by Terri Thayer
He took the key from my hand and opened the back door. I passed him and set the security code to turn off the alarm.
"Sorry," he said.
I said, "I didn't think you'd be coming."
Kevin tried for a light tone. "I haven't missed a big sale at QP since I was sixteen."
Without good sales, today, this would be the last big sale. Or second-to-last. There would always be the Going-Out-of-Business sale.
Kevin said, "Who would help Mrs. Cook out to the car with her purchases? She buys enough fabric to fill her Mini to the roof."
He stopped in the hall, backlit by the parking lot's lights.
"We're family, Dewey."
Kym would make him pay for being here, I knew. Tears pricked my eyes. He moved past me and turned on the store lights.
Vangie came rattling up on her bike. She had on a tie-dyed shirt and pajama pants printed with bright green frogs on chromedetailed motorcycles. Her long brown hair was tied back with a red print bandanna. She looked like a hippie, if hippies wore pjs.
I smiled at her. With Vangie and Kevin here, my mood began to lighten. Now all I needed was customers.
"Let's get this party started," she said. Her huge yawn swallowed her words and gave away her true feelings.
"You'd rather be in bed," I said.
She smiled. "But I'm here, aren't I?"
We did our usual opening routine, while Kevin unlocked the front door and lit the open sign. Vangie put the till money in the drawer. I thought about how yesterday's request for change had led to a chain reaction of events.
We usually had an extra cash-only pay station open on sale days, letting people check out at the office window, but I told her not to bother setting it up. We wouldn't need it today. Lines of paying customers were not going to happen.
At quarter past six, five women arrived in pajamas, robes, and slippers. These were the hard-core bargain seekers. I let them in and turned them over to Vangie and Kevin. I positioned myself in the office, not wanting to witness firsthand the failure of the sale.
I ignored the pressure in my chest and tried to immerse myself in work. The database had not been completely updated, and I saw a new shipment of bolts that had never been checked in.
Instead, I found myself on the Internet, going to the eBay site over and over, looking at Celeste's pottery. Bids were suspended. Both of the would-be sellers were dead. And their owner in jail.
Another kind of failure.
Those first customers made their purchases and left by sixthirty. No one else came in.
Online, I stayed away from anything quilt-related, especially the guild e-mail list. I left my inbox unopened. I was sure ruthbequiltin and her friend would not be coming in to help out. I didn't want to know what the other women were saying about QP. I would be forever known as the quilt store with the murders in her alley. And a murderer as a regular customer. Not exactly the image to attract the average quilter.
I didn't have the heart to update the database. It wouldn't matter if we weren't open for business.
Vangie came into the office a little after seven. The deepest discount period was over; now the discount was only twenty-five percent.
"Did the scissors sales pick up after I left yesterday?" I asked her. Maybe the online store had produced some sales that I didn't know about.
She shook her head. "I don't get it. The sales didn't roll in. I'm sorry. I was so sure..."
"Hey, we tried, kiddo. That's what matters"
I tried smiling at her, failing dismally. I wandered out front. Kevin was dusting the highest shelves. He'd already found ways to make himself useful. The very top of our shelving units were over six feet tall, out of reach for me and most of my employees, but for Kevin it was an easy stretch to use the feather duster.
"Pink's not really your color," I said. I looked around the empty store. "Some sale, huh?"
"It'll get better," he said. At least he didn't remind me that this was probably the worst sale he'd ever attended.
"Mom's legacy," I said, pointing to the scissors display. The pretty scissors shone. "There's a hundred more where those came from." It hurt to think of how much money I'd spent.
Kevin squinted. "Kym has a pair of those."
"Yes, and because she used them on the TV show, I decided to buy as many as I could. I used the money from Mom's life insurance policy. Bad call, wouldn't you say?"
Kevin leaned in. "Know what I used my insurance money for?" he asked conspiratorially.
I steeled myself, praying my sisterin-law hadn't talked him into paying for a boob job.
