by Tara Randel
“Good morning,” Mary Beth called out as Annie entered the store. “So glad you came back.”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Annie told her as she walked to the circle of chairs. “How are y’all this morning?”
“Great, now that Wally has another job.” Peggy smiled up at Annie. “Thanks.”
“I should be thanking you. I need the help.”
“I think I mentioned that Grey Gables was something of a lost cause,” Stella remarked in a frosty tone as she stitched away on her sweater.
“Not a lost cause, just in need of a makeover.” Annie tried to keep the frustration from her voice but was afraid it hadn’t worked. Not five minutes inside the door and Stella was already on her. “Wally and I have great plans,” she said brightly.
“Wally once built a bird feeder for me,” Gwendolyn announced to the group in general, her eyes never leaving her knitting. “I designed it myself, and he built it. The birds love it. I’ve had him build three more since then.”
That was random, Annie thought.
Peggy chuckled. “I’ve seen those feeders. They’re like vacation homes for birds.”
“You should see my seed bill.”
Everyone laughed, and the tension ratcheted down a few degrees, thanks to Gwendolyn’s bird feeders. Maybe today’s meeting would go smoother than last time.
Hoping for just that, Annie took a seat and pulled her crocheting from her tote bag, covertly eyeing the women in the circle.
Kate didn’t say much but kept yawning and rubbing at the dark circles under her eyes. Gwendolyn chatted lightly about her busy weekend. Peggy ran on, aware of the tension flowing from Stella and trying to avert trouble on that front. Alice quietly worked on her cross-stitch, not adding much to the conversation. After Annie’s heart-to-heart with Alice, she figured her friend must be having one of those days, a day when she was out of sync and not sure of herself. Annie could relate. She’d had plenty of those days back home in Texas.
“Okay, ladies. I’m all yours until the next customer comes in.” Mary Beth dropped into an empty chair. “I’m not complaining, but we’ve been nonstop since this weekend. The tourists are starting to arrive.”
Kate looked up from the ledger book she was writing in. “I know. I’m in the middle of inventory, but I’ll take care of anyone who comes in while you’re busy with the group.”
“Thanks.” Mary Beth perched on the edge of the seat, her fingers tapping on her knees. “Okay, here it is. I’ve been thinking about doing something different for our annual project.” She stopped and addressed Annie. “Since you’re new to our group, I should probably explain.”
Annie nodded encouragingly, her curiosity aroused.
“Every year we work together to make a quilt or an afghan and sell it at the annual Fall Festival. We usually donate the proceeds to a cause close to our hearts.”
“Oh, like the Humane Society,” Gwendolyn said. “I have two rescue kitties at home, so I always give.”
“My charity is the Susan G. Komen for the Cure breast cancer research,” Kate said quietly. “My mom had cancer.”
“As you can tell,” Mary Beth resumed, “we each have our own favorites. But the bottom line is, we always do something together.”
“Sounds wonderful,” Annie told her, very much liking the idea of giving to the community in one way or another.
“But this year, I want to do something out of the box.”
Stella looked up from her knitting. “Why would you want to do that? What’s wrong with doing the same as we’ve always done?”
“I want to shake things up,” Mary Beth told her. “Since we have a new member in our group, I thought we should strive for something new.”
“That’s not what we do,” Stella stubbornly replied.
“Just hear me out.” Mary Beth’s lips turned up into an enigmatic grin. “I think you’ll like my idea.”
Gwendolyn leaned forward. “Oh my, this should be interesting.”
“Here’s the plan. We all come up with a personal project. Then we have a contest with all the finished pieces. At the Fall Festival, we let the townspeople vote. Then we auction the top winner off first and the proceeds go to the winner’s charity. Next we auction the other projects, and with that total, we donate the money toward something local. Like the Retirees’ Fund or Second Harvest or the new children’s wing at the hospital. What do you think?”
Silence descended on the group, and then everyone started talking at once, throwing out suggestions and making plans.
