Shear Trouble (7 page)

Meadow said, “That’s Jason’s half brother, Eric. I guess you wouldn’t have met him . . . there would be no reason for your paths to cross. He doesn’t even work in Dappled Hills—he drives to Lenoir to work. He’s a movie usher there or takes tickets in the booth or something.”

“Ramsay was telling me a little about Eric,” said Beatrice. They got out of Meadow’s van and started walking to Martha’s house, which was a columned historic home with a meticulously upkept yard. Beatrice smoothed down her cream-colored blouse, which had gotten a bit wrinkled in Meadow’s van. She removed what appeared to be a few stray bits of dog fur from her black slacks. “I was a bit surprised when he was filling me in, because somehow I’d gotten the impression that Jason didn’t have any remaining family.”

“He didn’t. Except for Eric. In fact, Eric is supposedly his last living relative,” said Meadow in one of her stage whispers.

“He’s a half brother. Is that right?”

“Yes, and it’s all a very tragic story, Beatrice,” said Meadow, seemingly just getting geared up to tell the story as they walked through the doors.

“Tell me another time,” hissed Beatrice as Martha came up to greet them.

“Thanks so much for being here,” said Martha solemnly. Her eyes were red from crying, but she was poised and elegant as usual in a black dress with pearls. “It means so much to me that you’re both here.”

“Of course. Happy to come. We were so sorry about Jason,” murmured Beatrice, and Meadow reached out to give Martha an impulsive hug.

Her large home seemed full of people, and the conversation after a bit rose to a chatty volume. Meadow quickly homed in on the food and there was quite a bit of it and it was fairly heavy in nature—ham biscuits and pimento cheese sandwiches, potato salad, egg salad, ham salad, pasta salad. And cakes. “I feel like I’m on a picnic!” said Meadow, trying unsuccessfully to hide her delight. She took a big bite of an angel food cake. “These are June Bug’s. I can tell. That June Bug does beat all. That little woman can flat cook!
And
she’s a fantastic quilter. And modest as all get-out. If I’d that much talent, I’d be yelling out my accomplishments from the rooftops.”

Beatrice was sipping from a glass of iced tea when she noticed someone else coming through the door into
the crowded living room. “Isn’t that John?” she asked, leaning forward so that Meadow could hear her over the din. “The man who wants to date Martha?”

“You mean the man who wants to
marry
Martha,” corrected Meadow stoutly. She squinted across the room. “Yes, that’s he. I’m sure that Martha won’t be any too pleased to see him here. She was certainly interested in shooing him away at any opportunity.”

She and Beatrice gaped as Martha spotted John, burst into tears, and threw herself into his arms. “Well, that’s certainly a change,” muttered Meadow, blinking.

Beatrice witnessed a very satisfied expression cross John’s lean face. A sort of fierce, protective pride. Yes, he’d been waiting for that particular change for a very long time. What did it feel like to wait and wait and wait for someone who couldn’t care less? Who dated others? Who was dismissive? And then what was it like when she finally came around and ran into your arms? Could a person possibly kill for that feeling? Had John gotten rid of Jason Gore to finally win Martha?

Meadow nudged her. “There’s Eric.” She bobbed her head in the direction of the food. Eric Gore stood near the table, holding a glass plate with only a little bit of fruit on it. He glanced awkwardly around the room as if not sure who to talk to.

“He’s acting as if he doesn’t know anyone here,” murmured Beatrice. “But it’s his brother’s funeral.”

“He hasn’t exactly spent a lot of time hanging out in Dappled Hills,” said Meadow. “He’s sort of got issues. He probably
doesn’t
know anyone here. Maybe he knows Martha. But Martha is a bit busy right now.”

Beatrice looked back over at Martha, who was still crying heartily in John’s arms. “Maybe I’ll go over and chat with Eric for a while.” It might be a way to get some information. Besides, it always made her uncomfortable to see
others
uncomfortable.

“Good idea. I’m going to see if there’s enough food for me to have seconds.” Meadow sidled over to the table of food. “Oh no—here comes Miss Sissy. Better eat before she gets over there. She’s sure to wipe out everything on the table.”

