Death by Cashmere (23 page)

Nell could read her niece's thoughts as clearly as if she had shouted them out loud. Izzy was happy, too--happy and relieved that someone safe was going to be above her shop. Relieved that the bad karma, from wherever it had come, might be on its way out of her store--and out of her life.

Nell picked up an edge of the long, narrow scarf that she had finished just hours ago. It was beautiful, a long, lacy blend of all the colors of the sea. The slender fringes created even more length to the scarf, and as Izzy had planned, it would float gently in a breeze as Nell walked or danced.

Nell held the scarf up and looked at the hundreds of intricate stitches that held it together--the holes in the scarf were lovely, the substance of lace when surrounded by the stitches. But the holes in their lives right now were not nearly so lovely. And the stitching around them loose and uneven.

Nell and Ben were greatly relieved that Cass and Pete's traps were now secure. But the gruesome death of the poacher was disturbing. He had been pushed against a pole, his face smashed beyond recognition. And by late afternoon, rumors had picked up all over town about who might have done it. Someone had crushed a man to death--and didn't even stay around to see if he was alive or if he needed help. Ben said the police didn't have much incentive to do anything about it, though there would be a cursory investigation, he supposed. And they still didn't know who the man was, though dental records would be checked.

Nell rubbed her bare arms. It was a lot to deal with. Angie's death, the damage to Izzy's apartment, a man killed for stealing lobsters. Or for being on a road late at night instead of home in bed. But she knew they were getting close.

Tonight, though, they had a party to attend, and if the stars were lined up right, as Birdie would say, for one lovely evening, they'd eat and dance and forget about the things that were twisting their lives uncomfortably. Some things could wait until tomorrow.

Nell wrapped the scarf around her neck twice, as Izzy had suggested, and walked over to the full-length mirror. She slid her hands down the sides of her black, summery dress. It was simple and elegant, and one of Ben's favorites. The dress was cocktail length, and slightly uneven as it dipped midcalf. And the sea silk scarf looked like shimmering jewels around her neck. Except for a pair of dangly blue sapphire earrings that Ben had given her for their anniversary, the scarf was all the jewelry she needed. Nell smiled at her reflection in the mirror, pushed a stray hair back in place, and headed downstairs to a waiting and patient Ben.

Izzy had turned down their offer for a ride to the arts benefit, but Ben had insisted that they pick up Birdie.

"You look like a lovely jewel tonight, m'dear," Ben said to Birdie as she settled into the back of their car. "How did I get so lucky? Not one, but two of you?"

"I guess you're just fortunate, Ben Endicott," Birdie said. "But I could have gotten myself over to the party quite nicely, you know."

"And deny me the pleasure?" Ben said, eyeing her in the rear-view mirror.

"You do look lovely, Birdie," Nell agreed, staving off the argument about Birdie's driving before it gained any momentum. Ben was convinced Birdie would drive herself directly into the ocean one of these nights. "That's a truly elegant dress."

Birdie's long silvery dress was a perfect fit for her. Nell admiredher friend's composure and elegance, both of which belied her age. She wore a butterfly shawl over her shoulders to ward off the ocean breeze. Nell knew the shawl well. It had taken Birdie a good chunk of last winter to knit--in between a dozen scarves and hats--but it was worth every stitch, they all assured her.

At the edge of town, Ben turned onto Framingham Road, a windy, tree-lined lane that went only one place, and that was the elegant Framingham estate.

Nell opened her window a crack and ocean air filled the car. "Margarethe seems to have the power to determine all sorts of things, including what kind of weather she'll have for parties. It's perfect." Cape Ann evenings were unpredictable. Sometimes the heat lingered after the sun went down, and other times it could be damp and chilly. Margarethe's evening was nicely couched in between--cool enough for light wraps, but not too breezy for strolling along the beach.

Ben drove slowly, and they watched the lights along the ocean's edge flicker in the crisp breeze. On the other side of the road, small gravel pathways wound through thick stands of pine and willow to the Framingham quarries, once alive with the sounds of hammers pounding on granite as men worked the motions. But now they were as quiet as the night, the deep quarries filled with water and surrounded by scrub bushes and wild flowers.

