Let it Sew (4 page)

Chapter 4

Tori could sense the tension in the room as surely as if it were a living, breathing
person sitting alongside them in the ten-by-ten-foot meeting room of the Sweet Briar
Town Hall. It had clenched fists compliments of Rose, drumming fingers thanks to Dixie,
and more than a few noticeable sighs from Leona. Yet at that moment, it still lacked
a face.

“I suppose when you’re canoodling with a councilman, you can afford to be late to
your own committee meeting,” Leona drawled, glancing at the fourteen-carat gold souvenir
from her latest male conquest while her pet bunny, Paris, sniffed her way around the
room. “It’s nearly seven forty and the holiday-stomping hussy is nowhere to be seen.”

Rose released her fists long enough to point an accusing finger across the rectangular
conference table. “I’m not quite sure why you’re complaining, Leona. You’re the one
who got us into this mess in the first place.”

“As if you have something more pressing to do on a Thursday night.” Rolling her eyes
skyward, Leona snorted. “Let’s be honest, you old goat. If you were home right now,
you’d be sitting in front of your television with your head tipped forward. Snoring.”

Tori placed a calming hand on her elderly friend’s arm while giving Leona her best
evil librarian eye. Sure enough, all insults turned in her direction.

“Victoria, have you not figured out that your crow’s feet come from making faces like
that?” Without waiting for a response, Leona touched the outer corners of her eyes
with her fingertips and tilted her chin upward. “I have three decades on you and I
don’t have lines like that.”

“Don’t you mean three decades and a gallon of Botox?” Dixie quipped from her spot
at the far end of the table.

Leona’s mouth gaped, only to shut and gape again as the door of the conference room
opened and a five-foot-two overperfumed blur breezed into the conference room, dropping
a stack of magazines and a leather-bound appointment book at the head of the table.

“Good evening, ladies. In case you don’t know who I am, I’m Maime Wellington, Chairperson
of the Sweet Briar Christmas Decorating Committee.” Placing her hands on her hips,
Margaret Louise’s holiday nemesis flashed what Tori imagined was a smile, but it was
hard to be sure. It had been so slight and so fleeting it could have been a figment
of her imagination. “If you brought ideas with you, put them aside. I’ve got more
than enough of my own.”

Maime shifted her appointment book to the side and began picking through the magazines,
the momentary lull providing just enough time for Tori to glance around for any sort
of confirmation that she wasn’t alone in her shocked confusion.

Avery Jordan was a fairly attractive man. Not without flaws, but certainly worthy
of a double take from women who were drawn in by pretty eyes and nice hair. His new
live-in girlfriend, however, was an entirely different matter.

Built like a pit bull, Maime was nearly as wide as she was tall. Her hair, which could
best be described as the color of scorched pumpkin, was short and lifeless, providing
an ill-fitting frame to a face that was more than a little nondescript with the lone
exception of the dime-sized mole on the side of her nose.

Once more, Tori placed a calming hand on Rose’s arm, only this time, instead of staving
off a war of words, she prayed her touch would prevent a second and more noticeable
shudder.

Maime looked up, her dark-as-mud eyes skirting their faces with an air of hostility
that was thinly disguised by a syrupy sweet voice more befitting a preschool teacher
than the woman standing in front of them now. “In the interest of those, like myself,
who despise all things hokey, this year’s Christmas in Sweet Briar is going to be
different.”

“Different?” Rose rasped before clearing her throat with a cough. “Different how?”

“Different in every way possible.” Flipping her appointment book open, Maime reached
into the built-in pocket on the inside front cover, extracted a thin stack of pictures,
and dropped them onto the table in front of Tori, Rose, Dixie, and Leona. “We’re going
to decorate differently and host entirely new events.”

Maime flicked her fingers across the stack of photographs, scattering them in various
directions. “I mean, look at the lampposts surrounding the town square. Green garland
and red bows? Don’t you think that’s rather . . .
stale
?”

“Nooo, I find it to be Christmas-y just like it’s supposed to be.” Dixie raked two
or three of the pictures in for a closer look. “People in this town look forward to
the telltale signs of the holidays. It’s a
tradition
. Just like caroling in the Gazebo, and the holiday food drive, and Santa’s ride atop
the fire truck the week before Christmas.”

