Kris had been very careful in Edie’s murder. She’d wiped the door handle clean, along with the needles she taken from my aunt’s, so there were no prints, which meant all my worry and glass breaking was for nothing. But she hadn’t wiped down Edie’s second key before hanging it back in at the Lodge. And even though she’d tried to wash the throw up off her clothes, there was still some residue. The DA charged her with first-degree murder on that one. And finally, she was charged with attempted murder for my fall out the window.
She was moved to a prison to await trial. Any way you looked at it, she was going to be spending a long time in jail. The story was all over the Internet with headlines like Master Teacher Masterminds Murders, Knitter is Needled to Death and Acclaimed Knitting Teacher is Serial Killer.
Once the yarn company that was putting out the Retreat in a Box kiosks found out that Kris had stolen the idea from my aunt, they took her name off and called it Joan Stone’s Retreat in a Box instead. They even offered to pay me the royalties due my aunt. I was glad for the extra income, but I felt bad for Kris’s kids since they were just innocent bystanders, so I split the money with them.
But all of that was still to happen when Lieutenant Borgnine walked me to the front of the Cadbury police station and held the door open. “You’re free to leave the area now,” he said. Something in his tone made me believe he hoped I’d make a fast departure.
I drove home and went inside the guesthouse, knowing I couldn’t put off packing my bag any longer. Sammy and my parents had no idea what had happened. They had just left me several messages on my cell phone, telling me what time they’d pick me up. There would be plenty of time to tell them about my afternoon on the trip back to Chicago. I tried to get myself excited about Paris and cooking school and wearing a starched white coat with my name embroidered on it.
I looked around my tiny abode, wondering why I seemed to be stalling. Wasn’t this what I did best? Living my life as if everything was just a temporary arrangement before moving on? Why was I feeling such a bittersweet tug? I picked up the red fabric-covered box and held it close to me. I had taken out what Kevin really wanted, my aunt’s list of previous clients and the file with retreat ideas. I knew Kevin was probably salivating behind the registration desk, waiting to get his hands on them. I don’t know why, but I didn’t want to leave them for him to find. I wanted to actually hand them over to him.
I picked up the file of papers and a set of keys and headed toward the door. I went across the street and up the driveway into Vista Del Mar. My retreat group was standing together outside the Lodge building waiting for the van to take some of them to the airport.
When I saw Scott, I stopped in surprise. He was back in his business attire of a sports jacket over slacks, and his briefcase was at his feet. But there he was in public with the giant red knitting needles, knitting as they waited. When one of the women who worked in the gift shop walked out, he held his hands high to make sure she saw.
“Yep, that’s right, I’m knitting. I’m a knitter.” His eyes were bright as he looked at me and made a little bow. “Thank you. I couldn’t have done this without you.”
“Without me?” I said, shrugging. “The big needles and the bright yarn were all my aunt’s idea.”
“Are you kidding? After what you did this weekend—just admitting to being a knitter seems like nothing compared with falling out a window and solving three murders.” He pulled out his cell phone. “Watch this.” He punched in a number and put the phone to his ear.
“Hi honey, it’s Scott. I just wanted to tell you two things. Number one, I’m a knitter, and number two, I didn’t go on a business trip this weekend. I went on a yarn retreat.”
Then there was silence as he listened to her response. Everyone tried to pretend they weren’t paying attention, but we all were. He clicked off the phone and turned to face us with the happiest expression I’d seen all weekend.
“You want to know what my wife said?” He laughed and shook his head with disbelief. “She was thrilled to hear about the knitting. She knew something was fishy about this weekend and thought it was another woman. She can’t wait for me to come home and show her my needles.” He did a fist pump in the air and a little jump to punctuate it.
I was still holding the file of papers. Lucinda came and stood beside me. “Joan would be so proud of you. The way you stepped into her shoes and made this weekend meaningful for all of us even with Edie’s murder. Are you sure you want to leave?”
Call me crazy, but when she said that, what I’d been feeling all along came to the forefront, and I knew I didn’t. I didn’t care about a starched white coat with my name on it. I wanted to stay in Cadbury by the Sea. So what if I couldn’t bake croissants with my eyes closed. I liked the way I baked just fine. Poor Kevin wasn’t going to be happy, because I decided at that moment that not only was I going to keep on with my baking, but I was going to use those lists of clients and projects myself to put on future retreats.
“I have something to say,” I began. “This weekend has been a life changer for me. For the first time ever, I don’t want to drop everything and take off.” I hugged the file of papers. “I was just going to put on this retreat and end the business, but I’ve decided I want to look through my aunt’s list of ideas for retreats and put them on myself.” As I finished, they all began to cheer.
“Be sure and let Sissy and me know when you put on the next one,” Melissa said. I told her I’d glanced through my aunt’s ideas and they weren’t all going to be about just knitting. “We don’t care. As long as there is yarn in it, we’re here,” she said.
“Count me in, too, and next time I’m bringing my wife,” Scott said.
“You can count on me, too, but no husband or kids,” Bree said.
Lucinda hugged me tight and told me of course she was in, too.
