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Authors: Marie Bostwick

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BOOK: Threading the Needle
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My inheritance?
“What are you talking about? She cut me out of her will years ago, even before I met Sterling.”
I felt a flush of heat in my chest. Even from the grave, Edna Beecher, the meanest, most disapproving old woman who ever walked the earth, could still upset me.
“She was bluffing? I can't believe it. How much did she leave to me?”
Gene held up his hand. “No money. She split that between her church and the Humane Society. Not that there was much to begin with. She left you the house—”
“The house? On Oak Leaf Lane?”
“Yes.” Gene drew his brows together. “Did she have another house?”
“No . . . I just . . .” I said quietly, laying my hand over the warm place on my chest, “I'm just surprised. It's known as Beecher Cottage. Our family is distantly related to Harriet Beecher Stowe, the famous abolitionist who wrote
Uncle Tom's Cabin,
and her father, Lyman Beecher, and Henry Ward Beecher, her brother, preachers who were nearly as famous as Harriet in their day. They lived in Litchfield, east of New Bern.
“You see what pious Yankee stock I'm descended from,” I said with a hollow laugh. “My grandmother was almost as proud of her Beecher heritage as she was disappointed in me. The cottage is the last remnant of that heritage. I never thought she'd leave it to me.”
“According to her will, she didn't want to,” Gene said, picking up a yellowed paper and scanning it. “But it seems the old lady couldn't bear to leave the family house in the hands of strangers, so, as the last Beecher standing, she felt she had no choice but to leave it to you. Along with many admonitions about avoiding the bad end she felt sure you'd come to.” He lifted his gaze. “Shall I read them to you?”
“No, thanks. I've heard them all—a million times.”
Gene closed the folder. “Ghostly harangues aside, it's all good for you. Gives you somewhere to go.”
“Somewhere to go? Where?”
Gene blinked and shook his head slightly, as if amazed by my denseness. “New Bern, of course. You need a place to live and now you've got one—Beecher Cottage.”
The hot spot on my chest grew hotter and larger, spreading up my neck to my cheeks. “New Bern? I'm not going back to New Bern!”
“I don't see as you have a lot of choice, Madelyn. You've got to live somewhere. Why not New Bern? I hear it's very picturesque. Lots of trees. Lots of scenery . . .”
Lots of memories.
“Most people would be thrilled to inherit a nice cottage in Connecticut.”
“I'm not most people!” I snapped. “And I'm not going back to New Bern! Call a Realtor. Tell them to sell the house. Tell them I'll consider any offer.”
Gene took off his glasses, revealing his impatience. “Don't be an idiot, Madelyn. The housing market has hit rock bottom. Or hadn't you heard?”
“Yes,” I said, loathing Gene at least as much as he loathed me, “but there's got to be someone out there who is willing to buy it if the price is right.”
Gene shook his head. “I talked to your grandmother's attorney, Franklin Spaulding. He told me that there hasn't been a real estate closing in New Bern for the last seven months. Nobody is buying, not at any price.”
“But . . . there has to be . . . surely there's . . . I can't live in New Bern. . . .”
Gene smacked his hands against his mahogany desk. I jumped, startled.
“Madelyn! Will you listen to yourself? Not five minutes ago you were asking where you were going to live and what you were going to live on. I've gotten you a check for a hundred grand and a house and all you can do is gripe! If not for me, you'd be living in the state women's prison. I think a little gratitude is in order here, don't you?”
“I'm sorry, Gene,” I said stiffly, knowing he was right, hating him for it.
I've been around the block enough times to know that the truth isn't always enough to protect the innocent. If I'd had a lawyer less talented than Eugene Janders, it was possible Sterling and I would both be living at the Metropolitan Correctional Center.
“I don't mean to appear unappreciative, but this is hard for me. I haven't had time to adjust.”
“You'd better adjust, Madelyn, and quickly, because the party is over.”
His tone was unsympathetic and his speech was frank. Clearly he thought this would be our last meeting and felt no need to mince words.
