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  On Pins and Needles

  A Southern Quilting Mystery, Volume 10

  Elizabeth Craig

  Published by Elizabeth Spann Craig, 2018.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  ON PINS AND NEEDLES

  First edition. October 23, 2018.

  Copyright © 2018 Elizabeth Craig.

  ISBN: 978-1946227331

  Written by Elizabeth Craig.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  For Coleman

  Chapter One

  “SHE WOULDN’T EVEN COME to a guild meeting!”

  Meadow Downey’s face was indignant as she looked around the table at her friends Beatrice and Wyatt, looking for sympathy. Her husband, Ramsay, was already rolling his eyes. They were seated in Meadow and Ramsay’s cozy kitchen for what had become a ritual—Friday breakfast. Their home was a transformed barn and signs of Meadow’s passion for quilting hung around them in the form of colorful quilts of different sizes. As usual, Meadow had cooked an enormous spread of food: vegetable omelets, pancakes, biscuits with homemade blackberry jam, and two different types of sausages.

  “Meadow,” Ramsay said, “not everybody is cut out to be a quilter.” He took another fluffy biscuit off a plate in the middle of the table and slathered it with butter.

  Meadow said, “Well, it worked for Beatrice!” Her eyes behind their red-framed glasses gazed at Beatrice, pleading for her to back her up. She impatiently smacked a long, gray braid of hair out of her way.

  Beatrice said, “It worked once I got over the certainty that I was being kidnapped. You forcibly removed me from my house to attend a guild meeting.”

  “And I wasn’t that firm with Annabelle,” said Meadow. “She should have no complaints whatsoever. I simply don’t understand why she’s not wanting to socialize with us all.”

  Wyatt, considered this while he finished a bite of a biscuit. “Perhaps she hasn’t really settled into town yet.”

  Beatrice smiled at her husband. “Trust a minister to have a sympathetic view of the situation.”

  Meadow said, “But she’s been here for five or six months. She should be as settled as anyone can possibly be! How hard is it to settle into this town? All you have to do is find a church, talk to your neighbors, and either volunteer or join an organization of some kind.”

  Beatrice said, “But Dappled Hills can take some getting used to. Particularly after having moved to town from a city like Atlanta. The pace is a lot slower. The people are chattier in the store. And people are a little more eager to make friends. That can be off-putting for people who aren’t used to it, even if everyone is friendly.”

  Meadow said, “It would probably help if she had a job here, too.”

  Beatrice chuckled. “I don’t think people like Annabelle get jobs. She doesn’t need the income and I’m sure it would seem like a major hassle to her.”

  Ramsay tilted his balding head curiously at Beatrice. He pushed back from the table a bit to give his prominent stomach more room. “You’ve been pretty hush-hush about knowing this Annabelle. I gather, though, that you knew each other in Atlanta. What’s your impression of her?”

  Beatrice deliberately popped a forkful of buttermilk pancakes in her mouth to delay her answer. Ramsay’s question had the touch of interrogation about it. But then, he was the Dappled Hills police chief. It probably came naturally to him.

  After a moment she said, “Annabelle and I did know each other in Atlanta since we were both involved in the art world. I was an art museum curator, and she was a collector. An avid collector, at that.”

  Meadow snorted impatiently. “But you still haven’t answered Ramsay’s question. What was she like?”

  Beatrice shrugged. “She had excellent taste in art.”

  Wyatt grinned at her. “How diplomatic of you, Beatrice.”

  She grinned back at him before sighing. “To be perfectly honest, I didn’t much care for her. She could be a difficult person to work with and fairly demanding regarding her personal collection of art. But it’s been a couple of years since I’ve seen her and I wanted to give her another chance.”

  Wyatt said, “Maybe we should plan a visit. You could bring her a casserole.”

  Beatrice laughed. “The Annabelle that I knew wouldn’t want to eat a casserole. Let alone one of mine.” She considered it a second. “Maybe if we brought by some goodies from the farmers’ market in a basket or something? She might go for that.”