He said gleefully, "Fantasy Baseball Camp. I leave next week."
I burst out laughing. "Kevin, you did not."
"Mom would approve," he defended himself. I got it that Kym didn't.
He was right about Mom. I gave him a hug, feeling the solid warmth that came from knowing my brother was on my side. Feeling better, I went back to my office.
"So how's it looking for the online store?" I asked.
Vangie said carefully. "There are a few orders in there."
That didn't sound good. "How many?"
Her voice was defeated. "Two"
My jaw dropped. "Two? That's it?"
Vangie nodded miserably. "I don't understand it," she said.
"I'm going on the guild listserv," Vangie said.
"No, don't!" I yelled. I started toward her. "I can't stand the thought of those biddies talking about us. I can just hear quiltingsassy now. `Murdering quilters are having a field day at Quilter Paradiso. Don't set foot over there unless you want your throat cut"' I ended with a snorting laugh that sounded even to me more like a sob. I took a breath. I had to keep it together.
Vangie kept her mouse moving, ignoring me. "Oh, boy."
Her voice sounded strangled. My heart skipped a beat. "Vangie, please..." I began.
She said, "You're going to want to read this."
The front door chimed and I heard Kevin cheerily greet a customer. I looked out there. To my surprise, a group of seven was right behind her. The back door opened and four more quilters came in.
What was going on?
"Nang," I said slowly. "We better get back on the floor."
She looked up. "That's what I've been trying to tell you. Read some of these messages. They're rallying the guild to come out and support you."
I slid over to her machine. She went out of the office to greet the customers. She had a digest version of the guild list up.
Ruthbequiltin wrote, "Dewey is the one who found Gussie before she was killed."
Mamma7l said, "Let's put our money where our mouth is. Go to Quilter Paradiso and spend, spend, spend."
The messages were running like that. One quilter offered to pick up anyone who lived in the Villages, a local retirement community and quilting hotbed. She had room for six.
I looked at the clock. Just about eight. The discount period was almost down to twenty percent. I could maintain a good profit at that discount.
Ina and Jenn were due in any minute, but I would need more help than that. I called my father. He didn't answer. This was his swimming time at the YMCA.
I left a message on his machine. "Dad, I need you to come to work today. We're getting busy and it looks like it's going to stay that way."
I was afraid he'd consider helping me out to be taking sides, but I hoped he'd show up.
I parked several bolts of fabrics on the shelves where they belonged, and answered a tiny lady's question about fat-quarter packs. The door chimed continually as customers flowed in and out. I went back for another stack. We couldn't cut fabric fast enough.
"What can I do?"
Buster appeared at my side and took the bolt out of my hands. I felt my burden lessen. This was the first time I'd seen him since I'd left him in my bed this morning. He'd shaved and showered and slept a little longer. The worry lines of last night were gone. His shoulders were relaxed. Our nighttime encounter had done us both a world of good
.
"I see you engaged in a little recreational ironing," I said, laughing. His red plaid shirt was stiff with starch.
He looked down, and shot his cuffs. "What can I say? My day just goes better when I start with a sharp crease."
He frowned as I unbuttoned the top four buttons on his shirt. He was wearing a Quilter Paradiso T-shirt underneath. I unbuttoned one more.
"Got to let that logo show." I patted his chest.
He looked around guiltily, then leered at me. "You had me worried for a moment. I thought you were going to ravish me on the floor of the kitchen."
I put on a coy look. "Actually, last night was great and all, but I was thinking of imposing a moratorium on sex..." I said, laughing at my own joke and spoiling the punch line.
"That genie is out of the bottle," he laughed.
"So to speak," I said. I fought the urge to kiss him and settled for a more appropriate peck on the cheek. He squeezed my arm.
"Let me get to work. Show me where this stuff goes," he said.
I followed him, pointing out the places to put the bolts.
When we were in the back corner of the store where there were no customers, I said, "What's the word on Celeste?"
