Tying the Knot (17 page)

Further conversation was cut short as the wind and the rain both kicked up a notch. The two women battled the squall, fighting their way up Eleanor's driveway.

“Thank goodness we're here,” muttered Beatrice.

“We're good friends,” said Meadow smugly.

Beatrice and Meadow huddled on the covered front porch, although they weren't receiving much protection from the elements even there, with the wind blowing the rain sideways. Beatrice rang the doorbell, and the two women waited.

After ten seconds had passed, Beatrice thumped loudly on the door.

Meadow gave her a reproachful look. “Beatrice, she's probably going to think we're home invaders or something. That was quite a knock on the door.”

“I can't help it—I'm desperate to get out of this rainstorm.” Beatrice gave another resounding knock on the front door.

Meadow said in her stage whisper, “It probably takes her a long time to navigate those piles of things to even get to the door. Or maybe she's in the shower. Or decided to sleep in this morning.”

Beatrice tried the handle and the door opened. “Maybe so, but why would she sleep in or take a shower with the door unlocked?”

Meadow shrugged. “It's a small town, and old habits die hard. Ramsay says he's constantly having to remind residents to keep their doors locked. Folks who've lived here all their lives don't remember.”

Beatrice frowned. “Just the same. We're here to check in on Eleanor, and we should check in. Let's stick our heads in and call and see if she hears us, or if we hear water running or something like that.”

She cautiously opened the door, poked her head through the crack, and called out, “Eleanor? It's Beatrice and Meadow. We thought we'd drop by to say hi.” She paused and listened hard. Then she called again, “Eleanor?”

“Do you hear water running? Or snoring? Or a loud TV drowning us out?” asked Meadow, looking worried. “Or anything?”

“Nothing,” said Beatrice grimly. “I'm going inside.”

Beatrice pushed the door open and stepped in. As before, there were piles and piles of newspapers, catalogs, and unopened boxes of kitchen gadgets, etc. But unlike before, there seemed to be a bit more organization. As Beatrice looked closer, she saw that it looked as if Eleanor had been sorting her piles into three distinct piles; she'd even labeled the three piles with a piece of paper. There was a give-away pile, a throw away pile (complete with large black garbage bags), and a keep pile.

Several cats perched on the tops of piles and looked down at them with varying degrees of disdain.

Meadow studied the piles as she came in behind Beatrice. “It's a pity that the keep pile is so large. Maybe she'll reconsider some of those things later.”

“Maybe. Right now I'm more concerned about finding her. Especially considering what happened to me a couple of nights ago.” Beatrice moved through the living room and dining room into the kitchen. Then she swiftly climbed the stairs, which were miraculously uncluttered, and checked the upstairs, but didn't Eleanor. “We'd better check the garage. Maybe she's out.”

“But it's so early!” Meadow said.

“
We're
out, though. And Lyla is probably out, too,” said Beatrice in a whisper. “Which may be what Eleanor is out doing—following her around. Let's see.”

Beatrice opened the garage door and peered in. There was no car there. She relaxed. “Okay, so I guess Eleanor is really lax about keeping her door locked. Although I do think that's pretty odd, considering her husband just got murdered.”

The garage door started going up, and Beatrice and Meadow gaped at each other. “We're going to scare her to death if we're in here as she's coming in,” said Beatrice. “Should we go back out through the front door and knock again?”

“In that monsoon?” scoffed Meadow. “You can if you want to, but I think I'll stay here for a while, until the rain tapers off.”

They could hear the rain still pounding outside the windows of the kitchen. Beatrice said, “All right, but I'm calling out to her as soon as she opens her door. I don't want to give her a heart attack.”

“Eleanor will be delighted to see us!” said Meadow.

The car pulled into the garage, windshield wipers still swishing aggressively from side to side. Beatrice waved from the open door into the house, but with Eleanor's headlights on, she couldn't see if she'd noticed she was there.

Eleanor opened her car door, seemingly lost in thought. She jumped violently when Beatrice said, “Eleanor? It's Beatrice and Meadow.”

