Jazzed

  Fighting the tears threatening to fill her eyes, Annie shook her head. “Alice and I searched inside and out of Grey Gables for over an hour this morning. No sign of her.”

  Kate materialized from the back of the shop. “How are you? Any sign of Boots?”

  “No,” Annie and Alice said in unison.

  Annie surveyed the damage in the shop. It looked worse than it had before the convention. Water stains created a roadmap down the back wall leading to the discolored wood floor. The front of the shop along the window and behind the checkout counter was filled with neat pyramids of boxes, and a few plastic containers encroached into the main area of the store. Obviously, merchandise had been boxed and moved as more leaks had emerged. “When will you be able to open for business?”

  A drill pierced the relative quiet with a high-pitched metallic sound, reminding Annie of trips to the dentist.

  Mary Beth waited for the noise to stop before she answered. “They’re working on the roof today. I hope Wally will be here tomorrow to look at the floor and walls.”

  Peggy’s husband, Wally, was well known around town for his innate talent for renovation. He had done or supervised most of the work on Grey Gables. Annie knew the shop was in good hands.

  Alice walked to the checkout counter and placed the paper bag on it just beneath a spot on the wall where a collection of thimbles was mounted. Mary Beth had inherited the thimbles from her grandmother, had put them in the shadow box, and had kept collecting them in her honor.

  “I think we have something that might cheer you up a bit,” Annie said.

  Alice reached into the bag and pulled out a small wrapped package about the size of a ring box and handed it to Mary Beth. “A token of our love and affection,” Alice said, handing the box to the shopkeeper with great ceremony.

  Mary Beth looked at the package sitting in the palm of her hand. “Did you take a trip to Tiffany’s?”

  “Don’t be silly,” said Alice, the jewelry aficionado. “One simply does not gift-wrap a blue Tiffany’s box!”

  Laughing, Mary Beth untied the small bow and removed the tape from the bright floral wrapping paper. She laughed even harder when she opened the lid to find a tiny porcelain thimble designed to look like a hamburger fixed just the way she liked with mustard, ketchup, cheese, and pickle. “I guess I’m pretty much known for being a connoisseur of burgers!” Gingerly lifting it from the box, she displayed it on her index finger. “Leave it to you three to find a cheeseburger thimble! I love it!” She looked up at her collection. “Somewhere in heaven, Grandma is laughing up a storm!”

  Annie put an arm around Mary Beth’s shoulders. “We wanted to let you know we were thinking about you and wishing you were with us. You can find just about anything in New York City!”

  Kate reached around her friends, pulled the paper bag off the counter, and handed it to Mary Beth. “And we brought you this because, well, it will be obvious when you see it.”

  Pulling a pale yellow T-shirt from the bag, Mary Beth shook it out and held it up to see the front. On it, a deliriously happy-looking woman with short gray hair was up to her elbows in different colors of yarn with “It’s all about the yarn” embroidered above her.

  Mary Beth pressed the shirt against her chest to check the size. “I think I resemble this woman!” She put the shirt on the counter. Grabbing the burger thimble, she immediately made a space in the center of the shadow box for her new addition to the collection. She looked at her friends and smiled. “Thank you for brightening my day. I really needed a lift.”

  Annie was just about to ask whether or not the Hook and Needle Club would meet the next morning when Stella’s chauffeur, Jason, pushed open the door and held it as the regal, elderly woman entered the room slowly, albeit with grace.

  “Well,” Stella sniffed, taking in the obvious disarray of the shop. “I came in to pick up some yarn, but I can hardly see how you can do business like this. I thought the cleanup would be further along by now.”

  Shrugging her shoulders, Mary Beth moved another box closer to the wall behind the register. “I hope to reopen in a couple of days.”

  Stella still looked a bit peaked, Annie thought. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m much better, although I will be glad when I am off all of the extra medication. The doctor is being overly cautious, but I guess that’s why I pay him so much.” Stella wrinkled her nose. “I’m still congested, but even I can smell the mildew in here. We simply cannot meet here tomorrow.”

