Road Trip (2 page)

2

As soon as the store was empty of customers, Kate walked over to the yarn cubbies and began straightening them. The feel of soft yarn in her hands usually made her imagination fire with new ideas, but this time she just sorted them mechanically.

“Kate?” Mary Beth said. “Are you OK?”

“Of course,” Kate said, without turning. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I’m not really sure.”

No
, Kate thought,
of course you’re not
. Mary Beth never seemed to entertain a single moment of doubt about anything. She went after the things she felt were right, full steam ahead. And it didn’t matter who she steamed over!

Kate shook her head slightly, letting her dark hair shake from behind her ears and shield her face. That wasn’t really fair. Mary Beth had been like a fond aunt to Kate and so helpful when she needed advice about Vanessa. She’d stood behind Kate through the whole horrible divorce from Harry. She was encouraging to a fault. Still, what could possibly have made Mary Beth think Kate would want to be in a fashion show?

Kate jumped at the feel of a touch on her arm.

“Kate, dear,” Mary Beth said as she gently pried a ball of yarn from Kate’s tightly clenched fingers. “I think that yarn has suffered enough. So tell me what’s bothering you.”

Kate spun to face her friend. “I just can’t believe you entered some of my work in a competition without asking me. That seems like something I should have had some say in.”

“I didn’t ask because you wouldn’t have let me do it,” Mary Beth said. “You have far too much talent to hide it under a basket. I love being the only shop to display your original work, but it’s not really fair to you. I honestly believe you have the talent to be a top designer. Imagine what that could mean. There’s no reason to limit yourself to one tiny shop in Stony Point.”

“Have I complained about only being in one tiny shop in Stony Point?” Kate asked. “Have I done anything to make you think I want to be a top designer?”

Mary Beth shook her head. “Hardly. As I remember, I had to twist your arm to get you to let me display your work here. But how much has selling a few pieces helped you out with money for Vanessa?”

Kate nodded. “It has. I’ve gotten used to it here. But I don’t think I can handle having hundreds of strangers looking at my work, at me—judging both it and me.”

“And loving it!” Mary Beth insisted. “Honestly, once you see their reactions, you’re going to realize how amazing you are.”

Kate put her cool hands up to her cheeks. “Just thinking about it makes me dizzy.”

“I’ll be there to talk you through it,” Mary Beth said. “I think this entire experience is going to be an incredible revelation for you. Maybe it’ll make you believe in yourself, once and for all.”

“And maybe I’ll throw up in front of everyone,” Kate said, shaking her head at the thought.

“I think you’re made of tougher stuff than that,” Mary Beth said firmly.

Kate looked at her friend’s fierce face and gave in. She didn’t stand a chance against the will of Hurricane Mary Beth anyway. “I really don’t want to be in the fashion show,” she said weakly. “I don’t think I could do it, walking up and down while people stare at me. Honestly, Mary Beth, I feel a little sick just thinking about it, throwing up is not as impossible as you seem to think.”

“Maybe Annie would model the dress for the show,” Mary Beth suggested. “She’s about your height, and it should fit OK. Her coloring is different, but I think the shades of blue would look good on her.”

Kate nodded, feeling a small release of some of the panic. Still, that was a huge favor to ask. Annie wasn’t exactly an exhibitionist. “Do you think she’d be willing to do that?”

Mary Beth laughed. “I think Annie Dawson would wrestle a bear if it would make a friend feel better. I’ll need to check the rules though. They may specify that you have to be the one to wear the dress in the show.”

Her stomach clenched again. “Could you check them right now?”

Laughing, Mary Beth promised to go look for them immediately. She gave Kate a quick hug and headed for the counter. Kate watched her nervously. She hoped the rules would let her pass this “honor” on to Annie. Then maybe she could actually enjoy the idea of the convention.

She saw Mary Beth sort through a small pile of papers, and then latch onto one, reading silently. Kate crossed her fingers and resisted the urge to tap her foot nervously. “Well?” she finally asked.

