by Tara Randel
“That’s part of the fun of this group project. Everyone comes up with her own idea.”
“I’ve been so busy with the house, I haven’t had a chance to really sit down and explore the possibilities.”
“I’ve noticed you admiring Kate’s work. Why not ask her for pointers? I know she’d appreciate it.”
“I think I’ll do that. If you don’t mind,” Annie said, “I’m going to look over your book rack and see if any ideas catch my eye.”
“You know,” Mary Beth said from across the room, “I’ve been thinking a lot about your Betsy Original.”
“Now that you mention it, I wanted to ask you something. Have you had any collectors asking about the piece?”
Mary Beth frowned. “No. I’ve mentioned it to some customers and someone from the New England Stitch Club, but not in the context of it being for sale. Why do you ask?”
“I’ve had an offer.”
“Really?” Mary Beth’s hand flew to her throat. “I hope I haven’t started a problem.”
Somehow, Annie couldn’t see Mary Beth doing business with the man who’d shown up on her porch. “No. I just wanted to know if I could expect more offers.”
“Honestly, I don’t know.”
Annie shrugged, hiding her doubts. She didn’t want Mary Beth to worry about this.
“Well, as I was saying, I always got the feeling your grandmother never did anything randomly. Have you thought any more about why she created it?”
“Believe me, I’ve wracked my brain over just that. Trouble is, nothing specific stands out to me.” Annie hesitated. Much as she tried, she couldn’t think of any conversation she’d had with her grandmother that would relate to it. Betsy had simply never alluded to it at all. Yet she’d taken great care to protect the piece while it was stored in the attic. And that was the kicker. Betsy never kept her work up there. Even as she worked on a design, she kept her fabric and floss handy in a basket by her favorite chair so she could stitch whenever time allowed. What had caused her to hide this particular piece?
“Then it must have been special to her, don’t you think?”
“All her pieces were special, but this one seems to stand out. It’s so elaborate. That’s why I don’t understand why she kept it in the attic.” Annie removed a crochet book that interested her and wandered back to the circle. “If my grandmother left any clues she intended for me to find, she hid them well, because I haven’t found anything to go on.”
“I just have a hard time seeing Betsy as … a schemer. She was always straightforward.”
“Trust me, she could be wily at times. Especially when she wanted me to do a chore or two without making it look like work.”
“I think that’s a trait all grandmothers possess.”
“She even roped Alice in a few times.”
“And I bet you both had a ball. Why I remember--”
Just then the door burst open and Peggy ran inside, her face flushed and her eyes wide.
“You aren’t going to believe this. I just heard from Matty Waters, who was talking to Sue Lancaster, who knows Edie Borman. Edie is a member of the Historical Society but also part of Stella’s other group of friends.” She stopped to catch a much-needed breath. “And do you know what Edie supposedly said?”
Mary Beth grinned. “I can’t imagine.”
“Stella and Liz have formed a committee to start a new cultural center, and she wants the first exhibit to be about textiles. She wants to have a fund-raiser to promote the exhibit.”
“Gee,” Alice drawled as she and Kate strolled in during Peggy’s tirade. “Wonder where she got that idea from?”
“From Mary Beth.”
“Sometimes Peggy misses sarcasm,” Alice whispered to Annie.
“That will interfere with our project. What are we going to do?” Peggy demanded.
“I don’t think there’s much we can do.” Mary Beth patted Peggy’s arm and led her to a chair. “Once Stella makes up her mind, she’s pretty hard to stop.”
Peggy sank into a chair. “It’s not right. She stole our idea.”
“Mary Beth’s idea,” Alice corrected.
“What about Mary Beth’s idea?” Gwendolyn asked as she breezed through the door.
Peggy jumped up and relayed the story again.
“Oh my. She isn’t terribly original.”
Peggy crossed her arms over her chest, a mutinous frown on her face. “She should have asked us to be a part of this.”
“Ah, the crux of the problem.” Mary Beth joined the younger woman, placing an arm around her shoulders. A sense of hurt laced Mary Beth’s voice. “You’re right, though. She could have asked us to participate.”
Gwendolyn unpacked her yarn and needles. “We would have been the logical people to ask.”
Annie intently watched the women’s downcast faces. Anger started to roil in the pit of her stomach. Stella may not like the idea of the club’s interest in a new Betsy Original, but that was no reason to hurt her friends. And worse, they’d been loyal, staying in touch even though Stella had left the group. If she was only doing this to get back at Annie for breaking the status quo by being welcomed into the club, would the women rally around Annie as they had Stella? After all, Annie was the newest member. Stella had made it more than clear that she’d like Annie to go back to Texas. Would they all agree? No matter how Annie analyzed it, it all came back to Stella acting out once Annie arrived.
“Is there any way to change her mind?” Alice asked.
“Sure,” Annie shrugged. “Stop looking for clues about the Lady in the Attic.”
Peggy’s face scrunched in confusion. “Who?”
Annie grinned sheepishly. “That’s what I named the woman in the cross-stitch.”
“Cute,” Alice said, “but I doubt we want to stop looking now. We’ve come so far.”
