The Postman Always Purls Twice (6 page)

“Absolutely,” Maggie said graciously.

“Would you like to come to a knitting group meeting? You'll get some great material touches for your character,” Suzanne solemnly promised the movie star.

Maggie sat back, stunned by Suzanne's nerve. She could see her other friends felt the same. Who would ever imagine inviting Jennifer Todd to one of their humble meetings? The thought would have never crossed Maggie's mind.

Maggie sometimes wondered why Suzanne wasn't selling million-dollar properties every day with her just-do-it—or say-it—philosophy.

Of course Jennifer wouldn't come, though Maggie expected a polite excuse.

“I'd love to. When is it?”

“When can you come? That's when we'll have the next one,” Suzanne promised, moving in quickly to seal the deal.

“Let's see . . . Alicia, do you have the schedule handy?” Jennifer turned to her assistant, who had quickly brought up another screen on the tablet.

“Monday night looks possible.” Alicia nodded and glanced at Jennifer.

“Yes, that looks good. I can come for a little while on Monday night, around seven. Does that work out for you?”

Maggie wasn't sure what to say. She couldn't recall whose turn it was to hold the meeting. They usually rotated between their homes and the knitting shop. But Jennifer probably wanted to visit the shop. She probably had questions about her character's job as the proprietor and all that.

“We can meet at seven in the shop, provided the movie crew isn't there,” Maggie added with a hopeful smile.

“We're filming at the beach house most of next week. Didn't you get a schedule from Lyle?” Alicia asked.

“No . . . I didn't. Is that who I should ask for the particulars?”

“He must have emailed it. Maybe he had the wrong address. What's your email address, Maggie? I'll send you one right now.” Alicia looked down at her iPad, fingers poised.

Maggie told her, grateful for the young woman's efficiency. “Thank you so much.”

“So we'll meet on Monday night and help Jennifer prepare for her role?” Maggie looked around at her friends, who nodded eagerly, though she suspected Monday night was not ideal for all of them. But she was also sure they would cancel any previous commitments to hang out and knit with Jennifer Todd.

Maggie rose from her seat. “This has been lovely. Thank you both.”

Her friends stood up, too, and also thanked their hostess and Alicia.

“It was great meeting you. I'm really looking forward to Monday night,” Jennifer replied.

Dana took a last sip of tea before setting down the cup on the tray. “This tea had such an unusual flavor. What kind is it?”

Jennifer seemed pleased by the question. “A special blend of green tea. It's very difficult to find. I purchase it through a contact in Australia. It's just chock-full of wonderful vitamins and antioxidants that come from bamboo,” she enthused.

The brew did have a distinct fragrance and a smooth taste, Maggie had noticed, one that didn't seem at all familiar. “Is it made from bamboo leaves?”

“Not the bamboo exactly. It's the panda poo. It's used to fertilize the tea plants,” Alicia explained. “Pandas eat only wild bamboo and hardly digest their food, so their excrement is filled with amazing nutrients.”

“I feel so vitalized after a cup or two . . . and strangely calm at the same time,” Jennifer added.

Phoebe nodded. As if this all made perfect sense. “Pandas are very calm animals. Playful, too.”

Suzanne looked like she was going to playfully barf some back up. “Amazing,” she said, putting down her teacup.

“I can't offer anything that exotic. But we always share a nice dinner and some wine with our knitting. And we look forward to seeing both of you,” Maggie added, extending the invitation to Alicia.

A few moments later, Maggie and her friends regrouped on the sidewalk, a short distance from the shop. Fans still waited five deep around the fence, but the TV news vans were gone.

Maggie was about to suggest that they all head to the Schooner. It was half past eleven, and having woken up at five, she was definitely ready for lunch.

But before she had time to speak, Suzanne gripped her arm with one hand and pointed with the other. “Look at the limo! I wonder who's in there?”

Lucy stepped around Maggie for a better view. “Looks like we're going to find out. It's pulling up at the shop.”

Maggie and her friends scurried down the sidewalk, chasing the sleek luxury car that cruised along like a great white shark.

When it finally parked, two large, brawny men wearing tight charcoal-gray suits, black shirts, and black ties climbed out. They gazed in all directions as they walked around the car and out to the sidewalk. One of them held his hands out and asked the group of onlookers to step back, while the other two flanked the passenger-side door of the vehicle.

After a few moments, the back door on the passenger side opened again. A long, elegant leg—clad in a fishnet stocking and a tight black boot—emerged.

Then a swish of a golden fur, trimmed with fluffy white stuff.

Before the rest of the body appeared, Maggie had already guessed the identity of the mystery arrival.

“Trina Hardwick. She knows how to make an entrance,” Lucy murmured.

“You'd think it was the red carpet at the Academy Awards,” Suzanne noted.

“Maybe stars need to practice in out-of-town markets. The way they get the kinks out of Broadway shows?” Dana asked.

Trina Hardwick, in all her glory, stepped out of the car and raised a slim arm above her head, waving to fans who greeted her with cheers and wolf whistles.

She turned a few times, tossing a mane of thick, reddish-gold hair, as one hand pushed back her fur coat and rested on a lean hip, showing off her Barbie doll figure to full advantage. Long, slim legs, a tiny waist, and a full, bouncing bosom. She leaned against the limo in a sultry pose. Or maybe her boots were so high she needed the fender for balance. Either way, she twisted from side to side with a dazzling smile while fans and a few strangling reporters ran up to take photos.

