2 Knot What It Seams (5 page)

Ramsay appeared vastly relieved at diffusing the tense situation, and the town council members appeared to share his relief, rushing on to the other items on the meeting’s agenda.

Beatrice watched as Ramsay swabbed his face with a handkerchief. He was probably going directly home after the meeting, pouring himself a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon, and writing a celebratory poem. But if the tension in the town hall had been defused, the situation itself hadn’t.

Chapter 3

Beatrice felt a little apprehensive when she walked from her car to enter the quilt show. She never looked forward to scenes, and she had a funny feeling that
someone
was going to cause a huge scene at this show. It actually started out being Beatrice that caused one—the car alarm for her new sedan started inexplicably going off when she was getting out of her car, causing several people to turn and stare, making her color a little.

But the scene inside the quilt show was either going to be Jo picking at Booth or Opal reproachfully telling the mayor the error of his ways. Or maybe it would even be a scene playing out between Opal and Jo or Karen and Jo. She’d dodge out if things got too heated.

Although she was tense when she got there, she felt herself relax as soon as she entered the quilt show. The event was being held at a historic school in nearby Blowing Rock. The school had been meticulously renovated with an eye to keeping the historic flavor of the building and was now used for traveling exhibits and art shows. The town kept the original tin ceiling and brick walls, and the hardwood floors gleamed. Quilts in every texture and with every color imaginable were carefully displayed with thoughtful lighting.

The first quilt she saw was one of Karen Taylor’s. She gave a sigh of pleasure when she looked at it. It was absolutely stunning. Karen did indeed have a gift for quilting and a talent for design.

Fellow Village Quilter Georgia wasn’t quite as sure about it. “So, you
like
this quilt?” asked Georgia dubiously. She pursed her mouth, staring at the quilt.

“Don’t you?” asked Beatrice. “See the asymmetrical geometric pattern, the black-and-white scheme with the interesting copper shade Karen brought into the quilt? Art deco–inspired, obviously. It’s straight out of the 1930s.” She studied it, wistfully. If only she could get her quilting up to this level. She had great design ideas but couldn’t implement them the way they needed to be.

“I wish it would go back to the 1930s,” said Georgia with a little laugh. “What good is the quilt if you don’t want to cuddle up in it?” Georgia’s quilts exuded warmth and softness with their textures. “Of course, Savannah’s are kind of prickly-looking, too, aren’t they? All those precise stitches in the rigidly geometric patterns.” She stared at one of her sister’s quilts in a rather bemused way. “And Savannah is really so much quirkier than that.”

The sisters both were, really. But what chance did you have for
not
being quirky when your mother had named you and your twin Savannah and Georgia? Savannah, also, had an unfortunate problem with kleptomania. All the Dappled Hills store owners knew about it and kept a special, running, Savannah account that Georgia paid up each month.
Quirky
didn’t quite go far enough.

Meadow bustled up in time to overhear Georgia mentioning her sister’s quilts. “Your quilts are both beautiful, Georgia, just in different ways!”

“And you like Karen’s quilt?” asked Georgia, nodding at the quilt.

Meadow beamed at the quilt. “I do! I do like it! It’s modern and cool and sophisticated.” She dropped her booming voice to what passed for a whisper for another. “But I’m glad I didn’t invite Karen to be the new Village Quilters member if her quilts create division in the group! Much better to have someone like Jo.”

Typical Meadow. She was either in happy denial of the friction Jo was creating in the group or else determined to ignore it.

“Speaking of our new member,” continued Meadow, “where is Jo?”

“Probably kicking puppies or pinching babies,” said Beatrice. Georgia gave a gasping laugh.

True to form, Meadow ignored this, too. “Judges of these events are incredibly busy, aren’t they? So much to see, so many elements to judge each entry on. Mercy!”

This last was in response to a crashing boom of thunder outside the recreation center’s window, followed by the sound of pouring rain.

Beatrice noticed the plate of brownies and fudge that Meadow was clutching. “Were you doing something with that?”

Meadow stared blankly down. “What? This? Yes . . . Oh, that’s right. I was looking for the mayor. I figured, since we were trying to woo him, goodies might help. The quickest way to a man’s heart and all that. Really, though, I probably should be pointing him toward Opal’s cake. I think I saw her toting one in.”

Beatrice glanced over Meadow shoulder. “You’re in luck,” Beatrice said drily. “Here he is.”

