“I know some Stewarts in New York,” answered Stella, “but I don’t know of any here in Stony Point. It would be a long shot; however, I’ll check with my friends.”
“OK, Peggy, you have free rein to ask about,” said Annie. “I’m thankful for all the help I can get!”
“You betcha! Bye, everyone.” Peggy bustled out the door before Stella could call her back to give her the design for her quilt from the portfolio.
“Has there ever been a hurricane named Peggy?” Annie asked. Even Stella could not keep the hint of a smile from her face.
“I don’t know, but if there has been, it couldn’t outdo our Peggy,” said Mary Beth. “Stella, I’ll take Peggy’s design. I’ll drop it off to her before I head home.” Stella opened the portfolio, located Peggy’s, and handed it to Mary Beth.
When Stella had given out all of the designs, Annie offered to return the portfolio to John, as she still planned to pay him a quick visit to ask about Gwen. Alice realized the discussion of one pattern had been missed. “Stella, we haven’t heard anything about your piece. What are you using for your inspiration?”
The older woman answered with a tone as close to nonchalant as she ever attained. “I chose water as my inspiration, for obvious reasons, and I’m knitting a scarf.”
“After seeing that flame pattern you stitched, I can imagine how lovely a water scarf will be,” said Mary Beth. “The yarn you chose is perfect. We’ll adjourn our meeting now so we can all get to work!”
Alice reached into her purse for her keys. “With Kezi’s help—and Stella and Gwen’s too, of course—we can all work on our projects at next week’s meeting. Watching them grow will be exciting. And Annie, try not to be late.” The friends shared a laugh as they walked to the front of the store, where Kate was ringing up the purchases for the mother and daughter. Outside, Alice and Annie went in opposite directions, Annie toward the Stony Point Savings Bank and Alice to her car, which she had parked on Maple Street. Annie walked past The Cup & Saucer and had just crossed Oak Lane when she saw Gwen emerge from the bank.
“Gwen! We missed you at the meeting! I … ” Annie’s voice trailed off in surprise as her friend put her head down and hurried to her car without answering. Gwen yanked open the car door, ducked inside, and pulled away from the curb as though Annie was a mugger, not a friend. Annie paused in front of the library, trying to make sense of what had just happened. The only thought she had was that some family emergency had occurred and decided to follow her original plan to see John. It must be something critical to have had such an effect on Gwen, she thought.
Arriving at the bank during the late morning lull before customers came to do business on their lunch breaks, Annie was hopeful John would be available for a quick conversation. She approached the long prominent desk she knew to be John’s and looked around for him. The large main room was quiet.
A meeting room door across the lobby opened. Annie was relieved to see John, president of the bank, emerging and started to wave. Her hand dropped when he looked straight at her—almost through her—narrowed his eyes, and marched over to a teller’s booth. Leaning over the counter he spoke quickly to the teller. The employee nodded and placed a “window closed” plaque on the counter. As John marched back to the meeting room, the woman hurried over to Annie.
“Hello there, Mrs. Dawson. May I help you?” she asked competently.
“Uh, well, Melissa, I came to speak with Mr. Palmer on a private matter,” Annie stammered.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Palmer is very busy. He won’t be available all day.”
“Oh.” For a moment Annie was too startled by the obvious snub to put together a proper response. “Thank you. Have a good afternoon.” She turned to leave, working hard to keep a smile plastered on her face until she made it through the lobby area and out the front door.
15
Outside the bank, Annie leaned against the corner of the building, trying to draw strength from its bulk to deal with the shifting emotional winds of her morning. Closing her eyes, she hoped the breeze would cool the excessive warmth of her cheeks.
“That’s one way to be a pillar of the community,” the cheerful voice of Ian Butler spoke into her ear.
“You could call me Ms. Buttress, except it’s not true,” Annie said, keeping her eyes closed.
“What’s not true?” Annie felt Ian’s hand touch her shoulder.
Opening her eyes, Annie glanced at Ian’s concerned face before lowering her gaze. “I seem to have a knack for throwing things off balance, rather than being a support. Why do I keep doing that?”