“She is beautiful,” Lucy noted.

“If you like the obvious type,” Suzanne sneered.

“As in . . . obviously gorgeous bombshell?” Phoebe countered.

“I'd text a picture to Matt, but I don't want to give him any encouragement,” Lucy confessed. “That's too much competition for me.”

“Maybe . . . but do you think that's all . . . real?” Phoebe raised a pierced eyebrow.

“The glossy mane is full of hair extensions. As for the rest,
these
are real . . . and I have the hips to prove it.” Suzanne looked down at her own chest. “Those things? I doubt it. Though I'm sure they're the best set money can buy.”

“Suzanne . . . you just can't assume that,” Dana scolded her.

“Phoebe asked a valid question and I'm answering with fact-based knowledge. First of all, no arm fat. And when she twists and turns, they're still pointing straight ahead. No natural bounce and jiggle. Dead giveaway,” Suzanne added knowingly. “I bet if she laid down flat, it would look like two Tupperware bowls stuck under her dress.”

“Suzanne . . .” Dana turned to her, shaking her head. “That's not fair. And possibly not even true. About breast implants or Trina's body,” she added in a reasonable tone.

“Think what you like. I know reality from illusion, ladies. And I can tell synthetic enhancements, let us say, from Mother Nature's natural blessings,” she added, tugging her sweater down.

“Thanks for keeping it real, Suzanne. We can always count on you for that.” Lucy laughed and patted her pal's shoulder.

Trina had finished posing and slowly sauntered down the sidewalk, then down the brick path toward the shop, still waving and smiling, flanked by her bodyguards. Who looked like a doo-wop trio from the sixties in their matching outfits, Maggie thought.

“Speaking of keeping it real, how about some real food? Lunch at the Schooner?” Maggie suggested as the redheaded bombshell disappeared into the knitting shop.

“The panda poo tea and kale chips weren't enough for you?” Lucy teased.

Before she could answer, Dana interrupted, reading off her cell phone. “Before we dis that nutritious snack, I just Googled the tea. It's one of the most expensive blends in the world, next to tea leaves covered in gold leaf,” she added with a little laugh. “While the health benefits are hotly debated, each tiny cup of panda poo brew cost about fifty dollars to prepare.”

“So Jennifer Todd isn't exactly a hometown girl with simple, unspoiled Lipton tastes?” Lucy surmised.

Suzanne shrugged. “If I was raking in zillions of dollars a day making movies, maybe I'd go all the way for the gold leaf stuff. It doesn't mean she's not a nice person. I bet she comes to our meeting Monday.”

“Do you really think she will? Or is she just too polite to refuse?” Lucy asked. “She did seem interested in asking you more questions, Maggie.”

“I suppose it depends on her schedule and how tired she is after a day of working on the movie. What's the worst thing that could happen? We'll all get together and do some knitting.”

“Good point,” Lucy agreed.

The rest of her friends did, too. And none wanted to miss a chance to hang out and knit with Jennifer Todd.

O
n Monday night, five minutes before nine, everyone but Suzanne seemed to accept that they'd been stood up. But Maggie could have guessed that.

“Movie stars are always late. It's part of their mystique,” Suzanne reminded her friends.

“Two hours is a lot of mystique.” Lucy yawned and covered her mouth with her hand.

“Stop that, Lucy. It's not that late,” Suzanne snapped. “You'll make us all sleepy.”

“At least we're being productive,” Dana pointed out.

“Yes . . . but it's distracting, waiting for her. I'm not getting much done,” Phoebe admitted.

“Neither am I . . . though this pattern is so simple I could make it in my sleep.” Maggie shrugged and set her work aside. She had started the group on a ribbed summer tank. It was hardly warm enough out yet to wear it, of course, but no one seemed to mind that. They all liked the flattering style and squared-off neckline, and thought it would look fine with most any summer outfit, and even under a blazer. She'd also pulled some patterns for Jennifer's baby booties and a hat.

“I'll make coffee and bring out Suzanne's cupcakes.” Maggie rose, knowing dessert would cheer her friends.

“What kind?” Phoebe asked with keen interest.

“Chocolate, gluten free. I wasn't sure if Jennifer was on a GF diet, but it seems likely,” Suzanne added. Maggie knew Suzanne was the last one to worry about healthy ingredients. She obviously wanted to please their guest of honor. Now she felt doubly bad for Suzanne, about Jennifer failing to keep her promise.

“If you have chocolate, who needs gluten?” Phoebe's tone was persuasively logical.

“Very true,” Suzanne agreed. “What are you working on, Phoebe? That looks too big to be a bootie . . . unless it's for a giant baby? Hey, I thought you broke up with Josh, at least a month ago.”

They all knew Phoebe had dumped her slacker musician boyfriend, Josh, with no regrets. Though his memory and the name of his band, the Big Fat Whining Babies, still supplied a few laughs.

“Good one. I'm filling an order. I got a lot of hits this week on Crafty-Cricket.com.”

“Really? That's fantastic. Another female entrepreneur in our midst,” Suzanne said.

“I'm so impressed,” Lucy added.

“Good for you, Phoebe,” Dana said. “Good things happen when you follow your bliss.”

“Thanks, guys. I'm wondering why I didn't think of this sooner. I was definitely giving a former boyfriend—who shall not be named—way too much of my precious time, energy, and brain power.”