table and handed it to Nell. "Here's what I saved for you. Isn't it beautiful? I decided we needed beauty in our lives right now. And I think that's why Margarethe stayed around, too."
Nell opened the sack. It was filled with turquoise sea yarn in differing shades, one melting into another, until it looked like the sea on a perfect summer day.
"I thought you could make a lacy scarf or shawl to go with your sexy black dress for next week's benefit. I threw in a simple pattern--you can easily finish it by next Saturday."
"Dear Izzy. I don't know how I managed while you were off being a lawyer. Thank you. And speaking of the arts benefit--"
Izzy shook her head and held up one hand. "Nope. I won't need your extra ticket, Aunt Nell. I was hoping I'd weasel an invitation out of Margarethe Framingham by inviting her to stay for the class. She seemed pleased that I brought up the event--all the women in the class assured her the town wouldn't let Angie's murder put anything on hold. " Izzy picked up an engraved rectangle of cream-colored cardboard from the bookcase and flapped it in the air. "But for whatever reason, I am now an invited guest."
Nell smiled.
"Maybe Cass would like your extra ticket--she probably can't afford one, especially with all that poaching going on, and could certainly use a party. What do those tickets cost? Three hundred a pop? I'll donate to the artists' fund, but on my own terms, I'm afraid."
"What's all this idle chatter?" a voice floated in behind Nell. "I thought we had work to do." Birdie stood on the step in the arched doorway, nearly hidden behind a pile of cardboard boxes piled in her arms.
"Birdie, give me those," Nell said, taking a box off the top of the pile and setting it on the floor. "There, now I can see you. What are you doing here?" The question was a bit silly, Nell thought. One never knew when Birdie would show up. She didn't miss a beat of the town's pulse, somehow knowing what was going on before things actually happened. Nell suspected she protected more Sea Harbor secrets that Father Northcutt's confessional box.
Birdie set the other boxes down and brushed her small hands together, releasing a cloud of dust. "I saw your car, Nell, and the boxes in the backseat, and decided my visit to Ocean's Edge for tea could wait. Those old ladies aren't nearly as interesting as you two, and I didn't want to miss out on anything."
Those old ladies, Nell knew, were a group of wealthy Sea Harbor residents of Birdie's generation who, like Birdie herself, could buy and sell the town if they so chose. And the tea gathering was more likely a date with a bottle of sherry and a platter full of gossip.
"Old ladies, my foot," Izzy said. "You will never be old, Birdie."
"That's true," Birdie said. She brushed a shock of white hair back from her forehead, where age spots and freckles blended together. A maze of tiny lines, like a well-drawn road map, spread out from the corners of her eyes, which lit up her wise, lined face. "But I'm not here to talk about age, sweet pea. I presume these boxes are for Angelina's things and there isn't much else I can do for poor Josie. So let me help."
"Me, too," said Cass, coming in from the front of the store. "Mae said you were all back here. I don't need yarn, but I sure need all of you."
"Well, then, grab a box," Izzy said.
"Izzy Chambers, are you back here?"
"One more minute and we would have missed her," Cass mumbled under her breath.
Beatrice Scaglia swept into the room. Even on Saturdays Beatrice was dressed for a power meeting or luncheon. Her pink summery suit, a size four at the most, Nell guessed, matched her two-inch heels perfectly, and as always, every hair was in place.
"It's that gorgeous yarn, Izzy," Beatrice said, smiling at the circle of women. "I must have it."
"The sea yarn?" Izzy asked. "Mae would be glad to help--"
"Izzy dear, Mae Anderson is a charming woman. You"-- Beatrice pointed a long red fingernail at Izzy--"are a fiber
Nell opened the sack. It was filled with turquoise sea yarn in differing shades, one melting into another, until it looked like the sea on a perfect summer day.
"I thought you could make a lacy scarf or shawl to go with your sexy black dress for next week's benefit. I threw in a simple pattern--you can easily finish it by next Saturday."
"Dear Izzy. I don't know how I managed while you were off being a lawyer. Thank you. And speaking of the arts benefit--"
Izzy shook her head and held up one hand. "Nope. I won't need your extra ticket, Aunt Nell. I was hoping I'd weasel an invitation out of Margarethe Framingham by inviting her to stay for the class. She seemed pleased that I brought up the event--all the women in the class assured her the town wouldn't let Angie's murder put anything on hold. " Izzy picked up an engraved rectangle of cream-colored cardboard from the bookcase and flapped it in the air. "But for whatever reason, I am now an invited guest."
Nell smiled.
"Maybe Cass would like your extra ticket--she probably can't afford one, especially with all that poaching going on, and could certainly use a party. What do those tickets cost? Three hundred a pop? I'll donate to the artists' fund, but on my own terms, I'm afraid."
"What's all this idle chatter?" a voice floated in behind Nell. "I thought we had work to do." Birdie stood on the step in the arched doorway, nearly hidden behind a pile of cardboard boxes piled in her arms.
"Birdie, give me those," Nell said, taking a box off the top of the pile and setting it on the floor. "There, now I can see you. What are you doing here?" The question was a bit silly, Nell thought. One never knew when Birdie would show up. She didn't miss a beat of the town's pulse, somehow knowing what was going on before things actually happened. Nell suspected she protected more Sea Harbor secrets that Father Northcutt's confessional box.
Birdie set the other boxes down and brushed her small hands together, releasing a cloud of dust. "I saw your car, Nell, and the boxes in the backseat, and decided my visit to Ocean's Edge for tea could wait. Those old ladies aren't nearly as interesting as you two, and I didn't want to miss out on anything."
Those old ladies, Nell knew, were a group of wealthy Sea Harbor residents of Birdie's generation who, like Birdie herself, could buy and sell the town if they so chose. And the tea gathering was more likely a date with a bottle of sherry and a platter full of gossip.
"Old ladies, my foot," Izzy said. "You will never be old, Birdie."
"That's true," Birdie said. She brushed a shock of white hair back from her forehead, where age spots and freckles blended together. A maze of tiny lines, like a well-drawn road map, spread out from the corners of her eyes, which lit up her wise, lined face. "But I'm not here to talk about age, sweet pea. I presume these boxes are for Angelina's things and there isn't much else I can do for poor Josie. So let me help."
"Me, too," said Cass, coming in from the front of the store. "Mae said you were all back here. I don't need yarn, but I sure need all of you."
"Well, then, grab a box," Izzy said.
"Izzy Chambers, are you back here?"
"One more minute and we would have missed her," Cass mumbled under her breath.
Beatrice Scaglia swept into the room. Even on Saturdays Beatrice was dressed for a power meeting or luncheon. Her pink summery suit, a size four at the most, Nell guessed, matched her two-inch heels perfectly, and as always, every hair was in place.
"It's that gorgeous yarn, Izzy," Beatrice said, smiling at the circle of women. "I must have it."
"The sea yarn?" Izzy asked. "Mae would be glad to help--"
"Izzy dear, Mae Anderson is a charming woman. You"-- Beatrice pointed a long red fingernail at Izzy--"are a fiber
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