Annie nodded and said somewhat gravely, “That’s certainly possible. You see, Tara, the Hook and Needle Club is for women who do needlework. We meet at A Stitch in Time, a store that sells supplies and provides instruction in all sorts of needlecrafts. You’d be welcome to come with Alice and me to our next meeting. It won’t be until next Tuesday, but you’ll need a few days to rest and get your bearings.”
Tara looked from Annie to Alice with a mix of hope and disbelief. She shook her head of kinky curls and said, “I’m very grateful. But you’ve done so much, Mrs. … Annie.” She corrected herself.
Annie nodded. “And you can just stay with me for a while.”
“I—I don’t want to intrude. The lease on my apartment in Portland is good for the year, but I’d like to stay in Stony Point a little while, or long enough to find out what I can about my mother. I’d like to work, though, if I can find a temporary job. At least part-time.”
Annie studied her, wondering at Tara’s compulsion to learn about her mother’s connection to Stony Point. Perhaps the girl had some resources, but was she strong enough to work, even if there was anything available? The only ad she’d seen in The Point was for someone to assist Carla Calloway at the animal shelter—again. The turnover was pretty frequent. No surprise there, given Carla’s disposition. Even Vanessa, who loved being with the animals, steered clear of Carla when she could.
“You could check the paper to see if anyone’s hiring right now,” Annie suggested, “but you haven’t been feeling well. Perhaps you ought to see a doctor.”
“I was treated for anemia a year or so ago; it could be related to that.” Tara seemed to consider her own diagnosis, and little lines appeared in her forehead. “I think it’s just that I’m overtired, but I’ll see someone; I don’t think my health insurance has expired yet.”
“I’ll be happy to give you a ride into town,” Annie said.
Suddenly there was a heavy thud, the sound of something hitting the ground.
“Is Wally working out back?” Alice asked.
A swooshing sound followed, as though something had fallen into the bushes. Annie got up, dropping the crocheted pet coat. Alice and Tara followed her around the porch where huge hydrangeas bloomed in pink and purple abundance. They walked to the rear of the house, scanning the area for anything unexpected. But they saw nothing to account for the noise.
“A deer looking for food, perhaps,” Annie said. Or maybe it was a raccoon, though they usually prowled at night with their beady, ringed eyes. Beyond the yard lay a virtual forest, lush with pines and a variety of deciduous trees. She felt her pulse quicken and a memory returned as she surveyed the woods. She had once hidden in them—she and Amy, Mary Beth’s niece, when Dorian Jones—also known as a jewel thief—had been chasing them.
“Oh, look here!” Alice said.
Annie turned to see Alice bending over a big pot of geraniums, one of several that lined the wraparound porch at the rear of Grey Gables. The pot was broken and soil lumped on the ground amid broken stems of bright red flowers. Boots suddenly hopped down from the porch and sat on the grass, curling her tail around her in her best innocent pose.
“Boots!” Annie intoned. As they rushed toward her, the cat leaped away into the hydrangeas.
Boots was nothing if not curious, and she could get into things. Once she’d unraveled an entire ball of tweedy yarn that took hours to restore, but she had never knocked one of those heavy pots off the porch rail. She was notoriously light on her feet. She might be guilty, but it was more likely that a deer or small animal that had caused the ruckus.
Alice began extracting flower stems from the soil and broken clay, her Divine Décor bracelets jingling. “Don’t bother now, Alice. I’ll get it later.” Annie took Tara’s hand to direct her back to the porch and was surprised to find it sweaty and cold. Her face was drained of color, and her eyes wide with fright. “It’s nothing, Tara. Come on, the tea will be getting cold.”
She was certainly a high-strung young woman to be unnerved by such a small thing, Annie thought. But then she was in a strange place among people she didn’t know. But as they walked back to the front porch, Annie saw Tara glance over her shoulder, her lips set in a pale line. High-strung indeed.
7
Tara surveyed the tools Annie had provided for cleaning the wicker furniture: A paintbrush with stiff bristles that had been cut down halfway, a dowel with a sharp point, and a toothbrush. Tara had never cleaned wicker before, but she was eager to do something to show her gratitude. Annie had been so kind in the six days since she’d come, looking after her, providing rest and nourishing food, and arranging for a visit to the doctor. She wanted to do something in return. Something to make up for the lies—and for what she was going to do!