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She sighed. “I just don’t have it in me.”
    Suzanne was right on
their heels, also ready to call it a day. “The coffeepot’s turned off and the front
door is locked,” she told
them.
    “What
about the back door?” Toni asked, in an ominous tone.
    “Checked that, too,”
said Suzanne. “Unless we have customers storming the parapets, we’re done for the day.” She
eased herself into a slightly frayed blue club chair. When four thirty rolled around,
this was where the three of them usually convened. To talk things out, giggle
about the day, or just de-program. Petra usually grabbed a pair of knitting
needles and worked on one of her many projects, the clacking of the needles
lending a decidedly soothing
    sound. Petra was
crazy over knitting and quilting—they were her favorite forms of relaxation. Although to
Suzanne both
needlecrafts looked like awfully tricky business.
    “I just love that
quilt,” said Toni, gazing at the wall where a striking blue-and-red-star pattern quilt
hung.
    “Still time to bid on
it,” said Petra. The Knitting Nest was holding a silent auction on a
number of handmade items, with all the money earned earmarked for Alzheimer’s
re search.
“Come Wednesday, I’m going to hang it outside.”
    “Then the bids will
really skyrocket,” said Toni, mo rosely.
    “You know,” said
Petra, kindness in her voice, “I’d make you a quilt anytime you want.”
    “Really?” said Toni,
thrilled.
    “Of
course,” said Petra, gazing happily at the wooden walls that were festooned with
knitted mittens and caps, felted bags, and quilted throws and coverlets. Antique highboys held skeins
of cotton and wool yarns in all colors of the rainbow. Large ceramic crocks
were filled with knit ting needles, baskets held blocks of six-by-six-inch
fabric pieces.
These square motifs came in different colors and designs including baby motif,
calico, Christmas, floral, and batik. Petra also made sure they were well stocked with
jelly rolls—pre-cut strips, forty to the count, and just per fect for quilting.
    Toni hauled herself
out of her chair, wandered over to the knitting needles, and picked up
a pair of bamboo needles. Pretending to use them like chopsticks, she said, “Consider ing what happened
last night, today went fairly well.”
    “Agreed,”
said Petra. “I was so busy most of the time I didn’t have a chance to think
about poor Chuck Peebler.”
    “Me neither,” said
Toni. “Except when I hauled out the trash. The arrow holes in the back wall are still
an ugly reminder.”
    “Stick a
little putty in them,” said Suzanne, letting her eyes flutter closed. “Be good as new.”
    ‘Too bad they couldn’t
do that to Peebler,” mused Toni.
    The smile dropped off
Petra’s face and she focused on Suzanne with a steady gaze. “Suzanne? You think you can help Jane?”
    Suzanne opened her
eyes and squinted at Petra. “I prom ised I’d try. Although, I’m not exactly sure what
I prom ised.
I don’t really know what to do or where to start.”
    “But you told Doogie
where to start,” said Toni. “Just this morning. I heard you.”
    “I’d like to tell him
where to get off.” Suzanne sighed.
    “Doogie
listens to you,” said Petra. “He may be an ob stinate man, but he’s savvy, too.”
    “And Suzanne’s a
smarty,” Toni enthused, as she pulled out a pocket mirror and fluffed her hair. “A
perfect blend of Nancy Drew and Xena the Warrior Princess!”
    Suzanne smiled, but
all she could think was, Oh dear.
    “Man, I
wish I could do something about these wrin kles,” said Toni, still peering
in her mirror. “It ain’t easy being
over forty.”
    “Don’t
think of them as wrinkles,” counseled Petra, “just consider your face as being
gravitationally challenged.”
    By the
time Suzanne loaded up Baxter and arrived home, she didn’t know which of them
was hungrier. So she dumped a cup of kibble into Baxter’s aluminum dog dish, then, while he
crunched and noshed, explored her