Mary Beth held up one hand, her eyes still on the sheet. “Looks like it’s fine to have someone else actually wear the fashion.” She looked up at Kate. “Though when you win, you will probably have to accept your award in front of the audience.”

“They won’t want me to talk or anything—will they?”

“Probably not.”

Kate breathed a deep sigh of relief. “I’m going to call Annie right now.” She hurried over to join Mary Beth behind the counter, knelt to get her purse, and rooted for her cellphone.

She felt her hand tremble as she held the phone to her ear. “Say yes, say yes, say yes!” she mouthed silently as she listened to Annie’s phone ring.

Finally, Annie answered with a breathless, “Yes?”

Kate jumped at her greeting. “Hi, Annie,” she said. “It’s Kate. I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Of course,” Annie said. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, apparently I can let someone else model the dress I made in the fashion show at the convention. It would look lovely on you. Would you do that for me?”

“I’m sure it would look lovely on you too,” Annie said.

“Thank you. But mostly I just don’t want to stand in front of everyone. I think I would throw up or faint or maybe spontaneously combust.”

Annie chuckled softly. “I think you’re braver than you think, but I don’t mind taking your place in the show if you want. I’m always happy to show off one of your beautiful designs. Didn’t Mary Beth say this is a dress?”

“Yes,” Kate said, relief making her weak in the knees. “It’s a sleeveless silk-lined lace dress. It has a matching jacket that is much plainer.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Annie said. “Now just tell me it isn’t orange. I look horrible in orange. Or bright yellow. Or chartreuse. Or olive green. I’d look like I have the flu.”

“It’s blue,” Kate said, laughing.

Annie asked a few questions about the specifics of the fashion show, and Kate had to admit she didn’t know. Mary Beth had filled them in on everything from the information she had, but added that they would get a lot more specifics once they arrived.

“I can’t possibly tell you how much I appreciate this,” Kate said. “I feel like a rock has been lifted off my chest.”

“I’m happy to help,” Annie said. “And compared to coming up with a speech that does justice to everything Gram was to me and to Stony Point … well, wearing a beautiful dress seems pretty easy.”

“I loved Betsy dearly,” Kate said, “but I admit, I’m glad I’m not the one doing the speech. You’ll be wonderful though. You’re so good with words.”

Annie laughed at that. “Almost anytime I
sound
like I’m good with words, I’m just quoting Gram.”

“She definitely was a fountain of wisdom,” Kate agreed. “I’m so glad more people are going to learn about the wonderful person she was even beyond her cross-stitch.”

“You know, I am too,” Annie said. “Hey, maybe I’ll just stitch together every great piece of advice Gram ever gave me and make that my speech.”

“It would be a winner,” Kate said.

When they finally hung up, Kate’s nerves were completely settled. She was almost eager for convention-time to arrive. She really didn’t mind people looking at her dress as long as they weren’t looking at her at the same time. And since she was certain there was no possible way she would win the contest, she really should be able to enjoy the convention without anyone noticing her at all!

3

Wednesday dawned bright and clear, with the morning sun urging Annie out of bed. She stretched, smiling as she heard Boots grumble at being disturbed. The cat blinked and padded to the end of the bed where she could lay in a pool of morning sunlight. Annie had inherited Boots along with everything else that fell within the walls of Grey Gables.

“I don’t know why you pretend you’re going back to sleep,” Annie said. “The second I head toward the kitchen, you’ll be out of here like a shot.”

Boots opened her eyes a slit, and then she closed them again. Annie just shook her head and headed off for a quick shower to chase the last of the nighttime cobwebs out of her head.

Thirty minutes later she was in the kitchen, trying to fill the teakettle while Boots wove between her legs, meowing plaintively. Finally, Annie gave up and poured a small bit of kibble into the cat’s bowl. Boots gave her a disbelieving look at the small scattering of food.

