Elizabeth Lynn Casey - Southern Sewing Circle 08 - Remnants of Murder (3 page)

“Is everyone in the family room?” she asked to no one in particular.

Jake Junior nodded.

“Your Mee Maw? Aunt Leona? Everyone?”

“Everyone ’cept Mama,” Lulu corrected before abandoning her bowl of chips for a closer look at Tori. “And … Miss Dixie, I think.”

Tori’s heart sank. “Miss Dixie isn’t here?”

Lulu’s eyebrows furrowed in thought, only to resume their normal position as she shook her head. “Nope.”

“
There
you are, Victoria!” Margaret Louise breezed into the kitchen, waving a pudgy finger as she did. “Why, I was just sittin’ inside frettin’ ’bout everyone who ain’t here and here you are.” Pivoting on her Keds, the grandmother of eight peeked around the corner and into the front entryway. “Dixie? You hidin’ out here, too?”

“I wish.” Tori recognized the forlorn quality in her own voice right before Margaret Louise turned back with a mischievous sparkle in her brown eyes.

“Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit!” Margaret Louise slapped her hand against her polyester-clad thigh and raised her sparkle with a face-splitting smile. “Two years ago, Dixie had you walkin’ on eggshells wonderin’ when she was goin’ to flap her jaws ’bout losin’ her job to you. Now you look like you lost your best friend just ’cause Dixie’s missin’ a sewin’ circle meetin’.” Then, with her best attempt at a whisper, the woman continued. “But don’t you worry none, Victoria. I won’t tell Rose or Melissa.”

Tori hoisted her sewing bag farther onto her shoulder and studied her sixty-something friend closely. “Won’t tell Rose or Melissa what?”

“That you ain’t upset ’bout them not bein’ here.”

“Wait. I only knew about Melissa and that’s because we already spoke on the phone about an hour ago when I called to check in on her and the baby.”

At the mention of her newest grandbaby, Margaret Louise beamed with pride. “I tell you, that baby might be the purtiest baby I’ve ever seen.”

“Mee Maw, you say that every time,” Jake Junior accused before bringing his hands to his hips and lovingly mimicking his grandmother.
“I tell you, that Sally was the purtiest baby … Have you seen Molly Sue? She’s the purtiest baby I’ve ever seen …”

A hint of crimson rose in Margaret Louise’s face just before she walked over to the table and planted a kiss on her oldest grandchild’s head. “When did you get so smart, young man?”

If Jake Junior answered his grandmother, Tori didn’t hear. Instead, she found her thoughts revisiting the other name on Margaret’s Louise’s no-show list—Rose Winters.

At eighty-two, Rose was the oldest member of the Sweet Briar Ladies Society Sewing Circle. In just the two years since Tori moved to town, the group’s matriarch had weathered a tropical storm that caused extensive damage to her home, as well as a rheumatoid arthritis diagnosis that seemed to accelerate the aging process. Yet through it all, Rose came to virtually each and every meeting, the edges of her bristly exterior softened by the magic of a needle and thread.

Sometimes, when Tori was stressed over budget issues or feeling blue over her great-grandmother’s death, she found herself on Rose’s doorstep. And every time she did, she felt infinitely better when it was time to leave.

Rose could never replace Tori’s great-grandmother—no one could—but her presence in Tori’s life helped ease the pain that tended to flare at the most inopportune times.

“Victoria? You okay?”

She turned to her left to find Margaret Louise studying her closely, a hint of worry on the woman’s face. Tori glanced toward the table and lowered her voice to a near whisper. “Is everything okay with Rose?”

Margaret Louise’s broad shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. “I asked her that when she called to decline, and you know what she told me?”

Tori waited.

“She told me to quit sniffin’ ’round for somethin’ that ain’t there. Said she was tired and just didn’t feel like gettin’ dressed and comin’ over here to sew when she can just keep on her slippers and sew in her own house.” Margaret Louise grabbed hold of Tori’s upper arm and propelled her toward the hallway, glancing back at her grandchildren with a curious mixture of affection and authority as she did. “Keep on testin’ your recipe ideas while I get Miss Sinclair, here, squared away with her sewin.’ Now do a good job. I can’t be havin’ an empty page in my cookbook, now can I?”