  Ramsay was still considering the elusive information on Annabelle Tremont. He said thoughtfully, “So what was it about Annabelle that you didn’t like?”

  Beatrice said, “She made my job difficult. She was pushy and something of a perfectionist. And she could be condescending, too. We even had words over an ancient sword that had passed into my hands. She wanted it for her collection.”

  Meadow said, “Well, I’ll try again to connect with her. Every time I see her around town, she looks absolutely miserable.”

  Ramsay finished eating his eggs and then said, holding a finger up, “Now, Meadow. Don’t be the self-appointed goodwill ambassador for Dappled Hills. Some folks are happy being absolutely miserable. Besides, it’s none of our business.”

  Meadow, who apparently didn’t hear a word Ramsay said, brightened. “I know! I’ll invite her to go to the Dappled Hills Art in the Park tonight.”

  Beatrice said, “Isn’t that pushing her toward quilting again? The Village Quilters guild just happens to have a display there.”

  “She won’t know that—art is art, right? Maybe she can find some local art for her collection. Besides, there will be live music and food. What’s not to like?” Meadow pulled her phone out and squinted at her contacts until she pulled Annabelle’s number up.

  Ramsay snorted and shook his head at Beatrice and Wyatt. “She’s already got the woman’s name and number in her contacts.”

  Beatrice and Wyatt’s corgi, Noo-noo was sitting quietly at Beatrice’s feet. She’d been excited to go to Meadow’s, despite Boris being there. Boris was Meadow and Ramsay’s massive dog, of indeterminate heritage. He had terrible manners coupled with a tremendous appetite. But Meadow, who was a consummate cook, somehow found the time to bake healthy homemade peanut butter treats. Meadow threw the corgi a couple more treats before dialing Annabelle’s number. Noo-noo gobbled down the treats while keeping a close eye on the voracious Boris.

  Boris was in high spirits with Noo-noo’s visit and currently had a bad case of the wiggles. Boris’s wiggles were so joyously robust that they threatened to knock lamps off tabletops. Noo-noo, on the other hand, sat very still in comparison—likely hoping someone would comment on his being a Good Dog and offer another treat in reward.

  Annabelle apparently answered the phone and Meadow quickly said, “Annabelle? It’s Meadow . . . Meadow Downey. I was thinking that you might enjoy going to the festival tonight, considering how much you enjoy art. There will be plenty of people there to meet, too. And, well, art, of course.”

  Beatrice’s mouth twisted into a smile. If Annabelle would be at all interested, it would be the art that would rope her in.

  And apparently, it had. Meadow beamed. “Yes, tonight. I thi
nk you’ll enjoy it. I’ll be there at 6:30 at the quilting booth.” There was a pause, during which Meadow frowned. “Yes, but there are many other crafts represented.”

  Meadow hung up and smiled. “See? That wasn’t hard. Sometimes people just need a little push to get out of their shells.”

  Wyatt said, “Are we sure she was in a shell?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” said Ramsay. “We should leave the poor woman alone. Maybe she came to Dappled Hills for some much-needed peace and quiet and here we are dragging her out to a festival.”

  Meadow said, “This is my last try, Ramsay. If this doesn’t work, I promise I won’t hound Annabelle.” She paused. “At least, for a while.”

  Ramsay said, “And I’ll hold you to it.”

  Meadow said, “After all, people like living in Dappled Hills. It’s the perfect place. Or it would be, except for one small thing,” said Meadow, heaving a tremendous sigh that startled the dogs.

  Wyatt said with a twinkle in his eye, “I think I can guess this one.”

  Beatrice said, “No, let me. It would be perfect here in town except for the fact that our darling children no longer live in Dappled Hills.”

  Meadow said fretfully, “I just want to have them near us again. I’m not asking for much, you understand. I just want my child near us in my golden years.”

