none of them was quite what Annie wanted. Then she saw it down on the rack nearest the floor.
“Oh, I like this one.” Annie brought the pattern book over to the counter to look at it. “What do you think?”
The photograph showed a young woman raking autumn leaves. Her long-sleeved sweater looked as cozy and bright as the hearth fire in an old country kitchen. It would be perfect.
Mary Beth turned the book so she could see it the right way around. “Oh, that’s one of my favorites—new and delicious. It’ll look great on you too. Not that anything doesn’t.”
Annie snickered. “You should see me first thing in the morning.”
“Ahem.” Mary Beth tugged at the sweater that covered her stocky frame. “I just know that not everybody can wear those horizontal stripes. Do you know what colors you want? I have some really nice worsted yarns that would be great for
something like this.”
“I want something for fall, but bright, you know? I feel like going back to the ’70s for some reason.”
“Actually, this is a vintage pattern—a ’70s reprint.”
“I thought so. It’s nice and cheerful. Reminds me of those crazy striped kneesocks that had individual toes. Remember those?”
Laughing, Mary Beth took Annie over to the yarn section of the store and started pulling out soft skeins in a range of vibrant colors.
“Oh, yes, these are great.” Annie selected the colors that she had seen from her front porch the day before: azure, crimson, gold and pine—the colors of Maine in autumn.
Mary Beth checked the list of materials the pattern required. “You’ll need two more colors if you’re going to do it the way they show here.”
“Hmm.” Annie closed her eyes for a moment, remembering; then she selected two more skeins of yarn, burnt orange for the leaves and a darker blue for the sea. “How about these?”
Mary Beth smiled. “Lovely. And you have a size H hook already, right?”
“Oh yes. I’ve got every size from 00 to 14 and B through S. You don’t think Betsy Holden’s granddaughter would be without everything she could possibly need for crochet, do you?”
“Of course not. As your grandmother always said, ‘The right tool for the right job.’ Now, what else can I get for you?”
“Maybe a little information?”
“About what?” Mary Beth’s dark eyes sparkled with intrigue as she rang up Annie’s purchases. “Or should I say, ‘About who?’ ”
Annie shrugged. “I guess there’s a reason I’m thinking about the ’70s today. I found a stack of letters from a friend from my junior high days, and I’d like to get back in touch with her.”
“Somebody from Stony Point?”
“Susan Morris. Do you remember her?”
“She moved to New York, didn’t she? Years ago. Came back here a while later and left again after her parents died, poor thing.”
“When was that? Do you remember?”
Mary Beth considered for a moment. “Must have been sometime in the late ’80s. She was still pretty young at the time. I thought she—”
The cordless phone on the store counter gave a shrill ring. Mary Beth excused herself and picked it up.
“A Stitch in Time. This is Mary Beth. How can I help you? Yes, Mr. Hodges, I have been trying to reach you. It’s about my cabinets … I see. Can you hold just a minute? Thank you.”
She put the phone down and turned back to Annie.
“I’m sorry, but I’ve been trying to get a problem with this guy straightened out for more than a month now. I ordered new storage cabinets for the basement, but they sent the wrong thing. They have our orders and someone else’s all mixed up and have been sending us bills for stuff we never got. Do you mind if we chat later? This may take a while, and Kate’s not in to help with the store right now.”
“No problem,” Annie assured her. “We can always talk on Tuesday.”
“Thanks.”
Mary Beth put the pattern and the yarn into a bag and gave them to Annie; then she returned to the phone.
“Mr. Hodges? Yes, I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. Now, I explained all of this to a Ms. White on the fourteenth of last month, and to a Mr. Carson a week before that, and that was after …”
Annie gave Mary Beth a cheery wave and left the shop. Mary Beth had her hands full as the owner and manager of A Stitch in Time, even though it was obvious that she loved everything to do with threads and yarns and fabrics. Did she ever take a day off?
Annie was thankful that Wayne had left her well provided for when he passed away. Of course, no amount of security could fill the empty space he had left behind, but at least she didn’t have to worry about how she was going to make it financially without him. It was nice to have the freedom to do what she wanted most of the time.
She smiled as she walked back to her car. What she wanted now was to dive into these glorious yarns and get started on her new sweater. It was Friday. Tuesday would be here soon enough, and then she could find out more. Surely, between them all, the members of the Hook and Needle Club could help her figure out how to get back in touch with Susan.
3
“What do you think?”
Annie held up the beginnings of her Maine sweater for everyone to see. She had worked on it all weekend and had made good progress.
“That’s really nice.” Gwen stilled the clicking of her knitting needles to give Annie’s creation her full attention. “Looks like it’ll be warm too.”
Alice fingered the worsted yarn and grinned at Annie. “That’ll be warm enough for a Maine winter.”