Once they made it into the hallway, Margaret Louise leaned her mouth close to Tori’s ear, the woman’s inability to whisper making the move virtually futile. “I’m glad you’re here. Listenin’ to my twin soap boxin’ ’bout the benefits of red nail polish over pink nail polish was givin’ me a splittin’ headache. Why, I swear that woman could talk the ears off a dead mule.”

“And give him tips on how to look more appealing in death while she’s at it,” Tori quipped before stopping just inside the doorway of the evening’s sewing circle room of choice and taking in the faces of her closest friends.

Seated beside the rarely used fireplace was Georgina Hayes, the town’s mayor—a title that had been virtually bequeathed to her by her father and her grandfather before him. Her quick thinking and tireless work ethic for the good of Sweet Briar, however, was what kept her in office after each mayoral vote.

Georgina met Tori’s eye and smiled. “Why, Victoria, I was just asking Beatrice if she knew whether you were coming or not tonight.”

Her gaze slid to Georgina’s left long enough to smile at Beatrice Tharrington, the youngest member of the Sweet Briar Ladies Society Sewing Circle. A nanny for one of the town’s wealthier families, the young British woman was endearingly shy.

“I’m sorry I’m late. I got tied up at the library going over this month’s budget and then had to run home for my brownies.”

“We’re just glad you’re here, Victoria.” Debbie Calhoun patted the empty sofa cushion beside her fit frame. “Come. Sit. Tell us why your eyes aren’t sparkling the way they usually do.”

She considered protesting her friend’s observation, but opted, instead, to let it go. Debbie’s bakery hadn’t become the most popular eatery in Sweet Briar by coincidence. It had achieved that status because of Debbie’s determination and attention to detail—qualities that also contributed to the woman’s rock-solid marriage to local author Colby Calhoun, and her reputation as an amazing mother to their two children, Susanna and Jackson.

“That’s easy. Victoria simply doesn’t listen.”

All eyes turned toward the impeccably dressed woman holding court on the upholstered wing chair beside the bank of windows that ran along the south side of the room. Leona Elkin was as different from her twin, Margaret Louise, as one could imagine. Where Margaret Louise was lovably plump and disheveled, Leona was slender and stylish. Where Margaret Louise was all about family and family-related activities, Leona was all about her hair, her makeup, and the latest uniformed male to catch her attention. And where Margaret Louise tended to focus on the stuff inside a person’s shell, Leona tended to focus on the shell itself.

“Now don’t you start, Twin,” Margaret Louise reprimanded. “Go back to readin’ that magazine of yours and leave Victoria alone.”

Leona dropped her latest travel magazine into her lap and glared at her sister. “If you’d quit thinking I’m being mean and let me finish, you’d know that I only have Victoria’s best interests at heart.” Then, pointing across the room, Leona took her spot in the limelight. “If Victoria would get eight hours of sleep each night the way I always tell her to, her eyes wouldn’t be so dull. And if she’d quit taking on the worries of the world and actually wear the sleep mask I got her for Christmas, she wouldn’t have those black circles around her eyes like one of those raccoons who keep getting into the trash can behind the shop—”

“Leona!”

Tori crossed the room to the sofa and sat down. “Debbie, it’s okay. Leona is right.”

Leona nodded in triumph. “It may have taken you two years, dear, but at least you’ve finally learned
that
much.” Lifting her hand from her lap, Tori’s self-appointed life coach took a moment to examine her flawless manicure before focusing on Tori once again. “So which is it, dear? Lack of sleep or failure to cover your eyes?”

“While I’m sure both of those are culprits, I’d say it’s the worry most of all,” Tori replied as she reached into her tote bag and extracted her sewing box and the pair of pants she’d chosen to hem that evening. “I’ve spent more time looking at the ceiling, worrying, than I have closing my eyes and actually sleeping these past six nights.”

Margaret Louise straightened in the doorway. “Worrying?”

Debbie’s brows rose just before she scooted closer to Tori. “What’s wrong, Victoria? Is it Milo?”

“No, Milo’s fine.”

Beatrice paused her needle above the badge she was securing to her charge’s Scout vest. “Are you feeling poorly?”

“No. I—”

“Do you think I’d look like this”—Leona gestured toward her salon-softened gray hair, high cheekbones, and perfectly pouty lips—“if I let worry take over?”

Margaret Louise stepped five steps to the right and plopped into a wooden rocking chair. “Worry?
What
worry? Last time I checked, Twin, you didn’t have any roosters to crow.”

