Authors: Amanda Lee
Chapter Nine
S
un
day was only a slightly overcast day, and since rain was forecast for the coming week, Ted and I took Angus to the beach. The two had already tired me out with their running, ball playing, and Frisbee tossing. I was stretched out on a lounge chair, watching them romp in the foamy waves, when my cell phone rang. I glanced at the screen and saw that it was Riley Kendall—Captain Moe’s niece, new mom, and attorney extraordinaire.
I answered the call, “How does a busy woman like you find time to phone a lazy beach bum like me?”
“Au contraire, you’ve been pretty busy from what I hear.”
I laughed. “Somebody’s a tattletale.”
“Uh-huh. Uncle Moe told me at church this morning that you and Ted are officially a couple,” she said. “It’s about time, is all I can say. You make a great team, and I believe you’ll be happy together.”
“Thank you,” I said. “While I’ve got you on the phone, did you know Chester Cantor?”
“No, but Dad represented Adam on assault and destruction of personal property charges a few years back.” Riley’s dad, Norman Patrick, was formerly her law partner. He was currently serving time in a minimum-security prison for real estate fraud. “Adam got into a fight at the Brew Crew. He put one man in the hospital and totally trashed Todd’s pub.”
“I’d heard something about that,” I said. “Sadie thinks Adam is meaner than a cobra with a toothache.”
She chuckled. “I don’t know that I’d go that far, but I do think Adam has an explosive temper.”
“Would you imagine him being capable of murdering his father?” I asked.
“I’m not sure.” She paused. “I don’t think he’d do it on purpose—certainly not premeditated—but if he was angry enough, he might snap and not realize what he’d done until it was too late.”
“That’s why I’m so scared for his wife and daughter,” I said.
Ted waved to me before Angus loped up to him and nearly knocked him down. I stifled a giggle and told Riley I’d stop by to see her and the baby sometime this week.
She warned me to be careful where Adam was concerned. “You don’t want that man’s anger directed at you.”
I promised to be extra cautious but stopped short of promising to stay out of Adam’s business. If Mary or Melanie needed my help, I wouldn’t hesitate to offer it. After ending the call, I dropped my phone into my beach tote and hurried to join Ted and Angus at the water’s edge.
* * *
The weather was dreary, but my mood was sunny as I opened the door to the Seven-Year Stitch Monday morning. As I parked my dripping umbrella in the cast-iron stand and then hung my jacket in the office, Angus sniffed around until he’d found the Kodiak bear chew toy Vera had brought him a few weeks ago. He took the bear over to the window and began gnawing on its head.
“Jill, you’re looking gorgeous as always,” I said to the smiling mannequin. “I hope you had as good a weekend as Angus and I did.”
I made sure all the bins and shelves were tidy and well stocked, and then I sank onto one of the red club chairs to work on Mom’s Fabergé Easter egg. I hadn’t stitched two full rows before she called me. Sometimes I believe that woman is psychic.
“Hey, Mom. I was just thinking about you.”
“Were you? Or were you thinking of someone more . . . I don’t know . . . tall, dark, and handsome?” She spoke in a Mae West–inspired drawl that made me laugh.
“I really was thinking about you . . . and Easter.”
“Maybe you and Ted could visit for Easter,” she said. “Or maybe we could at least meet halfway or something. I miss you.”
“I miss you too, Mom.”
“All right, let’s snap out of that before we get all sappy and maudlin. I called to see how your weekend went. Was it wonderful?”
“For the most part. Ted is dreamy. I’m so glad I decided to trust him with my heart. He even cooks!”
“Do tell.”
I elaborated on the delicious meal he’d made us on Friday evening.
“You said your weekend was wonderful
for the most part
,” she recalled, after saying that the dinner sounded scrumptious. “What wasn’t so great about it?”
“Well, first, I ran into Todd at MacKenzies’ Mochas after work Saturday,” I said. “That was a little tough, but at least, I feel like we might be able to salvage our friendship.”
“That’s good. What about Sadie? Has she come around?” Mom asked.
“I haven’t spoken with her since Friday.”
“Do you think she’s still upset? I mean, that’s pretty extreme, don’t you think?”