“Sorry,” Annie said as she put the box back in the cupboard. “The vet said you’re too plump for a cat your age. It’s bad for you. And if I give you the whole day’s worth right now, you’ll just wolf it down and bug me for more the rest of the day.”

Boots offered her one more disgusted look before dipping her head into her bowl, crunching the kibble loudly.

Annie turned back to the sink. She had no idea why some women filled their homes with cats. Sometimes it felt like she was the servant, and Boots was the grumpy princess. She couldn’t imagine multiplying that by a houseful of princesses.

She set the kettle on the stove, and then turned to look out one of the kitchen windows. The window offered a view of some of the best grass in the whole yard. Since Grey Gables had a number of gorgeous mature trees, it was sometimes a challenge for the lawn to get as much sun as it liked. Of course, it also meant it didn’t look brown and burnt in the summer like her lawn so often did back in Brookfield.

Annie smiled as she thought about Wayne’s constant battle to keep the lawn green. In Texas, wasting water could be a serious offense—especially in a drought cycle—so Wayne was always looking for “green” ways to water the lawn. He had a rain barrel and even made sure Annie bought environmentally safe dish soap so he could use any leftover water from kitchen cleanup. But somehow, it was never quite enough to beat back the heat of a Texas summer.

“Wayne would love that patch of lush green,” Annie murmured.

Boots looked up at her and meowed.

Annie nodded. “You’re right, Boots. He would have found it too easy. He’d have missed the challenge. Half the fun is in the battle, right?”

Boots looked at her a moment longer, and then clearly dismissed her, turning back to the tempting cat kibble.

Annie laughed at her own silliness. She heard the front doorbell ring and knew Alice must have arrived. She hurried to the door, eager to see what kind of treat Alice had brought. One of the best things about living in Stony Point was reconnecting with Alice. As children and even young teens, they’d been inseparable during Annie’s summer visits to Grey Gables. They’d shared every secret and every adventure. Part of Annie had mourned when they’d lost touch as adults, but now they were as close as ever.

Alice stood at the door in her warm-weather, attic-adventure clothes. She wore well-worn jeans and a scarf over her thick auburn hair. She also wore a softly faded T-shirt that said “Party Girl.”

“A wild sentiment, don’t you think?” Annie asked, pointing at the shirt.

Alice just turned around to show off the back, which read, “Ask me about my Divine Décor.”

“Ah, always the business woman.”

“I try,” Alice said. Then she held up a covered basket. “I brought lemon poppy-seed muffins to fortify us for the attic exploration.”

“I’m pretty sure all of Gram’s cross-stitch things are in one box,” Annie said. “Not much adventure there.”

Alice shrugged. “You never know.”

Annie led the way back to the kitchen. “I just don’t want you to be disappointed when we end up with nothing even remotely mysterious.”

“In that case, I’ll console myself with muffins,” Alice answered. “It’s all good.”

As the two women sat down with a cup of tea and a muffin, Boots finished up her breakfast and began rubbing against Alice’s leg. Alice leaned down to scratch the gray cat’s ears.

“Her highness is annoyed with me,” Annie said.

Alice raised her eyebrows. “Oh, did you tell her you’re going out of town?”

Annie shook her head, smiling. “I haven’t dared mention that yet. Things are going to get really grumpy when I pull out the suitcases. No, she just doesn’t like her new d-i-e-t.”

Alice laughed. “You can’t blame her for that. So when you go to the convention, do you want me to haul Boots to my house or just pop in for feeding and ear scratching?”

“You should probably just pop in,” Annie said. “I know you. You’re a soft touch for Boots, and she really has to stop eating so much.”

“She does do her starving-cat routine very dramatically,” Alice admitted. “It would probably be easier on my stern resolve if I only see her in brief visits.”

“I appreciate it so much,” Annie said. “I’m still a little overwhelmed by the idea of going to the convention. I’m sure it’ll be fun, but I can’t imagine speaking in front of a lot of people.”

“I love speaking in front of people,” Alice said. “But I know that’s one of my weirder quirks. Still, you have a great subject. A person could talk all day about the things that made Betsy amazing.”