  Ramsay chuckled. “What do you mean, ‘near us’? They are near us. For heaven’s sake, he used to live on the opposite end of the country. They live just 25 minutes away. And it only takes that long because of stoplights and minor traffic.”

  Meadow said, “You wouldn’t think that would end up being that far away, I agree. But the fact is that we don’t see as much of them as we would if they were in town all the time.”

  Beatrice said, “Of course, Piper is still here at the elementary school every weekday.”

  Meadow shook her head. “It’s still not the same. She’s there working. And then she leaves Dappled Hills to head off to be with Ash in Lenoir. It’s not like we suddenly run into her at the grocery store or the quilt shop or the gas station or anything. It’s not like we could grab a quick coffee with her. Besides, it would be helpful to have the children closer. Remember poor Beatrice and her fall? It would have been great if they could have given her a hand when she was laid up like that.”

  Wyatt gave Beatrice a sympathetic look. Beatrice had been distracted several months earlier and had stepped wrong and fallen down the church stairs. Although it had just been a sprain and not a break, Beatrice had been on crutches for weeks—a fact that made her very frustrated. She hadn’t liked asking for help. Now her fall was a subject that she generally avoided—unless someone like Meadow brought it up.

  Ramsay said, “Maybe it’s just as well that they have a little distance between us. After all, they’re still newlyweds and trying to set up a household of their own. The last thing they need is to have us knocking at their door all the time.”

  Meadow opened her mouth to dispute this point and Ramsay said, “At any rate, Meadow, you should be able to sneak in a visit tonight at the art festival. Ash told me a few days ago that he and Piper were planning on being there.”

  Wyatt glanced at his watch. “I hate to wrap this up, but it’s about time for me to head out to the church office.”

  Fortunately, he was already in his work clothes of khaki pants and a dark-navy button down that Beatrice thought contrasted nicely with his silver-streaked hair.

  They all stood up and Meadow and Ramsay walked them to the door. Ramsay said to Beatrice, “Hey, what are you reading right now? I’ve finished my last book and I’m looking for something new.”

  Beatrice and Wyatt shared a smile. “As a matter of fact, Wyatt and I have a reading challenge for each other. He almost always reads nonfiction and I nearly always read fiction. So we’re switching places.”

  Wyatt said ruefully, “I’m taking a stab at David Copperfield. Although I haven’t gotten very far.”

  Ramsay said, “Good pick!”

  “It was Beatrice’s idea. I have her reading a biography of John Calvin,” said Wyatt.

  Beatrice hid a grin as Meadow said in horror, “What did she do to deserve that?”

  Ramsay said, “Beatrice, I believe you got the short end of the stick. If you can’t slog through it, I have a perfectly good collection of nonfiction titles in my library for you to peruse. There’s a couple of terrific David McCullough books—one on the Wright brothers and one on John Adams. And, since I know you enjoy sleuthing so much, several true crime stories that I know will hold your attention.”

  “Thanks,” said Beatrice. “It’s his favorite, so I’m trying. It’s just a bit of a tough read, starting out. I’m sure it gets better just a little farther in.”

  Ramsay looked doubtful as he and Meadow waved goodbye.

  As they walked back home, Wyatt held Beatrice’s hand. He gave her a sideways look. “If you don’t like the Calvin book, you don’t have to read it on my behalf. Different strokes for different folks,” he said.

  “Oh, it’s fine, really. And it has the bonus of helping me fall asleep at night,” said Beatrice, teasingly.

  He gave her hand a squeeze and laughed. “All right. As long as you know it’s not required reading. Fortunately, we’re not in school anymore and can choose what we want to read.”

  They walked in companionable silence for a few moments before Wyatt said, “We wanted to go to the festival tonight too, didn’t we?”

  “If you’re not too tired from the office. Evenings are better there—the daytime events are more geared to children,” said Beatrice. “Besides, it’s cooler in the evenings.”