A big smile stretched across Meadow’s broad face as she caught sight of the mayor. “Hi, Mayor,” said Meadow in the chirpy voice. “I thought while you are viewing this beautiful art here that you might enjoy some snacks.”

Booth Grayson didn’t appear to be enjoying himself. His clothes were sopping wet. He had a rather dour expression on his face. He was uncomfortable, he was bored, and Beatrice hoped that he would not take it out on the Village Quilters or quilting in general.

“No, thank you, Meadow. I had a large bowl of oatmeal before I came over. The quilts are . . . very nice. I’ve got to be leaving, though, because I’ve got some important business to take care of at the office.” He took a precisely folded handkerchief out of his suit pocket and carefully dabbed at the raindrops on his clothes. “Maybe Posy can drive me back home in a few minutes. She was good enough to bring me here this morning since I wasn’t sure of the location.”

Meadow’s face fell. “But that’s no fun at all! I don’t think you’ve even seen all the quilts we have here. Besides, that’s a lot of driving for Posy, considering that I’m sure Miss Sissy isn’t ready to leave yet. And I know Posy must have brought Miss Sissy with her, too. She’d have to drop you off and come all the way back.”

This thought didn’t appear to bother the mayor in the slightest.

“Have you really
experienced
this show? There are tons of different styles. Karen has some really modern themes, Savannah has classic geometric patterns, and Georgia’s quilts make you want to take the quilt off the wall, wrap yourself up in it, and watch some mind-numbing reality TV.”

Booth’s eyes narrowed. “I’m sure that’s true, Meadow, but I’ve seen quite enough to make a decision about taxing the quilting group’s proceeds and requiring permits. It was good of Ramsay to invite me here today. You’ll have to thank him for me.”

Georgia gave a small gasp. Her eyes clouded up, which, in Beatrice’s experience, meant that the waterworks were about to turn on. Beatrice’s head started to hurt. “But you haven’t really given us a chance,” said Georgia. “Did you notice that most of the proceeds from this event are going to fund local charities?”

Meadow’s face was thunderous. She thrust her hands on her hips and glowered down at the shorter Booth. “You should eat something sweet,” said Meadow pointedly, “to improve your sour disposition.”

Meadow’s stance and her booming voice were definitely drawing attention. Opal Woosley hurried over. She clasped her hands and said anxiously, “Mayor Grayson! Would you like to have some caramel cake?”

Meadow said excitedly, “You’ve had Opal’s cakes before, haven’t you, Mayor?”

A spark of interest appeared in Booth’s eyes. “Actually, I have. I will say that her cakes are positively amazing. I guess that it won’t hurt to have caramel cake before I head out into the rain again. And I suppose I should give Posy a few more minutes at the quilt show. Maybe the rain will have let up a little by then.”

Meadow, Opal, and Georgia all seemed to simultaneously exhale. Meadow grabbed Booth by the arm and pulled him toward the next room. Opal and Georgia scurried behind them.

Meadow got that mulishly determined cheerful expression again, and Beatrice knew Meadow was still stuck on Jo’s absence. “She was probably held up at work. Jo said she’d come to the show right after she finished delivering the mail. Plus, you know, it’s pouring down rain, so that’s probably slowing her down, too. She said she was going to deliver it as fast as possible, though.”

Beatrice could scarcely wait to see whose mail ended up in her mailbox today.

Karen joined them, sighing at the mention of Jo. “She’s done an awful job delivering the mail even on the days when it’s beautiful weather.”

Meadow’s pasted-on smile was strained. “Karen, Beatrice and I were admiring your quilt. We loved that art deco style, didn’t we, Beatrice?”

Karen’s shoulders relaxed from their stiff posture and she beamed at Beatrice with gratitude. “That’s high praise coming from you, Beatrice. Thank you. You, too, Meadow,” she added, in a bit of an afterthought. “Unlike Jo, y’all have some taste. It’s absolutely astounding to me that she’s a judge. It’s sad because she’s not even fit for judging a dog show. She’s doing a real disservice to the quilting community.”

Beatrice said, “Why exactly is Jo so critical of your quilts, Karen? I overheard her at the Patchwork Cottage, and it sounded like she was really going overboard with the feedback.”

