by Cathy Elliot
“I see where this is going,” Annie said, excited. “Maybe we can talk to him and find out if he knows anything about those World War II medals.”
“Surely we can get some new information,” Alice said. “As long as his memory is still good. He’s got to be in his late eighties. Or maybe nineties.”
“Let’s think positive. And we need to remember to show him the photos I found too. Wouldn’t it be great if he could identify the couple? Or even the man?”
“That would be a big help,” Alice said, taking a leafy bite of salad.
“Wait a minute.” Annie frowned. “I’d probably have to go through Harry to get to his grandfather, wouldn’t I?”
“Yes, I expect so.”
“Well, that makes me uneasy,” Annie said. “I wouldn’t want to talk to him about anything.”
“I see your point.” Alice lapsed into silence and then brightened. “But what about Kate? I bet she can introduce us to Grandpa Stevens just as easily as Harry can.”
“After the look Kate just gave me, I don’t think I’d be comfortable approaching her. Or any of the Stevens family,” Annie said, her expression anxious.
Alice nodded and took another bite of salad, maybe thinking over their options.
As Annie gazed out to the harbor, pondering Kate’s glare, their waiter appeared next to the table and set down plates of steaming seafood.
“Pepper?” Derek positioned the pepper grinder over Annie’s dish. She gave a polite shake of her head. “No, thanks.” That look from Kate had been more hurtful than Annie realized at first. She felt her stomach knot and looked at her dinner with distaste.
Alice reached across the table and patted Annie’s arm. “Let’s not allow anything to ruin our lovely meal. Next time you’re in A Stitch in Time, she’ll be back to normal.”
The suggestion of a smile passed over Annie’s face. “I hope you’re right.”
* * * *
Thursday morning, it occurred to Annie that the community center auction was only two days away. Yesterday’s forays into finding information, plus the delightful dinner with Alice, left no time to work on her afghan project. If she wanted to finish up before the auction, she would have to commit to conversing with her crochet hook. All day.
And maybe tomorrow, as well.
But first Annie hurried into her kitchen to see Wally’s progress. He’d still been working when she rushed home and dressed for dinner last night. She couldn’t really assess her impressions while dashing out the door. Or in the dim evening light. In fact, lighting was lacking all over the house. She would have to address the issue with Wally. Might as well solve everything at once. At least the problems she knew about.
Annie threw open the windows and back door, letting the scent of the sea chase away the primer’s strong smell. Then she stood back and crossed her arms, taking in the untidy scene. Wally had certainly been hard at work.
The old tile counters had been removed, leaving a distressed wooden surface behind. Annie knew her handyman planned to prep the area before laying the prefabricated granite countertop. And in the typical Wally style, he’d spruced up the room at the end of his workday. Annie appreciated his habits, this one in particular. She could almost make a sandwich on the marred wood, if she didn’t mind a splinter or two for garnish.
Cabinet doors were also missing. Each probably stripped and sanded and stored in Wally’s own garage waiting for her final verdict. Would she have him stain the cabinets a deep walnut? Or paint them a wonderful color? Annie liked the idea of reusing the functional cupboards, modernizing them with one of the two techniques. But which one?
She sighed. Yet another decision.
Amid the mayhem, she saw walls newly painted with primer, ready for a coat of Jersey Cream. All the old nail holes were gone. The tiny cracks filled. Just a smooth surface for the paint Wally would apply with his artistic touch.
Which reminded her, he would be here soon. Better get moving. Annie filled the kettle and turned up the flame. She pulled the cat food from the shelf and turned to pour some into Boots’ bowl. The cat was already sitting beside her dish, waiting. Annie patted her furry head and doled out a generous portion.
“So what do you think, Miss Boots? Do you like the walls? Are you ready for a change?” Annie watched for a response.
But Boots couldn’t be bothered. She seemed quite focused on her feline fare, thank you very much. Her tail twitched as she leaned into her task. She’d probably be occupied for some time, so Annie left her to it.
