Thread and Buried Read online

  Haylee turned to me and Clay. “Let’s sit on the other side of the room.”

  Duncan blushed.

  “Not from you, Duncan,” Haylee clarified. “From Max Brubaugh. I’ve already met him.”

  Duncan continued to stare at her. “Will you—” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Save a dance for me later, Haylee?”

  “Glad to.”

  Duncan glanced past her at me. “And will you, too, Willow?”

  Dancing? I shot Duncan a smile. “Sure!”

  Mona stood and waved. “Duncan, over here!” She patted a chair beside her. Shaking her head, she beamed at Max. She probably thought he had risen to greet her, but he was staring at us.

  He couldn’t politely walk away from Mona, who held her right hand toward him, obviously introducing herself, and coincidently blocking him from coming our way.

  Haylee stalked to the opposite corner of the room. Although a crowd had already gathered in the banquet hall, Haylee found a table set for four with a card—Reserved for Fraser party—beside the silver candelabra in the middle of the table. Smiling, Clay pulled out chairs for Haylee and me. Duncan continued toward Mona and his father, but turned and waved at us.

  We waved back.

  Edna came in from the porch with Gord. Edna’s dress must have started out black, but she’d covered it with crystals of nearly every size, shape, and color, and she’d fastened tiny, functioning lights all over the dress. Silver glitter glimmered in her hair. Gord wore a black suit I’d seen on him on another formal occasion, a suit that wouldn’t have looked out of place onstage at the opera. Someone, Edna, most likely, had added rhinestones and lights to his boutonniere. Later, if the lights were turned down, those two would be easy to find.

  Beaming in more ways than one, Edna waggled her fingers at us, then led Gord through milling people to a table for two near the dance floor.

  And that’s when The Beauty entered from the lobby.

  32

  TRUST ZARA TO DRESS LIKE A GREEK GODdess and pause on the threshold until all eyes were on her and her curling blond tresses and her flowing white gown. Slowly, she walked to Max and touched the sleeve of his dinner jacket.

  For once, Mona didn’t shake her head. She simply gaped.

  Beside me, Haylee murmured, “Mmmmmmm.” She probably didn’t know she’d hummed. Startled, I turned toward her. She wasn’t looking at her cousins.

  She gazed in apparent awe at the man standing in the doorway that Zara had just vacated.

  No wonder Haylee had made that admiring sound. Compared to this man, her cousin Max became a mere mortal. The new guy was at least six-five, with muscles to match and a face made more handsome by smile wrinkles. He wore an impeccably tailored black tux. He glanced around the room.

  Zara waved girlish fingers at him. Mona gave him a broad smile.

  Greeting people on the way, the man walked to our table. “Clay,” he said, “good to see you.” If anything, his voice was more resonant than Detective Gartener’s.

  Clay turned to us. “Haylee and Willow, I’d like you to meet Ben Rondelson. Ben, Haylee and Willow are some of my friends who own Threadville shops.”

  Smiling, Ben shook our hands, first Haylee’s and then mine. His strong hand encompassed mine.

  His dark good looks contrasted perfectly with Haylee’s slender figure and beautiful face. Best of all, the man had kind eyes, brown like Clay’s. I tried to wipe the smug smirk from my face.

  Yes!

  Clay was right. If Ben’s personality matched the warmth in his face, Ben might be perfect for Haylee. It was all I could do not to improvise a little tap dance right then and there.

  Across the room, Zara stared hungrily toward Ben. He would, of course, also set off Zara’s beauty, but in my opinion, Haylee outshined her cousin. Still, apprehension teased at me. Zara must have already spent several days in Ben’s vicinity. Had Clay waited too long to introduce him to Haylee?

  Poor Mona looked absolutely torn. She’d engineered a place at a table with three eligible men. She probably didn’t know yet that Zara was Max’s sister, but now that Zara had joined Mona’s table, Ralph and Duncan seemed to have forgotten Mona.

  And Clay and Ben were all the way across the room from her.

  Ben murmured to the three of us, “I’ll have to go say a few words before I can join you.” He touched the back of the one empty chair at our table. It was, of course, between Haylee and me.