"She's not talking, but we found Gussie's money in a tapestry bag by the front door. She was ready to leave town."
I shuddered at how close Celeste had come to making a clean getaway after killing Larry and Tim Shore, and almost killing Gussie as well.
"The CSI unit found poisonous seeds in her house. I take it they came from the weeds next door. A few seeds in the marijuana cigarette was all it took to kill Tim Shore. There's evidence that she'd hidden Larry in the inglenook before Gussie, but he got away. That's who people saw in the neighborhood. Not a drunk. Larry, feeling the effects of the poison."
I shook my head and sighed.
Buster continued, "Zorn thinks she knew she wouldn't be able to dispose of the bodies, so she figured she'd just lock them in there, let them die from the poison, and then leave town. Luckily, she didn't give Gussie much."
"Yikes"
"If you hadn't gotten to her when you did, she'd have been a goner. When the tox screens come back, we'll have enough to put Celeste away for the rest of her life"
I felt a stab of sadness. This was Celeste, one of the original Stitch 'n' Bitch group. "Oh, Buster, she's an old lady."
He put on a fake gangster accent. "Who tried to kill my best girl. For that alone, she should go down the river."
I laughed at his attempt to cheer me up. He rubbed his hands together. "You've got a boatload of people here. What's next?"
"Can you cut fabric?"
Buster rolled his eyes in my direction. "I can handle a gun, I think I can use a rotary cutter."
I said, "Yeah, well, don't come crying to me when you cut your fingertip off."
A stubby blonde stopped me to ask questions about the Home for Christmas quilt kit. When I looked up, Buster was standing behind the second cutting table. A group of women had gathered and were giving him advice. One pushed him out of the way and cut her own piece.
I caught his eye, and flashed my eyebrows at him. "Oh brother," I said, laughing. "You really know how to work this crowd." He shrugged happily.
The rest of the morning flew by. I helped Vangie bag the customers' purchases. It was close to noon, and there were at least forty customers milling about. The noise level was high with happy talk. Despite the fact that the discount was a mere 20 percent by now, they were all spending money freely. Most had armloads of fabric, kits, patterns, and notions.
And scissors. The palm-handled scissors were one of the most popular items of the day. I sent up a silent thanks to my mother. I'd be able to replace the insurance money in my account, saving it for another rainy day.
The hair on the back of my neck stood up as a memory of her, standing in just this spot during another sale long ago, flitted across my mind. She'd loved to bag herself, so she could exclaim over their brilliant ideas and exhort them to return with the finished products. Quilter Paradiso had been her dream, had been her store, and she'd been happy here.
But now it was mine. I felt myself take my place in the store, alongside my mother. In my store. Quilter Paradiso was now QP.
In a short lull, Vangie pulled up a sales report.
She said, "The sale is going well. At this rate, we should be able to pay off all our bills, and have enough left over to get us through to the new year."
I held up a warning hand. "Don't jinx it."
"Are you putting a flyer in every bag about the new QP Online?" she asked, worry lines growing on her forehead.
"I am," I said. "The online store business should pick up soon."
"And then we can work twenty-four hours a day," Vangie singsonged. "Gotta love that Internet."
My father arrived with sandwiches. I felt my ears burn as I wondered if he would stay. Behind him, Sean was carrying a case of bottled water. My other brother, Tony, was toting a huge cheesecake. One after the other, they kissed and hugged me. It felt so good to be in the circle of my family. I choked back happy tears.
Kevin looked over at me. He looked sad, and I knew he was missing Kym. My heart broke a little for him, but I also knew that Kym didn't belong here anymore.
"Looks great, kid," Dad said, looking around the store. I know he noticed every change I'd made. "Okay if I stick around for a bit?"
I smiled at him. It wasn't much, but it meant a lot coming from him.
Dad piled the sandwiches in my arms and said, "Take these into the kitchen. I want to be in on the action."
"Hey, Mr. Pellicano," Vangie said. "What's this about wanting a little action? I bet I know a couple of women in this room who would give you a tumble."