“It
is
extreme,” I agreed. “I know she’s close to Todd, but she and I have been best friends since college. And it’s not like Ted is Adam Cantor.” I told Mom about Adam throwing Ted and me out of his home Saturday night after we’d taken over the muffin basket and how—thanks to his angry outburst—Melanie found out her grandfather hadn’t peacefully died in his sleep but had been murdered. “Plus, I spoke with Riley yesterday morning, and she’s convinced Adam could’ve killed his father in a fit of rage.”
“But that doesn’t mean he did, love. Nor does it mean that he’ll kill his wife and daughter.”
“I get that, Mom. I do. But it still doesn’t keep me from worrying about Mary and Melanie.”
“What about the treasure map angle? Isn’t there still the possibility that someone came into the home to steal the map and then killed Chester? Or has that been ruled out?”
“I don’t think anything has been ruled out at this point,” I said. “Plus, the deeper I dig on the subject of Oregon coast treasure, the more legends and speculations I turn up. So maybe that
is
what happened.”
“What’s your intuition telling you on this one?” she asked.
“I have no idea,” I said. “I’m clueless.”
“Oh, come on, now, my Nancy Drew. There are always clues. You’ll find them.”
“I hope so. Gotta run, Mom. A customer just came in. I’ll talk with you again later.”
“Be careful,” she said. “I love you.”
“Love you too.”
When my customer took off her rain hat, I could see that she was Mary’s friend Susan.
I smiled. “Good morning. Thanks for braving the weather to stop in. May I get you a cup of coffee?”
“No, thanks,” she said, shrugging out of her slicker. “I can’t stay too awfully long. I only wanted to give you an update on Mary and Melanie.”
“Here. Let me take your jacket,” I said.
She handed it to me, and I hung it on the rack in my office. “Are they doing all right?” I asked. “Are they still at home?”
“Yes, and yes.” She sat on the sofa facing away from the window. “Adam seems to be treating them especially well right now.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah.” She shrugged. “I don’t expect it to last, but it’s nice for the time being.” She looked at the egg I was cross-stitching. There wasn’t even enough of the pattern developed yet that anyone could tell what it was going to be, but she told me it was pretty.
“Thanks,” I said with a smile. I showed her the pattern so she could get a better idea of what the finished product would look like.
“Ooh, that’ll be beautiful,” she said. “Did you ever see Chester’s tapestry treasure map thing?”
I hesitated, struggling to come up with a suitable answer. I didn’t want to tell Susan that for some inexplicable reason Chester had trusted me with his cherished tapestry. But I didn’t want to appear to be hiding something either. “I understand he had a tapestry that he
believed
to be a treasure map. I’m just not sure that’s what it was.”
Susan’s brows drew together sharply. “Why not? Why wouldn’t it be a map? His mother told him it was.”
“She might’ve only told her stubborn little boy what he needed to hear before agreeing to go to bed.” I chuckled. “I’m not saying Chester’s tapestry isn’t a treasure map, but I’m skeptical about its veracity.”
“So you don’t think a ship called the
Delia
was wrecked off the coast of Tallulah Falls? Or you don’t think the ship was carrying anything valuable?” she asked.
“I don’t know about either of those things,” I said, surprised at her adamant defense of Chester’s map. “I only know that Chester Cantor was looking for a miracle.”
“I agree,” said Susan. “And I think he might’ve had a map to show him where he could find one.”
“Then why hadn’t he been looking for this treasure all his life?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe he had been. But there’s a lot of treasure to be found here in Oregon—I know that. For instance, there’s the treasure of Sir Frances Drake.”
I recalled Captain Moe mentioning that, but I didn’t comment on it to Susan.
“He buried five chests of gold,” she continued. “Three were eventually found, but there are still two out there on the beach somewhere.”
“It sounds like you’re something of a treasure hunter yourself,” I said.
“I sure would be if I knew where to look.” She gazed at the far wall, making me feel as if she’d transported herself into an Indiana Jones or Lara Croft daydream. “I’ve heard the legends all my life . . . grew up reading the treasure hunters’ books in the elementary school library . . . spent summers digging in the sand. . . .” She appeared to give herself a mental shake before rejoining the real world and giving me a sheepish smile. “Tell me, Marcy. What would you do if you stumbled upon a treasure?”
“I already have,” I said, thinking of Ted. I suddenly remembered that Susan was in my Thursday evening class and that gushing over a boyfriend would be insensitive to a woman in a domestic abuse victims’ support group. I nodded toward Angus. “Just look at him over there by the window. Isn’t he adorable?”
