by Tara Randel
Mary Beth slowly accelerated and cruised the subdivision, coming to the end much too quickly.
“I could have sworn--” Kate mumbled in the back seat, still intently staring at the homes.
“I don’t know about you,” Peggy piped up. “But I’m ready to call it a day.”
After a round of agreement from the women, Mary Beth headed toward Main Street. “We can always try another day.”
“I think I can fit in another road trip,” Gwendolyn assured them in a cheerful voice, hoping to raise their spirits.
They drove less than a minute when Kate called out, “This is it!”
Mary Beth squealed to a stop.
Kate opened the door and jumped out to face a two-story colonial home.
“That doesn’t look like a barn,” Peggy stated the obvious as she stepped from the SUV, eyes squinted as she viewed the house.
“It’s not, Peggy.” Kate ushered them down the driveway. “I know the family who lives here. I’ve dropped Vanessa off here many times, you know, for sleepovers or pool parties. I recall seeing a converted barn out back.”
“Are you sure about this?” Peggy questioned, her brows furrowed as she stood her ground.
“More than sure. Let’s check it out. What have we got to lose?”
“How about getting arrested for trespassing,” Alice deadpanned.
“Don’t worry. I know the family who lives here. I’ll let them know what we’re doing.”
The pace picked up as they followed Kate, anticipation spurring them on as they turned the corner and hurried into the backyard.
“Is that what I think it is?” Peggy squealed.
“I think so,” Kate replied. As one, they all hurried to a barn nestled between tall pine trees, stopping before the structure, painted to match the white house with black trim.
“Okay, this could be it,” Alice allowed. “It’s in closer proximity to Grey Gables.”
Mary Beth held out her hand to Annie. “Let’s see the photo.”
Annie removed it from her purse. Huddled together to check it, they darted glances between the picture and the actual barn. In the cross-stitch, Betsy had used a different color scheme than that of the building before them, but there was a definite correlation in the shadowing of pine trees. The markings stitched on Betsy’s barn could also be used to compare the two.
“Anything match?” Mary Beth asked as she stepped closer to the structure.
Annie studied the image in the photo. “There’s a weather vane on the roof in the cross-stitch.”
Peggy looked up. “Not now. It must have been removed since Betsy stitched the scene.”
“It has a gambrel roof,” Mary Beth pointed out. “Like it’s an old-fashioned wood structure, not like those new steel barns folks use now.”
“If it was painted red with white trim, it would be a perfect match,” Peggy grumbled. “Which it’s not.”
Annie continued to view the photo. “Okay, there’s a shovel leaning against the wall, but that won’t help.”
“Wait,” Kate cried. “Look at the door leading to the hayloft.”
Heads went back, and everyone gazed up over the large access door to the smaller, window-sized door.
“In the cross-stitch, isn’t there a design in the wood door?” Kate asked.
Annie compared the photo and the hayloft door. “You’re right. The strips of wood are crisscrossed twice with a smaller cross pattern at the apex of each one.” She tried to contain her excitement, but failed. “My grandmother didn’t make up the design. She used this as her model.”
Mary Beth opened her mouth, dumbfounded. After a second, she found her voice. “We did it. We uncovered a clue.”
Annie hugged a beaming Kate.
“I can’t believe we found the barn because of me,” Kate said with surprise.
“Hey, I’m glad you went with your gut. I never would have thought to look here.”
“Neither did we.” Alice playfully patted Kate on the back. “Of course, we could always thank Vanessa.”
“Oh, don’t you worry. I will, for all of us, as soon as I get home.”
Annie dug around in her purse for the digital camera. “I’ve got to take a picture for LeeAnn.” She leveled a telling gaze at Alice. “To prove I’m not obsessed.”
She took a few shots of the barn, then had the women gathered together in front of the large door. “Proof positive we make a great team.”
About this time a woman walked out the back door,a questioning smile on her lips as she approached Kate.
