Orwin and Sam Cone and put each of them in their own box.
She sat and looked at that for a minute or two, but none of it sparked anything in her brain. So she wrote Sadie’s Crate below the original circle and put a box around that. Then she added Seagrove Harbor , Marnie MacAdam , Art Co-op , Forger, and Italy , and put boxes around each of those. Then she drew a line from the central circle that said Mystery Painting to each of the boxes surrounding it.
“That looks like a giant water strider that’s named each of its feet,” John said from behind her.
“It’s useless,” Sadie said and crumpled the napkin.
“Wait,” John said, occupying his previous seat, gently pulling the napkin from her hand and smoothing it out.
“Let me look at it.” After a minute, he said, “can you connect any of the outer boxes?”
Sadie connected Italy with Sadie’s Crate and Mystery Painting . Then she connected Art Co-Op with Roger Orwin and Sam Cone. By the time she had finished connecting the appropriate boxes the diagram was a spider web of lines overlapping everywhere.
“I think this might be the wrong kind of diagram for what you are trying to do,” John said. “Maybe an organizational chart, or a chronological order?”
Sadie glanced at the clock above the pastry counter. “Later,” she said.
“It’s time to go to coffee,” she looked at her cup. “Again.”
Sadie left Mr. Bradshaw lying in his bed under her desk, chewing on a bone. You just didn’t take your dog to coffee without an invitation. Anyway, he was happy. Sadie didn’t know what they infused those nylon bones with, but Mr. B loved them.
The three women walked. The neighborhood where Cyrus lived wasn’t that far from Main Street. The afternoon was warm, and a faint smell of the ocean wafted inland on a slight breeze. It really was a lovely day.
Cyrus Dumville’s house was a single family home, a ranch sitting on the back of its lot, with a well-landscaped lawn and flower beds leading down to the sidewalk. They walked up the path single file with Sadie in the lead. Somehow this neat little house didn’t seem like Cyrus. She couldn’t imagine what his house might look like, but this house reflected his deceased wife’s taste, Sadie was pretty sure. Not that she knew what a house that reflected Cyrus’ taste would look like.
The old man opened the door and ushered them into a dark living room. The inside of the house was apparently much more like Cyrus than the outside. The first thing Sadie would’ve done would be to open all the curtains. Of course, then the dust would’ve been much more noticeable. It seemed Marnie was more a caregiver than a housekeeper, but there weren’t any old take-out boxes on the coffee table so that was something.
“Sit down.” Cyrus gestured to the couch and chairs gathered around the coffee table.
“Make yourself at home, I’ll be right back with coffee.”
He was back before the women even had a chance to comment on the gloomy room. He was pushing a cart laden with a silver coffee service, including a cake plate featuring a Victoria sponge cake. Sadie knew it was a Victoria sponge from her trips to the British Isles.
Cyrus’s hand shook so much when he was pouring the coffee it about flooded the tray. Sadie had to restrain herself from taking it away from him. If he had wanted her help, he would’ve asked for it. Jumping up to take over from him would be treating him like a child. She glanced at her friends and saw Betty was sitting on her hands, and Lucy was chewing on her lip. Clearly they both were restraining themselves as well.
“Here you go, ladies,” Cyrus said placing the coffee cups on the table in front of them, and then turning to cut the cake.
It occurred to Sadie it was so damn dark in the room he might not have realized he spilled coffee all over his tray. She tasted her coffee while he was handing out the cake. It wasn’t as good as John’s but it wasn’t bad either. And
She sat and looked at that for a minute or two, but none of it sparked anything in her brain. So she wrote Sadie’s Crate below the original circle and put a box around that. Then she added Seagrove Harbor , Marnie MacAdam , Art Co-op , Forger, and Italy , and put boxes around each of those. Then she drew a line from the central circle that said Mystery Painting to each of the boxes surrounding it.
“That looks like a giant water strider that’s named each of its feet,” John said from behind her.
“It’s useless,” Sadie said and crumpled the napkin.
“Wait,” John said, occupying his previous seat, gently pulling the napkin from her hand and smoothing it out.
“Let me look at it.” After a minute, he said, “can you connect any of the outer boxes?”
Sadie connected Italy with Sadie’s Crate and Mystery Painting . Then she connected Art Co-Op with Roger Orwin and Sam Cone. By the time she had finished connecting the appropriate boxes the diagram was a spider web of lines overlapping everywhere.
“I think this might be the wrong kind of diagram for what you are trying to do,” John said. “Maybe an organizational chart, or a chronological order?”
Sadie glanced at the clock above the pastry counter. “Later,” she said.
“It’s time to go to coffee,” she looked at her cup. “Again.”
Sadie left Mr. Bradshaw lying in his bed under her desk, chewing on a bone. You just didn’t take your dog to coffee without an invitation. Anyway, he was happy. Sadie didn’t know what they infused those nylon bones with, but Mr. B loved them.
The three women walked. The neighborhood where Cyrus lived wasn’t that far from Main Street. The afternoon was warm, and a faint smell of the ocean wafted inland on a slight breeze. It really was a lovely day.
Cyrus Dumville’s house was a single family home, a ranch sitting on the back of its lot, with a well-landscaped lawn and flower beds leading down to the sidewalk. They walked up the path single file with Sadie in the lead. Somehow this neat little house didn’t seem like Cyrus. She couldn’t imagine what his house might look like, but this house reflected his deceased wife’s taste, Sadie was pretty sure. Not that she knew what a house that reflected Cyrus’ taste would look like.
The old man opened the door and ushered them into a dark living room. The inside of the house was apparently much more like Cyrus than the outside. The first thing Sadie would’ve done would be to open all the curtains. Of course, then the dust would’ve been much more noticeable. It seemed Marnie was more a caregiver than a housekeeper, but there weren’t any old take-out boxes on the coffee table so that was something.
“Sit down.” Cyrus gestured to the couch and chairs gathered around the coffee table.
“Make yourself at home, I’ll be right back with coffee.”
He was back before the women even had a chance to comment on the gloomy room. He was pushing a cart laden with a silver coffee service, including a cake plate featuring a Victoria sponge cake. Sadie knew it was a Victoria sponge from her trips to the British Isles.
Cyrus’s hand shook so much when he was pouring the coffee it about flooded the tray. Sadie had to restrain herself from taking it away from him. If he had wanted her help, he would’ve asked for it. Jumping up to take over from him would be treating him like a child. She glanced at her friends and saw Betty was sitting on her hands, and Lucy was chewing on her lip. Clearly they both were restraining themselves as well.
“Here you go, ladies,” Cyrus said placing the coffee cups on the table in front of them, and then turning to cut the cake.
It occurred to Sadie it was so damn dark in the room he might not have realized he spilled coffee all over his tray. She tasted her coffee while he was handing out the cake. It wasn’t as good as John’s but it wasn’t bad either. And
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