“Hi, I’m Beatrice Coleman,” said Beatrice, extending her hand to Eric. He switched his plate of fruit to his other hand to shake, giving Beatrice a grateful smile in the process. “I hear you’re Jason’s brother.”

“His half brother, yes,” said Eric automatically. Beatrice felt almost as though he were trying to add some distance between himself and Jason. He set down his plate of fruit, putting his napkin carefully on top of it as if he’d suddenly lost his appetite. “And his last living relative.”

“I’m very sorry for your loss,” said Beatrice. “It must have been a tremendous shock, losing him so suddenly.”

Eric nodded absently. He said, “Beatrice. Weren’t
you . . . didn’t I hear that you were the one who discovered Jason? At the shop?”

“That’s right,” she said quietly. She cleared her throat and glanced around the room. No one was looking in their direction or seemed even vaguely interested in giving their condolences to Jason’s one remaining family member. It just seemed very odd. It was almost as if no one really knew who Eric was.

“Were you very close?” she asked. “I mean—I’m sure you must have been. It must have been nice for you when he moved back to Dappled Hills after such an absence.”

An unreadable expression passed across Eric’s face. He stared down at the floor. “Well, you know how it is with adult siblings. Sometimes you grow apart through the years.”

Actually, that hadn’t been what Beatrice had observed at all. It usually seemed that siblings who might have had childhood rivalries grew closer as adults. She peered at him. So Eric was not only alienated from the entire town; he’d been alienated from his one relative, too. “And losing your last living relative must have been especially difficult.”

Eric gave a harsh laugh. “Difficult? I wouldn’t say that. Difficult was when I lost my mother. That was difficult.”

“I’m sorry,” said Beatrice softly. “Was that recent? That’s a lot of loss to go through at one time.”

“Not recent, no. It coincided with Jason’s escape from Dappled Hills seven years back.”

Escape? What an odd word to use. Beatrice frowned.

Eric ran a finger around the inside of his shirt collar, pulling it as if he weren’t used to wearing dressy clothes. His face was flushed as if he were aware that he’d said something he shouldn’t have said. “It was good to meet you, Beatrice. I should probably go now. I’ll need to thank Martha.”

Beatrice glanced back in Martha’s direction, wondering if she was still in John’s arms. Instead she saw Martha back at her iciest—and then saw why. Phyllis Stitt had arrived and was busily talking with a group of women as if she had every right to be there. Judging from Martha’s expression, however, she strongly disagreed.

Meadow’s gaze met hers from across the room and she raised her eyebrows at the development. Would there be drama at the funeral reception?

Eric wandered up to thank Martha, however, so she was momentarily diverted from what Beatrice guessed would be Martha’s expulsion of Phyllis from the reception. She saw Martha’s gaze soften as she spoke with Eric, giving him a quick hug before he left. Beatrice wondered if they’d actually really known each other, though. It certainly hadn’t sounded as if Eric and Jason had been very close. And Eric apparently didn’t spend all that much time in Dappled Hills.

After talking with Eric, Martha removed herself with difficulty from Phyllis’s proximity. Martha walked up to Beatrice and said, “I certainly think it’s in very poor taste of Phyllis to come here. Really. I’ve half a mind to toss her out on her ear.”

“I suppose she’s trying to show that she had no hard feelings for Jason,” murmured Beatrice.

Martha rolled her eyes. “But there were hard feelings. Many of them. It’s all an act for the police.”

Phyllis glanced their way, her gaze falling for a moment on Martha before she quickly looked away. She noticed Eric was walking out the door and she gave him a friendly nod and a sympathetic smile before he left. He looked searchingly into her eyes, causing Phyllis to pause. Eric, seeming unable to help himself, reached out an arm toward Phyllis. She hesitated and then gave Eric a quick hug before hurriedly leaving. Phyllis was probably the only person there who’d reached out to Eric besides Beatrice and Martha.

John joined Beatrice and Martha. His face was appropriately solemn for the occasion, but his eyes were
glowing. He greeted Beatrice and handed Martha a plate of food he’d put together for her. Beatrice noticed many curious glances from around the room.