“Now would be a good time to explain,” Kate said, hurrying away from the group to speak to the homeowner.
Holding up three fingers, Peggy said, “Three down, one to go,” as they trooped back to the SUV. “We’re on a roll.”
A self-satisfied grin curved Gwendolyn’s lips. “John thought this was a wild goose chase. He went golfing with his buddies this afternoon. I can’t wait to tell him we found the barn. That should quiet him down.”
“Men,” Peggy scoffed in the spirit of sisterhood.
Gwendolyn’s eyes sparkled as they all climbed back into the SUV to head home. “Seems I’m the one who scored today. And knowing my husband’s golf swing, he couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn.”
13
Rain kept Annie cooped up in the house for the next week, which meant no more road trips to find the last clue until the weather cleared up. She took the opportunity to start removing all the old wallpaper in the kitchen to ready the walls for painting. The job took more time and effort than she originally thought. Some of the paper had been on the walls for years, hiding multiple layers, especially the borders, which were high and hard to reach. Annie hadn’t used this much elbow grease in years, but she did now, scraping until her muscles ached. When she finally got down to the plaster, she breathed in relief, thankful the hard part was over.
She’d just climbed down the ladder when the doorbell rang. Hoping it was Alice so she had an excuse to take a break, Annie answered the door, only to find a stranger standing on the doorstep. Alarm skittered over her.
“Mrs. Dawson?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Roger Smith.” The man, in his thirties, handed her a business card. “If you aren’t busy, I’d like to talk to you about the Betsy Original. May I come in?”
Speechless for a moment, Annie took the card that did indeed have his name and a telephone number on it, along with the title, Collector. Nothing else. She looked back at him, at the pleasant smile, the expensive suit. But his eyes sent a shiver down her spine. Dark and dangerous were the words that came to mind. She gripped the door handle more tightly, afraid to do more than breathe as normally as possible and keep her voice even as she spoke.
“What about it?”
When she didn’t invite this stranger in, his eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second before he continued in a less than jovial voice. “I wanted to discuss purchasing the piece.”
“It’s not for sale.”
“Everything has a price, Mrs. Dawson.”
“Not this piece.”
“Let me tell you what I’d like to offer--”
“There’s really nothing to discuss, Mr. Smith. You’ve wasted your time coming here today.”
He hesitated a moment. “Why don’t you think about it, then give me a call?”
“There’s nothing to think about. It’s not for sale.”
Realizing she wasn’t going to budge, the man nodded, forcing a smile. “Just keep me in mind. Good afternoon.”
With that, he turned and walked to his car. She watched him until he disappeared from view. How on earth had a collector found out about the Betsy Original?
Of course, thought Annie, it was Mary Beth. She’d been so excited about the Original that she was talking to her customers about it. She should have realized this would happen once word got out that a newly discovered Betsy Original had surfaced.
But this man … she couldn’t quite pinpoi
nt the uncomfortable sensation that washed over her as he spoke. He wasn’t like any needlecraft collector she’d ever seen. Finally, she closed the door, her feet dragging as she walked into the living room.
She gazed at the Lady in the Attic, mentally asking questions she had no answers to. Compared to a few weeks ago when she had first found the cross-stitch, she could now identify three of the four scenes. She’d added every bit of information to her clue list, but it still didn’t give any hints as to the identity of the woman. Mix in the strange events and now this stranger wanting to buy the piece, and her trouble radar went into high alert.
Annie still couldn’t determine why her grandmother had picked this particular woman to be so prominent in the piece. And since Betsy hadn’t left any written info, other than the letter that may or may not have been written by her, it still didn’t help their discovery. Annie was no closer to finding the identity of the Lady than the day she found the framed piece in the attic, a fact that was really starting to bother her.
And now a stranger wanted to buy the Original. Annie would never sell it, of that she was sure. There was no amount of money that would make her part with her grandmother’s work. And she had a feeling that this guy showing up might be the first of others who would want to purchase the piece. She sighed. Things never got easier, did they?