“What . . . what are you doing here?” Eleanor was more than just surprised. She was trembling all over.

“I'm so sorry—I was trying not to scare you. Meadow and I were on a walk,” said Beatrice sheepishly. It seemed even more absurd as a peal of thunder rang out on cue. “We wanted to stop by to see how you were doing.”

Meadow assertively stepped in. “But you didn't answer our knocks or the doorbell. So Beatrice tried the front door, and it opened. We wanted to make sure you were all right, considering . . . uh . . . recent events,” she finished delicately.

Eleanor didn't quite meet their gaze. “Well. That's very sweet of you both. To check on me, I mean. And you certainly are dedicated to your exercise program.” This as another crack of thunder sounded outside.

Beatrice said, “Can we help you bring anything
inside? Groceries? You're up with the chickens today, Eleanor.”

A rush of color flamed across Eleanor's cheeks, which seemed like an odd response to Beatrice's offer of help. Eleanor mumbled, “Yes, I was out early. No, there's no need to help me carry anything. I was out for a coffee—that's all.”

Her eyes once again didn't meet Meadow's or Beatrice's gaze. Meadow and Beatrice glanced at each other, and then Beatrice said briskly, “Let's head inside, then. If it's all right with you, Meadow and I want to wait for a few minutes. At least until the thunder has stopped.”

Eleanor's face registered dismay until she quickly said, “Of course. You wouldn't want to leave with the thunder and lightning.”

She walked past them into the house, and Beatrice muttered to Meadow, “Although walking in an epic flood was apparently all right with us.”

Meadow gave her a reproachful look. “At least we're checking on her. That was the goal, right?”

Among other things. Like asking Eleanor to try to back off from Lyla before Lyla put a restraining order on her.

Eleanor seemed as if she were just going through the motions—almost as if she were in some sort of fog. She automatically found several glasses in a cabinet, poured some iced tea in them, and handed them out. Eleanor looked vaguely around her for a place for them all to sit, as the thunder and lightning kicked up a notch outside.

Eleanor said slowly, “The last time you were here, I
had a better idea where we should sit. But I've been moving things around . . .”

Meadow beamed at her. “We saw all the stacks you'd made. It looks like you're making great progress with your . . . clearing out.”

Although Meadow had again tried to be careful with the words she used, Eleanor still winced at the
clearing out
. “I'm not sure I want to get rid of
all
of it,” she said in a defensive manner, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Naturally,” said Beatrice soothingly. “Of course you wouldn't. But it looks as if you're organizing your things in a very logical way—at least that's the way it seemed to me. A give-away, a keep, and a throwaway pile, right? That's the way I do it, too.”

Eleanor's shoulders, which had been bunched up, seemed to relax at Beatrice's words. “Yes, that's right. Except sometimes I move things from the give-away and the throwaway piles to the keep pile,” she admitted ruefully.

Meadow's eyes opened wide. Beatrice recognized the look. It was Meadow with a mission. And for once it wasn't directed toward Beatrice. Beatrice gave a relieved sigh.

“I know!” said Meadow excitedly. “It's so, so hard to go through things yourself. But this is the sort of project that I
love
. I would
love
to help you with this, Eleanor.”

One of the cats came in and stared haughtily at Meadow. Eleanor reached down and distractedly stroked it. Then she brightened. “Meadow, that would be great. You can help me when I start second-guessing what I'm doing. Maybe you can help me keep focused, too.”

“It's the kind of project that can't be tackled all in one day,” said Meadow, waving a hand around expansively. “You'd get burned-out and frustrated. But if I came here every day for as long as it took . . . Say, nine o'clock each morning? Then I think it would go a lot faster.”

Eleanor nodded, starting to get excited. “I've gotten to the point where I feel weighed down with all this
stuff
. I want to get my life back. I want to do more of what I really enjoy doing, which is working with flowers. I've always done really small-scale work as a florist because I don't think I had the confidence in myself to try to do more. But now . . . I want to really grow my business. And I want to move out eventually. I really don't want to be in this big house all by myself. Well, with the cats, too. Even then, I think I need to cut back, especially if I'm moving to a smaller place—it's just not fair to them. I've got three cats to care for and I love them, but I have a feeling that if I'm going to be realistic, I need only two.”

