Road Trip

by Jan Fields

  Annie knew she was never going to be a designer like Kate, but she liked the idea of being able to put her own stamp on her work. Her list included seashells, flowers, lighthouses and cats—although she never would have thought of cats before meeting Boots. Her favorite things had changed a bit since moving to Stony Point, and lighthouses and seashells made the list as a result. With her lists and notes in hand, Annie planned to start something new as soon as she got back to Stony Point.

  She paused in the hallway and looked toward the vendor hall. Actually, she thought she should go look at some of the vendor displays. She was fairly certain she’d seen one vendor who sold unusual buttons and charms. She might start a new project while she was still at the convention. That might also help take her mind off the nerves that constantly poked at her when she thought about her speech on Sunday. She took a peek at her watch. She still had time before meeting everyone for dinner.

  She shifted direction and headed toward the vendor hall with a spring in her step. Seeing the police detective in action had reaffirmed her belief that the mystery was in good hands, and that he didn’t need her help. Plus, seeing Kate win … well, that just almost made Annie feel like singing. She might even have given in to the urge and hummed a little bit, but no one at the convention needed to hear that!

  Thinking about singing made Annie’s mind drift to Ian, who was always very complimentary about Annie’s singing voice. Annie wasn’t sure if that might be diplomacy in action, though. Still, Annie realized she missed Ian a bit. Maybe they could do something together when she got home—just as friends, of course. She might even go see an action movie with him.

  Annie had reached the wide doorway to the vendor hall when someone snagged her arm. She turned in surprise to face Mr. Gold. The tall, thin man wore what Annie had come to think of as his uniform—a perfectly tailored suit. But she noticed the suit coat was open and his tie, embroidered with balls of yarn and knitting needles, was askew.

  “Mrs. Dawson,” he said, “we really must settle the question of contracts for your grandmother’s work.”

  Annie looked calmly at the tall, thin man. His face was flushed and shone under the bright overhead lights. Though Mr. Gold was not really a pool of calm any of the times she’d talked to him, he was definitely more flustered than usual. “Are you all right, Mr. Gold?” she asked.

  “I will be,” he said as he tried to herd her into the room. “Once you sign the contracts. I have chairs at our booth. You can come and sit and look over the contracts.”

  “I was hoping to do a little shopping among the booths,” Annie said, digging in her feet so he couldn’t hustle her along.

  Mr. Gold’s voice rose slightly. “Mrs. Dawson, please. I need to have this settled to announce tomorrow.”

  “What if my answer is no?” Annie asked, feeling annoyed at being pressured.

  Mr. Gold’s eyes grew round behind his glasses. “We are offering very good terms,” he said.

  “But you are making me feel rushed and bullied,” Annie said calmly.

  Mr. Gold took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.” He looked around at people moving through the hall, but his eyes looked far away. “I really need this contract,” he said, and then he turned to her. “You see, ours is a family-owned company, Mrs. Dawson. And I’m … well, I suppose you could say I’m the black sheep of the family. Licensing your grandmother’s work would go a long way toward proving I’m right for the job I presently hold. A job I would like to continue holding.”

  “Why would it make so much difference?” Annie asked, honestly bewildered.

  “Mrs. Dawson, your grandmother’s unique vision is revered in the cross-stitch community,” the man said. “Every stitcher would love to be Betsy Holden. She didn’t just put stitches on a canvas; she created doorways to a world where life is simpler, better. The Golden Needle expects to make a great deal of money by licensing these kits and giving people a chance to bring a bit of Betsy’s world to life with their own needles. And you’ll be making a great deal of money as well.”

  Annie smiled. “I’m not really in need of a great deal of money,” she said. “I am not wealthy, but my needs are met.” She tilted her head to one side.

  “You have grandchildren, right?” Mr. Gold said, his voice sounding a bit desperate. “You could set up a college fund for them. Imagine their parents never having to worry about where that money came from.”

  Annie did like that idea. It would take some of the pressure off LeeAnn and Herb. It might even help Herb let go of some of his workaholic tendencies that so worried LeeAnn. “I could do that,” she said.

