2 Knot What It Seams (10 page)

She took a deep, sustaining breath. “It’s somewhat chaotic inside, Wyatt.” She stepped aside and let the minister in. He was wearing khaki pants and a crisply ironed black button-down shirt that complemented his silver-streaked hair. He looked splendid.

There was a shriek from the back of the house that made everyone freeze. They could hear Meadow’s voice bellowing, “The zipper caught my skin, Ramsay!”

Beatrice smiled at Wyatt. “Meadow’s having a problem with her dress. That’s why I’m on door duty and Posy is trying to figure out what’s going on with our dinner.”

Miss Sissy, who’d polished off the plate of cheese olivettes, hurried up to Wyatt with her odd, galloping gait. He gave her a hug and she smugly smirked at Beatrice. “I didn’t know I was going to be able to visit with my favorite parishioner tonight,” he said to Miss Sissy. She preened.

Another timer went off, but Posy gave Beatrice a reassuring smile. “Not to worry! I think I’ve discovered the secrets of Meadow’s approach to cooking.”

Beatrice said wryly to Wyatt, “I tried to take over in the kitchen for Meadow, but it didn’t go so well. I made a tactical error in removing the chicken, apparently. I’d gotten out of the habit of cooking in Atlanta, and I guess I haven’t totally remembered the rhythm of it yet.”

“You made a really delicious casserole for the covered-dish picnic last month,” said Wyatt with a warm smile. “I ate every bit of what was on my plate.”

Beatrice said wryly, “No, that would be my daughter’s casserole you enjoyed, I’m afraid. Piper made two casseroles for the picnic and I carried one of them in. But thanks.” They grinned at each other.

There was another knock at the door. “That must be Karen Taylor,” said Beatrice, moving to the door. “She should be the last guest.”

It was Karen. She was wearing quite a dress, too. Considering that she was in her thirties, she was able to pull it off pretty well. It was a simple black dress with a fairly deep neckline, cinched at her waist with a gold belt. The hemline fell slightly above her knees, showing off her nice legs to best advantage. But who gets dressed up like that for a group of quilting women?

And a single minister. Beatrice watched as Karen lit up as soon as she saw Wyatt. She muttered out a greeting to Beatrice, then glided over to Wyatt’s side, giving him a quick hug, which he returned. “Wyatt, you must have been spying on me to be able to deliver such a perfect sermon last Sunday. It was
exactly
what I needed to hear this week.”

Beatrice, walking slowly back to Wyatt, picked her brain trying to remember what the minister’s sermon had been about. She’d been in attendance, right on the third row, in her usual pew. She remembered enjoying the pithy message and following along in her Bible as he’d read the perfect verse to put his sermon across. But she couldn’t for the life of her remember the topic.

“And you’re so right,” continued Karen, “that sometimes we get so caught up with life that we don’t allow ourselves the time for God to talk to us.”

Ah. That was it. Yes.

“I found some really interesting verses in Corinthians during my daily Bible study,” said Karen, eyes shining, “that really summed up what you were saying.”

Daily Bible study? Beatrice was starting to feel even more incompetent than she had when she’d suddenly been placed in charge of the dinner.

Beatrice thanked the Forces That Be for Meadow’s sudden, flamboyant reappearance. She didn’t think she’d ever been so happy to see the woman.

“I am
never
,” said Meadow, hand to heart in vowing posture, “wearing a dress again. As God is my witness. Never! And y’all make sure Ramsay doesn’t bury me in one, because I do believe he might do it out of spite, since he had an epic struggle trying to extricate me from that one.” She wore a pantsuit, and her gray braid swung at her side.

Meadow hurried over to greet everyone with a small hug, then she said anxiously to Beatrice, “What happened with the food?”

“Actually, Posy ended up taking over while I greeted at the door,” said Beatrice, trying to ignore Meadow’s quick sigh of relief. “There were all these timers going off and I couldn’t figure out what was supposed to come off the stove or out of the oven.”

Meadow walked over to the kitchen, saying over her shoulder, “And some of those timers were for things to go
into
the oven. Posy, how clever of you! You knew that one of the timers was for the bread to go in.”

Posy said modestly, “It seemed like the right thing to do.” Beatrice then saw Posy move closer to Meadow and speak in a low voice. They both looked at Miss Sissy, and Meadow nodded. Miss Sissy’s presence was cleared. Hopefully Meadow had enough food.

