Threads of Deceit (Vineyard Quilt Mysteries Book 1) (3 page)

Julie stretched a painful smile. “I could move you to the second floor. We have one remaining empty suite on the second floor.”

Miss Lawson narrowed her eyes and thrust her pointed nose closer to Julie. “We wouldn’t want to pay a higher rate.”

“We can’t just throw money around,” Mrs. Cantrell added.

“No, no, I’ll let you have it for the same rate,” Julie said.

The sisters looked at each other, then back at Julie. They gave a decisive nod in unison.

“Fine,” Miss Lawson said. “We’re going to get breakfast now. Tell us when our new room is ready.”

“Of course,” Julie said.

As the matching set of old ladies strutted away, their heads tilting toward each other, Julie heard one last sharp comment: “The inn was much better when Millie was here.”

Great
, Julie thought as she wondered exactly how Millie would have magically controlled the unseasonably hot Missouri fall weather.

With her smile still pasted on, Julie walked through the open French doors and into the airy breakfast room. It was the largest public area in the inn, matching the size of the huge remodeled kitchen at the back of the house.

She wove through the tables with their crisp white cloths, pausing at each to make a friendly comment or ask a question. To her joy, no one else had a complaint to share with her. When she finally reached the back of the room, she turned and looked over the full tables, and her smile grew easier. The inn was nearly full. In fact, with the sisters moving to the second floor, now the only open suite was on the third floor. Normally, Millie didn’t rent out the third-floor suite. She
saved it for family or friends visiting. Or when they needed a room in an emergency. The only reason the twin sisters had been in the suite was because they’d especially asked for it to enjoy the quiet.

Julie’s smile turned wry.
Figures.
The important thing was that the inn was doing well.

She turned her gaze from the people filling the impeccably clean breakfast room to the furniture and floors. She could see wear on the seats of the dining room chairs. She should discuss re-covering them with Millie.

She’d seen a lot of little things like that—floors that could use refinishing, drapes with missing fringe, bathroom fixtures that seemed to require a bit too much fiddling to work. None of the things made the guests’ experience unpleasant, but Julie worried about the accumulated worn look. Nothing draws business like success, and worn dining room chairs didn’t scream success.

Julie made a mental note to create a list, prioritizing the things that needed attention first. She could talk about it with Millie, and they could work out a slow but steady plan for upgrading. She might even tackle a few items herself.

Julie reached the long breakfast buffet table. Cinnamon and spice from the basket of muffins made her stomach growl, even though she’d snuck one of those very muffins from the kitchen earlier.

The sharp sizzle of melting butter drew Julie’s attention to the pan Hannah swirled. With great fanfare, she broke an egg into the hot butter and mixed them together.

Julie edged closer. “That looks delicious.”

“It is,” Hannah said with a smile. The eggs began to turn color immediately. Gently loosening the edge of the omelet, she added cheese and sautéed mushrooms, then
expertly flipped the omelet closed and slid it onto a plate before handing it to a bespectacled man who stood beside his plump, cheerful wife. The woman held a plate piled high with fruit. The couple cooed over the omelet and hurried off to their table.

“Have you seen Inga recently?” Julie asked, scanning the room for any sign of the housekeeper. “I need her to move the sisters out of the tower suite and down to the second floor.”

Hannah nodded. “As far as I know, she’s cleaning up in the kitchen. But that woman is practically a ghost. Half the time I don’t hear her come or go. All I see is the perfect cleanliness and order left in her wake.”

“I suppose that’s the best kind of ghost to have.” Stepping behind the breakfast table, Julie slipped through a door marked with a “Staff Only” sign. She walked down the hallway, past the door to the inn’s cellar and on to the kitchen. As always, stepping through the swinging door was like entering a different world. As much as Millie loved the antiques in the rest of the inn, she’d gone all out to make the kitchen modern and efficient.