Karen lifted her chin up, then opened her mouth as if planning on really lambasting Jo . . . then apparently edited herself, with some difficulty, before she spoke. Instead she shrugged. “You know how it is. Some people like to pretend they know the best way to do everything. It’s only natural, I guess. She’s trying to change the way that I quilt and make it more traditional and less edgy. I think she has ulterior motives for doing it, though—when I’m experimental, I win shows. And Jo wants to win everything. Can’t you tell? She’s a very competitive woman. Her solution for winning is to try and make me change what I’m doing.”

“I think,” said Meadow with determination, “that Jo’s ulterior motive is to make everyone better quilters. Why, at our guild meeting, she was instructing each one of us on ways we could improve.”

Karen gave her a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “That’s very nice.” Her voice didn’t exactly ring with sincerity.

Beatrice thoughtfully studied Karen. It was interesting that she’d mentioned competitiveness. If anyone appeared competitive, it was Karen. Jo just acted like a know-it-all. “How do you place at shows where Jo judges?”

Karen sighed. “I never win when Jo is judging. She always makes sure I lose. She’ll come up with all kinds of reasons why she didn’t like them—bad composition, poor execution. I also think she talks to other judges, too, and influences them against me.”

“Most likely trying to help you improve,” murmured Meadow again. This time Karen ignored her.

Beatrice noticed Opal Woosley walking over to the refreshment table. “Opal isn’t wild about Jo, either, is she? I’m surprised to see her here when she knows Jo is going to be here, too. I’d think she’d want to avoid meeting up with her.”

“Opal wouldn’t miss any opportunity to make a dig at Jo. She lives for these moments. Besides, she has a quilt here in the show—it’s not a contender for a ribbon, but it’s a nice quilt. I’m sure she’s been practicing what she’s going to say to Jo today . . . probably for hours.” Karen glanced over at the disheveled Opal, who was spilling punch on the top of her blouse and muttering to herself.

The Looney Tunes ring tone on Meadow’s phone went off, loudly. Meadow frowned. “That’s the ring for Ramsay. Why would he
be calling me? He knows I’m at a show.”

“If you answer it,” said Beatrice through gritted teeth as Looney Tunes merrily played on and on, “then maybe you’ll find out.”

Meadow raised the phone to her ear. “Ramsay? I’m sort of busy at this show. Can I call you back . . . what? What!” She listened intently for a moment, her mouth rather comically agape. “Oh. Ohhh. Okay. Yes.”

“Something wrong, Meadow? It wasn’t bad news, was it?” asked Karen.

A loud peal of thunder made them all jump.

“Yes,” said Meadow slowly. “Yes, actually, it was bad news. Jo is dead. She drove her car right off the side of the mountain.”

Chapter 4

For the next thirty minutes, the quilters clumped together to exclaim over the tragedy and the horrible weather that had surely been responsible.

“Jo always did drive perilously fast,” said Opal. She clearly couldn’t bring herself to fake any sorrow at Jo’s passing, and her elfish face held some barely repressed glee.

Meadow’s face was set in grim lines. “We should cancel the show. It’s terrible of us to continue on as if nothing has happened. Besides, we lost one of our judges.”

Karen quickly spoke up. “Meadow, I think that’s a bad idea. We already rented the facility, after all. We’ve already transported the quilts and spent a long time working to display them. The refreshments and the quilters and the public are already here.”

Meadow gave a hesitating nod, but still looked unconvinced.

“Besides, wouldn’t Jo have wanted us to go ahead with the show?”

Karen was pushing it.

Suddenly, Opal’s eyes opened up wide. She gaped blankly across the room as if she was seeing something that no one else saw. Her mouth dropped open.

Meadow’s did, too, as she watched Opal. “She’s having a vision!” she hissed at Beatrice.

Opal’s mouth snapped shut again. “It wasn’t an accident,” said Opal in a wavering voice. “Jo Paxton was murdered.”

“Murdered!” the women chorused.

Karen shook her head. “Opal, it looks to me like Jo was driving too fast for conditions.”

“Why
shouldn’t
she have been murdered? It was probably someone’s good deed for the day. The month!” Opal Woosley’s face was now irrepressibly elated.

Beatrice shook her head impatiently. “Maybe no one liked her, but that doesn’t mean that someone murdered her. It’s pouring down buckets of rain out there and Jo is driving on narrow, curving mountain roads. It sounds like the perfect setup for an accident.”