by Jan Fields
“Yeah,” LeeAnn said, chuckling. “Dad hated it. He didn’t want to tell you just how much he hated it, but he sat on the furniture like he was visiting the queen. Poor Dad.”
“Yes. And since I’d bought the furniture in a close-out sale, I couldn’t take it back. We just had to live with it. But it took your dad a long time to feel comfortable in his own home. I was unfair to him, even though I didn’t mean to be, and he ended up feeling forced to accept something he really didn’t like at all.”
“And there’s a message in there for me.” LeeAnn said wryly.
“No one likes to feel bullied,” Annie said. “Talk to Herb and listen to what he has to say. Be sure the whole family is on the same page. It’s not just Herb; the twins will need to have a voice in this as well. New school, new friends—it’s a lot for eight-year-olds to absorb. A whole new part of the country is much more drastic than new furniture.”
LeeAnn sighed. “OK. Message received. But you know I’d love us to move up there, so I’m not totally giving up. Stony Point just feels like such a nice place to raise children.”
“It is,” Annie said. “And I would love to have you here. But don’t forget we have a lot more winter here.”
“That is a drawback,” LeeAnn said. “Brrrr. I might have to take up quilting so I could pile thick quilts on all our beds.”
Annie couldn’t quite picture her high-energy daughter settling in one place long enough to piece a quilt, but she suspected she’d rained on LeeAnn’s parade enough for one day. “Whatever you and Herb decide, just be careful. Moving is a pretty drastic decision after the shock of a job loss.”
From there the conversation drifted to the twins and their spring activities. By the time they ended the conversation, Annie felt a little less worried. Still, she knew LeeAnn could definitely be a “full steam ahead” person when she saw something she really wanted. She hoped this whole idea didn’t put a strain on their marriage.
Annie looked over at Boots, who sat on the sofa casting reproachful glances her way. “I don’t suppose you’d be open to a comforting hug?” Annie asked, opening her hands to invite the cat into her lap. Boots just hopped down from the sofa and stalked out of the room.
11
On Tuesday, Annie settled into her chair at the Hook and Needle Club meeting with a sigh. She’d tried to get started on John’s monkey cap, but quickly found herself confused about the color changes. She hoped Kate had time to help her. She was pretty sure she’d need to write minute instructions about the color changes right in the pattern book to keep them straight.
Stella looked up from her knitting and nodded at Annie. As usual, she had arrived for the club meeting well ahead of anyone else. “How are you coming with your caps for the twins?”
“I finished Joanna’s cap,” Annie said. She pulled the puppy cap out of the bag and held it up.
“That’s very cute,” Stella said approvingly. “I’m certain your granddaughter will love it.”
“I hope so,” Annie said. “I’m hoping Kate can help me sort out the color changes for the monkey cap.”
“Color changing can be confusing,” Stella said. “I remember I once did a sweater that had ten different colors. The pattern was very complicated. I do believe I gained some of my gray hairs from that one.”
Annie laughed, grateful to the older woman for making her feel better. Annie often felt like the weakest crafter in the club, especially when she compared her work to the amazing knitting that Stella and Gwen could do—or even to the darling quilting and dainty cross-stitching that Peggy and Alice brought to every meeting. Even Mary Beth, who seemed to dabble in a bit of everything, amazed Annie with her versatility. And all of that was not to mention the work that Kate did on her beautiful creations.
The rest of the Hook and Needle Club arrived in a burst of cheerful conversation and smiles. Since the shop was sans customers, Mary Beth hurried over to take a seat of her own as soon as all the others were settled. “Let’s start off with a mystery!” she said.
Peggy looked up so quickly from the quilt block she was sewing that her dark ponytail swung back and forth like a pendulum. “A mystery?”
Mary Beth nodded. “Most of you probably know that someone is leaving needle-felted cat sculptures around town.”
Kate brought the small white cat sculpture from the counter, and they passed it around the group. “The workmanship is gorgeous,” Gwen said.
