Read Online Silence of the Lamb's Wool (A Yarn Retreat Mystery) by Betty Hechtman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Betty Hechtman
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just fine,” I said defiantly. I sounded so sure of myself, I almost believed it. He tilted his head with a doubtful smile before he wished me a good afternoon.
I didn’t relay the bad news to my people, but just told them I had something to do and would be back to have dinner with them.
As soon as I was out of their view, all my confidence evaporated. What was I going to do? I didn’t even go into my house. I just hopped in my yellow Mini Cooper and drove into downtown Cadbury and parked in front of the Blue Door restaurant.
It was getting close to the time they opened for dinner. As I passed through the first dining room, I saw that Tag was in the kitchen and caught a snippet of his conversation with the chef about the proper placement of garnish on a plate. All the tables were covered in snowy white cloths and place settings, waiting for the dinner crowd.
In the second dining room I found Lucinda seated at one of the tables, inserting the dinner specials into the menus.
I bumped into a chair as I passed and the sound made her look up. Her first reaction was a happy-to-see-me smile, then she saw the trouble on my face.
“Come and sit,” she said, patting the empty space on the floral cushion that covered the wooden bench. “Did something happen?”
“Did something happen?” I repeated with an intonation that made it obvious that something big had happened. I told her about Nicole.
“She’s dead. I can’t believe it. Was it natural causes or foul play?”
All I could do was shrug for an answer. “I heard the news from Kevin St. John,” I said, and Lucinda nodded with understanding.
“Even if he knew, he probably wouldn’t tell you. I suppose he’s just concerned it happened on the grounds,” Lucinda remarked.
“Exactly,” I said. I told her how he was almost gloating over my problems with the retreat.
Tag heard voices and came into the room. Despite his fifty-something years, his hair was almost all brown and very full. If I hadn’t known him better, I would have thought he was wearing a wig. But a wig or anything artificial wasn’t Tag’s style. Nor were any sort of blue jeans or shorts. The restaurant was casual, but he still always wore a blue blazer over gray slacks.
“Casey just told me that Nicole had some kind of seizure on the boardwalk at Vista Del Mar, and she died.” The words were matter-of-fact, but Lucinda sounded like she could barely believe what she was saying.
Tag took the news with a hard swallow. He knew Nicole because The Bank was just a block away. Actually, Tag knew all the shopkeepers and coffee servers in the area. He took an exercise walk every morning at the same time and kept track of the goings-on of the street.
For a moment we talked back and forth about how horrible her death was and then Lucinda brought up the retreat.
“Not being able to get the sheep sheared at Vista Del Mar doesn’t seem like much of a problem anymore,” I said. “I should never have depended on Nicole so completely. I should have had her show me the process. At the very least, I should have made sure I knew how to spin yarn.”
Tag listened and the idea that I had twenty people coming in two days expecting to learn how to make yarn and no one to direct it, made him crazy. “You’ll have to refund their money,” he said, shaking his head as he considered all the fallout. He was getting agitated and taking it all too personally. I knew I had to do something or he would end up driving Lucinda nuts with his worry.
“I’m sure I’ll work it out,” I said. “I think I know what to do about the sheep shearing. It won’t have the same razzle-dazzle as having the sheep sheared in front of the bigger group. But I can just go to the ranch and pick up the wool.”
Tag started to react again, thinking of all the wool I’d have and not know what to do with it. He had a hard—no, impossible—time being spontaneous. This time Lucinda stepped in and told him I had so much experience
I didn’t relay the bad news to my people, but just told them I had something to do and would be back to have dinner with them.
As soon as I was out of their view, all my confidence evaporated. What was I going to do? I didn’t even go into my house. I just hopped in my yellow Mini Cooper and drove into downtown Cadbury and parked in front of the Blue Door restaurant.
It was getting close to the time they opened for dinner. As I passed through the first dining room, I saw that Tag was in the kitchen and caught a snippet of his conversation with the chef about the proper placement of garnish on a plate. All the tables were covered in snowy white cloths and place settings, waiting for the dinner crowd.
In the second dining room I found Lucinda seated at one of the tables, inserting the dinner specials into the menus.
I bumped into a chair as I passed and the sound made her look up. Her first reaction was a happy-to-see-me smile, then she saw the trouble on my face.
“Come and sit,” she said, patting the empty space on the floral cushion that covered the wooden bench. “Did something happen?”
“Did something happen?” I repeated with an intonation that made it obvious that something big had happened. I told her about Nicole.
“She’s dead. I can’t believe it. Was it natural causes or foul play?”
All I could do was shrug for an answer. “I heard the news from Kevin St. John,” I said, and Lucinda nodded with understanding.
“Even if he knew, he probably wouldn’t tell you. I suppose he’s just concerned it happened on the grounds,” Lucinda remarked.
“Exactly,” I said. I told her how he was almost gloating over my problems with the retreat.
Tag heard voices and came into the room. Despite his fifty-something years, his hair was almost all brown and very full. If I hadn’t known him better, I would have thought he was wearing a wig. But a wig or anything artificial wasn’t Tag’s style. Nor were any sort of blue jeans or shorts. The restaurant was casual, but he still always wore a blue blazer over gray slacks.
“Casey just told me that Nicole had some kind of seizure on the boardwalk at Vista Del Mar, and she died.” The words were matter-of-fact, but Lucinda sounded like she could barely believe what she was saying.
Tag took the news with a hard swallow. He knew Nicole because The Bank was just a block away. Actually, Tag knew all the shopkeepers and coffee servers in the area. He took an exercise walk every morning at the same time and kept track of the goings-on of the street.
For a moment we talked back and forth about how horrible her death was and then Lucinda brought up the retreat.
“Not being able to get the sheep sheared at Vista Del Mar doesn’t seem like much of a problem anymore,” I said. “I should never have depended on Nicole so completely. I should have had her show me the process. At the very least, I should have made sure I knew how to spin yarn.”
Tag listened and the idea that I had twenty people coming in two days expecting to learn how to make yarn and no one to direct it, made him crazy. “You’ll have to refund their money,” he said, shaking his head as he considered all the fallout. He was getting agitated and taking it all too personally. I knew I had to do something or he would end up driving Lucinda nuts with his worry.
“I’m sure I’ll work it out,” I said. “I think I know what to do about the sheep shearing. It won’t have the same razzle-dazzle as having the sheep sheared in front of the bigger group. But I can just go to the ranch and pick up the wool.”
Tag started to react again, thinking of all the wool I’d have and not know what to do with it. He had a hard—no, impossible—time being spontaneous. This time Lucinda stepped in and told him I had so much experience
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