Beatrice walked across the room for another glass of tea and Miss Sissy intercepted her on the way over. “They go out, you know.”

Beatrice frowned. “Who goes out?”

Miss Sissy scowled at her. “
They
do.”

Meadow joined them and Miss Sissy repeated her statement. Meadow said, “Who goes out with each other? We don’t understand.”

Miss Sissy looked at both of them as if she were surrounded by imbeciles. “Phyllis and that guy.”

Meadow finished swallowing down a bit of mixed fruit, rolled her eyes at Beatrice, and said, “No, no, no, Miss Sissy. You’ve got it all wrong. Phyllis went out with
Jason
. The man who died. Whose funeral we’re attending—you know.”

“Vile!” fumed Miss Sissy.

Meadow shrugged and picked up a pimento cheese sandwich square with no crusts, which made Miss Sissy glare hungrily at her until she scampered off for another plate of food.

Wyatt had been busy speaking with Martha and others since Beatrice arrived, but now he came over and gave her a smile. “It’s good of you to come and support Martha,” he said. “The quilting community is really amazing.”

Beatrice felt a small tinge of guilt. Well, she supposed she
had
wanted also to support Martha—it wasn’t only that she was keeping her ears and eyes open for any potential clues to the murderer in this case.

Meadow winked at her and quickly said, “That’s exactly the kind of person Beatrice is. Always looking for ways to support her fellow quilters. Isn’t she wonderful?”

Beatrice flushed and shot Meadow a look as Wyatt murmured in agreement.

Meadow was gazing out into Martha’s living room when her eyes opened wide, and then she shut them again briefly as if she were trying to erase an image. “I saw Savannah swipe something. Just now.”

Beatrice glanced across the room to where Savannah was surreptitiously sticking something in her pocketbook. She squinted and saw that it appeared to be a clip intended to keep potato chip bags closed. “I have a feeling Martha really won’t mind,” said Beatrice. “It’s not as if she’ll probably even miss it. And clearly, her budget would cover replacement of it, even if she did notice.”

Unfortunately, it was at that moment that Georgia joined them. She followed their gaze to Savannah, who was drawing her hand away from her pocketbook. “Oh no,” said Georgia. “Is she at it again?”

“I’m afraid so,” said Beatrice. “But it was only a chip clip.”

“It’s always something very insignificant,” said Georgia with a sigh. “But it doesn’t matter—what’s wrong
is wrong.” She gave Wyatt a pained look. “I’m so embarrassed about Savannah’s actions. You know she’s not really like that.”

Wyatt said gently, “I know that it’s her stress that makes her act this way. If there’s anything that I can do at all for her or for you, I hope you’ll let me know. I’m always happy to talk to her.”

“Thanks,” said Georgia sadly. “I know that you are. But when we bring up this . . . problem . . . she really acts as if she doesn’t know what we’re talking about. She doesn’t like discussing it. I’ll have to try to get the chip clip back to Martha at some point later. After I’m done staying at my friend’s house.”

“How are things going with the house-sitting?” asked Meadow.

Georgia gave her a warm smile. “Oh, it’s really nice. She has such a great house—lots of sunshine coming in the windows. The animals have sunny spots on the floors to sleep in. And she has the sweetest pets. I love her dog, Snuffy. And her cat, Mr. Shadow, is a real charmer.” But Beatrice noticed the smile didn’t go all the way up to her eyes and wondered if she might miss her sister’s company. Maybe she wasn’t quite as happy as she seemed with the house-sitting.

*   *   *

Later that afternoon, as Meadow drove Beatrice at the same breakneck pace back to her cottage, Meadow said, “I simply can’t get how Martha was so happy to
be with John today. She’s rebuffed him again and again through the years. Then today, she acted like she loved him or something.” She snorted.

“Maybe she simply gave in,” said Beatrice. “It’s got to be exhausting to keep turning down a devoted admirer, year after year. Besides, after losing Jason, she must feel as if she needs some support. John seems nothing if not supportive.”

