Gone with the Wool (24 page)

I expected Bernard to drop me off and leave, but he pulled into my driveway and shut off the motor. “Maybe I can hang out here for a while,” he said, looking toward my house. I sighed. Lies always catch up with you. How could I say no to him, since as far as he knew it was Sammy's house, too? I couldn't say I blamed him, either. I'm sure Estelle was going to chew his ear off about his supposed problem.

“She just doesn't understand the difference between spending some vacation time doing something I like and someone with no control,” he said.

Sammy's BMW pulled in behind us. I saw that the passenger seat was empty. I think Bernard did, too, and he let out a sigh of relief.

“I thought I'd hang out at your place for a while and give your mother some time to cool off,” he said to his son. Sammy
looked confused for a moment and then realized what his father meant.

Sammy must have seen the look on my face. “Casey has a lot going on right now. How about we go out for a beer?”

Bernard agreed, and I was relieved. Sammy pointed his father across the street and said they'd go to the Cora and Madeleine Delacorte Café.

“Thanks, Case,” Sammy said, hanging back as his father walked down the driveway. “I owe you big-time.”

I went inside, happy to have a few minutes alone. To make up for yet another absence with my group, I decided to bring them a treat. I always kept rolls of butter cookie dough in my refrigerator. I took out four of them and turned on the oven. I covered two cookie sheets with rounds of dough and then added a sprinkle-covered chocolate wafer on each one to make them special.

By the time I got back to Vista Del Mar, it was almost time for the workshop to end. I was surprised to see that Madeleine Delacorte had come back and Crystal was showing her how to use the round loom. “At least I'm getting a little taste of the retreat,” Madeleine said to me. “The princesses are doing a nature walk, and I left Cora in charge.” She watched as I set down the plate of cookies.

“Casey's baked goods are the best,” she said, taking one of the cookies. “I don't believe for a minute there was anything wrong with those muffins,” she whispered to me. She held up the cookie to show the others before taking a dainty bite. “Hmm, that's delicious.”

“I know you're trying to help, but I think the problem is ebbing. It was only for a day or so that the muffin sales dropped off.”

“Really? Maybe you should talk to him.” She pointed
outside, and I saw Kory pass by. Crystal overheard and wondered why her son had been singled out. She followed me outside, and we caught up with the teen.

He was still wearing the navy blue hat as he pushed a hamper of dirty linens. “I get all the glamorous jobs,” he said, and laughed until he saw the serious looks that Crystal and I wore. “Whatever it is, I didn't do it,” he said, still in a joking tone.

Madeleine had come with us. “I saw him and some of his friends buying lots of your muffins. They had a bag full, and I saw them throwing them to the seagulls.”

Kory swallowed so hard it made a boinging sound. “I know teenage boys are supposed to be like bottomless pits when it comes to food, but we ate as many as we could.” Meanwhile, my face was falling as I realized the problem wasn't over with my baking and that something weird was going on.

“We were just trying to help,” he said. When no one said anything, he went on. “It wasn't really our idea. Dane was behind it.”

“What?” I said.

“He paid for them all and said we could do what we wanted with them. Like I said, we could only eat so many. The seagulls loved them.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” Crystal asked. “I thought you knew we could talk about anything. I'm your friend and your mother.” Kory made a face, and I gathered it was a one-sided plan.

He started to push the laundry cart and then turned to me. “None of the guys think it was your muffins that made anybody sick. About what you asked me before—I remembered the guys next to me said they got their chili already loaded.”

When Madeleine didn't seem to understand, he explained. “Theirs had cheese and chips already.”

“I'm sorry,” Crystal said when he'd left. “I thought I had this open relationship with my kids. Now what else hasn't he told me?”

Madeleine was still a little dense in the ways of the regular world after living such a sheltered life, but she seemed to comprehend that she had created a problem. Crystal excused herself and went after her son.

Just then, the princesses went by. They were dressed for outdoor work, with only the little tiaras showing off who they were. Chloe was in the middle of the pack, and I heard her describing how the dunes were being replanted with native species. It would have been fine, but at the end she yelled, “Nailed it!” and put her hands up in triumph.

Cora stopped next to us and let the princesses walk on alone. She let out a weary sigh. “I'm glad we're almost done with this. Rosalie was a pain, but it's a lot harder without her.”

The clipboard slipped out of her grasp and fell down. I rushed to pick it up and glanced over it. “It's no use trying to figure out who is in the lead,” Cora said. “I use my own special code to give each girl a mark on the events.” I saw some actual sentences next to the names. “Those are Rosalie's notes,” she said, noticing where I was looking.

I thought she was going to take the clipboard away from me, but she shrugged and said since I didn't have a relative in the running, it probably didn't matter if I looked at it. I read over what Rosalie had said after meeting Chloe, and as expected, it basically indicated that she had no chance to be queen. There weren't really comments about the others, except for one.

“Who is Megan Benson?” I asked, reading over what it said.
Single parent, lives with father, but for how long? Too new to Cadbury to be queen.

“Her father is the one who bought Cadbury Drugs. The one who looks like Mr. Eastwood,” Madeleine said. “No way would she be queen if Rosalie was still around.”

With that, Cora and Madeleine went on their way, and when I looked back to the meeting room, everyone had left. I went inside and picked up the empty cookie plate and saw that some kind person had put my partially done hat in my tote bag, along with the round looms. Then I went looking for the group. Most of them had moved on to the Lodge. I did a few more rows on the loom but mostly just talked with everybody. Because of the Butterfly Ball, dinner was served early, and then we all went our separate ways to get ready for the evening.