Straightening up to her full minuscule size, Maime clapped her hands together. “And
just like the green garland and red bows, those events will be changing as well. Out
with the old and in with the new!”

Rose’s jaw dropped.

Dixie laid her head on the table.

Leona pushed back her chair and stood, all hint of lingering shock gone in favor of
barely restrained anger. “You can’t do this. This isn’t even your town.”

Narrowing her eyes to near slits, Maime gave Leona a dismissive once-over. “I’m quite
sure the postal carrier who delivers my mail each morning would beg to differ with
that assessment.”

“You’re living with Avery on a permanent basis then?” The beaten tone of Rose’s question
caught Tori by surprise, prompting her to shoot a worried look in Dixie’s direction.

But it was too late.

Maime held up her left hand and wiggled her ring finger back and forth, the overhead
light catching hold of the woman’s diamond ring and casting shimmering sparkles across
the plain white walls. “I most certainly am.”

“B-But he just met you,” Dixie stammered.

Rose raised her elbow to the table and rested her forehead in her wrinkled hands.
“Is his little boy okay with this?”

Waving off the question, Maime readdressed an eerily silent Leona. “So, as you can
see, Sweet Briar is every bit as much
my
town as it is yours. And since my fiancé is a
council member
, my say actually counts.”

“I can’t believe Avery is okay with this.” Dixie pushed back her chair and drew her
purse onto her lap. “Okay with your attitude.”

Like a passing cloud giving way to the sun, Maime’s face broke into a plastic smile.
“Avery is thrilled that I am embracing Sweet Briar and that I’m eager to make it the
perfect home for our new little family.”

“Avery and his son have been a family forever.” Slowly, Rose lifted her head from
her hand and pinned Maime with bifocal-enlarged eyes. “There’s nothing
new
about that.”

And just like that, any hint of sun—artificial or otherwise—was pushed from the sky
by the kind of cloud that sent people scurrying for the nearest basement.

“You just wait,” Maime hissed from between clenched teeth. “By the time I’m done around
here, there won’t be a single shred of Avery’s former life
anywhere
. And that includes inside your precious little Sweet Briar.”

*   *   *

Despite the presence of a brownie, a slice of apple pie, a blueberry scone, and a
piece of chocolate fudge, the mood around the table was dour at best.

Every few minutes, Dixie would start a sentence, only to shake her head and go back
to poking at her scone. Rose didn’t even attempt to speak, her lips pursed tight in
a visible mixture of grief and anger. Leona, on the other hand, had no trouble speaking
at all, her play-by-play recap of the Christmas committee meeting pouring from her
mouth with little to no filter.

“Can you believe the nerve of that woman? Who does she think she is, blowing into
town like that and changing everything to suit her evil ways?” Leona pushed her plate
of fudge into the center of the high-top table and folded her arms around a sleeping
Paris. “She didn’t listen to a word we said. Not one.”

Tori forked off a corner of her brownie and popped it into her mouth. “I thought I
was going to fall out of my chair when she said she was doing away with the Santa
visit and the holiday food drive.”

“And don’t forget the caroling,” Dixie reminded via her first complete sentence in
over an hour. “Why, there are people who come from two or three towns over to be part
of that tradition every year. I can’t imagine just stopping it, can you?”

“I can’t imagine any of the things she suggested,” Leona snapped. “Aluminum trees
around the square? A holiday gift snatch? Christmas Eve ring and runs?”

Dixie snorted. “We should have just left. Let her figure out how to execute her insanity
all on her—”

“No, we shouldn’t have left.” Rose extricated her hands from each other just long
enough to push her glasses back into position, affording the matriarch a better view
of the women seated around her. “That woman is a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

“I didn’t see anything even resembling a sheep except when Avery came to pick her
up.” Leona pulled her plate back to her spot and stared down at the block of fudge.
“Why did I order this? I don’t eat chocolate.”

“I do.” Reaching across the table, Tori stilled her hand just shy of Leona’s plate
before addressing Rose’s statement. “Leona, the way she was when Avery showed up is
exactly what Rose means by sheep’s clothing. She’s showing him a different side.”