Dipping her head forward a smidge, Leona pinned her sister atop her glasses. “I have roosters, Margaret Louise.”

A chorus of laughter rang around the room, only to be stymied, temporarily, by Leona’s foot smacking the floor. “You think it’s easy maintaining this?” Again, she pointed to herself. “And don’t you forget about Paris. Making sure she’s safe from the trigger-happy fingers in this backwoods little town is a full-time job on its own. And if that’s not enough, trying to keep Elkin’s Antiques and Collectibles afloat in a town that is hardly a vacation destination is difficult at best.”

Georgina’s head shot up. “Sweet Briar is just
fine
, Leona. We don’t need to be a vacation destination.”

Leona turned her disapproving gaze in the mayor’s direction while addressing Tori’s sofa mate. “Debbie? Would the bakery benefit from additional customers?”

“Of course.”

“And Victoria? Would the library board keep slashing your budget if there were more people utilizing the library?”

Tori looked from Debbie to Georgina and back again before answering. “I guess not …”

“Then I rest my case.” Leona grabbed her magazine from her lap and flipped it open. “I have roosters, too.”

“No one is going to shoot your bunny, Leona. We have ordinances about that in this town.” Georgina held her sewing needle to the light and carefully threaded it with a piece of black thread before pointing it at Leona. “And as for the future of this town, we’ve been talking to Clyde Montgomery about selling his property out on Fawn Lake for years. But no matter how much those resort companies offer him, he just keeps on saying no. Says he likes his lake and his property just the way it is.”

“Just the way it is?” Leona echoed. “You mean stagnant and boring?”

Seeing the fight build behind the mayor’s eyes, Tori veered the conversation into different waters. “I’m worried about Dixie.”

“Dixie? Why?”

She met Debbie’s gaze and shrugged. “The Sweet Briar Public Library was her life. Getting tossed to the curb for a second time has to hurt.”

Without taking her eyes off Leona, Georgina addressed Tori. “Dixie will be okay. In fact, I reckon she landed on her feet quite well.”

“Landed on her feet?”

Georgina nodded. “She’s volunteering for Home Fare. And from what I’ve heard after just her first few days, she’s a hit with the folks on her route.”

Tori set her sewing box on the coffee table and ignored the folded trousers on her lap. “Home Fare? You mean the meal delivery program for the elderly?” At Georgina’s nod, she continued. “Dixie is volunteering with them?”

“She started on Wednesday.”

“Wednesday?” Tori repeated. “But how? The board let her go on Tuesday.”

“She was determined to stay standing this time around.”

Relief coursed through her body at the news. “That’s wonderful, Georgina. I didn’t know …”

“I think she wanted to surprise you.” The mayor laid her needle atop the blouse she was stitching and smiled at Tori. “For someone who was so against you moving here two years ago, Dixie sure has taken a shine to you, Victoria.”

“The feeling is mutual.” And it was true. Dixie Dunn had taught her the kind of lessons she knew she’d revisit as she aged—lessons about determination and maintaining one’s passions in life. “I’m so glad they had some open routes.”

Georgina retrieved her needle once again and brought it up and underneath the fabric in her hand. “More like an open client they padded with a few others.”

“Open client?” she repeated.

“Clyde Montgomery ran off the third volunteer in as many weeks. The most recent one he belittled and called an incompetent buffoon.” Georgina pulled the thread through the fabric. “So anyway, there I was, explaining our position to his son, Beau, when Dixie showed up looking like something the cat dragged in. She heard what was happening and she volunteered to bring Clyde his afternoon meal every day.”

A tsk from across the room brought all eyes back on Leona. “Can you just imagine
that
dinner conversation?” Leona modulated her voice to simulate conversation between an elderly pair. “They stole my job from me! They’re trying to steal my land from me! I’ll show them! No, I’ll show them!”

“Twin, quit!”

Leona waved off Margaret Louise. “Oh, please. You know I’m right.”

Beatrice’s voice broke the ensuing silence. “Victoria? Do you think being around that kind of negativity will change Dixie back to the way she was before Nina went on bed rest? Especially if Mr. Montgomery can’t fancy her, either?”

It was a question Tori, too, couldn’t help but entertain. Unfortunately, the answer it demanded was far easier to imagine than she would have liked. “Let’s hope not, Beatrice. Because, between all of us, I don’t think Dixie could stand another loss.”

Chapter 3