Stella peered at the small cat’s face. “This definitely demonstrates real artistic ability. Mary Beth, I would expect you’d know who in town works with wool roving. Where else would the artist get her supplies?”
“Not here,” Mary Beth said. “I carry a few packages of wool roving and some needles. But I don’t have more than the basic supplies for people who do small needle-felted accents like those flowers you did once, Stella. These cats definitely use colors I’ve never stocked.”
“Oh, no,” Alice said in mock horror. “Do you know what this means?” She paused for dramatic effect, and then she added in a whisper, “Someone in Stony Point is shopping at another craft store.”
“Actually, the artist is probably buying online,” Kate said. “When I need something Mary Beth doesn’t have, she orders it for me. Of course, I’m here almost every day. This artist may simply be buying his or her things online because it’s more convenient.
“Plus, it would tend to give away the person’s secret if Mary Beth could name someone who ordered a bunch of cat-color wool roving through the store,” Gwen added.
The rapid clicking of Stella’s knitting needles paused as she said, “Since this secretive artist gave Mary Beth a sculpture, I think we can assume it’s someone who must buy other supplies here. Otherwise, why would the person feel a sense of gratitude toward A Stitch in Time?”
“One thing is certain,” Mary Beth said. “The person is skilled in more than one craft. We can see that with this little cat.”
“I agree. This knitted pillow is lovely,” Gwen said as she lightly stroked the soft pillow that the tiny cat sat on, “and the crochet on the pillow lace is extremely delicate. My guess would be that this isn’t an elderly person. Working with fine thread like that requires better close vision than I have.”
Stella sniffed. “The artist could have used a large magnifier. I sometimes use those to read the print in patterns. I would assume, however, that no one with arthritis could handle the fine thread.”
“And it must be someone who likes cats,” Alice said. “The only crafter I know who had made cats is Jane Swenson. She made a kitten out of socks for her great-niece. I saw it. It was very cute.”
“There’s a big difference between a sock kitten and this kind of work,” Stella said, gesturing toward the sculpture.
“True,” Alice admitted. “Since we have no idea who does needle felting, maybe we should look at people capable of doing that kind of fine crochet and who also knit.”
Peggy flashed a mischievous look toward Kate. “I know someone who crochets every bit that well and better.”
Kate laughed. “I could make the lace. I don’t knit, though I might manage a little square pillow like that. But I certainly could never do needle felting like that.” Then she turned a smile on Stella. “Stella did those needle-felted flowers, and she is an amazing knitter. Do you have skills you haven’t shared with us?”
“My efforts at needle felting merely taught me that my real gift is knitting,” Stella said. “And I do very little crocheting. I wouldn’t tackle such a complicated pattern as the one used for that lace.”
“That brings us back to you, Mary Beth,” Alice said. “Do you know who could crochet with fine thread like that?”
“Well, present company excluded,” Mary Beth said, “I know that Taylor from the teen crafting group is really into amigurumi these days, so her crochet skills are getting stronger and stronger. She’s certainly young enough to work with fine thread, even though I’ve never sold her any. And then there’s Nancy from the
Garden Club. She works with some fine thread with those endless doilies that she makes.”
“I’ve seen a few of those at the church bazaars,” Stella said. “For a tiresome woman, she certainly does some beautiful crochet.” Stella groaned slightly as if she’d had a painful thought. “I suppose I could ask her about needle felting the next time she calls to annoy me about her tour of homes.”
“And I could have Vanessa ask Taylor whether she’s ever tried needle felting,” Kate said. “She might talk more freely to another teenager, and you know my daughter loves being in on mysteries. Still, I think it would be highly unlikely that Taylor has secretly reached that level of skill. The sculpting in that cat is amazing. Every time I look at it, I expect the little thing to move.”
“We need a place to start,” Mary Beth said. “So I think you should let Vanessa ask.”