“You had a good ride with Sterling. When he married you, I thought you'd last a couple of years. Five, if you were lucky.” He looked me up and down, slowly, insultingly. “Clearly you possess talents that can't be seen with the naked eye.”
Four months ago, he'd never have dared to look at or speak to me that way. The balance of power had shifted. He knew it. I knew it. I said nothing.
Gene stood up at his desk. The meeting was over. He handed me a manila envelope.
“What's this?”
“A check, made out to you; a deed to the house; contact information for Wendy Perkins, the Realtor who is holding the keys; and a bill for legal services.”
I looked at the papers. My jaw dropped open. “Nine thousand dollars?”
“I gave you a discount. No need to thank me.”
I didn't.
I picked up my purse and my papers and turned to walk across Gene's hand-knotted silk rug, out the door, and into a future that would force me to return to the one place I'd hoped never to see again—New Bern, Connecticut.
2
Tessa Woodruff
T
hirty-four years ago, Lee Woodruff and I promised to love each other till death did us part, in sickness and health, for richer or poorer. As a bride, I'm not sure I fully grasped what that was all about, but I do now. There's a reason they make you take vows—to hold you together through times like these.
It's not the fact that we're celebrating our anniversary over breakfast at the Blue Bean Coffee Shop and Bakery instead of dinner at a white tablecloth restaurant that's bothering me. I don't mind that. But I do mind that there's very little celebrating being done. We've never had an anniversary like this.
Lee rubbed his chin and narrowed his eyes as he stared at the legal pad. “I'm going to have to pull some money out of the 401(k) to pay Josh's tuition.”
“That's supposed to be our retirement.”
“The way things are looking, we'll never be able to retire anyway.”
“Won't we have to pay a penalty if we take it out early?”
Lee looked up. “Can you think of another plan? If you can, I'm all ears.”
“Honey,” I said gently. “Don't be so hard on yourself. We're not the only ones this has happened to. A lot of people are in the same boat.”
Lee picked up his coffee cup. “I should have seen this coming.”
“How? You're an accountant, not a fortune-teller. Even the economists didn't see this coming.”
Lee shook his head before taking a slurp of coffee. I looked at his plate. He'd hardly touched his food.
“My dad always said a man's first and last job is to protect his family. Right now, I'm almost glad he's not alive to see how far off the job I've fallen.”
“Hey!” I said, giving him a nudge under the table. “This isn't all your doing. We've worked hard, side by side, all this time. Up until now, we've done all right. In fact, I think we make a pretty good team.”
I smiled, hoping to steer the conversation onto more romantic ground. Lee wasn't picking up on my cues.
“We should have played it safe,” he mused. “We should have stayed in Boston and let well enough alone instead of putting everything on the line for a crazy dream.”
“Don't say that! I mean it, Lee! Don't ever say that!”
Lee put down his cup and looked at me with surprise. I'm not generally given to emotional outbursts. “I just meant that . . .”
“I know what you meant, but you're wrong. Moving to New Bern, finally working up the courage to start living our own dream instead of somebody else's, is the best thing we've ever done. When I look back and think what our lives were like before we started talking about the farm and the shop and what we wanted out of life . . .”
I shook my head and smeared a piece of toast with strawberry jam. “It's practically a miracle that we got to be married this long.”
Lee frowned. “What are you trying to say? You think we'd have ended up divorced if we'd stayed in Massachusetts? You never said anything about being unhappy. . . .”
“I'm saying I didn't even
know
I was unhappy. And so were you. Admit it, you were.”
“Well,” he said slowly, “I don't know if I'd have put it in those terms exactly.”
“How about bored? How about wondering if this was really all there was to life?”
Lee looked at me, a little smile of admission crossing his lips. “Well. Maybe sometimes. But I never thought of divorce.”
“Neither did I, but you've got to wonder if, eventually, we might have. It's happened to so many people we know—Lena and John, Caroline and Stan, the Willises from across the street. They all said they'd ‘grown apart.' I can't help but think that the problem was that they stopped growing together.