  I could tell that Clay was struggling not to show how satisfied he was with his matchmaking.

  I hoped that Haylee wouldn’t notice that Edna’s smile was nearly as bright as her gown as she stared at the four of us and whispered to Gord. Haylee would think we’d all been part of a plot to throw her and Ben together. Clay and I had been the only members of the conspiracy. Me, conspiring with Clay . . . I kind of liked the sound of that.

  Mona must have decided that Ben was a better prize than the three men at her table. She started toward us, but Ben headed for the podium on the stage beside the dance floor. Mona sat down again.

  Ben turned on the mike and welcomed all of us to the opening of the Elderberry Bay Lodge. We were to help ourselves to dinner and drinks, and a dance band would arrive later.

  Crowds converged on the buffet table.

  Taking my cue from Clay and hoping that our table’s foursome would end up at the buffet together, I stayed at our table. Haylee remained seated, too, but instead of admiring Ben, she was staring at Max and Zara. She probably didn’t realize she was gathering her white linen napkin into tight pleats.

  She saw me watching her and leaned forward. “I wish I knew why they were really here.”

  Was it that hard to believe that Opal’s sister and Max loved Opal and wanted to find her? Maybe I was being too optimistic, too ready to believe the best of others. Being around Clay tended to have that effect on me.

  Ben started toward us, but Mona waylaid him. Tugging at her tight, stretchy dress, which was riding up her thighs, Mona talked to him until he made a gesture toward the buffet table. Max and Zara had joined the end of the lineup. Mona wobbled on her precarious heels to them and said something to Max. He bent toward her with a totally believable air of attentiveness.

  Ralph and Duncan joined them and turned to talk to Edna and Gord behind them. I suspected that the Disguise Guys would soon add lighting displays to costumes they crafted. Sharing skills in Threadville was always fun. I imagined embroidery designs that incorporated lights. Sounds, too . . .

  Ben must have noticed us hanging back. He returned to our table. “I can’t eat until I’m sure everything is going well in the kitchen and with my staff.” His eyes were on Haylee more than on Clay and me. Score. “You three go ahead, and I’ll be with you when I can.”

  We didn’t need more urging to help ourselves to the yummy feast at the buffet. When we returned to our table, Ben was there, opening a bottle of champagne. He poured some into each of our glasses, and, speaking only to the other three of us at his table, toasted Clay for the restoration work he’d done to the lodge. “Without you, I never would have been able to carry out the plans that—” Suddenly, his face went sad.

  “You had the vision,” Clay said quietly.

  We all took a sip. It was excellent champagne. Ben set his glass down and hurried off to the kitchen.

  Watching him go, Clay frowned.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked him.

  He took a deep breath and leaned toward Haylee and me. “This lodge was a dream that Ben and his wife shared. She died of breast cancer about two years ago, and he’s completed everything in her memory. I hope he has the heart to stick with it.”

  Haylee gazed toward the kitchen door. “This place is beautiful, but it must remind him every day of his loss. For the lodge’s sake, I hope he stays, but for his sake . . .” She didn’t need to finish the sentence.

  “I hope he stays because I like him,” Clay said. “Selfish, I know.”

  I lifted my glass. “And he brings u
s good champagne.” But the only lightness in the evening seemed to be in the bubbles rising through the liquid in our glasses.

  The food was delicious, and when Ben returned with a plate for himself, his moment of grief seemed to be over.

  Haylee complimented him on the evening and the entire lodge. “You seem to have everything running well. Did you own other inns before this one?”

  “This is my first, both to renovate and to manage. I was a mechanical engineer for the aerospace industry. It was pretty intense, and then my wife . . .” He swallowed. “My wife became ill, and we decided to live the way we wanted to. We believed she’d have longer.”

  Haylee and I expressed our sympathy, but I wasn’t certain that he registered our comments.

  We’d barely finished our dinners and a few too many desserts when Mona dragged an empty chair from a nearby table and placed it between Haylee and Ben. “We didn’t get to finish our discussion,” she told Ben. “I was about to tell you how I can help decorate your lodge.”

