The Art of Keeping Secrets by Patti Callahan Henry

Author:Patti Callahan Henry
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Penguin Group USA, Inc.
Published: 2010-03-01T06:00:00+00:00

FOURTEEN

ANNABELLE MURPHY

The Charmed Knits shop was located on a corner lot directly across from the church where Annabelle had run into Sofie just yesterday. Or was that a lifetime ago? A life in which she doled out advice in a newspaper as if she were the queen of knowing, as if she knew exactly what to do in every situation, as if her life were in perfect order.

Behind a plate-glass window, sweaters, booties and scarves hung from flowered mannequins. Rolls of yarn in candy colors were arranged on a large antique chest, tempting Annabelle, who had no interest in knitting, into thinking she, too, could walk into this store and make a sweater worthy of being worn when the next cold front went through.

Annabelle pushed open the door; a bell tinkled a hollow sound and an overactive air conditioner blew cold air in her face. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms and then walked to the back of the store, where a group of six women sat in a circle talking in another language—knitting language. Annabelle had no idea what a stockinette or garter stitch was, so she cleared her throat.

An older woman with a knot of white hair on top of her head, and a wide smile, which made her look younger than the color of her hair suggested, glanced up. “May I help you?”

“Yes,” Annabelle said, nervous as the other women stared at her. “I’m looking for Jo-Beth.”

“Guilty,” the woman said, and stood.

“May I talk to you in private for a moment?”

“Sure thing.” Jo-Beth walked toward Annabelle, her long peasant skirt swishing, her hand-knitted shawl flowing behind her as Annabelle imagined her hair would if it were released from the knot.

She followed the other woman to the other side of the store. “I’m so sorry to bother you while you’re teaching . . . but I want to ask about an old friend.”

“You want to ask about Liddy,” Jo-Beth said.

“How’d you know?”

Jo-Beth shrugged. “A good-looking fellow came in here asking about her earlier today, and I figured this was just a follow-up.” Jo-Beth leaned against the counter, picked up a pair of knitting needles looped with brilliant red yarn. Jo-Beth’s hands worked even as she looked directly at Annabelle; the needles seemed to be an extension of her hands. “So shoot. Whatcha need?”

“A man was looking for her?”

Jo-Beth picked up her glasses, which were hanging off a beaded chain on her neck, put them on. “You’re not with him?”

“Not unless he was a very young man—twenty or so.”

“No, this was an older man looking after Liddy because he thinks she knew something about some famous artist named Ariadne or something like that. I told him the same thing I’ll tell you. Liddy owned the Newboro Art Studio, but she never, ever told me who Ariadne was. She herself didn’t even paint.”

Annabelle shook her head. “Yes, Liddy did paint.”

Jo-Beth set her knitting down on the counter. “No, really, she didn’t. She took photographs, did some knitting and even wrote poetry, but she didn’t paint.

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