Elizabeth Lynn Casey - Southern Sewing Circle 10 - Wedding Duress (17 page)

Jordan reached the other side of the monkey bars and let go, smiling triumphantly at Milo as he did. “Did you see that, Mr. Wentworth?” At Milo’s emphatic nod, he turned to his younger brother. “You mean when she was telling Dad why she wants to get us a new nanny?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Uppity.” Jordan climbed back up the ladder and grabbed hold of the closest bar, his body poised and ready to begin yet another journey across the twenty-foot divide from one end of the monkey bars to the other. “Whatever
that
means. But she’s only like that because of us.”

“Because of us?” Jeremiah repeated.

“Uh-huh. Dad showed me Amanda’s real house the last time he took me to get this stupid haircut.” His feet came off the top rung of the ladder as his arms took over the job of supporting his weight. “Her . . . whole . . . house . . . could . . . fit . . . in . . . our . . . garage,” he said as he moved from bar to bar.

“Sounds a lot like Cynthia Marland,” she whispered to Milo.

With his eyes still on Jordan, Milo replied, “They grew up on the same street.”

“Jordan! Jeremiah! We’ve got to go.
Leona’s Closet
is about to come on and I don’t want to miss it.”

Tori turned to find Amanda had not only vacated her bench but was now standing little more than a few feet away. “Amanda? Hi, I’m Tori. Tori Sinclair.”

After a thorough once-over that was at times intrigued, and at other times bored, Amanda looked past Tori to smile at Milo. “Mr. Wentworth, I didn’t realize that was you.”

“You watch
Leona’s Closet
?” he asked.

Amanda’s eyes widened. “Every week.”

Milo draped his right arm across Tori’s shoulders and gestured toward her with his left hand. “My fiancé, Tori, is good friends with Leona. In fact, if asked, I suspect Leona would say Tori is her
best
friend.”

Suddenly all remaining signs of boredom where Tori was concerned vanished. “You
know
Leona from
Leona’s Closet
?”

“I sure do.”

“Wow. Just wow.” Amanda looked at her watch and then back at the boys, the young woman’s struggle between staying and leaving palpable. “I have so many things I’d love to know but they’re rerunning an episode I missed a few weeks ago and I really can’t miss it again.”

She felt her shoulders slump in response and wondered if Amanda noticed. But it didn’t matter because Milo did. “I would imagine Tori would be happy to introduce you to Leona if you’d like, isn’t that right, Tori?”

Amanda’s jaw went slack. “Could you really do that?”

“Yeah, sure. I could probably even get you on the set one day.”

The shriek that followed in response brought Jeremiah’s hands to his ears and Jordan to the ground. If Amanda noticed, though, she said nothing, her complete and utter attention on nothing other than Tori. “Oh my gosh, that would be so amazing. When can we do this?”

Tori scrambled for an answer that would both appease Amanda and get the girl in front of her once again. “The
show is airing a rerun tonight because Leona is . . . a little tied up. I suspect the same will hold true for next week, unless she really goes ahead with the show on my wedding.”

“Wait a minute,” Amanda gasped. “Was that your wedding party Leona highlighted last Sunday?”

“It was.”

“So Mizz Winters is going to be in
your
wedding?”

Something about the girl’s mocking tone made her stiffen. “I wouldn’t have my wedding without her.”

“But she’s . . .
old
. And she can’t wear heels.”

She felt Milo’s hand tighten on her shoulder in warning as she geared up for an answer that would likely blow any chance she had of talking to the only viable suspect on her list. Instead, she took a deep breath and gave a nicer version of the retort that was practically burning her tongue. “Rose Winters is one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever known.”

Amanda shrugged then snapped her fingers for Jordan and Jeremiah to get moving. “Come on, boys. We need to go.” Then, to Tori, she said, “So when can I meet Leona?”

“How about you and I get together tomorrow to hammer out those details? Maybe we could meet at Debbie’s Bakery around noon?”

Tori reached across the list of books she was slowly cataloging into the system and plucked the phone from its cradle. “Yes, Nina?”

“There’s a Charles out here at the information desk and he’s asking to see you.”

“Fantastic. Send him to my office, would you?” Tori placed the phone back on its base and pushed her chair back from her desk, the opportunity to stand and stretch a welcome one. Then, crossing to the door, she readied her hug.

“Vic-tor-i-a . . . can you believe it? I’m actually here . . . at the Sweet Briar Public Library!” Charles did a little hop before stepping in for his hug. “I heard so much about this place from you that it’s almost like I’ve been here a million times. Only I haven’t.”

She released him from her arms and stepped back to
give him a thorough once-over. “Can I just say how much I love having you here?”

“Of course you can.” Charles’s smile multiplied in size and wattage as he peeked his head around Tori and took in her desk, the large window overlooking the grounds, Nina’s desk, and, finally, the cart that held the coffeemaker and a smattering of mugs. He pointed at the cart and glanced back at Tori. “Is that where the fire started?”

She nodded and then swept her hand around the completely refurbished room. “But you’d never know we had one in here at all, would you?”