Kevin St. John drove up in the van, and Scott and Bree went to get in. Olivia looked at the file in my hand and said, “We’ll break the news that you’re staying and continuing with the retreats to Mr. St. John on the way to the airport.” With a final wave Melissa and Sissy headed toward their car.
Lucinda offered to wait with me until my parents showed up and act as moral support, but I told her it was something I had to do myself. This time when I went across the street to the guesthouse, the heaviness in my heart was gone. I looked inside the file I’d been holding so tight. I knew what the cryptic codes meant now. They had been my aunt’s shorthand for our projects. The number for Lucinda referred to a scarf pattern. S&SS meant swatches and simple scarf for me. Scott’s BBB was for big needles, bright color, bold pattern. I did start packing things up when I went back inside, but it was to move them across the driveway to what had been Joan’s place. I was now ready to claim it as my own.
It was starting to get dark when my parents and Dr. Sammy showed up. My mother took one look around the guesthouse and knew something was up. Before she had a chance to speak, I said I wasn’t going to Paris.
“What?” my mother said, clearly upset. My father wasn’t happy, either, and Sammy seemed my most disappointed. When I told them about the events of my afternoon, their mouths fell open, and then they started talking amongst themselves, convinced that I was just in some kind of shock and that’s why I was being so ridiculous.
“All the things we want you to stick with, like law school and teaching, you drop by the wayside. But this baking at night in a closed restaurant and putting on some crazy craft weekends is what you hang on to,” my mother said, shaking her head in very obvious disapproval.
I tried to explain what I felt there. I had an identity in Cadbury. People knew my baking, and the retreat I’d put on had changed the people’s lives. And mine, too. I’d found my calling . . . at least for now.
Finally, they had to go or they’d miss their flight. My parents both hugged me and my mother said, “So, go on, try this for a while. I’ll put
your enrollment on hold. Paris will be there next month.” I stood in the doorway and watched them drive off. I felt something soft touch my legs, and when I looked down, the black cat had returned and was doing figure eights between my ankles. He took one look at the open doorway and walked inside like he owned the place. I’d heard once that cats picked their humans instead of the other way around. Was he picking me? I remembered Kevin St. John’s comment about the cat parading around the grounds like he was Julius Caesar. “I’ll call you Julius,” I said as I went inside and looked for something to feed him.
Before I resumed gathering my things, I picked up my phone and punched in Frank’s number.
“So, Feldstein, it’s you again,” Frank said when I’d barely got the beginning of hello out. He sounded irritated as he went on about the time and that it was Sunday, but I knew him well enough to know it was all just a facade. “Are you going to tell me what happened?” he said when I didn’t speak right away.
“First of all, thank you for calling Cadbury PD,” I said.
“Feldstein, I could tell by the tone of your voice you were in over your head.” I heard the squeak of his recliner chair.
“I hear your chair. Are you in the office?” I said, and Frank chuckled.
“I have recliners wherever I go. So spill the story.” I gave him the whole rundown, ending with my change of plans.
“Good going, Feldstein. I taught you well. Glad you weren’t hurt, and I didn’t think Paris was for you.” He was trying to sound businesslike and distant, but I could tell he meant it. “You know, if you get around to it, I wouldn’t mind gettingt a box of those muffins.”
I said I would send him some and was about to say good-bye. “I suppose I’ll be hearing from you again,” he said in the fake grumpy voice. “Now that you’ve had the high of solving those murders, it’s in your blood.” I started to disagree, but he just laughed and told me to wait and see before he finally hung up.
I began carrying things across the driveway to my aunt’s—no, my house. Music blared from down the street. On a peaceful Sunday night, Dane had to be kidding.
I left everything and marched down the street to his so-called studio and pounded on the door. A moment later, Dane opened it, and when he saw it was me, stepped outside. “Are you all right? Sometimes people get delayed reactions from a fall,” he said.
I didn’t let his concern dampen my annoyance. “I just want to let you know that I’m not leaving. I don’t care if you have your orgies every night of the week, but how about closing down on Sunday?”
“Orgies?” he said.
“I know about the women’s clothes you keep for your overnight guests and the industrial-size box of condoms. And you told me about your mattress-covered floor and ceiling full of mirrors.” I suddenly felt embarrassed saying it all out loud, particularly when he began to laugh.
He grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the door. I did my best to stay planted, but Dane was much stronger than I was and he pulled me inside.
I closed my eyes and put my hand over them. But even with my eyes closed and covered I could tell all the lights were on. Dane pulled my hand away from my face and ordered me to open my eyes.
“I don’t want to see a bunch of naked people,” I said. Dane seemed to find that very funny and told me again to open my eyes. Just as I’d done that afternoon, I flickered them first, as a test run. If I saw anything really offensive I could snap them shut.
But at the first flicker, my eyes opened all the way, wide. I thought the teenagers were dancing at first, but then the white pants and kimono-style jackets registered, along with their precise movements. “They’re doing karate routines?” I said, and Dane nodded.
“And the mattresses,” he said pointing with his toe, “are mats so nobody gets hurt. And the mirrors, which are on the walls, not the ceiling, are so they can see their form.”