“Oh, come on, I’m serious. What would you do with the money?”
“I’d pay off everything I owe, and then I’d hire someone to work here at the Seven-Year Stitch one day a week so I could take the day off and do whatever I wanted. What about you?” I asked.
“I’d start all over,” Susan said. “I’d change my looks, buy a new wardrobe, and move to the other side of the country. Wouldn’t that be fantastic?”
Once again, I hesitated to answer her. I knew what it was like to uproot oneself and make a fresh start in a new place. It was indeed liberating, but most of the problems you’d hoped to have left at your old place still accompanied you to the next. Then again, my problems probably hadn’t been as huge as Susan’s were. So I merely smiled and nodded.
Shortly thereafter, Susan bought a spool of wide red ribbon, said she’d see me in class on Thursday, and left—crouched over against the onslaught of rain.
As I continued working on Mom’s egg, I debated the pros and cons of calling Sadie. While I had too much on my mind with the Cantors to dwell on Sadie’s unreasonable anger or pouting or whatever she was feeling toward me, it was hard to put my best friend completely out of my mind when we’d last parted on such rocky ground. I mean, we’d been friends for years. Heck, I wouldn’t have even opened my shop here in Tallulah Falls had it not been for Sadie. So, of course, the pro to calling her would be to smooth things over. And that would make the con the realization that I couldn’t smooth things over if Sadie was still ticked off.
Fortunately, the debate was put on hold while I tended to a customer who was looking for a soft yarn that wouldn’t pill when washed. I was ringing up the woman’s purchase when Sadie walked in with a latte. She took a seat in the sit-and-stitch square, put the latte on the coffee table, and played ball with Angus until the customer and I had finished our transaction.
I was beginning to think maybe it wasn’t Mom who was psychic. Maybe it was me.
I waved good-bye to the customer and then went to sit across from Sadie. “Hi,” I said.
“Hi.” She pushed the latte across the table toward me. “Low-fat vanilla with a hint of cinnamon.”
“Thank you.” I picked up the latte, opened it, and took a sip. It was nowhere near as hot as I’d expected it to be, and I wondered how long it had taken Sadie to fully make up her mind to come talk with me.
“Sorry about Friday,” she said. “I was just disappointed about you and Todd. I thought you guys were a perfect fit.” She tossed the tennis ball Angus had dropped at her feet, and he scampered after it. “You’d both been through so much heartache. I guess I thought you could heal each other’s hurts.”
I stayed silent and merely took another sip of the tepid latte. I didn’t feel I had anything to add to what I’d already told Sadie on this touchy topic Friday.
“But I can see that Ted makes you happy,” Sadie said. “And I’m glad.”
I arched a brow and put the latte back on the coffee table. “Why do I get the feeling that Todd and Blake helped you arrive at that conclusion?”
“Because they did . . . Todd especially.”
“He’s a terrific guy,” I said. “He’s just not the right guy for me.”
Sadie nodded. “I know.” She stood. “Well, I’d better get back. Despite the rain—or maybe because of it—MacKenzies’ Mochas is a madhouse today.”
“I’m glad you took time to stop by,” I said.
“Me too.”
It wasn’t a Laverne and Shirley or a Lucy and Ethel makeup scene, but it would do. Hopefully, we could double-date in the near future . . . and when Todd found a girl, even
triple
date. As I took the latte to reheat it in the microwave oven in my office, I decided I was getting way ahead of myself.
The bells over the shop door jingled, alerting me to the fact that someone had come in.
“Be right there!” I called.
“Take your time!”
I was a bit startled to have been answered by an unfamiliar male voice, so I stepped out of the office to investigate. It was Adam Cantor.
“Hi, Mr. Cantor,” I said, hoping my voice didn’t convey how ill at ease I was to find him standing in my store. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m here to apologize for my behavior Saturday evening,” he said, absently patting Angus’s head. He looked toward the sit-and-stitch square. “Do you have a second to talk?”
“Of course. Please, have a seat.”
He strode to the farthest club chair and sat down, resting one ankle on the opposite knee.
Eager to keep some distance between us, I chose the other club chair.
“Mary, Melanie, and I appreciate the muffin basket you brought us,” he told me. “That was very thoughtful.”