“It might be a good idea if someone checks back at each venue that received a sculpture,” Gwen said. “Clearly, the artist is someone who has an affection for the church, this shop, and the library. Maybe we could look at people who have that in common.”
“And we can eliminate virtually all the tourists,” Alice said. “We’re still so early in spring that hardly anyone with a summer house has shown up yet. So it must be a resident.”
“Someone who loves to read, craft, and go to church,” Alice said with a chuckle. “That would include everyone here.”
Mary Beth turned toward Annie. “You’re awfully quiet in all this, Annie. Don’t you have any theories? You have more mystery-solving experience than any of us.”
“Reverend Wallace said he wasn’t sure we should really pursue this mystery,” Annie said, “because the person clearly wants to remain anonymous.”
“With the few clues we have to go on,” Gwen said, “the person is likely to stay anonymous as long as he or she wants. Still, the fun is in trying.”
“I guess,” Annie said.
“At least we can be certain this person isn’t up to something nefarious,” Stella said. “I can’t see any way these little cats could be the focal point for some crime wave.”
“If we figure out who the artist is, we’ll keep the secret,” Mary Beth said. “Won’t we?”
Everyone agreed, but Annie already knew how good her friends were at keeping secrets. Between them all, anything that went on in town became common knowledge in hours.
“Annie and I can take a simple task that doesn’t involve prying into anyone’s secrets,” Alice said. “We’ll take photos of all the cats. That way we can compare them and see if there is any obvious clue in how they’re made.”
“OK,” Kate said. “Mary Beth and I will brainstorm a list of people who could do the knitting and crocheting we see in the cat’s pillow.”
“I think we’re overlooking a task,” Stella said.
Everyone turned to look at her. “What’s that?” Mary Beth asked.
“We know about the cats found in places we frequent,” Stella said. “But how do we know if we’re aware of all of them? I believe we need to ask at all the businesses in town.”
“Good idea,” Gwen said. “I’ll help.”
Mary Beth rubbed her hands together happily. “Then the Hook and Needle Club is officially on the case. This mystery doesn’t stand a chance.”
12
Since everyone in the club now had a task to accomplish in an attempt to solve the mystery, the group turned to talk of the church bazaar. Everyone began pulling small items from their project bags to donate to the bazaar. Mary Beth fetched a box from the back room for the items.
“This little bunny purse is so sweet. I would have loved something like that as a child,” Gwen said as Annie passed her donations toward the box. “And these little belled toys are adorable.”
“Boots thought so,” Annie said and then told them about having to fish the cat out of the project bag repeatedly.
“So maybe they need to be advertised as cat toys,” Gwen said. “Since they have the Boots seal of approval.”
Annie was happy to see that the box was soon brimming with items. Since her little toys were so small, she’d worried that she wasn’t doing enough. Once Mary Beth had gathered all the bazaar items, the group gradually broke up, chatting about the mystery as they left the shop in small groups. Annie smiled as she watched Gwen and Stella leave, their heads close together as they talked about possible suspects for the mystery artist. Her friends certainly loved mysteries.
“Shall we head out to start our photo shoot?” Alice asked.
“If you don’t mind waiting for a few minutes,” Annie said, “I’m desperate to get some help with my monkey cap from Kate.”
“No problem,” Alice said. “I’ll take some pictures of the shop cat first.”
Kate switched chairs to sit beside Annie and looked over Annie’s attempt at the cap. “Oh, you’re not off by much,” she said encouragingly as she pointed out the problem.
“I knew I was off, but you spotted it so quickly. Could you write the changes on the pattern? I’m clearly horrible at remembering.” Annie pulled out the pattern book, and Kate wrote in the color changes in small neat letters.
By the time Kate was done helping Annie, Alice was at the front counter clowning around about her photo shoot of the small sculpture. She used her cellphone to snap pictures of the cat and the card, all the while pretending to be a fashion photographer. “Give me more passion, darling,” she cooed at the little cat.
