Loom and Doom by Carol Ann Martin Page B

the first move, the bad feelings between us would fester, and things would only get worse.
    â€œHey,” he said, sounding cheerful. “I was wondering when I’d hear from you.”
    If he wasn’t going to bring up the way we’d left things yesterday, then neither would I. “Does that mean you finished your word count for the day?”
    â€œI not only reached it, but doubled it. I was just about to take Winston for a walk. Want to join us?”
    â€œI’d love to, but we just reopened”—I looked at my watch—“half an hour ago. I barely finished setting up the shop. You should come by. Marnie made some amazing cookies and Margaret is outside handing them out for free.”
    â€œMarnie made cookies? Can’t say no to that.”
    â€œAnd I’ll find a treat for Winnie too.”
    Just as I was slipping the phone back into my pocket, the door flew open. The bell above the door went into a tinkling frenzy as a woman walked in. “I simply had to stop by and tell you how impressed I am,” the ultra-thin blonde said to Marnie. “I ran into Margaret and I tried one of your cookies. Your baking is to die for, simply to die for. I just bought a dozen for poor Philip Williams.” It took me a moment to connect the name to the tragedy I had recently read about. “He’s such a nice man. Of all the people for this kind of tragedy to happen to. It’s simply not fair.” She continued in a stage whisper. “I’ve been dropping off casseroles and treats for him, so he doesn’t have to cook.”
    â€œHe’s not still staying in his house, is he?” Marnie asked.
    â€œOh, goodness no. The Bradfords across the street are away for a few weeks. When they heard what happened, they contacted the vicar and asked him to get in touch with Philip and offer him their house. He’s been staying there since. Just between us, I don’t think it’s good for Philip to be alone at a time like this.” Even though there was nobody else in the store, she looked around to make certain no one could overhear. “Day before yesterday, I thought he was going to have a nervous breakdown. He left the house looking as if he was in agony. I think he was out of his mind with grief. Then he raced out of the driveway with his tires squealing. Later I found out his little girl might not make it. He was probably on his way to the hospital.”
    â€œYou may not have heard,” Marnie said. “But the little girl passed away.”
    â€œOh, no,” she said, a crease appearing between her brows. “You know what he should do is come stay with me. That way I can keep an eye on him and make sure he stays out of trouble.” She leaned forward and whispered. “He’s such a cutie. I’ve always had a thing for bald men.” She raised the bag of cookies in her hand. “And this one needs somebody to take care of him. I’ll keep him company and make sure he eats right.” With that, she pivoted and sashayed to the door, calling out a cheerful, “Toodle-oo.”
    â€œWell,” Marnie huffed. “His wife hasn’t been buried more than three days and already the vultures are circling.”
    The door swung open again and this time Matthew walked in, followed by Winston. My heart skipped a beat.
    â€œWinnie, sweetheart. I missed you,” Marnie said. Winston gave her hand a lick and then came wiggling and snorting over to me. “What’s the matter, Winnie? Don’t you love me anymore?” she asked, putting on her hurt voice.
    â€œDon’t worry,” I said. “It’s not that he loves you less. It’s that he loves the liver treats I keep in my drawer.” I riffled through and threw him a dog biscuit. Winston caught it in a jump worthy of Kobe Bryant. He crunched twice and swallowed, and then gave me a pleading look, hoping for another.
    â€œYou already got your