The Quick and the Thread (2 page)

Sadie closed her eyes.

“I have a supercute dress for tonight,” I said with a laugh, “and Mr. O’Ruff will be sporting a black tie for the momentous event.”

Angus wagged his tail at the sound of his surname.

“Marce, you and that
pony
.” Sadie scratched Angus behind the ears.

“He’s a proud boy. Aren’t you, Angus?”

Angus barked his agreement, and Sadie chuckled.

“I’m proud, too . . . of both of you.” She grinned. “I’d better get back over to Blake. I’ll be back to check on you again in a while.”

Though we’re the same age and had been roommates in college, Sadie clucked over me like a mother hen. It was sweet, but I could do without the fix-ups. Some of these guys she’d tried to foist on me . . . I have no idea where she got them—mainly because I was afraid to ask.

I went over to the counter and placed my big yellow purse and floral tote bag on the bottom shelf before finally taking a sip of my latte.

“That’s yummy, Angus. It’s nice to have a friend who owns a coffee shop, isn’t it?”

Angus lay down on the large bed I’d put behind the counter for him.

“That’s a good idea,” I told him. “Rest up. We’ve got a big day and an even bigger night ahead of us.”

 

 

At about ten a.m., a woman wearing a smart black pantsuit, a paisley scarf, and bold silver jewelry entered the shop.
My first customer
. I caught my breath when I saw that she was holding a list.

“Good morning,” I said. “Welcome to the Seven-Year Stitch. I’m Marcy Singer. May I help you find anything?”

The woman smiled. “I’m working on a cross-stitch piece for my granddaughter, and I need some metallic threads, beads, and ribbon to finish it. Everything is written down here.” She handed me the list.

I was relieved to see that I had in stock everything she needed. I invited her to take a look around the shop, or to take a seat in the sitting area while I gathered her items.

“I’m having an open house tonight, if you’d like to stop by,” I said as I put skeins of metallic thread into a shopping basket. “It’s just a drop-in event—nothing fancy.”

“I’ll try to stop by,” she said. “This is really a lovely shop.”

I couldn’t help feeling a burst of pride. “Thanks. It certainly doesn’t appear that you need lessons yourself, but if you know anyone who’d be interested, I have sign-up sheets for crewel, cross-stitch, and candlewick classes—beginning and advanced—on the counter.”

“Oh, I’ve always wanted to learn to do crewel.” She stood and walked to the counter. “I’ll sign up for that one, and my friend Martha might be interested, as well.”

“Terrific.” I returned to the counter with all the items on her list.

“I’m Sarah Crenshaw, by the way.”

“Sarah, it’s a pleasure to meet you. You’re my first customer, and as such, I’d like to offer you a ten-percent discount,” I said in my best professional-shopkeeper voice.

Well, now I knew there was one sure way to put a smile on my customers’ faces.

As she left, I called, “I hope to see you this evening.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

When she was out of sight, I dropped to the floor and hugged Angus. “Our cash register has actual cash in it!”

He wagged his tail.

The rest of the day passed quickly. Some Tallulah Falls residents stopped by to wish me well; many bought threads, patterns, and fabrics, and most promised to return for the evening’s festivities. Sadie and Blake had enjoyed a busy day next door at MacKenzies’ Mochas, too, but Sadie had still managed to stop in for a quick hello after the lunch rush.

I closed the shop and hurried home to get ready. I had an actual house here, as opposed to the apartment I had in San Francisco. I bought the house shortly after leasing the shop, and I had finally finished unpacking the past weekend. Of course, in San Fran, I spent a lot of time at Mom’s house, too, which was okay, but that doesn’t lend itself to a mature, independent lifestyle.

I liked being a homeowner. Sadie said it was because nothing had been broken yet, but I was optimistic. I’m not bragging, but my two-story house was gorgeous . . . especially compared to the cramped little apartment I had overlooking the San Francisco Bay. Here, while I didn’t have a direct view of the ocean, I could hear it all the time. It was wonderfully serene. I was also within walking distance of the beach, which was great, because Angus seemed to adore romping along the shore.