And straight ahead, even from this distance, they could see the lights that marked the Framingham home. Parties on the point were always an event, but tonight Margarethe had pulled out all stops. Tiny Christmas lights decorated clusters of small trees along the property, and a long line of candlelit torches lined the enormous circle drive. Parking areas off to the side were already filling up with cars, and an army of uniformed valets stood at attention, ready to relieve drivers of keys. Ben pulled to a stop and helped Birdie and Nell out of the car.

"It's beautiful," Nell said. "A fairyland."

In addition to the main home--a three-story wood and stone home that Sylvester Framingham Sr. had built years before--were guest cottages, a boathouse, pool cabana, and staff homes. And tonight they were all outlined in tiny, sparkling lights.

"I remember my dad's stories about coming out here years ago when he was a kid, back when some of the quarries were still being mined," Ben said. "The main house was here--but a fraction of the size of this one. There wasn't much else but a couple shacks. But things took a turn once old Framingham took over. He wasn't the best-loved man in town, but he knew how to turn a buck and build his own little empire. And once the quarry era ended, he seemed to turn granite into gold and opened that food-processing plant out on Rainbow Road. When Margarethe applied for a job, the story is told that the old man was ecstatic. He was crazy about her because she was strong and smart."

"I think the old man threw Margarethe and his son together, just to keep her around," Birdie said.

"That's the story. She filled the gap--Tony's dad was quiet, hated business and the social responsibilities it required. Margarethe was the opposite."

"It's hard to imagine Margarethe married to anyone like that," Nell said.

"They seemed to work it out. She was genuinely sad when her husband died."

"She's done an amazing job of handling the family fortune," Birdie said. "The old man got the last laugh."

Ben took Birdie's arm and looped the other behind Nell as they walked up the wide fan of steps to the front door.

At the front entry, Margarethe stood tall and stately, welcoming guests. She looked like a queen, Nell thought. Her broad shoulders were covered with a filmy lace stole, and the long, heavily beaded dress must have taken a whole crew to sew on the tiny crystals.

Nearby, Jane and Ham Brewster and a coterie of artists from Canary Cove greeted guests and thanked people for their generous contributions to the Arts Academy. The evening would include a silent auction of art works donated by the artists, and along with the tickets, they predicted there would be enough money generated to support the academy and scholarships for the next year, at least.

"Nell, that scarf is exquisite," Margarethe said, admiring the gentle, fluid wrap. "I knew it would be."

"I had trouble visualizing the end product," Nell said, "but I trusted Izzy's eye."

"A wise decision," Margarethe said. "Izzy knows her yarns." She urged them all to make themselves at home out on the back veranda or the tent just beyond. Appetizers and drinks were at every turn, and dinner and dancing would follow.

Nell handed her wrap to the outstretched arm of Stella Palazola, Annabelle's daughter, and smiled her thanks. Mae's twin nieces were doing the same on the other side of the room, the young teenagers earning a few extra dollars while they ogled the beautiful dresses and enjoyed being a part of the summer gala.

"Has Izzy arrived yet?" she asked Jane as they walked into the spacious entryway.

"Oh, yes--Izzy certainly has arrived," Jane said, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"That sounds mysterious," Nell said. "Is she all right?"

"
Very
all right. I think they headed for the martini bar on the veranda." Jane pointed through the round entryway, to open French doors at the back side of the house. "Ham and I will join you shortly."

"They?" Nell looked at Ben, then Birdie.

"She came with Sam," Birdie said. She handed her butterfly shawl to Stella, who eyed it with outright envy. "Just be sure your hands are clean, sweetie," Birdie said, her brows lifting up into her bangs in warning. She turned back to Nell. "When I went to retrieve my wrap at Margarethe's Christmas party, I walked in unexpectedly on the little helper bees. The sweet young things were having a grand time trying on the mink stoles and assorted finery. I think they shall have a grand time tonight with my shawl. I hope they like it best."

"What would we do without you?" Nell said, hugging her impulsively.

"I don't intend to let you find out anytime soon," Birdie answered briskly. "Now, where's the martini bar?"

They spotted Izzy before they saw the bar. And instantly Nell understood Jane's smile.