“Just the same,” Meadow said darkly as the car sped around the mountain curves, “I’m thinking that John is behind this whole thing.”

“I thought you were sold on Martha as the murderer. Now you think that John is the killer?” asked Beatrice, clinging to the passenger door and bracing herself with her feet on the floorboard.

“Why not?” Meadow shrugged. “Martha is all that old John has ever wanted. Most people want riches or fame or something, but John has only ever wanted Martha. If getting your heart’s desire was that easy and it only meant getting rid of someone who’s caused plenty of pain and suffering in his time, then why not go for it?” She turned to look at Beatrice and then had to quickly swerve to stay on the road.

“Maybe,” said Beatrice thoughtfully. “Love makes people act in odd ways.”

“Speaking of love,” said Meadow, glancing sideways at Beatrice, “I think our precious lovebirds are going out tonight for a special dinner.”

Meadow was a devoted matchmaker. It really fell into hobby territory with her. She spurred on the relationship between her Ash and Beatrice’s Piper at any opportunity. In some ways, it was probably good that they enjoyed a primarily long-distance relationship.

“I’d imagine every dinner is a special dinner when you’re with someone you care about,” said Beatrice. “It’s not as if they get to see each other as often as they like.”

Meadow was now wriggling in her seat with barely contained excitement and appeared in danger of not paying attention to the road at all. “That’s what’s so special about this dinner! Oh, I can’t wait to tell you. I know I promised Ash, but you’re not going to tell anyone.” She shot Beatrice a worried look. “You
won’t
tell Piper, will you?”

Beatrice gritted her teeth. “Tell Piper
what
, Meadow?”

“That Ash has been looking for a job in North Carolina since he met Piper. Nearby. He didn’t want to let her know he was looking, because he didn’t want to disappoint her if it fell through. But he found one. He’s going to let Piper know tonight that their relationship will no longer have to be a long-distance one. I was about to be disappointed that Piper couldn’t make the retreat, but then when I found out they were having a special evening, it was all worthwhile.”

Beatrice’s heart made a leap. She’d had such a mixture of feelings about Piper dating Ash. For one thing,
she’d been glad that her daughter was so happy. For another, she was delighted that Ash was such a good match and a nice guy. But then—she had to admit there was a side of her that had been really upset. She hadn’t wanted to lose Piper by having her move all the way to the other side of the country. If this worked out . . .

A thought occurred to her. “Meadow. I thought Ash was a marine biologist. How could he find a job in the mountains of North Carolina?”

Meadow beamed at her as she pulled into Beatrice’s driveway. “That’s the best part. It’s a teaching position at Harrington College. So it’s taking what he knows and using it in a totally different way. He doesn’t have a PhD or anything, so he’s an adjunct professor. But they’re delighted to have him on board there and it means that
he gets to live here
!” Her eyes shone. “I can hear the wedding bells already.” She gasped. “Or the pitter-patter of precious grandchild feet!”

“Remember, Meadow, it’s only dinner,” said Beatrice, trying to put the brakes on before Meadow was picking colleges for their unborn grandchildren. Meadow came to a jouncing stop and Beatrice opened the door to climb out of the van.

“Get the stuff from the backseat,” Meadow reminded her.

“Oh, right,” said Beatrice. She picked up the big book, and then gaped at the huge bag that was wedged between the two backseats. “You don’t mean
this
bag,
do you? This huge bag? Meadow, I thought you were just giving me a couple of your kitchen castoffs.”

“I went through my cabinets and couldn’t believe the amount of kitchen utensils I had!” said Meadow breezily. “There were gobs of duplicates, too. I put the food processor in there and some other things.”

Beatrice peered into the bag. “I see a colander, a cutting board, a whisk, a grater, a hand mixer . . . Meadow, I can’t take all this. For one thing, you might need them. For another, I’m simply not sure if I’ve got the room. And then . . . well, I tried cooking the other day. It was completely disastrous.”

“Oh, please!” said Meadow, waving her hand dismissively. “That cabinet of yours was just as empty as it could be. All that stuff could easily fit in there. And I already told you that I don’t need any of it. As far as disastrous cooking goes . . . you simply need to
practice
, Beatrice. I told you that you
couldn’t
really cook—not with the equipment you had on hand. I’m surprised that you even tried.”