“Whoa, whoa,” Mary Beth yelled over the noise. “A little order here.” The group calmed down. “Remarks? Suggestions? Gwendolyn, you go first.”
“I like it,” Gwendolyn told her. “Competition makes for interesting results. Betsy and I had our own little competition going, for about as long as I can remember. Well, except for that time …” She clamped her mouth shut and glanced around the circle. Her eyes widened when she realized she’d said too much. “Let’s just say I got a bit carried away trying to uncover Betsy’s secret technique, and we didn’t speak for a long time after that.”
“The whole idea is different,” Alice allowed, if a bit hesitant.
Mary Beth turned from Gwendolyn to Alice. “Do I hear a but?”
Alice grinned, her face lighting up for the first time since Annie arrived. “But I think you’re right, Mary Beth. We should do something out of the ordinary.”
Kate nodded. “We’d probably make more money that way and get the entire town involved.”
“What do you think, Annie?” Mary Beth turned to her.
Annie held up her hands in defense. “I think I’m the newbie here. You should be the ones to decide. I’ll go along with whatever y’all choose.”
Stella never missed a stitch. “That is wise. After all, we’ve been doing this for years.”
“And from what Betsy once told me, Annie’s no slouch when it comes to pitching in for a cause. Besides,” Mary Beth leaned over and gestured toward the half-finished baby blanket, “she does impressive work. Why, look at the quality. As fine a job as you’ll find by any seasoned needlecrafter.”
Annie squirmed in her seat. She did not want to be the center of attention or the target of Stella’s ire.
“I’m not questioning her ability,” Stella defended. “Only her planning involvement, since she’s so new to town.”
“This time I have to agree with Stella,” Annie reluctantly admitted.
Mary Beth regarded her with a disappointed gaze, then jumped up to pace around the circle of chairs. Annie had to admire the woman’s enthusiastic energy.
“It’s good to have new ideas. That was one thing I could depend on Betsy for. She always came up with something innovative in her work and showcased it in the store.”
“That’s true.” Kate looked up from the ledger. “You just have to look at her cross-stitch work to see that.”
“Too bad she didn’t show her work to everyone,” Peggy grumbled.
Kate’s voice took on an edge. “It’s not like she left anyone out on purpose.”
“Well, she didn’t exactly invite everyone to her place to share her ideas.”
“She didn’t have--”
“Girls,” Gwendolyn barked sharply in the universal mother’s tone. “Really, it’s too bad Betsy didn’t leave something behind.”
This was Annie’s opportunity. Taking a deep breath, she bunched her hands into fists and tried to quell her nervous stomach. “Actually, she did.”
All eyes focused on Annie.
Peggy was the first one to break the silence. “So are you going to tell us?”
Annie glanced at Alice, who nodded affirmatively. Taking a deep breath she said, “Betsy left behind a never-before-seen cross-stitch.”
Mary Beth gaped at Annie. “What are you talking about?”
“I was up in the attic one day and happened to see a large object covered by a sheet. When I pulled it off, it was a cross-stitch. I’m not sur
e when my grandmother stitched it, but I have no doubt it’s her work.”
“And you’re only telling us this news now?” Peggy squeaked.
Kate scooted to the end of her seat. “What does it look like?”
“It’s a woman sitting on a porch swing at Grey Gables.”
Mary Beth wrinkled her brow. “That can’t be. Betsy only stitched scenes, not people.”
“That’s what Annie and I thought,” Alice said. “But I’ve seen it, and the work is beautiful.”
Stella set down her knitting. “If your grandmother never stitched people, how can you be sure it’s hers?”
“Her initials are in the bottom corner.”
“Perhaps someone else did the work and stitched her initials.”
“No, I’m sure it’s my grandmother’s. If you saw the style, you’d know it’s a Betsy Original.”
“Unless someone copied her style.” Stella warmed up to her conspiracy theory. “So much of her work was popular, therefore easy to copy.”