I was glad to go home and collect my thoughts. So much had happened, and it was all churning in my brain. I kept thinking about Rosalie's notes on the princesses. What if the pharmacist knew that Rosalie had already decided his daughter wasn't going to be queen because of Rosalie's own personal prejudices? And what if she'd made him the same offer she had the others. It would be pretty easy for Larry to figure all his problems would be solved if Rosalie was out of the way.

But I needed proof. And now I had the Butterfly Ball to deal with. There was always some kind of event on the Saturday night of my retreats, but this was far bigger than even a dance at Vista Del Mar. The Butterfly Ball was for the whole town.

After giving Julius some attention, I dished out a generous portion of stink fish, which he surprisingly didn't seem that enthused about. The mystery was soon solved when I saw the empty can in the trash. Sammy was trying to win over the cat with the smelly treat and obviously had already offered him a huge portion.

I heard a car drive up and looked out the window as the
BMW pulled in my driveway. Sammy got out and came to the back door. He was wearing a tuxedo and carrying a box from a florist.

“What's up?” I asked when I opened the door. He looked at my face.

“Maybe I should ask you that. You look worried.”

Sammy had been out of the loop about Rosalie's death and all the intrigue I had uncovered, and I was going to leave it that way. He had enough on his plate with his parents. I forced a smile and asked what was in the box.

“I know you're going to be there with your group, but my parents don't understand at all. My mother got it in her head that this is like a town prom, and she said I ought to get you a corsage.” He took a breath, as if he was getting to the bad part. “You saw how my mother is when she gets something in her head. She's insisting that we meet up here first for a glass of wine, since this is their last night in town,” he said. “They're taking the red-eye from San Jose. So, this will be the last time I have to pretend I live here.” He tried to make it sound like that last part was a relief, but Sammy would never make it as an actor.

The news that they were leaving perked me right up, and I said their visit was no problem. He handed me the box. Inside, two creamy white gardenias rested on some shiny green leaves. The fragrance was divine.

“Is that the tuxedo you wear for the magic shows?”

Sammy nodded with a smile. “The suit is the closest my folks are going to come to my performances.”

The doorbell rang, startling both of us. We answered the front door together, and his parents came in, carrying a bottle of wine. I had a feeling they were still arguing, but they seemed to be putting on a front.

“I had no idea we'd be going to dance,” Estelle said. “I had to make do.” She glanced down at her black dress with a cream-colored bolero jacket, obviously fishing for a compliment. I obliged and raved about how great she looked. She gave my jeans a sideways glace. “You're not going like that?” Her voice dripped with disapproval.

“Of course she isn't,” Sammy said. Bernard had gone on to the kitchen and come back with the wine opener and glasses. He poured the dark red merlot into the glasses and took a seat on the sofa. A deck of cards was on the coffee table, and he took them out and started shuffling them and then laying out a game of solitaire.

“Bernard, not with the cards again,” Estelle said, momentarily forgetting about my clothes. Sammy's father sat up a little straighter and glared at his wife. Then his glance went to me and Sammy.

“Sammy, why don't you help her get ready?” he said. When both Sammy and I seemed shocked at his suggestion, he almost laughed. “I know what living together means. I assume that means you've seen each other without clothes.”

He almost chased us out of the room. When we'd shut ourselves in my bedroom, Sammy said, “Don't worry, Case, I won't look. Even though since I'm a doctor, I'm used to seeing people without their clothes. It doesn't mean a thing to me.”

I wanted to say, “But they weren't me,” but I was more interested in what was going on in my living room and had my ear pressed against the door. Sammy said something about me getting dressed.

“Go find something. You have good taste,” I said, gesturing toward my closet.

Estelle and Bernard were having a heated discussion, and with us out of the room, they didn't bother to keep their
voices down. I got that Bernard was still steamed about her intervention.

“I don't have a problem,” he said. Estelle said something back, but I couldn't quite make it out, and then he continued. “Here's how you know when someone might have a problem. The guy sitting next to me was there all the times I played and, judging by how well the dealers knew him, was a regular. Now, it could just be that there isn't much to do in this small town and that's why he plays so much.”

Nosy me wanted to know who in town he was talking about, and I kept my ear jammed against the door. “Here,” Sammy said, handing me a hanger and subtly pulling me away from my listening post.

The pale coral dress had an overlay of cream-colored lace. My mother had sent it to me, and the tags were still on it. She knew about the weather in Cadbury and had sent along a short off-white jacket that looked like something Marilyn Monroe would have worn.

Hers would have been ermine; mine was fleece.

“Do I have to come up with shoes, too?” Sammy said, looking at the row on the floor.

“I can handle that.” I grabbed a pair of sandals with low heels. I wanted to get back to listening, but Sammy had positioned himself in front of the door. I knew it was no accident. Who wants to have someone eavesdrop on their parents arguing?

“I'll turn around,” he said.

“This is like something out of an old movie.” I rolled my eyes but still waited for him to turn away. It felt weird to be getting dressed almost next to him. I pretty much shimmied out of the jeans and pulled off the turtleneck I'd been wearing and dropped on the replacement clothes.

“Let me know if you need anything zipped,” he said, half turning toward me.

“Nope, and you can turn around,” I said. He did and smiled.

“Wow, Case, you're the magician.” I tried to act like I didn't care about the compliment, but of course I did. I excused myself to go to the bathroom to put on my makeup.