  “That’s true,” said Mary Beth with a sigh. “I guess I’ve gotten used to the smell since I’ve been working in it for almost a week. I’m thankful the rain finally stopped. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt us to miss a week.”

  “Nonsense,” Stella replied. “We’ll meet at my house. I’ll have the housekeeper fix tea and scones. After all, we must be ready for the Polk family’s fundraiser.”

  Annie was the first to find her voice after the shock of Stella’s offer to open her home to the club. “Why, thank you, Stella, what a wonderful idea! That’s very kind of you.” Just when Annie thought she had Stella figured out, the prickly socialite showed a soft side.

  “Yes,” said Mary Beth, finally regaining her wits. “That means a lot to me. If Wally is here to oversee the repair work, maybe Kate and I can attend too. I’ll call Peggy and Gwen about the change.”

  Stella smiled. “Then it’s settled. I’ll see everyone in my parlor at eleven o’clock sharp!” With that, she silently took Jason’s arm and walked out the door.

  It had barely closed behind Stella when Alice erupted in laughter. “Well I’ll be! In a week when we’ve been accosted once in a New York subway and had break-ins twice, doesn’t this just take the cake? We’re having tea in Stella’s parlor!”

  ****

  Annie and Alice were still chuckling when they walked into The Cup & Saucer to pay Breck for taking care of Boots and to ask if he had noticed anything amiss at the house when he fed Boots on Sunday.

  They were standing by the register, looking around the almost deserted diner, when Peggy walked up to them, her trusty pen and pad in hand. “Welcome home! How was New York City?”

  “Very exciting. We have a lot to share at tomorrow’s meeting,” said Alice, peering through the window behind the counter to see if Breck was in the kitchen.

  “You have your pick of tables today. It’s been really slow.” Peggy waved her hand as if this would magically fill the booths. “I’ll be over to take your order in just a minute.”

  Annie took a couple of paces into the room and turned around. “Actually, we’re just here to see Breck. Is he in today?”

  “No, he was sent home early because business was so slow. You just missed him,” Peggy explained. “Can I give him a message? He might return for the dinner hour.”

  Annie reached into her purse and pulled out an envelope with Breck’s name on it. “Would you make sure he gets this?”

  Peggy walked to the cash register and put the envelope under the cash drawer. “I’ll keep it safe for him. See you at the meeting tomorrow!”

  “Thank you.” Annie started toward the door, but then she stopped and turned back to Peggy. “Oh, by the way, we just came from A Stitch in Time. Stella has offered to host tomorrow’s meeting in her home. It’s pretty noisy in the shop with all of the repair work going on. Stella said she would see us at eleven o’clock sharp.”

  Peggy’s face fell. “I don’t think I can get to Stella’s house and back here in time for the lunch rush.” She drummed her fingernails on the top of the register drawer. “I’ll see if Lisa will swap shifts with me. Maybe I’ll be able to make it.”

  “That’s a good idea. I hope we’ll see you tomorrow.” Annie reached for the door again and led Alice through the doorway.

  The three women said “Bye” in unison.

  Alice and Annie walked out the door and headed to their next stop: the police station.

  ****

  Pulling her car into the
City Hall parking lot, Annie wondered if she’d run into Ian while in the building since the mayor’s office was down the hall from police headquarters. Ian was nowhere to be found, but Chief Edwards was sitting at his desk when the women walked into the station. He jumped to his feet as the door closed behind them. “Annie, Alice. How are you?”

  “I’m well, but a bit tired after all of the excitement,” Annie admitted.

  Alice nodded in agreement. “I think we are both ready for some quiet time, believe it or not.”

  The chief riffled through his log book. “We kept patrolling Grey Gables throughout the night. When I saw your car at A Stitch in Time this morning, I sent Officer Peters to check the house. All was clear, but we didn’t see any sign of the cat. Did it ever return?”

  “No, she didn’t,” Annie said. “But on the positive side, neither did the intruder.”

  Chief Edwards looked back in his logbook. “We made regular patrols by Grey Gables while you were gone. Everything was fine when Cal drove by Saturday night. That leaves a narrow window when someone could have gotten in the house.”