While her guests were visiting, Meadow put the food into serving dishes for the table. She motioned Beatrice over and hissed at her, “Shouldn’t you be asking Karen about her whereabouts the morning that Jo was murdered?” Meadow scooped some creamy mashed potatoes into a floral vegetable dish.

“I would, Meadow, except that Karen is preoccupied. She’s fairly starstruck by Wyatt, I think.”

Meadow glanced over to Karen, who was now standing very close to Wyatt and laughing at something he was saying. Meadow’s eyes opened wide. “Is she
flirting
with him?” Her voice was outraged, the fact that she was intimidated by Karen’s talent forgotten. “But I invited him here for
you
to talk to!” She knit her brows and tossed the pot into the sink with unnecessary force. “That’s most annoying! Most annoying indeed!”

Although Meadow was an amiable and loyal friend, Beatrice had noticed that it wasn’t a good idea to get on her bad side.

Meadow’s eyes narrowed. “I think I need to dictate seating tonight. I wasn’t
planning
on assigning seats, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I want Posy and me and even Miss Sissy to get to know Karen better. And that’s not going to happen if she’s hanging on the minister the whole night.”

Meadow bellowed, “Posy and Wyatt? Could you help me put the food on the table, please?”

Both leaped into action. It was amusing to see the minister expertly finding the right dish for each item—and the correct serving spoon or meat fork. It just goes to show how many covered-dish suppers and other meals he’d presided over in his career at the church.

With Wyatt across the room, Karen grew fidgety and glanced at her watch. She settled onto Meadow’s sofa, nearly covered in quilts, and ran her hand over one that was draped over the back of the sofa. “She loves the crazy quilts, doesn’t she?” Karen winked at Beatrice as if to say there might be a good reason for that.

“She’s got that waste-not, want-not mentality,” said Beatrice, easing herself next to Karen on the sofa. “Meadow’s an ex-hippie, you know. She’s a big recycler. Makes sense that she’d be the same way with her fabric.”

Miss Sissy had sat down directly across from Karen and was staring at her with fierce fixation. “Meadow is a good quilter!” she barked at Karen as if Karen wasn’t properly impressed by Meadow’s skill.

Karen said gently, “Of course she is, Miss Sissy. I love Meadow’s quilts. I just wish that maybe she’d try something different. She has a lot of talent and enthusiasm for quilting and I want her to explore some of her creativity. That’s what I’m doing—experimenting. I guess you don’t think much of my quilts.”

Miss Sissy shrugged a bony shoulder. “They’re good,” she said in a subdued voice. She added quickly, “But they aren’t pretty!”

Karen laughed at that. “No. Most times they aren’t that pretty. It’s funny, but sometimes it takes trying something different—maybe something that’s not even really attractive—to catch judges’ attention and win shows and get recognition.” She was more relaxed as she talked about competitions, clearly a favorite topic.

Which meant it was the perfect time to catch her off guard and ask her some questions about the murder. Beatrice smoothly said, “When I was in the Patchwork Cottage the other day, I heard Jo talking to you about the fabrics you were getting for a quilt.”

Karen made a face. “Talking to me? You mean arguing with me
,
don’t you?”

“It did sound like an argument. Is that why Jo left the Cut-Ups guild?” asked Beatrice.

“Jo and I weren’t getting along at all. As I mentioned, I’m trying to do some experimental things with my quilts—using different types of fabrics, hand-dying, three-D techniques, decorative threads for unusual stitching. Jo was like Miss Sissy,” said Karen, nodding at the still-glaring little woman.

“She didn’t think they were pretty?” asked Beatrice.

“She didn’t. But more than that, really. Jo didn’t think I was emotionally invested in my quilts. She acted like I’m this cold, clinical person, trying to gauge what’s going to get me a ribbon. Calculating. Plus, I think she was jealous. I was winning more competitions than she was. She’d get back at me when she could in the quilt shows she was judging—I never placed or showed whenever Jo was a judge.” Karen’s face was flushed and her eyes were bright. She was clearly still very angry over Jo’s bias.

“Refrain from anger and turn from wrath!”
Miss Sissy shrieked.

Wyatt walked up and regarded Miss Sissy calmly. “Psalm Thirty-seven, isn’t it, Miss Sissy? You have a verse for every occasion.” He turned questioning eyes on Beatrice and Karen, as if wondering what exactly that occasion was.