I went upstairs to get ready. I showered, dried my hair, and then padded into the bedroom to get dressed. I opened the closet and took out my black lace dress. I slipped the dress over my head and smoothed the material over my hips. The dress came to just above my knees, but it didn’t do much to make me look taller. Maybe the four-inch-high red stilettos would help. The black did make my pale skin and platinum hair stand out, especially with my splash of red lipstick. I was going for an Old Hollywood look, and I thought I was pulling if off rather well.

My mind drifted back to Mom as I dug through my jewelry box for my pair of jet beaded chandelier earrings I love so much. You could say Angus and I had gone and loaded up the truck and moved to Beverly. But actually, we’d moved
away
from Beverly—Singer, that is, aka Mom, movie-costume designer extraordinaire.

I gave myself a mental shake. Why in the world was I thinking
The Beverly Hillbillies
theme song? Of course, thinking about
The Beverly Hillbillies
brought Buddy Ebsen to mind. And that, in turn, made me remember he’d played Audrey Hepburn’s estranged husband in
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
. Random trivia seems to be always lurking just beneath the surface of my mind.

I took a long black cigarette holder from inside my jewelry box and placed it between my teeth. Mom had given it to me years ago. It had been a prop on some movie set. God only knew who had used it, so she’d insisted on scalding it before giving it to me. Good thing. While I’ve never been a smoker, I used to love pretending to use the long black cigarette holder. It made me remember how even Lucille Ball as Lucy Ricardo had used one to make her look sophisticated after she and Ethel had attended charm school.

I sighed. Leaving Mom behind in San Francisco had been the one drawback to my moving to Tallulah Falls. I wished Mom could have made the party, but she was in New York on a movie set. It was par for the course. In many ways, I grew up privileged. But I was lonely for my mother, who was often on location somewhere, and since Dad had died when I was very young, I’d often been left in the care of my nanny.

I have to give Mom credit for passing along to me my love of textiles, though. When she was home, Mom often allowed me to come to the studio and help work with the fabrics. She’d wanted me to go into fashion and costume design. A rebellious little snot at the time, I’d told her I wanted a “more stable and reliable” career. Mom said I’d be bored with a reliable career. While I’d admitted that accounting wouldn’t be as exciting as dressing Hollywood’s A-listers, I asserted that it would allow me to be home for my family, should I ever be fortunate enough to have one. I told you I was a rebellious little snot. That comment had hurt Mom. And I’d meant it to. At the time, I wouldn’t have taken it back for anything in the world, even if I could have. Now that I was a wee bit older and wiser, I regretted it.

During my rebellious late-teen years, I even stopped going to Mom’s studio. It was like I was spiting her, but I was really hurting only myself. I hadn’t realized that until I was in college. I’d come back to the dorm one evening to find Sadie laboriously trying to embroider a pair of jeans. I took over the task and rediscovered my love for the craft. Still, I was too proud to admit that to Mom, so I’d sucked it up and embarked on my career in accounting.

I found the chandelier earrings I’d been looking for and put them on. Taking one last imaginary puff from the cigarette holder, I placed it back in the jewelry box.

I called Angus to me and put his black bow tie around his neck. Then I batted my lashes at him and imitated Bette Davis: “Fasten your seat belts. It’s going to be a bumpy night.”

When Angus and I got to the shop, Sadie and Blake were already there setting up a refreshment buffet on the counter.

“We used the key you gave me,” Sadie said. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Why would I mind? I just wish I’d arrived earlier. You two already have all the work done.” I inhaled deeply, savoring the chocolate-and-vanilla-scented air. “Everything looks—and smells—delicious.”

“And you look beautiful,” Blake said. “Todd will be thrilled.”

