Sew Deadly (32 page)

Next came several of Milo’s students, their parents in tow. Many were led straight to their child’s drawing-inspired mural, others stopped to apologize for their unfair judgment of Tori. All were thrilled with the room.

Then came Lulu, with Margaret Louise on one arm, and her daddy on the other, the child’s delighted gasp as she stepped into the room the most touching reaction of all. Sure, Tori’d hoped to make a good impression on the board, and on the town as a whole. But, most importantly, she’d wanted to take hold of something deep inside the children and encourage them to imagine and hope, dream and create. A task she’d accomplished tenfold if Lulu’s eyes and face-splitting smile were any indication.

“You should see the dessert table in the library, Victoria. You’ll be hard-pressed not to put a few needed pounds on that tiny body of yours,” Margaret Louise bellowed, her voice echoing through the room.

“Any Black Forest tortes?” she asked, her gaze still glued to Lulu’s look of utter enchantment.

“Tortes? No. Just pies. Lots and lots of pies.”

Tori’s head snapped up. “Did you say pies?”

Margaret Louise beamed as she patted her handmade purse. “Which means recipes. Lots and lots of recipes.”

Tori swallowed over the lump that sprang into her throat. Margaret Louise had been right. People were truly sorry for what they’d put her through.

“Victoria, thank you. For what you’ve done for my youngin’. She’s got a glint in her eye since you came to town.” Jake Davis held out his calloused hand and gripped hers tightly. “My Melissa is due back from her mama’s tomorrow, and she can’t wait to meet you.”

Tori felt her cheeks warm with pride at the man’s words of praise and admiration. “I’m looking forward to meeting your wife at the next sewing circle, too. And as for Lulu . . . well, she’s as special as they come. Truly.”

“C’mon, Mee-Maw, c’mon, Daddy. There’s a stage! A real stage!” Lulu reached up and grabbed her grandmother’s hand, gently tugging the heavyset woman across the room toward the wooden platform and costume trunk as her father followed closely behind. “I want to be Laura!”

Blinking against the tears that hovered just behind her eyes, Tori focused on the door once again, a tall, uniformed man the next to arrive, a police hat tucked under his arm.

Wordlessly, Milo Wentworth appeared by her side as she reached a welcoming hand in the investigator’s direction. “I’m so glad you could come.”

His steel gray eyes studied her warmly, all hint of accusation gone from their gleam. “And I’m honored to be invited.”

Milo looked from side to side and then lowered his voice so as to be heard by only Tori and Investigator McGuire. “How’s Georgina holding up?”

“When she comes up for air, I’ll let you know. I’ll tell you this, though”—he bent his head closer to their ears—“Thomas Hayes is going to be glad to leave the local jail in favor of a lockup farther north.”

“She’s making it rough on him, huh?” Milo asked, the rhetorical question bringing a knowing smile to Tori’s lips.

“
Rough
doesn’t even begin to describe it.” Investigator McGuire moved farther into the room to allow the next throng of guests to enter, his pleasant and genuine demeanor a welcome change.

“You okay?” Milo asked quietly.

“Yeah. I feel awful for Georgina though. Her whole life has been blown apart.”

“She’ll rebound. Georgina is strong stock. Always has been. Always will be. Thomas Hayes can’t change that.”

“I hope you’re right.” She felt her skin tingle as he touched her arm, a warm and supportive sensation that gave her hope for the future. Jeff’s mistake was Jeff’s mistake. She couldn’t hold anyone else accountable without hurting herself in the end.

Next through the door were friends, women she’d met through a shared passion for sewing, and grown to treasure for their common beliefs and values.

“I’m so very proud of you, Victoria.” Rose reached up, her frail and trembling hand pushing an errant strand of curly hair from Tori’s forehead. “What you’ve done in here will touch imaginations for years and years to come.”

“Thank you, Rose,” she said, her voice raspy with emotion.

She bit back the urge to laugh as Rose guided Dixie Dunn in Tori’s direction with a well-placed elbow. “Tell her what you think, Dixie.”

Dixie looked around the room, her eyes large and luminous behind thick glasses, her mouth gaping open as she took in every detail of the library’s new addition. “The board—the board was right.” The woman looked down as she fiddled with a stray string on her sweater. “I . . . I never would have thought of something like this.”

Inhaling deeply, Tori squared her shoulders and extended an offer she’d been contemplating throughout the week as she’d painted scenes and reshelved books. “Can I count on you for an occasional preschool story time?”

The woman’s head lifted, her cheeks pink with excitement. “Do you really mean that? Even after the things I said and the way I acted?”

Tori shook off Rose’s admiration across Dixie’s shoulder. “You have things to bring the children, too. I’d be a fool not to see that.”

