Only one kitten hadn’t been claimed by the time the oohs and aahs were over, and the box containing the delightful little allergens had been removed to the back room. Everyone returned to their projects, buzzing with enthusiasm. Stella Brickson, who had barely paused in her knitting, viewed the proceedings over her rimless glasses. “Well, I guess that’s one we’ll have to consign to the dragon lady.”
The others turned silent. Tara frowned and busied herself with the contents of her newly acquired tote bag. Annie realized that Stella had not heard the news about Carla’s accident.
“Well, she’s not breathing fire right now,” Gwen said with a knowing look and a slight toss of her elegant head. “She’s in Stony Point Hospital. She picked up some disease from that owl she rescued.”
Stella drew her lips together and clacked her needles with renewed vigor. The others began buzzing about Carla Calloway’s mishap and how Tara had called 911.
“It must have been real scary for you,” Peggy said, leaning over and touching Tara’s hand lightly as she walked past.
Tara only nodded, frowning and drawing back from Peggy’s spontaneous touch. Of all the members of the group, Peggy seemed most likely to elicit Tara’s shyness. Odd, since the two of them were probably the closest in age. Annie watched Tara study the doggie blanket she was Mary Beth had been placed next to her, having been assigned to guide her progress. On the other side of Tara was Stella, who worked her own project with intensity.
Mary Beth leaned in to correct a stitch that had slipped off Tara’s needle. “There, that should get you back on track,” she said. Then, pausing, she added in a rush of curiosity, “What’s she like? I mean, no one’s gotten to know Carla or visited her house. I hear she lives in the back part of the old Bergner place and uses the rest for the shelter.”
“Yes,” Tara confirmed shyly. “She has a small sitting room and a kitchen and a bedroom in the back. I—I only saw it because …” She broke off, her frown deepening. “I went to find her because I saw that the dogs hadn’t been fed that morning. She was just lying there, moaning, and she looked awful. Her arm was all red and sore looking …”
“Tara acted quickly,” Annie put in, wanting to ease her tension. “She called for help, and then she and Vanessa took care of things at the shelter.”
“I straightened up her room a bit, and put her sheets in the washing machine,” Tara said, looking into the distance. She said no more but began stitching with studied intensity.
The others realized Tara didn’t want to say any more and took up other subjects as they worked. Gwen and Peggy went to get coffee. That left just Alice and Annie at the table. Stella sat quietly to the side of Tara, perhaps feeling rebuffed for her comment about the hapless Carla Calloway.
“Don’t mind them,” Annie said gently when the others left the room. “They’re naturally curious about the way other women live. We’re each a bit of a busybody, you know.” Looking down she saw that Tara’s hands had stilled. She was chewing the inside of her lip thoughtfully. Two stitches dropped off her needle. “Are you all right?” Annie asked softly.
“Oh, it’s just …” She let the needles and the purple doggie blanket fall onto her lap. “I was just thinking …” She stopped and began again. “When I was cleaning up, I found something Carla must have dropped. It was an old newspaper clipping, all yellow and crumbly. And a curl of hair dropped out of it. I know I shouldn’t have, but I read it, and … I just can’t stop wondering about it.”
“I heard Carla’s not the neatest pin in the pack,” Alice said lightly, shrugging to indicate that no malice was intended. “My mother used to save newspaper clippings too and put them in her scrapbook.”
“What bothers you about it?” Annie asked, watching Tara closely.
“I don’t know exactly.” Tara’s eyebrows drew together in concentration. “It was from The Point here in town. Just a small notice about some teenager stealing a car and her mother coming to get her.” She paused and added, “Her mother was killed on the way.”
“How awful,” Alice said softly.
“There was something inside the newspaper,” Tara said, dark eyes widening. “It fell out. It was a curl of hair and a ring made out of beads—red, yellow, and blue.”
“How curious,” Alice murmured.
“Do you remember what the clipping said exactly?”Annie asked.
“I do remember,” Tara said. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since …” She broke off, and then began reciting in a monotonous voice: “An unidentified teen was arrested earlier this week after stealing H.T. Simmons’s car.” She looked up at Annie. “It happened on Ocean Drive—near where you live. Do you know a Mr. H.T. Simmons?”