“Blake!” Sadie frowned at her husband.

I looked from one to the other. “Who’s Todd?”

Blake looked at Sadie. “You didn’t tell her?”

“Tell me what?”

The pair continued conversing as if I hadn’t spoken. That made me even more nervous than I already was.

“Of course I didn’t tell her,” Sadie said. “I didn’t want her to think I was trying to fix her up.”

“You mean you’re not?”

Sadie sighed. “Not exactly. I wanted to introduce the two of them. That’s all—nothing more.”

“Uh-huh.” Blake grinned knowingly. “That’s all, huh?”

Sadie swatted at him playfully with a paper plate, and he pulled her to him for a quick kiss.

They’re a sweet couple . . . well suited, even though on the surface they appear so different. Sadie is tall and dark. Blake is only an inch or two taller than his wife, and stockily built with blue eyes and light blond hair. They’re opposites in other ways, as well: Sadie hates sports, while Blake
loves
hockey; Sadie likes corny horror flicks, but Blake likes corny comedies; Sadie enjoys reading the classics, and Blake’s reading seems to be confined to blogs—really dorky blogs, to be exact. And yet you can look at them and see how much they love each other, how compatible they truly are.

I hope to find a love like that myself one day. I thought I’d had it once, but I’d been so wrong. And, based on Sadie’s previous attempts, I doubted I’d find it with this Todd guy. Or anyone else Sadie happened to dig out from under a rock.

“Blake is right about your looking beautiful,” Sadie said. “Though I’ll never know how you walk in those shoes.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” I said. “You’re tall enough without them. And you look terrific, by the way.”

Sadie looked down at her navy dress with the beaded bodice. “Aw, this old thing?” She winked as Blake rolled his eyes.

I went to take a closer look at the refreshments while Blake fed Angus a shortbread cookie. There was a carafe of hot chocolate and another of Kona coffee. I thought fleetingly of asking the MacKenzies about a pot of decaf, but decided not to. Let everyone eat, drink, and be wired.

Besides the aforementioned shortbread cookies, there were s’mores, chocolate chip cookies, and peanut butter crinkles. The napkins had THE SEVEN-YEAR STITCH superimposed over an image of Marilyn Monroe standing on a grate with her dress billowing about her thighs. Blake had found the napkins online somewhere. Blake could find
anything
online.

I turned back to my friends. “Thank you so much, guys. This means a lot to me.”

Sadie smiled. “You’re welcome. You mean a lot to us.”

That’s when I knew I’d have to give this Todd guy a chance . . . no matter what he might be like.

“Will you help me keep an eye on Angus tonight?” I asked. “You know he has no problem reaching the counter; and with everybody’s attention diverted, he might just give in to temptation.” I looked at Angus, who wagged his tail and looked up at me with a “Who me?” expression.

“Yeah, especially since Blake has already got him started on those shortbread cookies,” Sadie said. “They’re addictive. Trust me, I know.”

“Sorry.” Blake looked sheepish, but slipped another cookie behind his back to Angus.

The bell over the door heralded the first guest.

“Am I too early?”

Before I could turn to see who’d spoken, I was struck by the richness of his voice, smooth and delicious as warm maple syrup dripping off a hot pancake on an icy January morning. I turned, half expecting to be disappointed. I was not disappointed.

“You’re right on time,” I said, taking in the man’s thick, dark hair and sparkling brown eyes. I held out my hand. “I’m Marcy Singer. Welcome to the Seven-Year Stitch.”

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Sadie and Blake elbowing each other as the man encased my hand in his own.

“Nice to meet you, Marcy. I’m Todd Calloway.”

Angus placed his big snout on our clasped hands to effectively end the handshake.

“Well, hey, big fellow,” Todd said. “Do you embroider, or are you only here for the party?”

“He’s here for the shortbread,” Blake said.

To everyone’s delight, Angus sat and offered Todd his large gray paw to shake.