Read Online Angora Alibi by Sally Goldenbaum - Free Book Online Page A

gaze on the scattering
     of people. A young couple, lolling on a blanket. In the distance, some teenagers frolicked
     in the waves, pushing one another and laughing, the morning sun warming their tan,
     firm bodies.
    “Are you all right?”
    Izzy nodded slowly. “You’ll think I’m foolish. No, you’ll
know
I’m foolish.” She pointed back toward the stone wall that separated the parking lot
     from the sand, to a gray object near the spot where Justin had been smoking.
    Nell hadn’t noticed it before—she’d been focused on Justin. Or perhaps she wouldn’t
     have given it a second glance even if she had seen it. People brought all kinds of
     things to the beach. From where she stood, it looked like a small beach chair.
    “It’s the baby car seat,” Izzy said.
    Nell looked again, nodded, waited.
    “There isn’t a baby anywhere on this beach,” Izzy said. “And there wasn’t a baby here
     yesterday when I ran, or the day before that, or . . .” She stopped, her words falling
     to the sand. When she looked up, her face was pinched with worry. “It’s the same car
     seat that’s been here every day.”
    “Maybe the mother is walking with her baby along the shore, beyond the breakers where
     we can’t see her,” Nell suggested. “Perhaps over on the Danverses’ beach. I’m sure
     it’s fine, Izzy.”
    Izzy shook her head. No, the mother wasn’t walking along the beach. Izzy was sure
     of that.
    And the baby wasn’t there, either.
    There was only a car seat.

Chapter 5
    “A re you sure you want to take on a renter right now?” Birdie asked. She sat in the
     yarn shop’s back room, in Ben’s old leather chair. It was Birdie’s favorite spot after
     a long day. On the coffee table in front of her was a chilled bottle of pinot gris
     and four glasses. In her lap sat the infinitely soft beginnings of baby Perry’s first
     romper—the creamy cotton glacé begging for shape—the arms, the legs, and a figure
     of a bunny near the row of buttons. She fingered the yarn, imagining a sleeping baby
     in folds of soft cotton.
    Thursday night. The comfort of yarn and friends. At last.
    Izzy stood at the old library table, tossing Nell’s arugula salad. A sweetened pecan
     made its way into her mouth. “No worry about a renter, Birdie. It’s Janie Levin we’re
     talking about, and I kind of like the idea of someone other than ghosts living above
     the shop.”
    Nell glanced over at her. Ghosts in her apartment. Ghosts on the beach . . . Earlier
     that day, while getting the quesadilla ready to grill, she had told Ben about Izzy’s
     strong reaction to seeing a baby carrier on the beach.
    Ben had brushed it off, but then, he hadn’t seen the look of distress on Izzy’s face,
     as if she wouldn’t rest until she found a baby for that car seat. As if it were a
     scene that needed fixing.
    “Janie’s working like a demon to pay off a boatload of nursing school loans,” Nell
     said. She looked at Izzy. “You’re probably charging her next to nothing. This will
     be a huge help to her.”
    “And here’s another plus,” Cass said. “Her boyfriend’s a cop. Great way to get free
     extra security.”
    Izzy laughed. “I’m not sure I need that. Yarn doesn’t seem to be high on thieves’
     ‘things to steal’ lists.”
    “Do you suppose cousin Justin will be hanging out here?” Cass asked.
    “No,” Izzy said. “He stays over at that old boardinghouse that Mrs. Bridge runs. She
     agreed to a reduced rent if Justin ran errands for her. He doesn’t like the arrangement—she’s
     a tough lady—but Janie thinks it’s good for him and maybe keeping him out of trouble.”
    Nell unwrapped a foil cover from the pan of quesadillas. The sweet smell of orange
     sauce wafted up with the steam.
    The growling of Cass’ stomach was more effective than a dinner bell, and in minutes
     they’d heaped their plates high with arugula salad and spicy quesadillas and settled
     on the slipcovered sofa