  Wyatt said with a twinkle in his eye, “All I’m doing is finishing up the sermon for Sunday and then visiting Mildred in the hospital. I’m in bad shape if that’s too tiring.”

  “Let’s go then. We could plan on eating supper there. I’d be happy just having one of June Bug’s cakes for supper. She’ll have them there tonight and Katy is helping her sell them,” said Beatrice.

  June Bug was the owner of a downtown bakery and everything she made—from banana nut muffins to German chocolate cake—was mouth-watering. Before, she’d only baked on the side because she was working as a housekeeper. The town benefitted from the fact that she’d switched over to baking full-time.

  “Sounds good to me,” said Wyatt.

  Beatrice let herself into the house as Wyatt waved goodbye and continued walking the short distance to the church.

  A short while later, Meadow called.

  “Miss Sissy is looking for a ride to the festival and I just can’t. If Annabelle is wavering at all on living in Dappled Hills, an introduction to Miss Sissy probably shouldn’t come too early. I mean, Miss Sissy is great, but not everyone understands her,” said Meadow. “We wouldn’t want to scare Annabelle back to Atlanta.”

  Miss Sissy was one of the older residents of Dappled Hills and an accomplished quilter. She was also an eccentric with poor people skills and a habit of driving on sidewalks while shaking her fist at any hapless pedestrians nearby. Beatrice would be happy to drive Miss Sissy anywhere, considering the fact that it meant Miss Sissy wouldn’t be endangering town residents.

  “That’s no problem. Wyatt and I will bring her with us. See you there,” said Beatrice.

  THAT EVENING WAS BLESSEDLY cooler than the afternoon and the heavily humid air was no longer in place. A light breeze was thrown in as a bonus as Wyatt and Beatrice picked up Miss Sissy.

  Miss Sissy came out clutching her shawl around her as if the temperatures were in the fifties instead of the seventies. She glared at Beatrice and then settled a big grin on Wyatt, who was her favorite town resident.

  “Doing well, Miss Sissy?” asked Wyatt politely as he held the car door open for her.

  Miss Sissy made a sound that could be taken either for assent or grumbled complaints as she plopped down in the seat.

  Beatrice said, remembering past festivals, “Did you re
member to bring money for food? June Bug is selling cake there tonight.”

  Miss Sissy glowered at her. “Got plenty of money.”

  “All right then,” said Beatrice, relieved. Last time, Miss Sissy had wiped her out completely of cash. For a frail-looking woman, Miss Sissy had the appetite of a growing teenaged boy.

  The art festival was held in a public space with rolling hills and community gardens. The backdrop was a beautiful view of the mountains with the sun setting behind them. There was art on display and art for sale. There was even a potter there with a wheel and lessons for anyone interested.

  Wyatt said, “Where do you want to go first?”

  Miss Sissy’s response to this was to set off with great determination in the direction of June Bug’s cake booth.

  Chapter Two

  BEATRICE WATCHED HER go with a sigh. “I suppose she’ll find us later when she’s ready to go home. Or else pester someone else to take her back. Let’s see how Meadow and Annabelle are making out.”

  By this time, it was seven o’clock. Wyatt said, “Maybe we should just look for them around the festival. From what Meadow said, Annabelle isn’t much of a fan of quilting. They probably still aren’t at the quilting booth by now.”

  Beatrice said, “You’re probably right, but this way I can check to make sure that everything is going well. I know we had volunteers from the guild to man the booth, but I should make sure there weren’t any glitches.”

  But there apparently had been a glitch because instead of an absent Meadow, there was a very aggravated one at the booth.

  “Never showed up!” she fumed. “Isn’t that the height of tackiness? Annabelle told me just as clear as she could be that she’d be here at 6:30 at the booth and she stood me up.” Meadow’s face matched her red glasses. Along with her dramatic red and white top and black pants, the entire effect was one of an angry volcano nearing eruption.