Beatrice blinked at her. “You're actually looking to find a home for one of your cats?”

Meadow frowned at Beatrice. “Surely
you
don't want a cat, Beatrice. What would Noo-noo say?”

“Oh, Noo-noo would be totally appalled, the way she was when I took Smoke in before I gave him to Savannah. No, I'm thinking about Miss Sissy,” said Beatrice.

Now both Eleanor and Meadow were staring at her as if she'd suddenly gone insane.

“Miss
Sissy
?” asked Eleanor. She made a face. “I'm not sure her house qualifies as a good home for one of my babies.”

Beatrice said, “Let me explain that the cat would actually be shared between Posy at the Patchwork Cottage and Miss Sissy. I agree that Miss Sissy likely doesn't need complete responsibility for a cat right now. But Posy was saying that she'd like to share a cat with Miss Sissy and take some of that responsibility off her. The cat could be a shop cat some of the time, and some of the time could be at Miss Sissy's house. Miss Sissy has completely fallen head over feels for Savannah's cat, Smoke.”

Meadow nodded with sudden comprehension. “I see. And, yes, that's true about Miss Sissy, Eleanor. Beatrice and I saw her out during our last walk, and she'd quilted a cat mat for Smoke. With tassels! But I think she's probably driving Savannah nutty, because Savannah wants to hog Smoke all for herself.”

Eleanor said slowly, “Well, I certainly have a lot of respect for Posy. That's an arrangement that I'll seriously consider. Thanks for letting me know. I wanted to personally place a cat with a new owner—I'd never put one of my babies into a shelter.” She glanced around them again. “Here, let's go into the living room. I think I've got a few good spots to sit down in there.”

Sure enough, there was a stack that was the perfect size for Eleanor and one for Meadow, and Beatrice was even able to unearth an armchair with little trouble.

Eleanor looked pleased. “I'm making better progress in here than I'd thought. Now if I could only get my financial things in order as well as I'm getting my physical things in order.”

Meadow grimaced. “I hate working on bills and things. Hate keeping up with it and tracking it and coming up with a budget. Bleh.”

“Unfortunately, I do, too. And I've gotten to the point where I have to pay very close attention to it. I have a cousin who has been advising me on the phone—helping me to work through all the bills and organize them. It's been tough,” said Eleanor, looking tired just thinking about it.

Beatrice asked delicately, “I thought you'd said that Trevor's insurance money was going to help you balance everything out.”

Eleanor's face was pinched. “That's what I'd thought. But the truth is that it wasn't anywhere close to balancing out things. We were in a much deeper hole than I thought. That's what's behind my decision to sell the house. I've really
got
to sell the house before they start foreclosure proceedings at the bank. It would be helpful if, once I pay everyone, if I could have some income to start out fresh.”

Meadow said, “Maybe when I'm helping you go through everything, we'll find some items that you can sell at the church yard sale. That could at least give you some pocket change, if nothing else. And a lot of your things appear to still be in their boxes.”

Eleanor brightened. “I'd forgotten that the church had a yard sale. That would be a lot easier than me trying to attract people over to my house. A lot of people go through the church sale, don't they?”

“They certainly do,” said Meadow emphatically. “Why, Ramsay and I made three hundred dollars there last year, and we didn't have nearly the items that you'll have.”

Eleanor smiled at her. “It's wonderful to see things
starting to come together for me.” Then a shadow crossed over her features, as if she'd been reminded of something unpleasant.

“It really is coming together, Eleanor,” said Beatrice. She was trying to tread carefully into the topic of Lyla. “And you seem like you're doing really well. That's one reason Meadow and I are here, as I mentioned before—to check on you. You've had a really stressful time, and a scary one. I know stress affects all of us in really harsh ways.”

Eleanor's eyes narrowed. “It seems as if you're tiptoeing around something, Beatrice. It's okay. You can get right to the point. What's this about?”