“If Avery is stupid enough to fall for one of the oldest tricks in the book, he’s
got what’s coming to him.”

Rose glowered at Leona. “
He
might, but that little boy of his certainly doesn’t.”

Avery’s son.

Kyle.

The epitome of an honest, sweet, loving child . . .

“Rose is right.” Tori forked up an even bigger piece of brownie and paused it mere
inches from her mouth.

“Maybe she is,” Leona conceded grudgingly. “But what does that have to do with us
working with that insufferable woman on her Let’s Destroy All of Sweet Briar’s Traditions
Committee?”

Steadying her trembling hands inside her lap, Rose met and held Leona’s eyes. “People
like Maime Wellington can wear multiple faces for a while. They can even be quite
gifted at it. But somewhere along the line they will mess up, showing their true colors.
It’s only a matter of time. It always is. By staying on that committee, three things
will happen.”

“And those are . . .”

“First, we’re privy to things. What she plans to change, what she’s up to, et cetera.
Second, we get the opportunity to see what makes her tick, thereby enabling us to
know what buttons push her over the edge.”

Leona perked up. “Push her over the edge?”

The faintest hint of a smile twitched at the very corner of Rose’s mouth, yet she
continued on. “And third, armed with that information, we can make sure the true face
shows when it matters most.”

“Hmmmm. Very diabolical for an old goat,” Leona mused, not unkindly. “I’m impressed.”

“Then drive me home, will you?” Rose slid her way off the lattice-back bakery stool.
“Maybe you can bring Paris inside for a quick little mother-son reunion before you
have to get home to Annabelle.”

Leona peered down at her wrist and nodded. “Margaret Louise is staying with Mama until
I get home, but you’re right, I probably should call it a night.” Pulling Paris closer,
Leona stood, her voice dropping to a near whisper as she addressed the still sleeping
animal. “If Rose doesn’t shuffle her feet too much between here and the car, Paris,
you’ll get to see your little boy off to sleep tonight.”

Before Rose could protest the thinly disguised barb, Dixie slid off her stool as well,
her purse held tightly in her hands. “Leona? Can I get a ride home, too? I’m ready
to climb in bed myself and dream of the many ways in which I’d like to rid Sweet Briar
of that smug little Grinch we had the grave misfortune of meeting tonight.”

A chorus of agreement gave way to cheek kisses and embraces as Tori walked with her
friends to the door of Debbie’s Bakery, their impending departure perpetuating an
all-too-familiar sense of disappointment. And she knew why.

Rose, Leona, Dixie, and the rest of her sewing sisters had become her family—people
who cheered her on from the sidelines, rolled up their sleeves when she needed an
extra pair of hands, held her when she was sad, and most important, stayed by her
side no matter what came over the horizon. Watching a part of that walk away—even
temporarily—was always worthy of a deep swallow and a momentary pang.

“I’m too late, aren’t I?”

Tori turned, a smile lifting her mouth upward. “Debbie, I didn’t know you were here.”
Leaning forward, she brushed a kiss across the bakery owner’s cheek.

“Because I wasn’t. I heard you were all here when I called and checked in with Emma.”
Debbie gathered her sandy blonde hair into a ponytail and secured it with a tie from
her wrist.

Sensing an unfamiliar twinge in her friend’s voice, Tori rushed to remove any possible
misunderstanding. “It wasn’t everyone. Just Rose, Dixie, Leona, and me for what could
best be described as dessert therapy.”

Debbie pointed over her shoulder to Tori’s table. “Then why do three of your four
plates look as if they haven’t even been touched?”

There was no need to confirm Debbie’s assessment. “Um, because three of the four prefer
the kind of therapy that allows them to . . .
talk
?”

“So how was your brownie, Victoria?”

Knowing denial was futile, she laughed instead. “Really,
really
good.”

Debbie gestured toward the table and the uneaten treats left behind. “I’ve been curious
about that apple pie. Think Rose will mind?”

“I’d ask how you know it was Rose’s pie, but I won’t bother.” Rising up on tiptoe,
Tori reclaimed her stool. “You’re a favorite in this town for a reason.”

“So what was wrong?” Debbie asked before forking up a bite of pie and slipping it
into her mouth.