The only antique-looking thing in the room was Inga Mehl, who carefully loaded the dishwasher. Not that Inga was more than fifty, but her dark hair was streaked with gray, and she always wore shades of gray, drab colors that seemed to match her expressionless solemnity. It gave her the look of a woman from a different time.

“Inga?” Julie said, annoyed to hear the hesitancy in her own voice. “The guests in the tower want to move down to the empty suite on the second floor. Can you handle that this morning?”

Inga nodded. “I can do that now, Miss Ellis.”

Julie repressed a sigh. She’d already asked the housekeeper
to call her Julie several times. “Thank you.”

Julie backed up, ducking into the hallway. She felt an instant relief as soon as Inga’s dark, disapproving eyes were no longer pointed her way. The woman was an amazing worker, but she reminded Julie of the ominous housekeepers who populated gothic literature.

Julie hurried back to the breakfast room, pausing at the buffet table to paste a warm smile on her face.

“You don’t fool me, you know,” Hannah said.

“And how am I trying to fool you this time?” Julie asked.

“All that smiling. I can see the cabin fever setting in, making you all squinchy around the eyes.”

“I’m fairly certain ‘squinchy’ is not a real word,” Julie said mildly. “But I’m delighted to see this new whimsical, imaginative side of you, Hannah. Perhaps
you’re
the one who should take up writing a book.”

“So you’re perfectly happy as an innkeeper?”

“Perfectly.” Julie resisted the urge to add that she was simply creeped out by her housekeeper as she waited for Hannah’s next remark, but it never came.

Instead, Hannah looked over Julie’s right shoulder, and her eyes widened. Julie turned to follow Hannah’s gaze and saw that a newcomer had entered the dining room. Men tended to be in the minority at the Quilt Haus Inn, and this particular man couldn’t have looked less like a quilter if he’d tried. His darkly tanned skin made it clear he spent a lot of time outside, and his broad shoulders filled out his shirt in a way that suggested the time spent was active. Julie narrowed her eyes, wondering if he might be someone sent to track her down. If so, she needed to get him away from the inn’s guests as quickly as possible.

Julie pulled what she hoped was a welcoming smile onto
her face and quickly crossed the room. “Welcome to the Quilt Haus Inn. How can I help you this morning?”

He returned her smile, his eyes crinkling with laugh lines baked into the skin. “I’m looking for a room.”

“I’m sorry. We cater primarily to quilters.”

He raised a single dark eyebrow. “How do you know I’m not a quilter?”

“You look like someone who spends his time doing something more … athletic than stitching quilts.”

His smile stretched still farther. “Looks can be deceiving.” He turned and pointed to each of the framed quilt blocks that hung on the walls of the breakfast room and began to name the block designs. “Old Maid’s Puzzle, Pinwheel, Rail Fence, Spool, Shoo Fly, Pieced Star, Dutchman’s Puzzle, and Churn Dash.” Then he stepped back out into the foyer and pointed at the full-size quilts that hung from the walls. “Drunkard’s Path, Victorian Crazy Quilting, done in the traditional velvets—very nice, Double Wedding Ring. And this last one isn’t actually quilting at all.” He gestured to a coverlet done in jewel tones and black. “Cathedral Squares.”

He turned back to Julie, a twinkle in his gray-blue eyes. “So can I rent a room?”

Julie blinked, finding his intense gaze more than a little unnerving. “I stand corrected. You clearly know a great deal about quilts.” Even so, she wasn’t particularly comforted. Someone in the business of stealing antiquities might have all kinds of unusual knowledge.

“I’m full of surprises.”

Julie made a noncommittal sound and strode to the front desk. The man followed close behind.

She opened the ledger. “I’m afraid the only suite available is on the third floor. It’s the tower room. Both the room and
the bath are smaller than what’s offered in the second-floor suites, and there is no separate sitting area.” Julie offered a discouraging frown.

“I don’t need a lot of room.” He pulled a credit card from his wallet and held it out to her.

Julie looked down at the credit card, then up at him. “I’m also told it’s swelteringly hot up there. You might be more comfortable at the inn down the street, Mr. …?”