He glanced at the group, who was paying no attention to us, but even so, he pulled me into a corner. “You don’t know anything about me, but before I was a fine upstanding police officer, I was a messed-up kid. When I got my act together, I made a promise to myself that I would try to help other kids stay out of trouble. So I give them free karate lessons and let them hang out here. They like to do the karate to music. And the condoms? These kids are going to do what they’re going to do when they’re not here, and I want them to be safe. They know where they are and can help themselves.”
Oh, was I embarrassed. I tried to edge toward the door. But Dane stuck to me like glue. “And the clothes you were so nosy about belong to my sister.”
“Chloe is your sister?” I said, and he nodded with an impish smile.
“You look cute with egg on your face. But now that you mention it, this room would be good for an orgy,” he teased.
When we got to the door, he leaned close. “I’m glad you decided to stay. The town would be lost without your muffins.”
My muffins! I had been so intent on everything with Kris and then the idea of leaving, I’d forgotten all about baking desserts for the Blue Door. And I was way behind schedule.
“How do you feel about cobbler for monday?” i said when lucinda answered the phone.
“Casey, I didn’t want to ask after all you’ve been through, but baking anything would be great.” I heard her turn away from the phone and tell Tag what I’d said. He took the phone from her.
“Wonderful about the baking, and could you do me a favor and pull off the strips of tape I stuck on the menus over homemade when I thought you were leaving?”
I said I’d do it and hung up.
It had been a very, very long day, but I looked forward to the baking. The quiet restaurant looking out on the quiet street would be soothing. I drove the Mini Cooper down to the deserted downtown and parked next to the restaurant.
As I walked inside I felt like I was just where I belonged. I turned on some soft jazz and began to lay out ingredients, feeling the tensions of the day melting away. I was surprised to hear a tap at the door. I thought it was probably Lucinda, but when I looked out through the window on the door to the darkened porch, I saw tiny colored lights that kept changing hue. When I got closer, I saw that they were shaped like flowers.
Dr. Sammy smiled at me when I opened the door. “If I bring them inside, they’ll go off,” he said, referring to the bouquet he was holding. “It’s nothing magic; they’re solar lights.” He stuck them in the flowerpots that hung from the railing, and the flowers continued their mesmerizing color dance.
“What are you doing here? Did your flight get canceled? Are my parents waiting in the car?”
“No, my flight didn’t get canceled and your parents aren’t in the car; they’re probably flying over Denver by now. And as for your first question . . .” His eyes were warm, and he hesitated as though looking for the right words.
“After spending the weekend here, I knew I liked this area. I decided to stay a while longer and check it out. My partner was glad to take over my patients for the time being. A friend from med school has a practice in Monterey, and I heard he was looking for a new partner.” Dr. Sammy shrugged his eyebrows in optimism. “Who knows, huh?” He looked inside. “Can I come in?”
I held my arms out, gesturing him in. He glanced around the restaurant’s main dining room, which had once been the living room. “So, this is what you do at night.” He stuck his head over the counter and looked in the kitchen. “Very nice.”
I must have looked shocked and maybe a little upset. “Don’t worry. I’m not stalking you.” He pointed to the large yellow Victorian house on the corner I knew was a bed-and-breakfast. “I’m staying there for now. I looked out the window, and there you were. I just popped over to say hi.”
“Did my parents put you up to this?” I said, eyeing him warily.
“No, Case, I’m just checking out the area. No strings between us, but we are friends, r
ight?”
I nodded, not sure of how I felt.
“Your parents not only didn’t put me up to this, they thought I was being irresponsible, illogical and reckless.” He wiggled his eyebrows in an effort to look devilish and grinned. “In other words, I’m acting like an outlaw.”
All I could do was roll my eyes and hand him the flour sifter.
Casey’s It-Only-Looks-Complicated Scarf
U.S. size 13 (9mm) knitting needles
2 skeins Lion Brand Amazing yarn, worsted-weight, 53% wool, 47% acrylic, (147yards/1.75oz/50g)
Tapestry needle
Crochet hook (for fringe)
Piece of cardboard 5 inches wide
Scissors
Gauge is not important for this project.
Cast on 17 stitches.
Row 1: Knit across.
Repeat row 1 until the scarf is approximately 70 inches long. Bind off and weave in ends. Attach 5 evenly spaced fringes across each of the short ends. Trim the ends so the fringe is even.
Fringe: Wrap the yarn around the cardboard 20 times and cut across one end to yield 20 strands of yarn 10 inches long. Take two strands and fold in half. Working at one end of the scarf, bring the crochet hook from back to front. Keeping the yarn ends even, hang the folded yarn on the hook and pull the loop partway through to the back. Using the hook or your fingers, pull the tails of the yarn through the loop and tighten.
Heal the World with Chocolate Muffins
1 stick unsalted butter (4 ounces), melted and cooled
2 large eggs, well beaten
1 cup buttermilk
2 tsp vanilla extract
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1 cup sugar
2½ tsp baking powder
½ tsp salt
1 cup semisweet chocolate chips
Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Butter or line with paper inserts 14 muffin cups.
Yarn to Go Page 25