“You know, that can happen,” Peggy added, her gaze flickering to Stella. “You hear about forgeries all the time.”
“I’m sure it is Betsy’s work,” Annie assured her, keeping her frustration in check. She wanted to remind them that no one could copy her grandmother’s style, no one knew her secret. But she remained calm, realizing that no matter the topic, Stella fought every person on every front.
Stella’s knitting needles clicked away. “Perhaps you should have an expert check it.”
Why was Stella so obstinate about this? Did the woman ever quit? “I think I know my grandmother’s style.”
“And as I’ve said, she made pretty pictures, but really, none of it is very functional.”
An uncomfortable silence hovered over the women. Annie tried to rein in her temper, but Stella ruined the joy of sharing her discovery with the other women.
“There’s a bit of a mystery to this work,” Alice told the ladies. “We don’t know the identity of the woman in the cross-stitch.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know her?” Mary Beth asked, clearly intrigued.
“I don’t recognize her.” Annie let the yarn in her fingers go lax. “It isn’t a family member, which you would think it would be, considering she never stitched people.”
“Why does she have to be someone you know?” Stella asked. “Maybe your grandmother just put a woman in the scene, simple as that.”
“Maybe,” Alice said. “But since Betsy never stitched people, to have a woman in this work is different. She must mean something.”
Mary Beth tapped her finger against her chin. “This certainly is a departure from Betsy’s usual style.”
“Well, there you are,” Stella sniffed. “It can’t be an original then.”
Annie continued to glare at the older woman. “You haven’t seen the cross-stitch. How can you say that?”
Stella dropped her knitting on her lap and glared back at Annie. “I can say whatever I please. This is still a free country.”
“In the time I knew Betsy, she had lots of great ideas,” Kate said. “Just because this isn’t her usual type of work doesn’t mean she didn’t want to try a new style. Artists do that all the time. You know, stretch themselves.”
“Do you know something we don’t?” Peggy asked, brows low over her eyes.
“No, I’m just saying we shouldn’t jump to conclusions here.”
“Ladies, this is a wonderful surprise.” Mary Beth quickly tried to douse the flame of contention between them. “Let’s not get upset about this. We’re only speculating.”
“When can we see it?” Gwendolyn asked, anticipation--or was it the spirit of competition?--blazing in her eyes.
After Stella’s less-than-enthusiastic response, Annie didn’t really want to discuss the cross-stitch any longer. The older woman had sucked the joy out of her announcement.
Alice answered, making the decision for Annie. “It’s huge, surrounded by this really heavy frame. There’s no way I’d want to lug that thing around.”
“Well, there you are,” Stella said again as she resumed her knitting. “No need creating an uproar over something we haven’t had a chance to see. You wouldn’t want to disappoint your customers, Mary Beth, especially if it isn’t up to standards.”
“I think for now I’ll keep it at Grey Gables,” Annie told the group.
Disappointment showed on Mary Beth’s face. “Oh, I would so love to see it.”
“I’ll take pictures,” Annie told her, not wanting to hurt the shop owner’s feelings. Of all the women present, she’d accepted Annie from the beginning, and Annie didn’t want to dishearten her. But Annie was still a bit wary, even after her second meeting with these ladies.
Mary Beth smiled widely. “That will have to do. Thank you.”
“Just imagine, a new Betsy Original,” Kate whispered.
“Wait until this gets around town.” Peggy smiled, ready to add new fodder to the rumor mill. “We haven’t had this much buzz since--”
“Since the time the Taylor twins painted a mural that was in very poor taste on the side of the Grand Avenue Fish House,” Gwendolyn tsked and told them in all seriousness. “Those poor mermaids. They were a bit underdressed.”
Alice laughed. “This doesn’t even rate in the same category. It’s a Betsy Original, and it’s a real mystery. Now that, my dear friends, is excitement.”