The work on the house kept Annie busy, and the week blended into the next. She even missed the next Hook and Needle Club meeting. When she called Mary Beth to let her know she was still tied up at the house, Mary Beth expressed her disappointment, as the women were still pretty high on the victory of finding a clue to the cross-stitch. But she also understood that Annie needed to get this remodeling job done, that her focus needed to be on Grey Gables for a while.
In the midsummer, thunderclouds could linger for days. And as the overcast weather continued, Annie took out her frustration over not being able to hunt for clues by painting and sanding the floors, pretty much anything that would move the work load along.
By the following Friday, the sun finally broke through the gloom, ushering in the month of August. After being cooped up all week, Annie ventured out to the grocery store. Dressed in her work clothes of old jeans, oversized T-shirt, and sneakers, she hit the store for a few much-needed items, coffee being at the top of the list. Her stash was seriously low; if she wanted to make it through the upcoming days of painting, she needed a fresh supply. It was early enough to get in and out of the store without anyone catching her dressed this way. At least that was the plan, until she literally ran straight into Stella. Or at least her shopping cart did.
“Stella. I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”
“I can see that. No doubt daydreaming about your mystery.”
Annie smiled despite the woman’s sour expression at the sight of Annie’s clothes. Annie knew she looked pretty ratty today, so she couldn’t blame Stella for her reaction. “Actually, I was thinking about all I have to do at Grey Gables.”
“So you’ve put the house on the market?”
“No.”
“Then why bother with all the work?”
So much for subtlety. “Because I like living there. I enjoy fixing it up.”
Stella merely humphed.
Clenching her teeth, Annie decided to change the subject. Stella wasn’t going to change her views on the current ownership of Grey Gables, and Annie wasn’t going to try to persuade her otherwise. “I missed the Hook and Needle Club meeting this week. Were you able to make it?”
“No. I’ve had to put my knitting aside just now.” A slight frown marred Stella’s forehead. “Although I do hear from one of the girls daily.”
“We all agree that it’s not the same without you there.”
“And now you’ve become part of ‘we all’?”
Annie’s heart sank. She thought she’d been making strides fitting in here. Could she be mistaken? Had she taken her accepted presence in town for granted? She wasn’t sure she wanted the answers to those questions.
To cover her disquiet, she said instead, “I’d like to think so. You’ve all been kind to include me in your club. And I’m excited about the new project ideas.”
Stella’s high and lofty expression softened and grew a bit secretive. “I’ve been busy with a few projects of my own.”
Hmm. The rumors were true then. Stella did have something going on. As long as Stella seemed inclined to hint about it, Annie would take the bait. “What would that be?”
She shrugged. “I’m not at liberty to discuss anything at this point.”
Judging by the expectant look on Stella’s face, clearly she wanted to, so Annie prodded. “You have your own mystery going on?”
Stella puffed up. “Yes, you could say that I do.”
Finally, she’d made points. “Well, good for you. When you’re ready, I’d love to hear all about it.”
“Why?”
“Why would I be interested?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve heard the others talk about your involvement on museum boards and how you were involved with art projects in New York. I have to imagine you’ve got some great plans in store for Stony Point.”
The flattery made Stella’s lips curl up at the corners, which could almost be construed as a smile. “I’m still in the planning stages.”
“That’s why I can’t wait to hear about it, whatever you have planned.”
Stella’s eyes narrowed as she regarded Annie suspiciously. “You’ll hear about it with the others.”
“That means we’ll see you Tuesday?”
“If I can make it.”
The silence grew awkward after that, but Stella didn’t leave. Annie stood there for another moment longer, unsure where to go. As she was trying to decide how to handle the situation, Stella’s Jason approached. A tall man with thick black hair shot through with strands of gray, his tanned face lined by years of smiles, he appeared to be in his sixties, but his obvious good health made it hard to pinpoint. Dressed in a striped polo shirt, tan Dockers, and outrageously red sneakers, he looked like a man ready to hit the golf course, not chauffeur Stella around town.