Beatrice opened her mouth again to argue the point, but Meadow waved her hand at her again. “No, no—no, thanks! You can thank me by preparing your culinary masterpiece for Wyatt. Be sure and take pictures!”

And in the blink of an eye, she was gone.

*   *   *

The next afternoon, Beatrice was again taking a stab at Ramsay’s
The Brothers Karamazov
—which wasn’t
growing on her—when there was a light tap at her front door. Noo-noo ran to the door in front of her and she peeked out and saw Piper standing there, wearing a tunic top and leggings that complemented her cute figure and her pixie haircut. Noo-noo ran off to find a toy as soon as she saw Beatrice’s daughter at the door. Piper’s gray eyes looked tired, but she grinned and gave her mother a fleeting kiss before she sat down on the floor to cuddle Noo-noo when she came back with a toy. “It’s always flattering to come over here and get this kind of reception,” she said.

“I’ll get us some tea,” said Beatrice, and she was back soon with two tall glasses. Piper moved to Beatrice’s overstuffed sofa and took a big sip from her glass. Then she squinted, looking over near the door leading out to the backyard. “Is that a
kitten
you’ve got over there?”

Beatrice sighed. “I’m afraid so. I’m actually dropping her off at the vet tomorrow morning to get all her shots and then I’m going to try to find a home for her.”

“Where did she come from?” asked Piper with a smile. The kitten was all curled up in a fuzzy ball, sleeping soundly.

“She found me,” said Beatrice with a shrug. “Out of the blue the other night, she started mewing and pawing outside the front door. Noo-noo was most alarmed about it. But she’s settled in just fine, actually. Except for the fact that Noo-noo doesn’t care for her.”

“I bet she doesn’t. I’ll try to listen out at school to see if anyone is looking for a pet. She should be easy to place with someone if she’s so well-behaved and has her shots,” said Piper.

Piper lived right down the street, but with her busy schedule, Beatrice didn’t see as much of her as she liked. Piper was a teacher, and her move to Dappled Hills was the reason Beatrice was here. She’d always been sad at the thought that she’d see much less of her if she moved to California to marry Meadow’s son. Beatrice was dying to ask her how her date with Ash had gone last night, but, after all, she wasn’t supposed to know about it.

Instead she asked, “How is your quilt coming along for the show tonight? Is it all done? You know Meadow was fussing about all the quilts that were yet to be finished.”

Piper nodded, reaching down to scratch behind Noo-noo’s ears. “I managed to finish it up late last night.”

“Oh, it was a late night for you, then? That’s probably why you look a little tired,” said Beatrice. Maybe it had nothing to do with Ash, after all.

To her surprise, Piper’s eyes filled with tears. “It’s more like I couldn’t sleep.” She put her face in her hands and her voice was muffled as she said, “I’ve messed everything up.”

Beatrice reached over to hug her. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“Ash was so excited, Mama. You know he flew in for a visit yesterday. So we went out for supper last night. I just thought it was a time for us to catch up with each other, share a nice dinner, and relax. But he meant it to be so much more than that. I was caught off guard.” Piper choked up. The snoozing kitten woke up, looked sleepily in their direction, and padded over to curl up in Piper’s lap . . . as if she knew she needed the comfort.

Piper gave a half sob, half laugh and buried her face in the kitten’s fur. If there was one thing Beatrice knew that she and Piper shared, it was a dislike for surprises . . . even for surprises that were supposed to be fun. Being prepared felt so much better. “Did he propose?” she asked.

“Not exactly,” said Piper. “Only because I must have looked so stricken. You see, he found a job nearby, knowing that was the one thing that really stood in the way of us being together. But I had no idea he was doing that—preparing to move to the other side of the country and doing something completely different from what he’s doing now. It was such a surprise that I didn’t know how to react. I was just trying to take it all in, digest the news, and I guess I didn’t exactly look thrilled.” She stopped. “I
know
I didn’t look thrilled.”