  “Excuse me.” Alice’s hand stifled a yawn. “Neither of us got too much sleep last night. Annie here was up amazingly early to look for Boots. We searched the yard and the beach together after breakfast.”

  Chief Edwards walked to the fax machine and grabbed a stack of papers. Leafing through the sheets, he frowned. Obviously they weren’t what he was expecting to find. “I’m still waiting for NYPD to fax me the report from your hotel room break-in. I did get in touch with Officer Fox, though. They don’t have any leads right now. The perp didn’t leave much behind in the way of fingerprints.”

  Annie kept glancing at the door, expecting Ian to walk in at any moment. She forced herself to concentrate on the conversation. “Will you let me know when you hear something from New York?”

  Chief Edwards promised to call when he received any new information. He also said Officer Peters would continue to assign extra patrols on her street for the next week or so. After promising to keep her doors and windows locked and to call if she saw anything out of the ordinary around the house, a disappointed Annie, who had hoped for some answers, left the station with Alice.

  When the door closed behind them, Alice tapped Annie’s arm. “You know, we can stick our head in the mayor’s office and see if Ian is in.”

  The door to Ian’s office was down the hall, and Annie looked longingly in its direction. Sometimes it seemed like Alice could read her mind. But was she ready to face Ian? “No, I really want to go home. I’ll talk to Ian later.”

  ****

  Closing the door to Grey Gables, Annie felt the old house shudder as a faint echo filtered through its halls. The place seemed absolutely empty without Boots underfoot. Suddenly, Annie felt terribly alone. Tired and alone. Maybe she should have taken Alice up on her offer of lunch in the carriage house. But what if Boots returned, and she wasn’t here?

  Tossing her purse on the couch, she went upstairs to unpack her travel bag. She had been too tired and preoccupied to put everything away earlier. Then, in the morning, all she could think about was looking for Boots. She stared at her bed; the soft down comforter invited her to crawl in and take a nap. Annie was determined to get back to normal, and that meant unpacking—not napping. When her toiletries had been returned to the bathroom and dirty clothes taken to the laundry area, she decided to work on the place mats so she’d have something to show the ladies at tomorrow’s meeting.

  Her keepsake from the trip to New York was a CD purchased at the club, Live at The Avant-Garde. She grabbed the disc, her cellphone, and the craft bag from her bedroom and carried them to the living room. Soon notes from Wynton Marsalis’s trumpet filtered into the air as Annie curled up on the couch, crochet hook and yarn in hand. Losing herself in the music, her fingers worked swiftly until she heard loud rapping on the door.

  After rolling her head around to clear the cobwebs, Annie went to the door. Ian swept her into a hug and held her in his arms for several moments before releasing her and cupping his hands around her face. “I just heard about the break-in here last night. Are you all right?”

  She nodded, unable to speak. As he rubbed his thumbs along her jawline, he lowered his lips to hers in a kiss that left Annie with little doubt about his feelings. With closed eyes and pounding heart, she returned his kiss.

  “I don’t know what I would have done if anything had happened to you,” he said, looking into her eyes.

  Annie felt like he could see into her soul, which was probably good because words escaped her at the moment. She stepped away from him, and he followed her inside. She closed the door before taking his hand and leading him to the couch. She struggled to find her voice. “The police don’t think we were ever in any danger, although nobody can figure out why things happened the way they did.” She dared to glance into his eyes. They were filled with concern and care. “Thank you for checking on me.”

  Ian cleared his throat and took Annie’s hands in his. “You know, when I called you at the hotel, I wanted to be there to make sure you really were safe. I wanted to be certain you wouldn’t be in danger.” He reached up and rubbed a lock of her hair between his fingers. “You’ve become so important to me, Annie.”

  Annie searched for the right words to say. She was unsure of how to define her feelings, much less explain them. “Ian, I care for you too.” She struggled to keep her voice even. “I just need a little more time.”