After making toast and skimming raspberry jam on top, she sat at the farm table and breakfasted. Sipping her tea, Annie reread a letter she had received yesterday from LeeAnn. It made her miss her daughter more than ever. The note was full of reports on the twins’ latest activities, an overview of LeeAnn’s own interests, plus news of Annie’s long-cherished friends. She felt the tug of Texas again, even while she was in the middle of this exciting remodeling project at Grey Gables.
To tempt her mother back to Brookfield, LeeAnn had included drawings the twins created in Sunday school. Annie had barely glanced at them last night before falling into bed, exhausted. Now she spread them out like ancient masterpieces, smoothing the wrinkles with care.
The first was John’s rendition of a boat, fishermen lugging in a huge catch. Across the top, it said “I will make you fishers of men.” Annie recalled when Wayne had taken John on that first fishing excursion. A rare occurrence because he was always so busy at the dealership. They’d made a great memory that day. She visualized the photos of their beaming grandson, holding high his prize minnow. It only made Annie’s heart ache with longing. Both for little John and for Wayne.
Always for Wayne.
Joanna’s creation consisted of the words “God loves us” spelled out in large letters, but the letter O in God was a smiling sun radiating out across the page. At the bottom were lots of brightly colored flowers, with butterflies dancing between the blooms. How precious was that? Tears flooded Annie’s eyes and she let them fall.
When she’d wiped away the last of them, she determined to frame the drawings and hang them right in the kitchen where she could see them every day--every hour if she wanted. It wasn’t like having her grandchildren with her, of course. But for now, she could find comfort in even the smallest connection.
Annie added the purchase of matting and frames to her mental to-do list for the next time she ventured into town. Probably not today, with the crochet project looming. But soon.
She rinsed off her breakfast things, dabbing some detergent on a brush and giving them an energetic scrub. After returning her clean cup and silverware to their places--an attempt to create calm amid confusion--Annie headed to the living room with Boots following. Grabbing her tote bag, Annie carried it outside to the front porch, a place that always soothed her.
But today, even with a purring Boots curled up on her feet, Annie’s thoughts were in a whirl. Paint the cupboards or stain them? Red appliances or black? Grandpa’s medals or someone else’s? Approach Harold Stevens on her own or ask Harry? Ask Kate? Stay in Stony Point or return to Texas?
Bent over her project and crocheting like a madwoman, Annie added an inch to her afghan as the morning flew by. Her goal, of course, was to deliver a completed donation by Friday. But her feverish intensity was driven by more than a time pressure. With every stitch, Annie also worked through her hurt from Kate’s affront.
Why had she behaved that way? And why to Annie? How should she handle it?
By the time Wally’s pickup pulled into her driveway, Annie had a plan.
11
As Annie pointed the Malibu toward Stony Point, she was tempted to leave the window down. But the effect on her just-combed hair was a bit punishing as strands sliced at her face. So she rolled the window up and smoothed wayward wisps behind her pearl earrings.
Today she determined to seek an answer to Kate’s strange behavior. She would simply go see her and ask why. Face to face. Kate didn’
t know her all that well, and it troubled Annie to think she might have hurt her. Knowing this would be resolved today put her in a cheerful mood.
She’d left Wally stirring a bucket of Jersey Cream paint. To Annie, the liquid looked like melted lemon sherbet. Delicious. A good word to define a kitchen. When she returned from town, the walls would be creamy yellow. And almost edible.
These reflections were making her hungry. Turning the car onto Maple Street, Annie considered a visit to The Cup & Saucer. So what if she’d already eaten several meals out this week? Her kitchen was being renovated. She couldn’t be expected to cook, could she? Anyway, wasn’t it her duty to help support the Stony Point economy?
But first Annie had an appointment with Mayor Butler. He didn’t know it yet. But Ian had said to drop by his office at her convenience, and well, now was a convenient time. She had placed the carved case containing the World War II medals on the backseat. To that, she added the envelope of photos. All of the memorabilia sat atop Grandpa’s military file, tossed there yesterday after her meeting with the mayor.