Izzy Chambers commanded center stage. Izzy, in a word, looked spectacular.

Her streaked hair was pulled back tightly from her face, fastened behind with a tiny silver ribbon that allowed her eyes and high cheekbones to take over her face. But what caused Ben to take in a quick breath and Birdie and Nell to catch their breath was the strapless cobalt-blue dress wrapped around Izzy's shapely body, with the two sides fastened in a knot between her breasts. Silky waves of fabric flowed over her curves in a waterfall of shimmering blue until they collected in a puddle at her feet. Nell had never seen her niece look quite so lovely.

"There you three are," Izzy said, walking toward them. "Well?" she spun around. "What do you think?"

Birdie's head swiveled back and forth and a smile spread across her lined face. She tiptoed up and kissed Izzy on the cheek. "Oh, to be your age again, sweet one," she whispered in her ear. "I'd have myself a dress exactly like that."

Birdie looked over Izzy's shoulder at Sam Perry, standing just behind Izzy, an amused grin on his face.

"And I'd take one of those too," she said, poking an index finger in Sam's direction.

Nell and Izzy laughed.

Birdie pulled away slightly, and then she added quietly, "And that little bit of cleavage is quite nice."

"Birdie!" Izzy said. Her hands flew up to the top of the gown.

"Sweetheart, there's no reason to hide God's gifts under a bushel basket. Let them shine, I say."

Nell looked over at Sam, hoping for a change of topic. "It was nice of you to bring Izzy, Sam."

"I brought Sam," Izzy corrected. "I thought he'd probably get lost coming out here and end up in a quarry. Since he was an honored guest, it was the least I could do." She looked at Sam. "And he doesn't look half bad, does he?"

"Izzy was afraid I wouldn't lock up the apartment to her satisfaction. She's a little squirrelly about that these days. Or I might not feed Purl the right amount. Purl's attached to me, by the way--drives Izzy crazy. So that's why I got picked up," Sam said, nicely skirting talk of his attire.

"That, too," Izzy agreed.

Ben shook Sam's hand and nodded toward the walnut bar behind him. "Sam, seeing all these beautiful ladies has put me in serious need of a martini. Shall we?"

"Excellent idea," Sam said.

"Izzy, you look radiant," Nell said.

"Thank you, Aunt Nell. I decided I'd had it with all the bad things going on around me. I needed to step out of it all--at least for one night--and be someone else. So I did. The dress is borrowed. "

"But nonetheless perfect for you," Birdie said. "You look ravishing, Isabel. And I agree. Life is short. Enjoy."

"Thanks, both of you. I just wanted to have fun, you know? And Sam, well, he's so safe. He's like a brother, I've known him so long."

Nell looked over at Sam. He was standing next to Ben, waiting for the bartender to finish shaking their martinis. But Sam's eyes weren't on the martinis or the bar or on Ben Endicott. They were glued to the woman in the shimmering cobalt-blue dress. And as far as Nell could tell, his thoughts were far from brotherly.

But Izzy was right--he was safe and trustworthy. And that's what mattered to Nell.

Ben and Sam returned with the martinis just as a jazz ensemble began playing in the background. A cool breeze came in off the water and they moved over to the edge of the veranda to watch a small group of dancers move onto the portable floor set up just inside the white tent. When Ben's cell phone rang, Nell looked over, surprised. She and Ben had a pact to always turn their phones off at social gatherings.

"Sorry. I forgot," he said to Nell, and glanced down at the screen. Ben looked closer, then whispered to Nell that he'd be back in a minute, and he walked away to a quiet corner of the veranda. She watched him go, wondering what minor emergency was requiring her husband's attention tonight. Nearly all their friends were here.

Without intention, Ben Endicott had followed in his father's footsteps, becoming Sea Harbor's godfather, as Izzy liked to call him. He was the person neighbors called when a loved one died or a son or daughter was having trouble passing the SAT, or a small loan was needed for a sick relative. People called at odd times and for odd reasons--and Nell wondered briefly what it would be tonight. But whatever it was, Ben was the person to call. Sometimes with just a few calm words, he could push anxiety or worry away.