Silence of the Lamb's Wool (A Yarn Retreat Mystery)

by Betty Hechtman

  I didn’t want to let on that I’d figured out the importance of the ledger sheets, but wondered if he knew. I took a chance and mentioned it seemed like someone had been shredding the sheets and asked him if he had any idea why. I was curious about his reaction.

  When I checked his expression, he seemed unmoved. Finally his blue eyes flared. “I know about your sleuthing, but please just let it be.” He sounded tired and drained. Trying to keep going as if nothing had happened had to be wearing. Could Will be hiding a dark side under those scruffy good looks?

  I mumbled an apology as someone from the kitchen staff came in looking for him and said the sink had backed up again. He sighed and went to follow the woman.

  In the meantime, the retreaters had begun to come in and all my attention went to them. Lucinda waved as she walked in with Olivia, Scott and Bree. Crystal and Ronny Fiore came in last. Wanda had finished her task and was patrolling the front of the room. When Crystal and I tried to join her, Wanda made us both join the group. This was her moment and clearly she wasn’t going to share center stage with anyone.

  If I hadn’t been so worried about the job she was going to do, I might have enjoyed the workshop. She had everyone take out their drop spindle and pick up the strand of yarn she’d left on each of the chairs to use as a lead.

  Wanda glared at Crystal and me. “What are you two waiting for? Get your spindles and yarn.”

  I was hoping just to be an observer, but Wanda was unmoving until I found the tote bag I’d made up for myself and one of the extras for Crystal. We took out our spindles and found the length of yarn we’d been sitting on.

  Wanda surprised me by giving easy-to-follow instructions on how to attach the yarn. She moved right on to the actual spinning and ordered everyone to take out a roll of the washed and carded wool. She demonstrated how to fold the wool over the end of the yarn. Then she gave her spindle a whirl and showed how the bit of wool twisted into a strand. Of course, it wasn’t as easy as it looked. I wished I’d paid more attention when Nicole had first demonstrated how to do it so that I could have helped the others instead of struggling myself. Luckily, Crystal was experienced and in no time had a long length of yarn coming off the spindle.

  Wanda moved around the room like a force of nature. When she saw the quality of Crystal’s work, she sent her off in the other direction to aid the fledgling spinners. Then Wanda began to go through the group, taking people to the spinning wheels. They were already set up with some spun yarn, so it was more about adding than starting from scratch. It also seemed to be more about the experience than producing much yarn.

  Spinning was second nature to Wanda, but she was able to break it down to teach it. I imagined she taught golf the same way. She kept repeating the instructions and the group started getting the hang of it.

  The time flew by and in no time the lunch bell was ringing. I urged everyone to leave their newly spun yarn and go eat. Wanda went with them, but Lucinda and I stayed behind. I was shocked at the paltry amount of yarn that had been produced.

  “The whole point of this was to end up knitting with handspun yarn,” I said in dismay.

  Lucinda tried to be encouraging. “Now that everybody knows how to spin, they’ll probably make a whole bunch this afternoon.”

  We looked at each other and neither of us believed what she’d said.

  24

  Wanda was standing by the door as the retreaters came back after lunch. The trouble with stopping for the meal was that they had all lost momentum, or really the rhythm of spinning. It wasn’t quite as bad as starting all over, but it wasn’t too far off. Could everyone really forget what they had learned that fast?

  Undaunted, the small stout woman demonstrated how to use the drop spindle all over again. She asked Crystal to handle the spinning wheels. I was glad that I seemed to remember how to use the drop spindle. I kept feeding more tufts of wool onto the strand coming off the spindle and giving it a turn. I wasn’t exactly doing a jig while I did it like Wanda did, but I was making progress.

  When Wanda came by, I pulled her aside. I started with a compliment. “Thank you for stepping in. You’re doing a great job.” Okay, maybe I was buttering her up before I brought up the yarn situation. “I really see your point. I don’t think Nicole would have been able to handle this.” Wanda’s face lit up.

  “Finally you’re beginning to see the light,” Wanda said in a triumphant voice. Just then Will went by the window. “In a town like Cadbury we appreciate old-fashioned values and he personifies them.”

  “I get the feeling that Will is kind of the town gem,” I said. She watched a gust of wind blow open his flannel shirt. “You know, the guy who was a high school hero and has hung on to the title. I understand he was the prom king and your sister was the prom queen that year.” I left it hanging, curious what she’d say.

  “Half the girls in the school were hoping he’d ask them to prom. In the end he picked out a girl who probably wouldn’t have had a date otherwise. That’s the kind of guy he is.” She made a face like she was considering whether to continue or not. “I know I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but when he could have had any girl in town, why did he marry an outsider?”

  “I suppose you consider me an outsider,” I said. Wanda looked me up and down.

  “Not completely. You seem to get along.” She put her hand out toward the group. “You’re bringing business to town. You seem to play by the rules.”

  “What rules?” I asked, surprised at her comment. I’d always thought I followed my own drumbeat and she was basically saying I was a conformist.

  “You fit into the parameters of the town. Even what you call your muffins.”

  “Oh, you mean because I stopped calling the blueberry muffins The Blues?”