Annie nodded. “That’s
another
problem. How do I do Gram justice in just a brief speech?”

Alice reached out and patted Annie’s arm. “You worry too much. You’ll do fine.”

“Now
that
sounds like Gram.”

“Well, Betsy always felt people wasted too much time on worry and second guessing,” Alice said. “She certainly scolded me enough for it right after my divorce. I spent so much time wondering what I could have done differently.”

Annie nodded. She knew how that felt. When Wayne died, she’d spent weeks beating herself up about not insisting he slow down and not work so hard. When she’d shared some of her thoughts with her grandmother during their weekly phone calls, Gram had counseled her in exactly the same way. “Gram was a firm believer in living in the now,” Annie said, looking at Alice over her tea cup. “She valued preparation, but felt worry just made it harder to prepare.”

Alice raised her tea cup. “Here’s to Betsy Holden, the wisest woman I ever met.”

Annie gently tapped her cup against Alice’s. “Sounds like a good closing line for my speech.”

The two friends chatted a bit more while they finished their tea and ate an obscene number of muffins. Annie wasn’t sure, but she suspected Alice slipped a small crumb of muffin to Boots. The portly feline certainly looked smug as she leaned on Alice’s leg.

When they finished their breakfast, they headed up to the attic in high spirits. Grey Gables had the kind of wonderful, huge attic that appeared in all the best stories Annie had read as a child. Her own grandchildren loved their visits to the old house and a chance to poke around in the attic. Annie worked hard to keep it fairly clean just in case LeeAnn ever decided to make a surprise visit with the twins. Though, knowing her strictly organized daughter, Annie didn’t hold out much hope of LeeAnn doing something quite that spontaneous.

Annie headed straight to the large box that held pillows and small framed cross-stitched pictures. “I stored Gram’s small needlework things in one box,” she said. “That way I can switch out the ones I have on display downstairs. I don’t ever want to reach the point where Gram’s work is just something I pass by and don’t stop and look at. By changing things out, I keep them fresh.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Alice said.

Annie opened the flaps of the box and felt a small flash of relief. She didn’t realize how jumpy she still was about keeping Gram’s beautiful needlework safe. But ever since Jem Carson had tried to steal four large cross-stitch pieces from the attic, Annie had found herself making small trips up the narrow steps, just to check that things were where they belonged. “All here!” she said cheerfully.

Alice looked around the attic. “Still, don’t you think we should open at least one other box? Just for old time’s sake?”

Annie looked around. “Which box do you want to open?”

“Do you have any you haven’t looked in yet?” Alice asked.

Annie wished she could say no. There were just so many things stored up in the attic. “The untouched stuff is way in that back corner.”

“Then I’m going in!” Alice began weaving between the neat rows of boxes until she reached the piles Annie had gestured toward. “These?”

“Yes, and remember, only one! If you don’t find a mystery, we head downstairs.”

“Spoilsport,” Alice teased. She looked over the piles carefully, then eased out a battered wooden chest. “Look at this. Looks like a treasure chest to me.”

“Sure,” Annie said wryly. “Sure it is.”

Alice made a face at her and bent to open the box. Curiosity finally drove Annie to set the box of Gram’s cross-stitch down and weave through the boxes to Alice’s side. “So what’s in your treasure box?”

“Books,” Alice said with a sigh.

Annie reached in and pulled out a leather-bound book with a slightly warped cover. She flipped through it. “It’s a ledger from my grandfather’s veterinary business. Not exactly a mystery.”

Alice pulled out two more matching ledgers, then flipped through a few veterinary guides. “Well, it might be a treasure if I wanted to be a vet.”

Annie looked over the books. A couple weren’t medical books and she flipped through them. They each had notes all along the margins in her grandfather’s cramped handwriting. “Look at this,” she said. “Grandpa made notes in everything. Gram used to tease him about it.”