  Silence enveloped them as they sat, fingers entwined, the CD having reached its end. They jumped a little when Annie’s cellphone rang. She grabbed it before the second ring. “Hello?” A few seconds later, she rose and mouthed “NYPD” before strolling into the library and sitting at the desk. She pulled out a pad of scratch paper and a pen as Officer Fox asked her several more questions about the conference and how the women had spent their non-convention time in New York, which she answered as straightforwardly as possible. She jotted down the case number, plus the name and phone number of another officer also working the case. Officer Fox told her to call either of them if she remembered anything else about the trip. “I will. Thank you so much for calling,” Annie said just before switching off the phone and returning to Ian, who was leafing through Charlie’s book about New York City.

  “That was Officer Fox from the New York Police Department. He didn’t have any new information about the hotel break-in, but he asked some questions about the incident on the subway. I doubt if my answers helped too much.”

  Ian returned the book to the coffee table and stood up. “I wish he had called to say they had caught the burglar. Listen, Annie, if you need to return to New York to deal with any of this, I’d like to go with you.”

  She gave him a quick hug. “I doubt it will come to that. But thank you for the offer.”

  Ian glanced at his watch. “I need to get back to the office. I have a meeting in fifteen minutes. Be careful, please.”

  They walked to the door, and Annie followed him out to the porch. After he lightly kissed her again, she put her fingers to her lips and watched him walk to his car. When it disappeared down the driveway, Annie stepped from the porch and slowly moved her eyes from one end of the yard to the other. “Here, Boots! Here kitty, kitty!” Then she stood quietly for a long time, waiting to see some sort of movement in the brown grass. Seeing none, she rubbed her eyes and went into the house.

  18

  Piano music spilled into the foyer of Stella’s mansion as Annie followed the housekeeper across the marble floor and past the conservatory, toward the parlor. Turning her head in the direction of the music, she found Jason sitting at a baby grand piano, his bobbing head bathed in the morning sunlight. Annie paused to watch as his hands glided over the keys.

  Suddenly, as if unable to contain his voice any longer, he belted out the third verse, his face emanating pure joy. “Give my regards to Broadway, remember me to Herald Square, tell all the gang at Forty-Second Street that I will soon b
e there …”

  Annie stood mesmerized, clutching a craft tote in one hand and her purse in the other, until the doorbell rang. The housekeeper scampered back down the foyer to the front door. Before long, Gwen walked into the room with Peggy, Kate, and Mary Beth behind her.

  “Look who I found in the driveway,” said Gwen, shrugging out of her coat and handing it to the housekeeper.

  The women whispered their greetings to one another, removed their coats, and joined Annie in watching the chauffeur’s casual performance. When Jason sang the last note, they broke into applause. Pushing the piano bench back with a smile, he rose with a flourish and bowed. “Thank you! Just a little tune to mark the travelers’ return from my hometown,” he said. “May I escort you to the parlor?”

  He stood just outside the open parlor door to allow the ladies to enter. “Mrs. Brickson will be with you momentarily. Please make yourselves comfortable,” he said with a nod before leaving them.

  The friends were just about to take their seats when Stella made her grand entrance, every piece of gray hair in her short “do” in place, a tailored pale blue dress falling in crisp folds around her calves. “Good morning, and welcome! I thought we’d have tea before getting started. There’s coffee as well, for those who prefer it,” she said, waving her friends over to the ornate Victorian chest opposite the fireplace.

  The quintessential hostess stood at one end of the chest, inviting the ladies to a neat line of forks, folded napkins, and dainty cups and saucers. Glass plates were stacked next to a three-tiered silver tray offering levels of mini-quiches, sliced orange-glazed pound cake, and perfectly round scones. Small crystal bowls offered thick cream and what looked like boysenberry jam.

  “Oh, Stella, this is lovely,” said Gwen, pouring coffee from a silver pot into a cup. “Thank you for opening your home to us.”

  Stella nodded. “My pleasure. After all, we just couldn’t have met in the shop. Between the odor and noise, we wouldn’t have been able to hear ourselves think, much less conduct a conversation.”