“Maybe this is a crazy idea,” I said earnestly, “and maybe it won't work out, but I'm proud of us for trying. And if we end up broke, I can honestly say that I'd rather be broke with you than anyone I know. . . .”
Lee laughed. “Aw, shucks.”
“I mean it, Lee Woodruff. I love you. More today than I ever have.”
“But only half as much as tomorrow?”
“Are you trying to flirt with me?”
“I am. Is it working? Because I love you, too, Tessa. Now more than ever.”
Our kiss was interrupted by the lilt of Charlie Donnelly's Irish brogue. “Ah, the lovebirds!” he called out as he approached our table, holding Evelyn's hand. “Lee is so overcome that he hasn't touched his pancakes. It's true love, I tell you, true love.”
Evelyn laughed. “It would be for you, Charlie. I can't imagine the day when you'd ever be too overcome with anything to miss a meal.”
Charlie is the owner of New Bern's most elegant restaurant, the Grill on the Green. He's a serious foodie, though you couldn't tell it to look at him. Charlie is as skinny as a rail. Evelyn owns the Cobbled Court Quilt Shop. It's located just a hop, skip, and a jump from For the Love of Lavender, my herbal gift shop. We know Charlie and Evelyn from various community and Chamber of Commerce gatherings, but not well, not enough so you could call us friends. After all these months, we still haven't made any close friends in New Bern. We've got to make more of an effort in that regard.
Evelyn and Charlie have recently returned from their honeymoon in Ireland. Not that they told us this personally—but New Bern is a small town. News travels fast.
“The waitress says congratulations are in order,” Evelyn said. “How many years is it?”
“Thirty-four,” Lee replied.
Charlie whistled in admiration. “Good for you! I hope we'll be able to say the same someday, and that when we do, we're both still able to walk.”
“I'm sure you will,” I said. “You look young and healthy enough.”
“Being married to Evelyn is making me feel younger every day.” Charlie beamed as he turned to Evelyn and gave her a loud smack on the lips.
“Behave yourself,” Evelyn said, though not with any real conviction.
“Why? I never have before.”
The door to the café opened and Jake Kaminski, owner of Kaminski's Hardware, came in. Jake is a big man, tall but trim, with broad shoulders and a long stride, the kind of guy people call a “man's man,” though he's pretty popular with the ladies. Jake was a year ahead of me in school. He did a tour in Vietnam and has a glass eye to prove it. Even so, Jake is considered the most eligible bachelor in New Bern.
Jake lifted his hand when he spotted our group and walked toward the table.
“You're back! Can I get a kiss from the bride?” He gave Evelyn a big bear hug and a peck on the cheek. “How was the honeymoon?”
“Idyllic. Ireland is so beautiful. And Charlie's family was just wonderful. His sisters are just the kindest, sweetest women in the world.”
Jake looked at Charlie and raised his left eyebrow. “Sweet? Really?” He winked at Evelyn. “You
sure
they're Charlie's sisters, related to him by blood and all?”
Charlie grinned. “Oh, yes. Grania, Maura, and I share the Donnelly DNA. The girls are carbon copies of my dear old dad, the kindest, most soft-spoken man in the county. Whereas I take after my mother, the woman who nagged him to an early grave.”
Jake slapped him on the back and laughed. “Ah, Charlie, I've missed you. Welcome home. You both look great. Marriage must agree with you.”
“I highly recommend it,” Evelyn said, looking lovingly at her groom. “You should give it a try, Jake. With Charlie off the market, you must be New Bern's last bachelor standing. You'll wear yourself out.”
“It's a tough job, Evelyn, but somebody's gotta do it. As far as marriage, the third time was the charm for me. Can't see risking a fourth,” Jake said, then deftly changed the subject. “Lee, the water pump you ordered came in.”
“Thanks. I'll pick it up later today.”
“So, what's going on here?” Jake asked. “You having a secret meeting of the Chamber of Commerce or something? Between us, we own about half the businesses in New Bern. Speaking of business, how's yours? Mine's off.”