Karen adroitly changed the subject, perhaps to show off more of her biblical knowledge to Wyatt. “Psalms has many more lovely verses, though, don’t you agree? Songs to God—what a lovely thought.” She stood up and walked over to the table with Wyatt, apparently planning to sit next to him at dinner.

Meadow galloped over, holding a large wooden spoon in a threatening manner. “All right! Seating arrangements for tonight.” She cleared her throat. “Karen, I’d like you next to me—to pick your brain on some of the new quilting techniques.” Meadow proceeded to tell them all, in no uncertain terms, where they should sit. She pointed to the spots with her spoon.

Karen, crestfallen at first, became more cheerful at the prospect of talking about quilting techniques.

“And, Posy and Miss Sissy, you should listen in, too. Although, Posy, I know you must know all about Karen’s type of quilting, what with owning the shop and all.”

“Not really,” said Posy mildly. “I know enough to order supplies, but not enough to use most experimental techniques myself. I’d love to know more. Maybe Karen can even teach a workshop at the Patchwork Cottage or at one of our quilt shows. I’m sure a lot of quilters would love to know more.”

Miss Sissy was still muttering, “Not pretty!” under her breath.

Chapter 7

The food was, of course, delicious. Southern comfort at its finest. The chicken was smothered with pineapples, chutney, and chopped pecans and served over steamed rice. There were fried green tomatoes from Meadow’s own backyard garden and a bowl of collard greens mixed with chunks of chopped smoked ham and bacon. Beatrice carefully pushed her food to the side to make room for some Southern spoon bread on the very edge of her plate.

There must have been two thousand calories on Beatrice’s plate, and she savored every single one of them.

Meadow had made sure that Beatrice was sitting next to Wyatt, which she actually hadn’t wanted. She really didn’t need to talk to him the whole time or even most of the time. She’d only been disturbed, more so than she cared to think about, when Karen had so obviously been trying to catch Wyatt’s attention. Even now, as Karen was discussing some of her thoughts on the future of quilting, she stared wistfully at Wyatt. It was startling. She was either infatuated or in love, despite the difference in their ages.

Wyatt appeared oblivious of her gaze. He was asking Beatrice about her life in Atlanta and punctuated her descriptions with nods of interest.

Conversations around the table shifted after a few minutes. Karen was thoughtfully scanning the barn. “You have a ton of quilts, Meadow.”

Meadow raised her eyebrows. “Well, when you’re an old woman like I am, Karen, and you’ve been quilting for life, you’re bound to have a good number of quilts. Of course, you won’t be old like me for quite a while, will you?” She gave her booming laugh. Beatrice could imagine Ramsay in the back of the barn with his Thoreau, wincing.

Karen pushed a hand through her artfully tousled hair and said hastily, “You’re not old, Meadow. The only reason I brought up the number of quilts is that I thought you might be able to display them to better advantage.”

Meadow glanced around the big room as if seeing it all for the first time. There were quilts draped on the backs of every available object, quilted pillows, quilted quilting bags, quilts on the walls. “Don’t I have them almost everywhere I
could
have them? I’ve even got them stacked in my closets.”

“I was just thinking that you could hang more of the quilts. You have an extremely high ceiling, you know. I’ve been experimenting with different types of hangers—it could really make a difference,” said Karen. “I’m sure that Beatrice, with her curator background, would have some other ideas, too.”

“Not off the top of my head, no,” said Beatrice. Decorating a home was different from setting up a traveling exhibit in a museum space.

Meadow whooped. “Since it’s a barn, yes, it
does
have a high ceiling. I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

Beatrice thought that Karen had probably now scored back the number of points she’d lost earlier in the night. Although the poor woman had no idea she was being judged. Karen seemed very nice and she clearly had no idea that Beatrice had any interest in Wyatt at all. . . . Why would she?

Things wrapped up pretty quickly after dinner. Miss Sissy had gotten tired and started acting out, quoting fire and brimstone Bible verses at Karen in tones of increasing volume and vitriol with her eyes narrowed.

“Aren’t you
lively
tonight, Miss Sissy!” said Meadow, blinking at her.

Posy quickly made their good-byes and gently steered Miss Sissy to the door.

“Can I help you clean up the dishes, Meadow?” asked Wyatt.