Annie agreed with her, but after Stella’s response, she was torn. What if the rest of the town thought the same way as the older woman? Stella probably had lots of sway in this town. Maybe people wouldn’t believe the cross-stitch was an original. After all, Annie had just shown up in town and claimed to find this work up in Gram’s attic. Since her grandmother obviously hadn’t said a word about it, people might think Annie was pulling a fast one. They might think she’d planted it or, worse, created it herself and tried to pass it off as Gram’s. And if some people did believe her, would they help her figure out the identity of the woman, especially with Stella opposed?
She’d really hoped the Hook and Needle Club could help, but not one of them stood up to Stella. Why, she didn’t know, but right now, the reason didn’t matter. Cutting her losses seemed the best course of action.
Mary Beth reached over and patted Annie’s arm. “Promise me you’ll bring pictures to the next meeting.”
Annie scanned every woman in the circle. Kate’s eyes were wide, awaiting her answer. Peggy’s cheeks flushed. Gwendolyn’s lips curved into an encouraging grin. Stella’s brows angled in doubt.
Annie thought long and hard, finally saying, “I’ll bring pictures.”
7
The fine people of Stony Point might have reason to believe it was okay to pry information from Annie about her plans while she was in town, but she soon found out it was quite a different story uncovering information from them.
To please the ladies of the Hook and Needle Club, she’d taken pictures of the cross-stitch with her digital camera and printed extra copies on her portable printer. One, a close-up of the girl on the porch. Another, a wider view of the piece, including the small scenes. She put a set aside for the next club meeting. She put the other set in her purse, to keep handy in case she needed it, she assured herself. Maybe she could get some answers before the next needlecraft meeting and return with a stronger argument that this was her grandmother’s work. How she’d love to prove everyone wrong in the assumption that this might not be a legitimate Betsy Original.
Annie had a list of errands to run, so this would be her chance to show the photo to some of the locals if the opportunity presented itself. Starting a conversation was not the hard part. Figuring out what to do if the person she was talking to suddenly went tight-lipped, now that could be difficult.
She made a few stops before hitting the post office by midmorning. Annie carried in a care package for her grandchildren that contained little doodads she’d collected for them on her road trip from Texas to Maine.
“Not very busy today,” Annie commented as the postal worker weighed the box.
“Ayuh. Just missed the Monday morning rush.”
“So,” Annie glanced at her name badge, “Norma. Have you always lived here?”
“All my life.”
“Then you knew my grandmother, Betsy Holden.”
“You’re Betsy’s family?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Norma squinted her eyes. “You should be taller.”
Annie suppressed a grin.
“Betsy was tall.”
She and her grandmother were about the same height, but Annie wasn’t going to correct the woman. Instead, she eased her way into a more personal conversation. “You probably saw my grandmother’s needlework over the years.”
“Course I did. Pretty handy woman.”
“Yes. She always created beautiful scenes. I was wondering if maybe this looks familiar to you.” Annie pulled out the close-up and handed it to the woman. “I’ve been trying to figure out if the young woman featured in the piece is a relative.”
Norma squinted harder. “Can’t say.” She took hold of the glasses hanging over her chest by a long, beaded necklace and placed them on the bridge of her nose. “Doesn’t look like any of Betsy’s kin.”
“That’s what I thought. But you know, I can’t help but question why she would stitch a stranger …” Annie let her voice trail off, hoping the woman would take the bait and fill in any missing details, if there were any.
“Who says she’s a stranger?”
Hope rushed through Annie. “So you recognize her?”
“Nope. But if your grandmother knew her, she ain’t a stranger. Musta been someone important to her.”
Back to square one. Deflated, she reached out to take the photo from the woman when Norma said, “But that barrette looks mighty familiar.” She squinted closer. “Had one of those myself when I was a kid.”
“So that would have been--?”
Norma gazed across the room, her eyes unfocused as she thought. “Believe I got it at Bascom’s Department Store. My mother picked it out, thought it would hold my long hair up nice. When I had hair.” A gravelly chuckle sounded in her chest as she patted her short gray hair. “Course, that place closed up a while back.”