“Franklin. But call me Daniel, please. And I’m not worried about the heat.” Daniel wiggled his credit card in the air. “I’ll open a window. I’ve been in hotter places, I’m sure.”

Julie smiled tightly and took the card. She gestured behind her toward the breakfast room. “The only meal we offer is breakfast. On Sundays, we have a more extensive buffet, and the hours we serve are extended.” Then she turned to nod toward the other set of French doors on the opposite side of the foyer from the breakfast room. “We have a small quilt shop, which also serves tea and pastries throughout the day. Anything you need for your quilting project, you should be able to find there. If we don’t have it, our shop manager, Shirley, can definitely find it for you. She’s positively magic that way.” Julie finalized the transaction and pushed the guest ledger toward him to sign, still wary of his story. Over the years, she’d developed a fairly accurate sense about people. And something about Daniel Franklin didn’t add up.

“So I’m
officially
booked into my room?” he asked.

“Yes, though the room isn’t ready yet. I can store your luggage if you like and have it taken up to the room by two o’clock at the latest. Until then, you’re welcome to use any of the public rooms down here.”

“As long as I’m official, and you can’t back out, I suppose I should come clean.”

Julie tensed, wishing she had some kind of makeshift weapon at her disposal besides a ballpoint pen adorned with a spool of thread. Surely he wasn’t simply going to admit he’d come to exact revenge for her interfering in the art theft ring’s business, was he? “Come clean about what, Mr. Franklin?”

“I’m not actually a quilter.”

Julie gulped. “What are you?”

“I’m a historian. My focus is on American arts, which is how I know all those quilt patterns. I’ve looked at a lot of historically significant quilts during my career.”

“I see.” Julie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “So, are you on the trail of a rare quilt?”

“No. I’m tracking something much bigger.”

Again Julie felt a frisson of worry. Was he toying with her? She didn’t say anything, but merely raised an eyebrow.

His grin grew. “I’ve come to find the final resting place of
The Grand Adventure
, a side-wheeler steamboat that sank over a hundred and fifty years ago on its first trip up the Missouri River.”

Julie’s unease was immediately replaced by curiosity. “I don’t see any diving equipment,” she said. “I think you’ll have trouble renting it locally. We don’t have a lot of people diving in the river around here.”

He shook his head. “No diving required. I’m going to be hunting for this steamboat in the middle of a farm field. And if I’m right, I’m going to find a treasure in the process!”

L
ate in the afternoon, Julie ducked into the brightly lit kitchen to grab a moment’s peace and a cup of coffee. As much as she enjoyed the antiques throughout the inn, she found the kitchen’s gleaming stainless steel counters and high-end appliances soothing. They reminded her of her New York City loft.

All of the countertops matched the stainless steel finish on the fridge and stove—except for a single slab of marble in the baking area. Julie thought it looked odd, but Hannah told her marble was naturally colder, so it made a great surface for rolling out pastry dough.

As Julie crossed the room, Hannah looked up from a recipe book she was reading. “I’m looking for a different recipe for
pfeffernüsse
; the one I have doesn’t taste right.”

“I don’t actually know what that is.” Julie opened a cupboard and pulled out her favorite mug. It didn’t match the lovely cream-colored mugs the guests used. This mug had been a gift from the mentor who had taught her all about antiquities recovery—and helped her to become a very successful antiques bounty hunter. The mug was tall and thick with “Never Get Caught” printed in white on the chocolate-brown glaze.

“They look a little like Danish wedding cookies, but they’re spicier. I can’t seem to get them right.”

Julie wrinkled her nose as she turned to the basket that held all the different coffee pods for the shiny single-cup coffee maker. “I don’t like anything covered in powdered sugar—too messy.”

“There is that,” Hannah said. “I doubt Inga would enjoy cleaning powdered sugar off the floor of the tearoom. Maybe I should omit the
pfeffernüsse
and add
Lebkuchen
instead.”