Turning onto Main Street, Annie passed by Magruder’s Groceries and Malone’s Hardware on the right, the yarn shop and café on the left. She made a right on Oak Lane and steered the car into a parking spot outside of town hall. She checked her reflection in the rearview mirror, deciding it was passable, and got out of the car.
There was no need to take her grandfather’s file to Ian’s office; he’d already examined it yesterday. Gathering the medals and photo-filled envelope, Annie stepped onto the sidewalk, taking confident strides up the stairs and beneath the town hall’s stately façade. She pushed through the double glass doors and walked down the hall to the mayor’s office.
Inside, a middle-aged woman with short, silver hair sat behind a reception desk, typing on a keyboard. Annie could find only one flaw with the secretary’s image: the microphone/receiver device attached to her ear. It looked as if it grew from her head. Like a cyborg in a science-fiction film. Annie tried not to stare. When had handheld phones gone out of fashion? If Wayne were here, he would have jotted down the gadget’s make and model. In truth, she was surprised he hadn’t geared her up with one that last year they worked together at the dealership.
The woman stopped typing and looked up with a pleasant smile. “May I help you?”
A nameplate sat on the desk. Annie read aloud, “Mrs. Charlotte Nash?”
“That’s me. I’m Mayor Butler’s secretary.” She glanced back at the screen. “Do you have an appointment?”
“An informal one,” Annie said. “The mayor told me to drop by at my convenience. I’m Annie Dawson.”
“Of course. You’re Betsy’s granddaughter.” Mrs. Nash’s tone took on more warmth. “We all loved your grandmother. Something of a star around here, you know. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Annie nodded, moved by the words.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the mayor is out all day. A statewide mayoral meeting.” Mrs. Nash checked her computer screen again. “Oh, dear. He has commitments all day tomorrow--although I might be able to fit you in between appointments.”
“Thanks, anyway. Tomorrow won’t work for me.” Annie thought of the afghan she’d brought along today, in case she ended up crocheting at A Stitch in Time. She hoped to deliver it by tomorrow. If not, she still needed to take the old Wallace Nutting print and baby afghan over to the auction. “May I leave a message?”
“Of course.” Mrs. Nash poised her fingers over the keyboard again. “What is it?”
“Well--” Annie found herself slightly taken aback that the secretary didn’t seem concerned about privacy. “Can I just write out a message?”
“Why, of course you may!” Mrs. Nash dug in her top drawer and handed Annie a tablet. She gestured toward a bejeweled cup full of pens and pencils. “Please help yourself.”
Annie set the medals case and photos on a nearby chair. The secretary seemed to study the items with interest. Annie laid her purse on top of the case, chose a purple ball-point pen, and wrote out her message:
Mr. Mayor:
Dropped by to show you the medals--
She stopped writing and cut her eyes to Mrs. Nash for a moment. The woman was watching, her curiosity showing. Annie crumpled the note and took a clean sheet.
Mr. Mayor:
Dropped by to show you the items we discussed yesterday. Sorry to have missed you. But I’m very interested in getting your opinion, so can we set up a time to talk soon? Hope your meeting was productive.
Kind regards,
Annie Dawson
“Would you see that Mayor Butler gets this, please?” Annie asked, tearing the page from the tablet, folding it in half, and giving it to the secretary. “I’d appreciate it.”
“Of course. I’ll add it to his other messages right now.”
Annie picked up her things and moved toward the door, turning back to smile her thanks before she left.
Mrs. Charlotte Nash didn’t see the smile, because she was busy typing Annie’s message into the computer.
“So much for handwritten notes,” muttered Annie as she exited the town hall.
Disappointed she hadn’t been able to show the items to Ian, she returned the medals and pictures to the backseat of the car. She grabbed her tote before closing the car door. Her next destination? A Stitch in Time, to have a one-on-one chat with Kate. If Annie had done something to offend, she wanted to make it right. Right now.