Gwendolyn studied the piece she’d been knitting. “This’s true.”
“I agree,” Mary Beth added.
“And we don’t want to call Stella out on this?” Alice continued.
“Well, maybe you should …” Annie started.
“But she is our friend,” Mary Beth finished. “At least I thought she was.”
Silence filled the room as the ladies contemplated their newest dilemma.
“There’s two ways to handle this,” Gwendolyn finally announced. “We ignore the fact that Stella wants to do a fund-raiser without us, or we confront Stella and let her know she’s hurt our feelings by not including us.
“In the years we’ve known Stella, we’ve seen her try toget the cultural center started more than once, but something always keeps her plans from moving forward. Maybe she’s afraid things will fall apart again before the final stages, and she’ll be embarrassed. If we act like her plans don’t bother us, and this time she’s successful in opening the center, then she may very well include us later on.”
“I’d forgotten about that,” Kate, who had been silent this whole time, spoke softly as she sat in the chair next to Peggy. “Maybe she hasn’t even considered that her new plans would bother us.”
“Well, this does bother us,” Peggy pouted.
“We can’t let her see that,” Kate replied. “Remember how we all agreed to keep tabs on Stella while she stays away from the club meetings? Now would be an easy time to stop calling her. And knowing Stella, she’ll need our friendship if nothing comes from her plans for the center.”
Mary Beth rose up to her whole five foot, two inches. “If I may be the spokeswoman of the club?”
As if she wasn’t already.
“Gwendolyn and Kate are right. We ought to go on with life as normal. Don’t encourage Stella, but don’t let on like this affects us one little bit. We wait and see if this cultural center really happens. Between all of us, we have plenty of pieces to add to a textile exhibit if she asks. We’ll wait her out. She may be using the cultural center as an excuse to stay away from our mystery, but we can’t jump to conclusions, just in case
the center opens. And we do want Stella to succeed, don’t we?”
“And if she still doesn’t include us in the fund-raiser?” Annie asked.
“Then we have an ace in the hole. The Lady in the Attic.”
Alice grinned at Mary Beth. “I like the way you think.”
“It’s a gift.”
The others laughed, but Annie couldn’t control the unease swirling in her stomach. If anyone had the perfect item to add to a textile exhibit, the clincher and drawing piece would be Betsy’s newly found Original. Annie grew sick at the thought. She didn’t want her grandmother’s work used as a pawn. She may not know why her grandmother had created the Lady, but she was sure Betsy never had this in mind.
Even though the ladies thought the Lady was an ace in the hole, Annie decided not to mention the fact that she hadn’t agreed to display it anywhere, let alone at a new cultural center. Nor that she’d had a strange offer from a buyer. There was still an emotional bond to the piece that she couldn’t ignore, and because of that, she refused to even think about its future.
She glanced around the room as the women, her friends, discussed the latest drama. Stella may think she was making a point with her little mutiny, but, if anything, her actions brought the club members closer together by solving this mystery. What had started out as a solo effort for Annie had turned into a team endeavor.
Which made Annie more determined to uncover the secrets behind the Lady in the Attic.
14
After the Hook and Needle Club meeting, Annie stopped by The Cup & Saucer for a quick lunch. She’d taken a seat and placed her order when the door opened, and Mr. Smith walked in. He gazed around the room, his eyes lighting up when he glimpsed her. Determination written on his face, he quickly crossed the room.
“Do you mind if I join you?”
“Actually, I do. I’m waiting for someone.” She hated to fib, really she did, but there was no way she was going to have a prolonged conversation with this man. Once again, he’d set off all her warning bells.
“Then I’ll get to the point. I’m still interested in purchasing the Betsy Original. I can definitely make it worth your while.”
“My decision hasn’t changed. I am not selling the piece.”
“Look, if you’d just let me …”
The door opened and Ian walked in. Annie raised her hand to wave him over. “Here I am,” she called out loudly.
Puzzled but pleased, Ian headed in her direction.
“I’m so glad you could make it,” she said to Ian, then glanced back at Mr. Smith. “I think we’re finished,” she told him.
Mr. Smith took a quick look at Ian and nodded.
As he exited the restaurant, Annie released a puff of breath and looked up at Ian. “Sorry about that.”
“Care to explain?” he asked, taking a seat across the table.
“Mr. Smith wants to buy the Betsy Original.”
“Let me guess. It’s not for sale.”
She nodded. “He has a hard time accepting the word ‘no.’”
Ian raised a questioning eyebrow.
Annie proceeded to tell him about Mr. Smith’s first visit and the strange happenings at Grey Gables.
His frown grew deeper as she spoke. “I have to say, I’m not sure I like any of this.”
“Me neither. Eventually he’ll get the message.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. I’ve been locking my doors and looking over my shoulder.”
“You have my number. Give me a call if this guy bothers you again. Or if you notice anything out of the ordinary at Grey Gables.”
“Thanks. Boots and I will be fine.”
He grinned. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
The waitress stopped by for Ian’s order and as they ate lunch, Annie changed the subject. Mr. Smith’s offer still loomed in the back of her mind, but she felt better finally telling someone about her concerns.