  The look of relief on Mr. Gold’s face was almost comical. Annie looked at him speculatively. “Clearly this means a great deal to you,” she said. “You obviously were traumatized when you thought my grandmother’s cross-stitched portrait might have been stolen the other night.”

  Mr. Gold’s eyes widened again. “Oh, I don’t even like to think about it,” he said. “Not just stolen, but stolen while it was my responsibility.” He shook his head. “No, I don’t want to even think about it.”

  “So, if you’d come into the display room while Max Lessing was in the middle of stealing it, you would have done something about it.”

  “Oh, certainly,” he said. “I would have speed-dialed 911 so fast, my phone would have blown up.”

  “I was thinking about stopping him more directly,” Annie suggested.

  Mr. Gold looked surprise. “You mean jumping him like some action hero?” He laughed. “I’m not really good at that sort of thing.”

  “So you wouldn’t have confronted the man,” Annie said.

  “Of course, I would,” Mr. Gold said. “I would have yelled, ‘Stop, thief!’ from the doorway where I could run if he came after me. Really, I’m not much of a tough guy.”

  Annie looked at Mr. Gold. He certainly seemed sincere, but he was also desperate for the licenses for Gram’s art. And no kits could be created if the artwork was stolen.

  “So, Mrs. Dawson,” the thin man said. “Can we please go look over the contracts?”

  Annie looked up, distracted. Then she nodded. “Of course.”

  Reading the contracts and asking the needed questions took quite a bit longer than Annie expected. Finally she felt confident in the contract terms. She really did like the idea of Gram’s work helping with college for Joanna and John. And Gram would like that too.

  “How will you make the kits?” she asked, as she picked up the pen to sign the contracts.

  “Well, ideally, I would like to take the portrait back with me,” he said. “That way, the designers of the kits could work from the clearest possible reference. We would ship it back to you as soon as we were finished.”

  Annie frowned slightly, tapping the pen against the paper. “I’m not sure how I feel about that. After the strange things that have happened, I would worry constantly about the portrait.”

  “I assure you that we would take excellent care of the piece,” Mr. Gold said.

  “Is this really dependent upon you taking the portrait with you?”

  “No, I have a photographer here,” he said. “We can do a series of very close shoots. It’s not ideal, but it’ll work.”

  “OK, let’s do that then.” She looked down at the papers in front of her. “Does that need to be written on here anywhere?”

  “No, there’s nothing in the contract about how we get the design shots,” he said. “I’ll have someone take the portrait down and shoot photos this afternoon. So, are you comfortable signing?”

  Annie smiled into his worried face. “Yes, I’m comfortable. I think Gram would approve.” She bent over the papers and signed them. The relief on Mr. Gold’s face was so clear that Annie wondered again about what lengths he would have gone to in order to protect Gram’s work. Could it have driven him to violence?

  After signing, Annie peeked at her watch. She really should head toward the restaurant. She looked longingly at the rows of vendors. Maybe s
he’d have another chance before the mixer. Otherwise, she’d just have to wait until she got back to Stony Point and see what new things Mary Beth had picked up for the shop.

  Sighing, Annie headed out of the vendor hall. She wondered if she should make a quick call to the detective and mention Mr. Gold. She shook her head. Mr. Gold had reported the death in the first place, so the detective certainly would have questioned him. After all, on television, they often said the first person on the scene was a prime suspect. She needed to just leave this in the hands of the professionals.

  For once, Annie managed to reach the restaurant entrance before everyone else, though she could see Mary Beth and Kate walking across the lobby with their heads together.

  “Are you still floating?” Annie asked Kate as her friends reached her.

  “Even more than you know,” Mary Beth said.

  Annie’s mind immediately went to the handsome police detective. “Oh?” she said.

  “Kate’s going to be a star!” Mary Beth said.

  “Oh, hardly,” Kate said, blushing. “I’m going to be in a new magazine, Hook and Needle Artistry.”