Lee tilted his head and sucked some air in through his teeth. “Could be better. Tessa and I were just talking about that. Seems like no one is buying.”
Charlie's grin faded and he nodded understandingly. “Don't worry too much. I've been in the restaurant business longer than you've been married. These things go in cycles, you know. Things will rebound.”
“I hope so,” I said. “And soon. If they don't, I'm not sure my store will be around by our next anniversary.”
I felt Lee's eyes on me and turned to see him staring at me, his mouth a thin line.
Charlie glanced at Lee and said quickly, “Lee, I hear you're keeping chickens now. Have you got any eggs to sell to the restaurant? Or extra produce . . .”
“Eggs? Sure. We've got a lot of nice tomatoes and zucchini too. Of course,” Lee said, “this time of year, so does everybody else.”
“Yeah.” Charlie laughed. “If you forget to lock your car, you'll come back and find your front seat filled with squash. What about cucumbers? Onions?”
“I've got plenty. Green beans too.”
“Good! Bring some over today, will you? After the lunch crowd thins out.”
“I'll be there,” Lee promised.
“Tessa,” Evelyn said, “Margot said you were thinking about taking her lap quilt class. I hope so. It's her first time teaching and she's so excited.”
“I think I'm going to have to bow out,” I said apologetically. “Business is so slow that I'm going to let my part-time girl go. Soon there'll be no one to run the shop but me. Anyway, it's probably not a great time for me to take up an expensive hobby. . . .”
Lee interrupted me. “Don't be silly. Take the class.”
I shifted slightly in my chair and lowered my voice so the others wouldn't hear. “The class is sixty dollars. Plus, I'll need supplies and fabric. I don't think it's a good . . .”
Ignoring my whispered protests, Lee looked at Evelyn and said, “I can help out at the shop if need be. Don't worry. You can count her in.”
I don't like having people speak for me. Lee knows that. I'd have said something but I didn't want to have an argument in public—especially on our anniversary. Evelyn and Charlie exchanged an uncomfortable glance.
“Well. Good,” Evelyn said. “Come over when you get a chance and I'll help you choose your fabric. You're going to love quilting. It's a great way to get to know people.”
We said our good-byes. Charlie and Evelyn left the café hand in hand. Jake went to the bakery counter and bought a coffee and muffin to go. We waved as he left.
The tension was thick between us. I was still miffed, but for the sake of the day, I decided to let it go.
“Well, that's some good news, isn't it? I bet Charlie can buy up a lot of our extra vegetables and eggs.”
Lee wasn't listening. “Why did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Tell them business was bad, make out like we can't afford for you to take a little quilting class. We hardly know them!”
“But,” I puffed, “you said it first. ‘Things could be better.' You said so yourself. You're right, they could. What's so terrible about saying so? I don't know what you're so upset about.”
“Because I don't want you going around telling everybody our private business! Start saying things like that and next thing you know it'll be all over town.”
“They wouldn't do that. After all, they're in the same boat. Every business in town is struggling.”
“Maybe, but I still don't like everybody knowing about our troubles, okay?”
“Okay.” I shrugged. “Sorry.”
Lee cut into his stack of cold pancakes. “It's not like we're destitute, you know. It's not like I can't take care of my family.”
“Lee Woodruff, what are you talking about? I never said anything of the kind! I never even implied it. All I meant was—”
Eyes on his plate, he lifted his hand. “Let's just not talk about it, okay?”
Where had this come from? Lee and I have always shared everything from housework and child rearing to bill paying and bread-winning. Now he was acting like the responsibility for bringing home the family bacon rested on his shoulders alone. I didn't get it. Then again, Lee was the one with the accounting degree. If he was so concerned about our financial situation, maybe I should be too.
As if reading my thoughts, Lee looked up from his plate of pancakes and gave me an apologetic smile. “Don't worry so much. We'll figure it out.”
BOOK: Threading the Needle
12.94Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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