On the way home, she called Alice and asked her to stop by that afternoon. With all the talk at the meeting about Stella and the Lady in the Attic, Annie realized they needed to step up efforts to find the last clue. Since no one recognized the house scene stitched on the cloth, she thought maybe she’d find answers by finally organizing Gram’s room. A tall order, since Gram had stored years of stuff in her room. Annie knew this would be a consuming undertaking, and she’d been putting it off, not wanting to disturb her grandmother’s personal belongings until necessary. Now it seemed that the time had finally come to clean out the bedroom.
Not looking forward to tackling the task alone, she was glad Alice was free this afternoon. Really, Alice was the one person Annie felt comfortable with helping sort out Gram’s things, since she’d spent as much time at Grey Gables as Annie. Intently vague, Annie had dangled the bait about desperately needing Alice’s help. Even though she didn’t know what the job entailed, Alice had readily volunteered.
“What’s so important you lured me over here?” Alice asked as soon as she stepped into Grey Gables.
“I thought it was time to tidy Gram’s bedroom. There must be clues from Gram around here somewhere, but her room seems the most logical. She kept her most personal possessions there. Problem is, I really couldn’t bear straightening up her room alone.”
Alice patted Annie’s arm. “I understand. And I’m glad to help.”
Annie expelled a heavy breath filled with gratitude. “Thanks.”
“Okay, where do we start?” ‘Take-Charge Alice’ asked as she pushed up her sleeves, a willing participant in Annie’s plan.
“Wait here.”
She left Alice in the kitchen and hurried to the library, collecting the letter she’d found in the attic with the frame.
“Before we start anywhere, tell me what you think of this.”
As Annie handed the letter to Alice, her brow knitted as she took it. “You were holding out on me?”
“Actually, I didn’t think this letter would help us, but take a look anyway. I found it the first day, tucked in the back of the frame. I read it that night, then set it aside.
“At first I thought it just got wedged between the cloth and wood, but it must have a purpose. I went back to the attic to see if there was anything else in the general area that might be useful, but didn’t find anything.”
Alice read out loud, her perplexed reaction matching Annie’s when she first read it. “To the Sister of my heart, this is for you.” She glanced at Annie. “Betsy wrote this?”
“I don’t know. The handwriting isn’t exactly like Gram’s, at least in her later years, but that doesn’t mean she couldn’t have written it back when her handwriting was steady.”
Alice studied it more closely. “She did give me a list of groceries from time to time, but I don’t recall enough to say it matches.”
“For now, we can add this as another clue.”
“Except we don’t know to whom she wrote it or why. Its meaning is beautiful but very vague.”
“That’s why we need to find out who the Lady is. Or was. It will solve every question we have.”
“What’s your game plan?”
“We tidy up Gram’s bedroom. If she left any personal clues, that would be the room.”
“I thought you scoured the entire house for clues when you were cleaning and painting.”
“I did, but I couldn’t bring myself to rifle through Gram’s things.” As long as her grandmother’s belongings went untouched, Annie felt the comforting presence of the older woman. Lasting memories she could hold onto as long as she lived in the house.
Now, in the light of Stella’s latest move, the fate of the cross-stitch not only affected Annie and her future once they determined the identity of the young woman, but it also intertwined the members of the Hook and Needle Club, who had become almost as invested in the outcome as Annie herself.
“We have our work cut out for us.”
“You have no idea.” Annie cast a mischievous smile Alice’s way.
“I did make up the bed after Betsy died, but otherwise, I haven’t been up there since we were kids.”
Annie swept her arms in the direction of the second floor. “Follow me.”
“This seems strange,” Alice said as they entered the room. “I feel like I’m twelve years old again.”
“Yeah, that was my first thought. I’ve settled my clothes in my old room, but I’ve slept here since I arrived. I find it comforting.”
Alice took a few tentative steps deeper into the room. “It smells like Betsy. What was that perfume she always wore?”
“Emeraude. She never left home without spritzing herself with it.” Annie crossed to the dresser, lifting a perfume bottle as she gazed around the room.
The old four-poster bed topped with homemade quilts beckoned Annie to rest her head at night. A wide dresser with an attached mirror held scattered bottles, boxes, and jewelry on top, overstuffed drawers below. In the corner of the room, a rocking chair faced the window, drawing weary souls to sit and gaze out over the property, the ocean in the distance. On the surface of a French-style writing desk, papers collected in untidy piles. Nearby, books spilled from an overloaded bookshelf. All an integral part of Betsy Holden’s life.
Enough woolgathering, she thought to herself. Annie set down the bottle and crossed to the closet. “Ready?”
Alice nodded and Annie pulled open the door, a little afraid the movement might cause items to tumble out all around them. Thankfully, everything stayed precariously inside.
“What was Betsy thinking?” Alice asked as she stood at the threshold. “How did she cram so much stuff in here?”
“Good question. Believe me, I’ve asked myself the same thing. Apparently, Gram was the definition of a pack rat. You think this is bad? You should see the attic.”
“How on earth does one person collect all this?”
“If you figure she lived here for well over fifty years, that’s a lot of time to fill up space.”