“The Lincoln’s out front, ready when you are,” he said with a jovial tone, heavily laced in New Yorkese. He spied Annie and stuck out his hand. “Hello. I’m Jason.”
Annie retuned the greeting. “Annie Dawson.”
His eyes twinkled. “The other outsider?”
“Yes. From Texas.”
“Brooklyn, born and raised.”
“That would explain the accent.”
“I was gonna say the same thing.”
“Do you miss the hustle of the big city?”
“At first. Couldn’t get used to all this quiet. Those crickets sure bugged me when I first arrived.”
“And now?”
“Now I’m used to it. Mrs. Brickson keeps me busy, but she lets me get home a couple times a year.” He grinned, not one bit concerned about Stella’s evil eye. “She says sending me back to my roots makes me appreciate my job more.”
“Does that work?”
“Yep. Every time I have to fight city traffic or listen to sirens 24-7, I’m thankful I now live in a place that’s peaceful.” He took a step closer and lowered his voice. “She even has me working in her yard. Never did that back home.”
“It is soothing.”
“Not when Mrs. Brickson is issuing orders.”
“I heard that, Jason.”
Even though Stella wore a scowl, Annie could see she had a soft spot for the man. She suspected Stella depended on him more than she’d ever admit.
Stella angled her cart toward the front of the store. “We should be going.”
“Right.” Jason winked at Annie. “Secret meetings and all that.”
Stella snorted. “They aren’t secret if you announce it to the world.”
“Mrs. Brickson, you keep forgetting that this is a small town. Can’t keep much secret around here.”
“I can
try,” she muttered as she passed Annie.
“Nice meeting you,” Annie told him.
“I’m sure we’ll bump into each other again.”
Annie watched Stella’s retreat, wishing she could patch up the problem between them. She had no idea where to start. Guess she’d just have to cover Stella with kindness and hope the woman changed her outlook.
* * *
After days of dressing for a mess, Annie decided to go “girly,” wearing a cotton sundress in a soft shade of coral and low white sandals. She arrived early the following Tuesday for the Hook and Needle Club meeting, and for the first time since she’d been invited, she got there before the other ladies.
Mary Beth greeted her warmly, setting aside her disappointment in Annie for missing a meeting. “We missed you last week.”
“And I missed ya’ll too, but you wouldn’t believe the work I’ve accomplished. The grand old house is really starting to shape up.”
“We’ve heard. Wally told Peggy the work is coming along.”
“Wally is a great handyman. Alone, I couldn’t have done a fraction of the work he’s done. I really appreciate his help.”
“Not any more than they appreciate the work. Usually he gets more jobs during the summer when folks come to evaluate the condition of their summer homes and see firsthand the work needed after a hard winter. I’m assuming Grey Gables is more than just one winter’s worth of work.”
“You’d think, but the house has really held up over the years. The exterior needed most of the attention, and Wally’s finished the difficult part. He mentioned taking another job, so the timing worked for both of us.” Annie placed her tote on one of the chairs in the circle. “The inside is mostly cosmetic. The painting seems endless, but in the long run, the transformation will be amazing.”
Mary Beth joined her, a knowing grin on her lips. “Since you’ve been busy, does that mean you haven’t been crocheting?”
“To be honest, not really.”
“Then you need to catch up.”
“The blanket is nearly finished. It’s the fall project I’m stumped about. That’s why I came by early today. I wanted to ask what you think I should do.”
To Annie, this new project wasn’t about coming up with the most clever or unusual crocheted item. No, this project was more about Annie making inroads to the community. Hoping to be accepted as one of the Hook and Needle Club members, not Betsy’s visiting granddaughter.