  She nodded, but I wasn’t there to talk about me. I went back to her sister and the prom and asked how upset she was that Will didn’t ask her.

  “She was the prom queen and she thought he liked her, so she sort of expected it. The trouble is Will acts like that to everybody. You know, when he talks to you, it seems like you’re the only person in the world and what you have to say is the funniest most interesting thing he’s ever heard.”

  “It sounds like you have a crush on him,” I teased. A bad move. Wanda’s demeanor stiffened as she announced she had a husband and wasn’t into romantic fantasy. She was about to move on. I looked at the off-white wool that was turning into a creamy-colored yarn. There wasn’t enough yet for the women to have to take it off the spindle and make it into a ball, and I seized the moment.

  “I think we need a plan B,” I said, showing off the small amount of actual yarn on my spindle.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said in a snippy voice. “Everything is under control.”

  “But if you could just let me in on your plans, it would help. I don’t know if you remember, but they’re supposed to at least start work on a shawlette.”

  I looked her in the eye, expecting her to see my point. Instead she put her hand on her hip and held the other one out. I couldn’t help it, I immediately thought of those song lyrics about a little teapot that was short and stout.

  “I just signed on to help prepare the wool and spin it,” Wanda said. Then she suggested that if I was so concerned about how much yarn was being spun, I should make better use of my time and start working my spindle.

  Lucinda had heard it all and had a raised-eyebrow worried look. By the end of the session, it was clear I wasn’t the only one who’d noticed how little yarn we’d all produced. I heard someone say we’d be lucky to have enough yarn to make a shawl for a Barbie doll.

  Around three, we took a break. Lucinda went on ahead to the café. I stopped at the message board to see if there was anything from Maggie. The big board was covered with small pieces of paper and though they had the recipients’ names written in large letters at the top, there was
no order to their arrangement. The only solution was to start at one side and go through them all. Somewhere in the middle, I saw one with my name on it and pulled it off.

  It seemed like everyone at Vista Del Mar had had the same idea about taking a break in the café. The line snaked all the way out the door. When I looked inside, I saw that more tables had been added and were quite close together now. Lucinda was almost the next person to be waited on and I quickly joined her, getting a few dirty looks from people who must have thought I was cutting the line.

  Hoping to calm their fury, I pointed to my friend and said we were together.

  While we waited I took out the note. “I finally heard back from Maggie,” I said.

  “What did she say?” my friend asked.

  I held up the small piece of paper. “Not what I was hoping for. Just that she’d remembered something, but no details. I really need to talk to her. I did tell you that because of the muffin type, it seems like the items were purchased on Monday morning instead of Tuesday.” I was purposely vague, not wanting the people around us to know what I was talking about.

  We got a couple of passion fruit ice teas and started to walk back. The rest of the group trailed along with us. I couldn’t help it, but I started to walk on ahead with a bad feeling.

  When I got to the meeting room, it seemed to be as we’d left it. There were retreat tote bags spread all over the floor and drop spindles sitting on most of the chairs. The spinning wheels had been left in midspin. Everything seemed okay except for one thing: Wanda wasn’t there, and when I looked for her tote bag, it was gone.

  I waited as the rest of the retreaters returned, and when Crystal came in I pulled her aside.

  “You know Wanda better than I do. Is it her MO to just take off?”

  For all of Crystal’s fun earrings, heavy eye makeup and corkscrew curls, she looked around the room with a serious expression. “She’s gone? Are you sure?” I pointed out that her tote bag was missing and Crystal finally agreed.

  I shook my head, thinking of what Wanda had said about having everything under control. Right. Under control because she was going to disappear.

  Lucinda joined us and realized who was missing. “Maybe we should make other plans,” Crystal said. “I could call my mother and see what yarn she can get together at the store that looks like handspun. The only thing is, she wouldn’t be able to get it here for this session. But maybe for the one tomorrow morning.”

  I cleared my throat to speak. There was no reason to hold off on the truth anymore.

  “I’m sure you’ve all been looking for Wanda Krug,” I said. “She’s been unavoidably detained. The schedule says you’re supposed to start working on your shawlettes. We’ll have to table that until tomorrow,” I said, “because . . .” I was winging it now, hoping some words would come to me. Olivia stepped to the front of the room.

  “What Casey is trying to say is that, instead of starting the shawlettes now, we’re all going to work on a charity project.” Olivia held up a handful of squares. “We need more if we’re going to have enough for a couple of blankets.” She asked if anybody needed yarn or needles. A ripple of laughter went through the room as everyone pulled out both items from their tote bags.

  “Thank you,” I said to Olivia when everybody had started knitting.

  She knew that Wanda was a stand-in and had figured out what had happened. “It’s the least I can do. You and the group helped me look at things in a new light. I feel like I owe my happiness to that retreat. After dinner we can start putting the squares together.” Her eyes were shining and her smile lit up her almond-shaped face.

  Olivia pushed one of the kits on me and said I looked like I needed some knitting therapy. She was right about that.

  The group seemed to have no problem with the change in plans and soon there was the soft click of needles as a bunch of conversations started. I envied how they could talk and knit. I still needed to concentrate on my stitches and the best I could do was listen.