Besides, she really needed more of the brick red wool. If she got too much, Annie could use the extra to make a miniature blanket for little Joanna. A Christmas present to wrap herself in Grandma’s afghan love. And she could choose some big-boy colors and make one for John also.
She slung the tote over her shoulder and started for the shop. Along the way, she made a quick decision to visit Finer Things first. They might have a couple of frames she could use for John and Joanna’s drawings. Annie ducked into the store, stopping at a display of pricey stainless-steel cookware. Wouldn’t that be nice to have in a newly renovated kitchen?
Picking up a gleaming saucepan, she turned it from side to side, catching the light in the shiny finish. Sturdy, stunning, and very heavy. Cookware to last a lifetime. On the other hand, one day in the future when Annie was feeling feeble, closer to the end of her own life, it might be too heavy. What if she dropped her morning eggs, pan and all? She didn’t like the visual and set the saucepan back.
Against one wall, picture frames lined the shelves in all sizes and styles. She let her tote fall to the carpet and inspected them one by one: ebony black-lacquered, wood-grained, ceramic, jeweled, silver or brass, ornate, and plain. Beautiful to be sure, but nothing right for the priceless artwork she wanted to highlight.
“Are you finding everything all right?” A thirty-something saleswoman suddenly appeared.
“I was just looking at these frames. Do you have matting too?”
“No, sorry. Try Malone’s. Mike often stocks extra items that enhance our housewares. I think he even has a small art supply section.”
Surprised, Annie said, “I never thought of Malone’s. But I’ll stop by and see.” She moved to leave, taking care to dodge the crystal glasses with her tote bag.
Back outside, she stopped, squinted, and plowed through her purse for sunglasses. She slipped them on and, taking a deep breath, trekked toward A Stitch in Time.
“Hi, ladies,” she said brightly, removing her glasses.
Kate stood at one end of the counter, putting sale tags on skeins of ribbon yarn. She immediately looked down and studied a multicolored skein, turning it over in her hand.
“Mary Beth, may I talk to you, please?” she said, still pondering the yarn.
“Sure.” The shop owner turned, saw Annie, and hurried to the counter. “Sorry, Kate, I forgot to relieve you. Go ahead now.” Mary Beth picked up the labeler and, moving into the place just vacated by Kate, began sticking tags on the yarn.
Kate sped from t
he shop.
“But where did she go?” Annie asked, stunned. “I wanted to talk to her.”
“She had an errand,” Mary Beth said without looking up. The click of the labeler pierced the silence in the store.
Annie realized the shop was empty. Without the customers or occasional Hook and Needlers stitching and chatting in the circle, the store seemed to have lost its charm.
“Where is everybody?” Annie asked, trying to smile in spite of her discomfort.
Mary Beth looked at Annie, giving her a hard stare. “I’m here. Do you need help finding anything? Yarn? Crochet hooks?” As if this was Annie’s first visit to A Stitch in Time. Only without the usual welcome and warmth.
What was happening? Only two days ago, she’d been overwhelmed with the feeling of belonging, of finding a place inside a circle of friends. Now she was on the outside. And she didn’t know why.
“No … no. I’m fine,” Annie said, not feeling fine at all. She thought of the yarn she planned to buy to complete her afghan. “I’ve got everything I need.”
Her face flushed. She longed to leave. Immediately.
“Thanks, anyway, Mary Beth. I’ll just catch Kate another time,” Annie said, attempting to use a normal voice. She turned toward the door, adjusting her tote bag, feeling foolish for even bringing it into the store.
She almost ran next door to The Cup & Saucer.
The noise and activity inside the diner was a relief. Annie found a booth and sank down, tossing the tote to the side. Familiar, enticing aromas filled the room and reminded her she was hungry. Her eyes searched for Peggy and spotted her serving a family nearby. Annie listened as the chatty waitress told a little booster-seated boy that if he ate both halves of his grilled-cheese sandwich, he could run faster tomorrow. Maybe win a race with his older brother. The boy grinned and took a big bite.