  Ben looked as flabbergasted as I felt, and Haylee and Clay seemed to be stunned speechless, also.

  Mona didn’t appear to notice. “I’ve already talked to Max Brubaugh, you know, the reporter from Pittsburgh?”

  Ben nodded.

  Mona took that as encouragement. “I told him he should do a show on how the right finishing touches can bring your little hotel here from ho-hum to wow.” She smiled and shook her head the way she did when she wanted someone to agree with her, though it often had unplanned results. “I even gave him the title for the show. ‘From Ho-Hum to Wow!’” She shook her head again as if marveling at her brilliance. “Isn’t that cute?”

  Poor Ben continued to be at a loss for words.

  I told Mona, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Max Brubaugh report on ‘cute.’”

  “I have,” she insisted. “He often reports on the repurposing and refurbishing of architectural gems. There was this mansion in Pittsburgh . . .” She stared off into the distance. “So I’ve also told him how we turned the quiet little village of Elderberry Bay into Threadville—a thriving metropolis that crafty women flock to from all over to learn how to decorate their homes! He’s going to come to Country Chic this week to learn all about how we created Threadville.”

  Haylee made a noise like a very fake cough. Haylee and her mothers had established Threadville before I moved here, and Mona had opened her shop after I’d opened mine. Clay’s brows lowered, but Haylee must have nudged him under the table. He jumped. I winked at him, and he winked back.

  Ben turned to me. “Were you also one of the first to open a Threadville shop, Willow?”

  I suspected he knew the answer, but I explained, anyway. “No, Haylee was the first with The Stash, and then her mothers, then me.”

  “But they don’t do home dec,” Mona explained. “I’m the go-to girl for interior decorating.”

  Musicians carrying instrument cases wandered in from the lobby. Ben excused himself and strode off toward them.

  Mona stared at his back. “I’ll have to speak with him when he’s not so busy. Sorry, but I’ll have to leave you three to your own vices.” She simpered to show she’d made a joke. “I need to make more plans with Max for our joint TV shows.”

  Haylee, Clay, and I carefully did not look at each other until she was out of earshot, and when we did, Haylee had a coughing fit while Clay and I simply smiled at each other.

  Haylee subsided and wiped her eyes. “You know,” she said, “I think I might start watching Max Brubaugh’s reports, after all.”

  For once, she didn’t frown when speaking about Max. Maybe Mona had done some good.

  Haylee focused on the stage behind the dance floor. “Our chauffeur is in the dance band.”

  I sat up straight for a better look and recognized most of the band members. Some of them had moved Blueberry Cottage up the hill in my backyard, and I’d probably seen all of them at one time or another in the Fraser Construction Marching Band. Now they wore dark suits, white shirts, gold ties, and shined shoes.

  “How come you’re not playing tonight?” Haylee asked Clay. “Trumpets can be in dance bands.”

  “I intend to dance. Besides, Ben wanted me here tonight as his guest, not as a member of the band.”

  “If we’re going to dance,” Haylee said, “we’d better check our hair.”

  Taking the hint, I followed her to the ladies’ room. Like the dining room, the ladies’ room didn’t need Mona’s decorating touches. It was beautifully finished, with linen towels and designer soaps and lotions.

  Haylee checked under the stall doors. No feet. We were alone. “You two planned this, didn’t you?”

  I tilted my head, pretending I didn’t understand.

  Haylee tapped a foot. “The Fraser party that just happens to include Ben Rondelson. Someone’s playing matchmaker.”

  I grinned. “Clay. I merely went along with it. But having met Ben, I’ve decided Clay has excellent taste. What do you think?”

  She ran a comb through her hair. “I think he does, too.” She sighed. “I also think that Ben is light-years away from looking at another woman.”

  “That’s no reason to avoid him,” I pointed out. “You’re like your mothers. You can’t help being friendly. Or sisterly.”

  “Great.” She made a face at herself in the mirror.

  “And look at it this way,” I continued. “If Clay arranges events where you and Ben can be together, Clay and I will have to spend more time with each other.”