  “It’s more than that,” Mary Beth said. “She’s going to be on the cover!”

  “Oh, Kate, that’s wonderful,” Annie said. “I’ll definitely buy a copy.”

  “There’s more,” Mary Beth said. “Tell her.”

  Kate looked around. “Maybe we should wait for Stella. You know she doesn’t like to hear things after everyone else.”

  Annie smiled at that. Kate was right. Stella and Mary Beth had a lot in common that way. They liked to know everything about everyone—and they liked knowing it first.

  “I hope I didn’t hold everyone up.”

  They turned to see Stella walking toward them from the front doors to the hotel. “You were outside?” Mary Beth said. “Was your cellphone having trouble in here too?”

  “I do not own a cellphone,” she said. “Jason carries one for emergencies, but I believe that telephone calls can easily be made from normal phones. I detest the constant sound of people chattering on phones everywhere.”

  “The worst is restrooms,” Mary Beth said, nodding. “More than once I’ve thought the person in the next stall was trying to strike up a conversation, only to realize she was on a cellphone.”

  “I could never use a cellphone in the bathroom,” Kate said. “I would be worried about what the person on the phone might hear.”

  “I’ve never given that much thought,” Annie admitted.

  “Surely we have something better to talk about,” Stella said. “Kate, I haven’t had a chance to congratulate you on your win this morning. I definitely felt you deserved it. The other outfits were lovely, but yours really was beyond comparison.”

  “Thank you, Stella,” Kate said, giving the older woman an impulsive hug, which Stella accepted stoically.

  “Kate has even more good news,” Mary Beth said, then she told Stella what Annie had already heard.

  “The interview was this afternoon,” Kate said. “I’m so glad Mary Beth went with me since she had brought several of my design pieces along with her.”

  Mary Beth grinned. “I knew you were going to win, and I wanted to be prepared when someone wanted to see more of your work.”

  “Well, I was scared half to death at the interview. I’m sure I sounded goofy.”

  “You sounded modest and lovely, just like always,” Mary Beth assured her. “Though it took a while before the photographer could snap a picture that didn’t make Kate have that deer-in-the-headlights look.”

  “I felt like a deer caught in headlights,” Kate said as they walked into the restaurant.

  They were quickly seated. “I really thought we’d have to wait,” Mary Beth admitted. “With so many people at the convention, you’d expect the restaurant to be packed.”

  “We’re eating a bit late for Texas time,” Annie said. “A lot of folks still keep ‘rancher’s hours.’ Work hard, eat early, go to bed exhausted—that’s the Texas way.”

  “Did you have trouble adjusting to Maine hours when you moved?” Kate asked curiously.

  “I haven’t adjusted yet,” Annie admitted. “I still tend to catch an early dinner when I’m home alone. Which Boots really appreciates, I can assure you.”

  Her friends laughed. “I expect Boots misses you,” Kate said.

  “I don’t know about that. Alice spoils her horribly. Though the last time I came down to Texas, Boots snubbed me for days after I got back to Grey Gables.”

  “Cats are like that,” Mary Beth said. “They don’t like you slipping free from your cat slave leash.”

  Again, they laughed lightly.

  “I wish I could have a cat,” Kate said wistfully. “I’ve always liked the idea of curling up with my crocheting and a cat on my lap.”

  “A cat on your lap chewing on the dangling yarn and trying to swat the hook out of your hand,” Annie said.

  “OK, maybe my fantasy life isn’t totally realistic,” Kate admitted.

  “Speaking of fantasy life,” Mary Beth said, her eyes sparkling, “what about that good-looking detective? Didn’t I see him talking to you this morning after the meeting? That’s why I didn’t rush over to congratulate you then. I didn’t want to spoil anything.”

  “There’s nothing to spoil,” Kate said firmly. “He works here in Texas. I live in Maine. What could possibly happen between us?”

  Mary Beth smiled. “Oh, surely I don’t have to explain that to you.”

  “Mary Beth!” Stella said, her tone fraught with scandal.