“Oh, good!” Peggy dropped the quilt block she was appliquéing and clasped her plump hands together. “Annie’s decided to stay.”
“Hold on! Hold on!” Annie laughed and shook her head. “You’re all going to hurt yourselves jumping to conclusions like that.”
Mary Beth nodded wisely. “You’re making a sweater, not a commitment, right, Annie?”
“Exactly.”
“Well, we’d like you to stay.” Kate shyly lowered her head and went back to work on the delicate crocheted vest she had almost finished. “It’s been so nice having you here.”
Annie beamed at the younger woman and went back to work on an azure stripe in her sweater. “I’ve loved being here. I guess getting Grey Gables fixed up and decluttered has been more of a job than I expected, but getting to know everybody here has been a nice fringe benefit. It kind of reminds me of when I used to visit here in the summers when I was young.”
With a hint of a smile, Alice made a French knot in the intricate floral bellpull she was cross-stitching. “When you and Susan Morris were such good friends.”
“I’m sorry, Annie,” Mary Beth said. “We never finished our chat about her.”
“Susan Morris?” Gwen tilted her blond head to one side, thinking. “I remember her. Didn’t she lose her parents in a car accident?”
“Yeah, she did.” Mary Beth sat in one of the comfy chairs in the circle of crafters and started sorting out a large box of embroidery floss for her store display. “She’d just come back from college and was living at home again when her mother and father were killed. It must have been so terrible for the poor girl.”
“I had no idea. Poor Susan.” Annie had met Susan’s parents only a couple of times, but she knew how close to them Susan had been. What had her life been like after their loss? “You don’t know what she did next, do you?”
“I thought she went off and married some rich guy.” Gwen pulled more yarn from the ball in her knitting bag. “Can’t remember his name now; it’s been so long.”
“That’s right.” Mary Beth bit her lip. “What was his name? He was some bigwig in shoes or something like that. I could pick him out if I saw the name again. Anyway, she sold the family home, that house way out on the far end of Elm Street, and left to get married. Never came back to Stony Point as far as I’ve ever heard.”
“I knew her parents.” As usual, Stella had been nearly silent for most of the meeting, but now she shook her regal gray head, not looking up from her knitting. “That house had been in the Morris family for almost 200 years, but young people, well, they don’t understand what family means anymore.”
That was just like Stella, and in spite of herself Annie smiled a little.
“I don’t know. From what I remember, Susan loved that old house. She always said she never wanted to leave it. Ever. I guess Prince Charming, whoever he was, had other ideas about living in little Stony Point.”
“I wonder if that’s the house where the other handyman in town lives. He’s way out on Elm, I know that much.” Peggy stopped to cut out another piece of fabric to add to her appliqué flower. “Sometimes, when somebody needs a handyman and Wally already has a job, he has them call this guy. His name is Tom something. Maxwell, I think. Of course, until now, there hasn’t been enough work to k
eep Wally busy.”
“Until now?” Gwen asked.
“Wally got a job installing kitchens for a builder in Newcastle. Should be pretty steady work for a few months. Maybe more.”
“Darn.”
Everyone looked up at Mary Beth, and her face turned a little pink.
“Oh no, I don’t mean I’m not happy for you and Wally, Peggy.” She patted the younger woman’s arm. “I was just hoping he could put in my new cabinets. That is, if the place I ordered them from ever gets me the right ones.”
Annie shook her head. “Didn’t you get that straightened out yet?”
“As far as I can tell. The guy promised they’d send a truck sometime this week to pick up the wrong ones and deliver the right ones. If they do, I’d like to get them installed as soon as possible.”
“I hope so.” Kate frowned. “All the new inventory and extra supplies are such a mess down there.”
“And that’s exactly why I want these new cabinets. A place for everything, and everything in its place.”
“And when he’s through with his other obligations, Wally can come work for me again.” Annie finished up the azure stripe and fished in her bag for her crimson yarn. “He did a great job on my kitchen, and I’m going to have him work on the upstairs bathroom once I decide what I want done.”
“Really?” Peggy’s eyes lit up. “That would be great. Maybe we’ll be able to put a little money aside for once. You know how tight finances have been for us lately.”
Kate sighed. “Tell me about it. At least your Emily is still little. Vanessa will be wanting to go to college before long, and I don’t know how I’m going to swing that on my own.”
Everybody knew Kate’s ex-husband Harry was unreliable. No wonder she didn’t feel she could count on his help with their daughter.
Mary Beth gave her a motherly hug. “One day at a time, hon. That’s about as much as any of us can really handle.”
“Yeah, I know.” Kate smiled. “One day at a time and a few good friends.”
Letters in the Attic Page 2