“You certainly enjoy your work,” Annie said as she joined her friend.
“Why do something ordinary when you can do it silly?” Alice asked. She slipped her phone back into the pocket of her floral blazer, and they set off to the library for the next photo shoot. “You’re very pensive today, Annie. Are the good Reverend’s words really weighing on you that heavily?”
The spring breeze seemed to wind-tunnel up Main Street, tossing Annie’s fine blond hair into her eyes. “Yes and no,” Annie said as she fished in her purse for a hair band and pulled her hair into a ponytail. “I do want to be sure we don’t hurt someone with our curiosity. Mostly though, I’ve been worrying about LeeAnn.”
“You mean with Herb losing his job?” Alice asked.
“Again, yes and no.” Annie told her about LeeAnn’s plan to move to Stony Point.
“I’m surprised you don’t jump at the idea of having LeeAnn and the kids around,” Alice said. “I know you miss them.”
“I do,” Annie agreed. “But I know that if the whole family isn’t happy, eventually no one is happy. LeeAnn can be very strong-willed, and I am not sure she’s communicating very well with Herb right now.”
“Ah—another reason I’m just as glad I never had kids,” Alice said. “Eventually you have to let them make their own mistakes while you worry and fret.”
“I am trying to be objective, but I don’t want LeeAnn to make a mistake that will hurt her family,” Annie said. She smiled wryly. “As far as worrying and fretting, I’m guilty as charged.”
They walked into the soft hush of the library, and Annie pulled her thoughts away from her family. Though she still wasn’t certain it was fair to the artist to try to unearth his or her identity, she also had to admit that it seemed unlikely they’d manage it. The number of Stony Point residents who used the library, church, and needlework shop was fairly large.
“You know, something about this keeps bothering me,” Annie said quietly. “Since A Stitch in Time didn’t sell the materials for the sculpture, where did the materials come from? Why order supplies online when you can get Mary Beth to order them and save on the postage?”
“That’s a good question,” Alice said. “When I’ve needed items that Mary Beth doesn’t stock, I’ve always just had her order them. But I guess if this artist didn’t want anyone to know she did needle felting, she might have ordered for that reason.”
“That would mean someone learned needle felting to this amazing level just to give mysterious gifts,” Annie said. “Doesn’t that fe
el a little unlikely?”
“So, do you have a theory about it?”
“What if the person leaving the cats isn’t the one making them?” Annie asked. When Alice looked at her in surprise, Annie elaborated. “I would imagine a person could buy some lovely needle-felted sculptures online. Instead of ordering the supplies, what if the person giving the cats is actually ordering cats.”
Alice nodded slowly. “I hadn’t thought of that, but it makes sense. Maybe we should see what kinds of needle-felted sculptures are available online.”
Annie and Alice walked quickly to the small bank of computers and signed in to share one. They settled in at the computer station with Alice sitting at the keyboard and Annie pulling up a chair alongside. Alice called up a search engine and typed in “needle- felted sculpture.” Then they clicked on “Images” to limit the responses to just pictures. The screen filled with a gallery of beautiful needle-felted work. Many were animals, but they also saw a number of gnomes and fairies.
“If I spent much time looking at these,” Alice said. “I think I’d feel an overwhelming urge to order a few myself.”
“Do those images link to places to buy the pieces?” Annie asked. “It’s one thing to find images, but another entirely to find a place to buy them.”
Alice clicked on a lovely little orange cat lying on his back and stretching. The photo took them to an online shop where the artist sold her work. “So you could easily buy needle-felted cats. That means anyone could have left the cats. The actual cat artist didn’t have to come from around here.”
“Except that our cat included a book from our library sale.” When the voice spoke behind them, Annie and Alice turned in their chairs to see Josephine Booth. “That would certainly suggest that the person who made the cat lives around here.” Josephine peered at the screen from behind them. “Though that is a pretty little cat too. Still, I like ours better.”