  Mary Beth shrugged. “Just saying. And he is very handsome.”

  “Sure,” Annie said dryly, “and no one we know would tease Kate until she spontaneously combusts.”

  “Well, no teasing is going to be necessary,” Kate said. “Detective Matthews is here to do a job. And for the rest of the convention, I’m here to cheer on Annie!”

  “Oh, thank you,” Annie said. “But don’t remind me about tomorrow. I won’t be able to manage any supper if I think about it too much.”

  “You’ll do fine,” Mary Beth said. “Just let your heart guide you. That’s what Betsy would do.”

  Annie smiled, and then she remembered something. “You said there was more news from Kate besides the magazine article. What was it?”

  “They want Kate to do a regular column for Hook and Needle Artistry,” Mary Beth said. “And I totally think she should do it.”

  “But I’m no writer,” Kate said, shaking her head.

  “You do a wonderful job writing bits for my newsletter,” Mary Beth said, speaking of the small newsletter she put out irregularly for the shop. “You know that no one would ever get a copy if you didn’t write half of it.”

  “That’s totally different,” Kate said. “That’s just for our customer list.”

  “Which I am part of,” Annie said. “And I’ve always thought the things in the newsletter were very well written.”

  “I concur,” Stella said. “I believe you should seize this opportunity, Kate. Who knows where it might lead?”

  “I know where it might lead,” Kate said. “Embarrassment and scathing reviews from readers.”

  “You really need to give yourself more credit,” Mary Beth said, “and venture out. Risk taking is an important part of success.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Kate said, sipping from her water glass.

  “Don’t think, Kate,” Stella said tapping the table with her finger. “Do! Take the position.”

  Kate looked at each of their encouraging faces. “OK, I will.”

  “Good—so call Mr. Munderlay right now!” Mary Beth exclaimed.

  “At dinner?” Kate yelped.

  “I think we’ll survive the breech of manners this once,” Stella said dryly. “And we don’t want you to change your mind.”

  Kate rooted through her purse for her phone, and then held it up. “No signal. I’ll call after supper.”

  “You can
take the phone outside like we did yesterday,” Annie said. “I’ll go out with you. I owe you.”

  Kate sighed. “OK, but not until after supper. Assuming I can eat thinking about it.”

  “You’ve made the right decision,” Mary Beth said, patting her hand. “They’ll be delighted to have you.”

  16

  When they finished dinner, Annie followed Kate out to the walk in front of the hotel. Though the light was fading, the Texas heat still slammed them as soon as they stepped out of the door. Practically in unison, they slipped out of the sweaters they’d been wearing to avoid freezing in the air conditioning inside.

  Kate stared down at the phone in her hand, then she looked at Annie. “Do I really want to do this?”

  “You’ll be fantastic,” Annie said.

  Kate smiled. “I wish I had the confidence in myself that the rest of you seem to have.”

  “That’s why you have us!” Annie gave her friend a quick hug. “I’m going to walk over there and give you some privacy. Be brave!”

  “I’ll try,” Kate agreed.

  Annie walked down the wide walk to a spot where two pink dogwoods flanked a bench. She leaned close to sniff the flowers, breathing in memories along with the scent. Wayne had loved dogwoods, and they had several in their yard in Brookfield, along with a whole row of ornamental crab apple trees. In the late spring, the trees rained blossom petals onto the lawn. LeeAnn had called them “flower snow” when she was little.

  The memory of her piping voice and Wayne’s deep laugh was so sharp and clear that Annie gasped softly. How could that time seem both so far away and so close at the same moment?

  Annie sat down on the bench and looked out into the gathering shadows as evening continued to slip in on them. The tall lights that lined the walk came on in response to twilight, and Annie was surprised to see a familiar stocky figure appear in the pool of light under the farthest lamp. It was Mr. Harvester, hurrying up the walk toward her.

  Annie assumed the man would march right by her, but instead he stopped and looked down on her. “Mrs. Dawson,” he said, “I cannot believe you sent that detective after me!”