“You sure wouldn’t.” Charles spun around and grabbed hold of Tori’s wrist. “Where is the children’s room? I simply
have
to see that.”

“Come with me.” She led her friend across the hall, flicked on the room’s overhead light, and then stepped aside to afford him easy access to her pride and joy. “Well? What do you think?”

Slowly, step by step, Charles made his way through the door and into the children’s room Tori had fashioned out of an area previously used for storage. Now, instead of boxes packed high to the ceiling, there were shelves filled with books, a handful of child-sized tables and chairs, and the wooden stage that served as a standing invitation to act out the many stories found inside the room. The walls themselves depicted scenes from classic children’s books as seen through the eyes of some of Sweet Briar’s younger residents.

She watched Charles’s face as he moved into the room and finally stopped to absorb his surroundings. The awe she saw in his eyes warmed her from head to toe as she waited for his verbal feedback.

“Margaret Louise tried to describe this place to me. You tried to describe this place to me. Even Dixie tried to describe this place to me. But as
fabulous
as it sounded, it’s a trillion times
more
fabulous in person.” Charles spread his arms wide and turned in a small circle. “I would have
loved
this place when I was little . . . heck, I love it now.”

“I never tire of hearing that,” she admitted before venturing into the room and past her friend en route to the trunk she’d secured from a flea market just days before the room was unveiled for the first time. “Now you need to see one of my absolute favorite parts.”

“The dress-up trunk?” Charles asked, clapping.

At her nod, he scurried over to her side and squealed as she lifted the lid and pulled out the bonnet Margaret Louise had made. “Laura Ingalls Wilder,” she said, handing the item to Charles. “Sometimes, when I’m in the process of locking up for the day, I come in here and put that on. And every time I do, it reminds me of the little girl who fell in love with books and libraries and knew she wanted them to be a part of her life forever.”

Pitching his body forward, Charles began digging through the trunk, periodically holding up various costumes and attributing them to the correct story. He held up crowns and beans and green leafy shoes and more until he found yellow bear ears and a honey pot. “This was my favorite character as a kid.”

“How did you know we had those in there?” she asked.

“How could you not?” He pretended to stuff his face with honey and then slowly dropped the props back into the trunk and sighed dramatically. “Don’t you wish you could be a kid again?”

She considered his question as she, too, returned the bonnet to the trunk. “Maybe . . . sometimes . . . I guess. But I kind of love where I am right now.”

His smile returned and engaged his eyes, as well. “So when do I get to meet Milo Wentworth?”

“You could come over to my place tonight and I could make dinner for both of you.”

Just like that, his smile was gone, chased from his face by . . . fear? “Oh no, Victoria, bite your tongue. I did not travel all the way out here—a full week before your wedding—to skip my first ever meeting of the Sweet Briar Ladies Society Sewing Circle.”

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot.”

A scowl formed where his smile had been only moments earlier and he shook a finger at her. “Victoria, you
know
I’ve been wanting to go to one of your meetings since I saw you, Margaret Louise, Rose, Dixie, Leona, Debbie, and Beatrice on
Taped with Melly and Kenneth
. Besides, I still need to meet Mayor Georgina and Melissa.”

She rubbed a hand across her forehead and gestured for Charles to follow her back to her office. “I know. I’m sorry. I guess I just have a lot on my mind right now with the wedding and worrying about Leona and—”

“Leona is going to be just fine. She just needs to accept the fact that she needs to use—” He waved away the rest of his sentence and then went in a different direction entirely. “I have to say, it’s a good thing I’m here, Victoria, because that caregiver she has working for her? She’s U-S-E-L-E-S-S. Utterly, completely,
useless
.”

When they reached her office, she patted the top of the folding chair for Charles and leaned her back against the window. “Before Leona humiliated Rose on cable TV, I
have no doubt whatsoever that Margaret Louise would have been at Leona’s side every minute in that hospital and at home afterward. But it’s different now and it’s sad. Very, very sad.”

“They’ll get through it, Victoria.”

“That’s what Milo keeps saying, but I’m not so sure. I’ve never seen Margaret Louise shut down on Leona like this, and if Leona’s fall wasn’t enough to bring them back together, I’m not sure what will.”

“Time,” Charles said, simply. “You mark my words, Victoria, all will be well in the Sweet Briar Sewing Circle again.”

Tori turned her head and looked out over the library grounds, her focus coming to rest on a man reading a newspaper on a bench beneath the trees. Although the man’s back was to her, she knew who it was just as surely as she knew what section he was reading.

That’s what Sweet Briar did for her.

It grounded her in its predictability.

It comforted her in its familiarity.

Squaring her shoulders, she turned back to her friend. “I hope you’re right, Charles. I really hope you’re right.”

“I’m Charles, aren’t I?” he quipped. “I’m right most of the time, and oh so trendy
all
of the time.”

She smiled in spite of the mood she found herself in and pointed at the splash of red beneath his black denim jacket that coordinated perfectly with the silk scarf knotted at his throat. “I see Leona helped pick out your clothes this morning?”

“She consulted.”

“How is she this morning?”

“Her therapist is with her now, and then after that,
she’ll take a nap. I figure that gives me a three-hour gap before I really should get back to her place.”