"Okay, that's it," I said, pointing at Vangie. "You go eat lunch." Vangie and my dad grinned, enjoying my discomfort way too much.
Vangie took a sandwich into our office.
Kevin found me. "I've got to go, sis."
I hugged him. "Thanks for coming, Kev."
He hugged me back. "We're okay," he said. "You're my family. I'll always be here for you"
I kissed his cheek and rubbed the back of his head. "Same here."
Vangie shouted. I made my way quickly over to her.
"You okay?" Buster was right behind me, carrying a bolt of fabric under each arm.
"I'm fine," Vangie said.
"Hey, that's my fabric," a spiky redhead called after him. She blocked his way. I smiled at him, and he followed her back to a cutting table.
In the office, Vangie was pounding the desk, making her mouse jump.
She said, "I'm an idiot. I can't believe what I did," she said. She grinned from ear to ear and crowed. "I screwed up the confirmation button on the QP Online site. All of the orders have been going to the wrong e-mail address. I just checked the old inbox and it's full of messages. There must be at least fifty orders in here."
I looked over her shoulder. E-mails had come in from all over. I saw plenty from the East Coast, then Germany, New Zealand. Paris, France.
"I'm going to be filling these orders until the middle of next week," she said, her voice higher than usual.
"Are you okay with that?" I said tentatively.
She looked at me with a huge grin. "Are you kidding? I'm ecstatic."
Ruthbequiltin and her friend, Karen, came to help out so everyone could have a lunch break. When traffic eased after three, I was ready to sit down. I should have been exhausted, but I was giddy from the contagious laughter of my customers.
I grabbed a sandwich and went into the relative quiet of the classroom.
I found Ina and Pearl sitting by the Old Maid's Puzzle quilt. I joined them at the nearest table and unwrapped my sandwich. I'd ended up with salami and cheese instead of turkey and it was slimy from having sat out for most of the afternoon, but I was too hungry to care. Besides, eating a lousy sandwich would mean I'd feel more entitled to follow it with the cheesecake. That would be my
real sustenance later when things calmed down.
I said to Pearl, "I'm sorry that you ended up with the handquilting detail. I know that's not your favorite thing to do."
Pearl smiled at me. "I'll let you in on a secret. I'm faking it. I haven't quilted at all today. My fingers are too sore. I shove the needle over to anyone who walks in here. At least thirty people have quilted on it. Get this. I recruited one of your customers to finish it up for us next week."
I high-fived her. "Nice job. You're a trip."
She smiled at me. "No, just too old to do anything I don't want to do."
"What a concept. When do I get to be that old?" I asked.
"You're just a babe in the woods," Ina said.
I pointed to their envelope of cash. "How many tickets have you sold?"
Ina said, "Three hundred and sixty-four at last count."
My mouth fell open. I covered it to avoid giving them a bird'seye view of half-chewed lunch meat. "That's wonderful," I said. "Gussie will be so proud of you."
At the mention of their friend, the two women exchanged a sad glance.
I asked, "Is Gussie okay?"
Ina nodded. "The hospital said she was resting comfortably."
Pearl said testily, "Whatever that means. I mean, do they ever tell you she's resting uncomfortably? Isn't rest by its very nature comfortable? But hospitals are not comfortable by definition."
Pearl was back in form, ready to take on the medical community. It struck me that these two women would rather be with their friend than stuck in the QP classroom. "Do you want to go visit her?"
Ina said, "With that crowd out there? As soon as I finish my tea, I'm going back on the floor. It's fun. We'll see her after the store closes. Her daughter came down last night anyhow."
"Really?" That was a surprise. Maybe Gussie and Donna could start to repair their relationship.
I chewed my sandwich, feeling my belly fill up. The food was reviving me.
I had one thing to settle with Pearl. "No more hash brownies from you. Gussie's going to have to destroy the marijuana Celeste was growing in her garden."