  There was a lot about their husbands, children and grandchildren. A reminder of all that I didn’t have. One woman seemed particularly perturbed about a baby blanket she’d made for her grandchild. Her daughter-in-law had called the pink blanket sexist.

  “There are some traditions that shouldn’t be messed with. Pink is for girls and blue is for boys.” Apparently I could also knit and think. Her comment stirred something in my mind.

  25

  If the group was disappointed not to be spinning or knitting with their spun wool, they kept it to themselves. But I felt I’d let them all down. Maybe this business wasn’t for me. To keep going I’d need good word of mouth and recommendations, along with repeat customers. I could just imagine what they’d have to say about this retreat when they went home.

  The last part of the workshop ended and most of them headed off for some free time before dinner. This was the part of the weekend where I should have been feeling a sense of accomplishment that the main part of the retreat was done. First it was the sheep and now it looked like there’d be no shawls. The name of the retreat had been hacked away at until now the only word left of Sheep to Shawl was to.

  I walked to the Lodge with the early birds and Lucinda. The Ginger had joined us and seemed to be hanging close to Bree. We all stopped at the message board, but by now with so many messages piled on top of each other, it was simply too overwhelming to sort through them.

  The Ginger and Bree looked at the line waiting for the pay phones and shook their heads. Too long. I wanted to do something to make up for all the problems and suggested a drink in the café, my treat.

  “I’m not even going to try calling Maggie again,” I said as we came into the café. “I’m just going to go to the Coffee Shop in the morning and talk to her in person.”

  “That sounds like a good plan,” Lucinda said. We found an empty table and I got a round of homemade lemonades for everyone. Of course the conversation turned to Wanda’s disappearance. I really appreciated how they rallied around me and tried to convince me that no one really noticed. Ha!

  Bree and the Ginger kept glancing at the door so many times, I finally asked her what was up.

  “I know it’s sort of cheating, but I was thinking about walking out into the street . . .” Bree said.

  “. . . until you get a signal,” Olivia said, finishing her sentence. We all agreed it wasn’t cheating and they bounded off with their cell phones in hand.

  Finally the rest of us went our separate ways to get ready for dinner.

  As I headed toward my place, I saw Bree and the Ginger standing in the middle of the street. A car drove slowly toward them and they seemed to be playing chicken with it, only dashing out of the way a moment before it reached them.

  “Drat. Lost my call,” Bree said, giving her phone an angry look. I hadn’t realized the signal was that fragile and invited them to come to my place. It seemed like the least I could do after all the problems.

  Julius was waiting outside the door and I half expected him to look at his paw (in my imagination he had a watch on) and ask where I’d been for so long. He gave Bree’s sneakers the once-over as we went inside.

  I didn’t even waste time fussing with him and just unfurled the can of stink fish, though I saw Bree make a funny face from across the room. Apparently the scent traveled.

  I sent them off to the living room to make their calls while I considered whether to change my clothes. I heard a pounding on my door.

  When I opened the kitchen door, Dr. Sammy was standing outside holding his tuxedo on a hanger. “Case, okay if I change here?” he said. He mumbled some explanation that he’d been looking at apartments all day and he didn’t want to go back to his current place to change.

  Julius was too busy with his stink fish to notice another visitor. I sent Sammy off to my bedroom to change. When he came out, he was a wreck. I had to
remind him to tuck in his shirt and put on the cummerbund.

  “Case, what would I do without you?” he said nervously. “You’re going to be there, right?” I nodded and he gave me a grateful hug. “I guess I better go,” he said. I walked him to the back door and watched as he walked past the converted garage toward the street. Poor guy looked like he was on his way to the guillotine.

  Bree and the Ginger finished their calls and thanked me profusely. “It’s the first real conversation I’ve had with them since I got here,” the Ginger said.

  “I told you it would be okay,” Bree said, giving her a supportive pat. They left to change for dinner and the evening program. I was glad to see that at least something had worked out.

  I still felt rather glum, but I had to pull myself together. I needed to put on a front for the group, and this was Sammy’s big night. If nothing else, I could at least get dressed up. I picked a clingy black dress and flats. To brighten it up, I made a design of my aunt’s crocheted and knitted embellishments along one of the shoulder straps. I changed my earrings to long dangles and did a whole makeup job, but no raccoon look this time. And I wrapped myself in a black mohair shawl that had little sparkles. I mouthed a thank-you to my aunt Joan for leaving me all these beautiful handmade items.

  The sun had come out and was hanging low in the sky. Maybe the sunset would be visible. It felt strange to be walking up the driveway of Vista Del Mar in a dress, but at the same time, it felt nice to feel the air swirl around my bare legs under the ballerina-length dress. When I walked into the Lodge shafts of golden sunlight were coming in through the window, giving everything an inviting glow. There was a different feeling about the social hall. I thought perhaps it was that everyone seemed to have gotten dressed up for dinner. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised to see Burton Fiore holding the door for his beloved. They seemed to be spending a lot of time at Vista Del Mar. When they passed Kevin St. John, it looked like he and Burton were practically twins in their matching dark suits, white shirts and ties.