Meadow gave Beatrice an encouraging nod of her head.

“I bumped into Lyla Wales in the parking lot when I was leaving the Patchwork Cottage yesterday. I startled her, as a matter of fact. She seemed to think I might be you,” said Beatrice.

Eleanor flushed. “I can't abide that woman. What did she say?”

“One reason I wanted to talk with you about Lyla is because she mentioned the possibility of a restraining order against you,” said Beatrice. “And I thought, in a small town like Dappled Hills, that would make your life very difficult.”

Eleanor's shoulders slumped. “Were you able to convince her not to?”

Meadow said, “Of course she was! Beatrice is a wonder when it comes to being persuasive.”

“I asked her not to ask Ramsay about a restraining
order. And I told her that I'd come talk with you about your . . . following her around,” said Beatrice, carefully avoiding the word
stalking.

Eleanor nodded. “Thank you, Beatrice. I guess this is another part of my life that needs an overhaul—like my house and my finances. It's just really, really hard. I feel like Lyla is getting off scot-free and that she was the cause of everything.”

“Everything?” asked Beatrice softly.

Eleanor shook her head. “No, you're right. I've made her into a scapegoat, but she has nothing to do with the way I accumulated all the stuff in my house and the way our finances got so messed up. But, you see, Lyla and I were friends. So I took this really personally. And then, of course, she
is
responsible for Trevor's death. I feel it in my bones. And someday she's going to pay for it.”

Meadow said sternly, “Make sure that you're not the one who's making her pay, Eleanor, if that's even the case. Just to let you know, Lyla's equally convinced that
you're
the one responsible for Trevor's death. So, who knows? Maybe both of you are wrong and it's someone else. Because there are other people with motives.”

Now Eleanor looked uncertain, but said in a strong voice, “I doubt that.”

Beatrice hesitated and then said, “Eleanor, Lyla also said that you had a knife in your purse at the wedding. That you threatened her at the reception.”

Eleanor's face flushed. “What? No, I . . . What's she talking about? The only thing in my purse that night was a couple of tissues and my car keys.” But Beatrice noticed she wouldn't look them in the eye. “Besides,
it's not as if Trevor were killed with a knife. Lyla is trying to divert attention away from herself. Because
she's
the one with the motive.”

Meadow stood up and looked out the window. “Okay, it's finally looking better out there. In fact, it's not even raining.” She glanced over at Beatrice. “We should probably head out before it starts pouring again. Eleanor, how about if I start helping you organize tomorrow morning?”

“Perfect,” said Eleanor with a shy smile. “And I'll get in touch with Posy about the cat . . . after I've mulled it over today.” She paused. “I've got a lot to think over today.”

Beatrice and Meadow put on all their rain gear and grabbed their umbrellas from the front porch. They gave a wave to Eleanor from the end of her driveway, then saw her wave back and go inside her house.

Meadow said, “Well, what do you make of it all? Can we cross Eleanor off our list of suspects? She's so totally convinced that Lyla is the culprit that I don't think we can seriously consider her the killer, can we?”

Beatrice said thoughtfully, “I'm not so sure. What if Eleanor
did
murder Trevor, planning to assign the blame to Lyla? Wouldn't that make the ultimate revenge? She'd have gotten rid of both Trevor and Lyla.”

“It's possible. At least maybe now she'll stop shadowing Lyla. Stalking Lyla like that is basically playing mind games with her. And if she'd play mind games like that, maybe setting someone up for a murder charge wouldn't be that much of a stretch,” said Meadow. “Although I do really like Eleanor. I like that she's trying to fix all these different things in her life. She was pretty quick to
realize that she needed to change her dealings with Lyla, too, when you brought it up.”

“Only because I mentioned the fact that Lyla plans to put a restraining order against her. But I do think she's very motivated to take charge of her life now, which is wonderful. And Posy will be glad to hear about the cat,” said Beatrice. She looked over at Meadow. “Did you think she was acting sort of oddly when she got out of her car, though, at the start of our visit?”