“Well, I don’t see any mystery about this box,” Alice said, turning back to the pile. “Maybe one more.”

“Oh no, not today,” Annie said, tugging her friend’s arm. “I don’t have time for a mystery anyway with the convention coming up. But thanks for opening this box. I think I’ll take these two books down with me. I might leaf through them later and read my grandfather’s notes.”

Charles Holden had been a kind and gentle man, but he also had a sharp wit and a wonderful sense of humor. Annie had always enjoyed hearing her grandfather comment on books he’d read or movies he’d seen. She knew she’d enjoy hearing his voice again through his notes.

She piled the books on top of the box of cross-stitch and headed for the stairs. Alice caught the books as they started to slide. “I’ll carry these,” she said. “I never like to leave the attic empty-handed.”

Annie and Alice clattered down the stairs, and Annie set the box of cross stitch on a table in the living room. “I’ll just take the whole thing to Mary Beth and let her decide which pieces she wants to send to the display. She has a better eye for the ones that best showcase Gram’s technique.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Alice said. She set the two books down on a small side table next to the phone. “I think I’m going to have to take my consolation muffin to go. I have another party to prep for.”

“I’m glad to see things are going so well for you now,” Annie said. “I remember that period of time last year when things got pretty thin.”

“This is always the time business begins to pick up,” Alice said. “But it is a little better than I expected. A lot of people in Stony Point really have been tightening their belts with the economy so shaky.”

Annie and Alice looked questioningly at each other when they heard the crunch of tires on gravel. “Were you expecting someone?” Alice asked. “Maybe a certain mayor we both know?”

“No, I am not expecting Ian to drop by,” Annie said firmly. She wasn’t about to admit that Ian did make surprise visits sometimes, since Alice would tease her about it. Her friends loved to imagine a romance blooming between Annie and Ian. Ian had even made a remark or two in that direction. Annie just wasn’t sure. She still pined terribly for Wayne. She appreciated Ian’s friendship more than she could say, but she’d always thought of her love for Wayne as a once-in-a-lifetime thing.

“Oh, so this means he’s popping up unexpectedly,” Alice said, her teasing voice pulling Annie out of her rambling thoughts. “That doesn’t sound like romantic interest at all.”

“If it
is
Ian,” Annie said sternly. “It must be official town business.”

“Right.”

Annie just shook her head, choosing not to respond anymore. She was clearly just encouraging Alice. She dusted her palms off on the back of her jeans as she headed to the door, determined not to say anything that would feed the romance gossip mill. She was so caught up in planning how best to respond to Ian’s unexpected visit, that she was taken completely by surprise when she opened the door to find a stranger on her front porch.

Her visitor was an elderly man, about Annie’s height but considerably broader. His balding head shone slightly in the morning light, and his eyes were almost lost in the wrinkles on his face. Not that Annie had looked at his eyes much. Her attention was drawn to the huge walrus mustache that twitched as he spoke.

“Miss Holden?” the man said, his voice deep and a little wheezy.

“I’m Mrs. Dawson,” Annie said. “Can I help you?”

“Are you Elizabeth Holden’s heir?” the man asked.

“I am. She was my grandmother.”

The man nodded solemnly. “I am Edgar Harvester. I was a good friend of Elizabeth. A very good friend. I’m sure she spoke of me.”

Annie looked at the man skeptically. A good friend of her grandmother would not have called her “Elizabeth,” as Betsy always felt that sounded too formal. “If she did, I’m afraid I don’t remember it. How can I help you, Mr. Harvester?”

“Your grandmother and I corresponded many times,” the man said. His twitching mustache was the only movement as he spoke. “I am certain we would have grown even closer if—” He paused and seemed genuinely upset for a moment. “The good ones always seem to pass too soon.”

“I can agree with that,” Annie said softly, touched by the man’s clearly emotional distress even though she tried not to be. Still, she knew her grandmother could not have entertained romantic thoughts for this odd man. He was simply far too prim-sounding for her lively grandmother. “Again, how might I help you?”