A Crime of a Different Stripe by Sally Goldenbaum

Author:Sally Goldenbaum [Goldenbaum, Sally]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2020-07-21T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

“Let’s not skip our Thursday nights together, like we did last week,” Birdie said. “It disturbs my equilibrium.”

They all felt that disturbance and had come together earlier than usual on this Thursday, showing up as Mae was shooing out the last customer of the day. Hungry for Nell’s supper and togetherness.

Birdie looked around the back room, as if greeting an old friend. She shrugged off the alpaca and lambswool shawl she had knit on Thursday nights during the last long winter and hung it over a chair. “Time is disturbed. It feels like a long time since we’ve had this room to ourselves, just the four of us, for our knitting and wine. Shutting out the rest of the world. A normal night.”

A normal night.

Nell, Izzy, and Cass listened to Birdie’s words. Except it wasn’t normal. They each had brought a burden with them, one that needed the kind of release friendship would bring. Between eating and knitting and sips of wine and water, they could share their concerns. And maybe lighten their load.

Cass stood at the table, hovering over Nell’s hot plate and inhaling the aromas floating up from a covered casserole. “I smell mushrooms. And wine. Nutmeg?”

“I don’t know how you do it, Cass,” Nell said. “For someone who can’t boil water, you do a magnificent job with food smells. But who can smell wine in a casserole?”

“Me. Because you rarely cook anything without it.”

Nell chuckled. “And you’re right about the nutmeg. It has other good things, too, but the true comfort comes from the portobello mushrooms and buttery sauce over the noodles. It’s my cookbook friend Ina Garten’s comforting casserole. Tonight seemed like a good night to try it.”

The Thursday night routine was a well-rehearsed dance—its familiar steps bringing their own kind of comfort. The back room was a special place on these nights, the walls holding close the women’s friendship, their secrets shared, their tears and laughter. Each year added a layer of richness, a closer melting together of lives.

Nell’s supper dish was always plentiful; Birdie’s wine, always crisp. And dessert from Harry Garozzo’s deli or the new Italian bakery on the corner was always sweet and most often filled with chocolate.

Friendship. Bamboo needles and soft chairs. Laps filled with yarn.

Nell filled their plates with generous helpings of the casserole, Birdie poured the wine and soft drinks, and Cass fiddled with her phone, looking for music.

Nell noticed her niece was quieter than usual, letting those around her take charge. She’d tried to call Izzy that afternoon, but she hadn’t picked up. So she had tried the store phone, just once. Midday. For no reason other than that Izzy had been on her mind.

Mae had said she’d stepped out for a bit.

Nell hadn’t left a message then, and Izzy hadn’t called back.

“Izzy, is everything okay?” she asked now.

Before Izzy could respond, Cass’s music kicked in, pouring out of the speakers and filling the room. Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell were suddenly in the midst of knitting night, belting out “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough.

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