Tears glistened in the elderly woman’s eyes as she fell into step with Rose, her shoulders sagging ever so slightly as the retired teacher draped her arm around the former librarian’s waist and steered her toward the center of the room.

“Have you seen the pies you have out there?” Debbie leaned forward and gave Tori a hug. “I’m not sure
I’ve
ever seen that many in one place.”

“Margaret Louise has the recipes,” she whispered in her friend’s ear.

“Then I shall go find Margaret Louise.” Debbie walked about two feet only to spin back in Tori’s direction. “You’re really something special, Victoria Sinclair . . . I hope you know that.”

She didn’t know quite what to say so she simply smiled, Milo’s breath warming her ear with his words. “I know
I
do.”

“Mr. Wentworth, come see! They have a Pocahontas costume, too.” Lulu’s excited little voice carried across the room, causing more than a few smiles to turn in her direction.

“Do you mind?” he asked, as he held the index finger of his right hand in the little girl’s direction.

“Not at all. I think I’d like to just stand here a moment and soak it all in.”

“Soak away.” Milo touched a gentle hand to the small of Tori’s back as he stepped around her and headed toward the costume trunk.

Tori inhaled slowly, allowing her senses to soak up everything about this night. The sights, the sounds, the smells. All of it.

“You’ve done us outsiders proud, dear.”

She turned toward the door once again, the familiar voice as much a sense of comfort as it had been her first week in Sweet Briar.

“Good evening, Leona.” Tori gestured over her shoulder. “Investigator McGuire is over there somewhere.”

The woman shifted a large gift bag from one hand to the other, her chin nudged upward. “I suppose he is, dear. But I’m not here for him. I’m here for you . . . or rather . . . to apologize
to
you.”

“Apologize?”

“Lesson number four . . .”

Tori held up her hand. “Actually it’s lesson five.”

Leona’s eyebrows rose upward in an upside-down
V
. “I thought for sure we’d stopped at three.”

“We did. I just added one I learned along the way.” Tori eyed the package suspiciously, its size and apparent weight making a costume out of the question. Even one that could be slapped together with peel and stick Velcro by a non-sewer like Leona.

“And what lesson would that be, dear?”

“Some questions are actually statements.”

Leona rolled her eyes and handed the bag to Tori. “That’s a Rose-ism. It’s not a lesson.”

“Oh.” She stared down at the bag, suddenly unsure of what to say or do. “So what’s lesson number four?”

“Apologies must always be accompanied by—”

“Wait! I know this!” She glanced across at Margaret Louise as the woman acted out the part of Ma to Lulu’s Laura. “Pie recipes!”

Leona simply tapped her foot, her eyes narrowing in disgust. “I leave you alone for two weeks . . .
two weeks
and look what happens.”

“Can I open it?” Tori asked, her lips trembling.

“Must
that
be a lesson, too, Victoria?”

“Nah, I think I’ve got that one.” She set the bag on the ground and parted the handles, the tears she’d been holding back all evening finally trickling down her face. “Oh, Leona, you shouldn’t have.” Tori pulled the wooden sewing box with the horse and buggy carving from the bag and held it close, memories of her childhood tugging at her heart.

“Which brings us to the correct version of lesson four—apologies must be accompanied by something special.” Leona lifted the empty bag from the ground and folded it quickly. “And since I couldn’t give you to yourself, I picked the next best thing.”

“I’m not sure that’s a real lesson, Leona.”

“It should be.”

She swiped at the tears that wet her cheeks, hoped no one in the room noticed. “I miss your lessons.”

“Then we must pick up where we left off.”

“Can I teach
you
something?”

Leona offered a dainty shrug. “Like what? How to make—lemonade?”

Tori shook her head. “I was thinking more along the lines of sewing lessons.”

“Why on earth would I want to learn how to sew?”

“Um, maybe because you’re in a
sewing circle
, Leona?”

Leona waved her hand in the air, an amused smile teasing her lips. “Oh. Yes. Well, I suppose I may have overlooked
that
reason.”

“That’s it,” Tori said as she tucked the wooden sewing box under one arm and linked the other around Leona’s. “You, my friend, are going to learn how to sew.”

Sewing Tips

(As shared by readers of the Gatherings Forum
^*
on
ThreadsMagazine.com
.)

Even if you don’t sew, it’s a good idea to have a pair of sharp scissors designated for fabric, ribbon, and thread. Cutting paper can dull your scissors. Tie a piece of ribbon to the handle as a reminder that they are only for fabric so they will remain sharp.

Wishing you could sew while traveling by plane but discouraged by the “no scissors” policy? A package of dental floss can be an easy solution as it works great for cutting thread!

If you scorch wool fabric by using an iron that is too hot, rub a nickel on the scorch mark. Be careful to use a clean nickel on light-colored fabrics.