Read Online A Finely Knit Murder by Sally Goldenbaum - Free Book Online

fronted a long strip of land that moved inward, back into the hilly grounds behind it. From the street, the garden and cottage that Ham and Jane had lived in for thirty years were invisible, an enchanting surprise to those who made their way farther through the gallery.
    Nell pushed open the door, held it with her hip, and maneuvered the stroller inside and around the new display of Jane’s pottery. “Jane . . . ,” she started to call out, and then she stopped short.
    Jane was nowhere in sight. Instead a tall, thin man with heavy-lidded eyes stood behind the cash register. His long fingers were tapping the computer keys and organizing receipts. Blond straggly hair curled around the neckline of his T-shirt, and his paint-stained jeans seemed appropriate for the working gallery.
    “Hey,” he said, looking up. His smile was slight.
    “Is Jane here?” Nell asked.
    “She’s back there.” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder to an adjacent room that Ham and Jane used as an office and sitting area, and then he went back to his work.
    The swish of Jane’s long skirt told Nell she had heard her name and recognized the voice. She hurried around the door and gave Nell the briefest of hugs, then crouched down to greet and touch baby Abby’s cheeks and chin and draw a smile from her favorite toddler. Abby responded immediately with a smile that filled her whole face.
    “No one is immune to Jane’s charms.” Nell laughed.
    The man behind the counter nodded. “Yeah. That’s a fact,” he said quietly, his eyes still on the receipts in his hand.
    Jane laughed and pulled Abby out of the stroller, then waltzed her around the room to an old Fleetwood Mac tune playing in the background. She finally circled back to the lean man at the cash register.
    He watched Jane with an amused look on his face.
    It was then that Nell noticed his eyes—green and deep and as disturbing as the ocean before a storm. Raw, piercing eyes.
    Jane looked at him, smiled, and held out the toddler. “This is our secret dose of sunshine. Meet Abigail Kathleen Perry. You’ll be happy you did.”
    The man looked at the child, and his face softened with a kindness that had been hidden a second before. He made a face and winked at Abby, causing an infectious giggle to stir the air.
    “I’m here, too,” Nell said to Jane. “I’m used to playing second fiddle to Abby. That’s okay, but I’d also like to meet this new person working in your gallery.”
    “Oh, good grief,” Jane said. She spun Abby around again, then settled her on her hip, wrapping her arms around a wriggling body. “I thought you knew everyone in town, Nell. Josh, meet my oldest and dearest Sea Harbor friend, Nell Endicott. Nell, Josh Babson.”
    Josh Babson.
    Nell covered her surprise with a smile and a greeting. Of course.Jane and Ham knew every New England artist from Gloucester’s Rocky Neck to Maine. Not only that but the founders of Canary Cove Art Colony had helped many of them get their careers off the ground. He was a teacher, but he was an artist, too. They would know Josh. And know what had happened to him, too. Sea Harbor was a small community, and Canary Cove—even smaller.
    “Ham has figured out a way to share our studio with Josh. In exchange, Josh is going to help out in the gallery. He’s a wonderful painter. Ben is going to want to start a new collection, trust me.” She pointed to a large seascape against a far wall, lit with a tiny spot. “Josh has a special love affair with the sea, and it shows brilliantly in his work.”
    The man behind the counter cast an unreadable look Nell’s way, but a softening in his face showed pleasure in Jane’s praise.
    He made no move to further the conversation—or officially meet her—so Nell took the initiative and reached over the counter to shake his hand. “I hope we’ll be seeing more of your work, Josh,” she said.
    A half smile appeared, along with a shrug and a reluctant handshake. “Sure. I’ve seen