She left the window to sit at her desk and retrieve the light blue bag from the bottom drawer. Holding it out to Charles, she said, “I picked up a pair of chocolate chip muffins on the way into work this morning. Nina didn’t want hers, so it’s yours.”

He clapped his hands together then liberated the bag from her outstretched hand. “This is from Debbie’s bakery, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“That’s next on my list of must-see Sweet Briar attractions.” Charles reached into the bag, pulled out the muffin, and took a little nibble followed by a second and a third. “Oh. My. This. Is. In-cred-ible.”

“Wait until you try her salted caramel brownies.” She leaned forward, dropping her voice to a near whisper as she did. “Rose would hit the roof if she knew how many of those I’ve had over the past week or two.”

He stopped nibbling and held his hand to his heart. “I can’t wait to see Rose at your—I mean,
the
sewing circle meeting tonight.” Clearly yet unexplainably flustered, Charles jumped to his feet and shook the muffin bag at Tori. “Lunch is approaching. Can we please go to Debbie’s? Please, please, please?”

Her smile froze on her face as she looked up at the clock above the door.

Eleven forty-five.

“Oh, wow, I didn’t realize how late it was getting. I have a lunch meeting with a potential suspect.”

Charles’s mouth gaped open but not before his gasp echoed around the room. “Potential suspect?”

She gathered the papers she’d been working on prior to Charles’s arrival and slipped them into their folder. Then, with a few clicks of the mouse, she shut down her computer and stuck a clean notebook and pen into her purse. “Uh-huh.”

Leaning forward, Charles clamped his hand atop hers and squeezed. “Does this have something to do with that friend of Beatrice’s Margaret Louise was telling me about on the way back from the airport?”

“Miss Gracie,” she supplied. “And yes it does.”

“So you really truly think she was pushed?”

Oh, how she wanted to say no, to believe with all her heart that Beatrice’s former governess simply lost her footing. But she couldn’t.

“I do.”

Charles released his hold on her hand and rose to his feet to primp and pose in a way that made it impossible to not notice him. “You do remember I was
instrumental
in helping to free Dixie from lockup, don’t you, Victoria?”

She knew where this was going. Still, she humored him with an answer. “Of course. And I’m forever grateful for your help.”

“Prove it.”

*   *   *

By the time they arrived at Debbie’s, not only was Charles up to speed on what Luke had overheard moments before Miss Gracie’s fall, but he also knew everything Tori did about Amanda Willey at that point.

And like Tori, Milo, and Margaret Louise, he was equally perplexed by the notion that a car wash could incite such tears.

Still, it was good to have a second pair of ears when she sat down with Amanda—especially when those ears belonged to someone as sharp as Charles.

The bell over the door announced their arrival and was followed almost immediately by a deep sigh. “I have spent many a night trying to imagine this place since I met all of you. And even though Debbie has e-mailed me a few pictures as well as a link to the menu, actually standing here, next to you, is like a dream come true.”

“A dream come true?” Tori said, laughing.

“A. Dream. Come. True.” Charles sashayed over to the glass case beside the register and began pointing. “I’d like one of those . . . and one of those . . . and
two
of those . . . and I’ll pass on that because it has strawberries . . . and, oooh, those are your salted caramel brownies, aren’t they? I’ll take
three
of those . . . and—”

“Charles? Is that you?” Debbie stepped out from behind the counter, dishcloth in hand, and threw her arms around him. “You made it in time!”

Tori took a second to visually peruse the dining area for her lunch date and then, when she came up empty, she turned back to her friends. “And he did it with five days to spare.”

“Five days?” Debbie echoed. “No, it’s tonight—”

Charles cleared his throat, draped his arm around Debbie’s shoulder, and squeezed. “See? Even Debbie knows I was determined to make a
sewing circle meeting
, don’t you, Deb?”

Debbie fanned the sudden redness in her face while simultaneously extricating herself from Charles’s arm. “It’s, um, all he talks about whenever we e-mail.” When she was behind the counter once again, she pointed
toward the case. “So what can I get the two of you? Are you here for lunch or treats?”

“In our world”—Charles gestured between himself and Tori—“those two words are synonymous, aren’t they, Victoria?”

She was about to call them on their odd behavior when the bell jangled atop the door once again and she turned instead to see who was arriving. Sure enough, it was Amanda.

“Is that her?” Charles whispered.

“Uh-huh,” she whispered back before closing the gap between herself and the new arrival. “Hi, Amanda. I’m glad you were able to make it.”

“I don’t have long,” Amanda replied, bypassing the counter completely and breezing past two or three tables before landing at one in the center. “I have an appointment for a mani-pedi in twenty minutes.”

“I’m sorry. If I’d known, I’d have suggested a different time.”

“I just made the appointment three minutes ago.”

She felt Charles’s amused stare on the back of her head and turned to bring him into the conversation. “This is my friend, Charles. He’s in town for my wedding on Saturday and I invited him to join us.”

Charles lifted his hand in a wave, only to let it drop back down to his side at Amanda’s obvious displeasure.

“I’m here to talk about meeting Leona from
Leona’s Closet
.”