  “You conniving—” But she was laughing.

  “Hasn’t that been your goal all along?”

  “Yes. You two are so slow!”

  “Maybe Ben will join the fire department,” I said with exaggerated enthusiasm.

  “Be still my heart.”

  “And we could go out together after practices.”

  “All sweaty and messy.”

  Well, there was that. But Clay seemed to like me no matter what I got into, and if I assessed Ben correctly after such a short acquaintance, he could be as tolerant as Clay . . .

  The door to the ladies’ room banged open, and Mona tottered in and removed her high heels. “Ah, that feels better. Listen, you two, what I said tonight about Max Brubaugh was in confidence. I don’t want you two horning in on my plans with him.”

  “No problem,” Haylee answered quickly. “I don’t even like him.”

  Mona stared goggle-eyed at her and shook her head. “What’s not to like? And that woman is not his girlfriend—she’s his sister! So he’s available.” She licked her lips. “Yummy yum yum. Dibs!” She stuck a forefinger up in the air. “And don’t look at me like I’m robbing the cradle—he doesn’t need to know how old I am, and I’m sure he’s older than Duncan, and Duncan likes me. So does his father.” She attempted a girlish giggle. “But Ralph and me—now in that case, Ralph would be robbing the cradle.”

  Well, sort of.

  “Age doesn’t matter. I’ll take ’em all. And just between us, Ralph has a certain something that his son lacks.” She wagged her finger at us. “But what I meant was those TV show ideas are mine and I don’t want you stealing them.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “But remember, Max Brubaugh has already been in some of our shops”—Opal’s and mine, anyway—“so he may have his own ideas about Threadville stories.”

  “He’d better not.” She cocked her head. “The music’s starting. I need to get out there.”

  If she could hardly walk, how was she going to dance?

  She had a solution. Shoes in hand, she wandered out barefoot.

  Haylee heaved a dramatic sigh after the door closed and we were alone in the ladies’ room again. “There go all my chances with Ben.”

  “Nah,” I said. “She’s after Max first. Then Ben. We should go out there before she claims him, too, though.”

  Haylee laughed. “She’s really chalking them up tonight—Ralph, Duncan, Max, and Ben, so far.”

  “And
she’s already told me if I wasn’t interested in Clay, she’d take him.”

  “Clay really likes you.”

  We gave each other a high five and left the ladies’ room.

  Turning the corner toward the banquet hall, I heard a waltz. I hurried, but stopped in the doorway when I saw the dancers. My excitement withered.

  Ben and Zara were dancing together. The stately pair were head and shoulders above everyone else on the dance floor.

  33

  CLAY’S AND MY PLANS TO THROW BEN AND Haylee together might be too late.

  Ben danced gracefully for such a big man. Zara snaked her right hand up to his neck. Squaring his jaw, he again took her hand in his and clasped her in the classical waltz position.

  Beside me, Haylee muttered, “His grief for his wife might be easier to compete with than that.”

  “Don’t give up,” I murmured. “He looks embarrassed.”

  “Right. Without even getting to know him, I’ve gone from friendly to sisterly to . . . well, um . . . and the entire relationship is all in my mind.”

  “It’s a start.”

  She laughed. “I guess so.”

  Edna floated by in Gord’s arms. He was humming. The crystals and flashing lights on Edna’s dress couldn’t compete with the glow in her eyes as she smiled up at him.

  Barefoot, fluttering her eyelashes at Ralph, Mona danced past us.

  Duncan appeared at Haylee’s elbow and swung her into the waltz, and a trained broadcaster’s voice said in my ear, “May I have this dance?”

  Max.

  I would have preferred dancing with Clay, but Clay was striding toward the band and probably didn’t know that Haylee and I had returned from the ladies’ room.

  Max was a good dancer, light on his feet, and he didn’t hold me too tightly. I relaxed and concentrated on following him. And tried not to concentrate on wondering how well Clay danced. Except for Max, Ben, and Gord, most of the male dancers appeared uncomfortable with waltzing.