Thread Herrings by Lea Wait

Author:Lea Wait
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2018-08-13T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

“Not always must we think while here to share

Pleasures unmingled with corroding care,

The rose its thorn, the sweet its bitter yield,

And blended good and ill, spread o’er life’s field.”

—Stitched by Esther Warrington at the Westtown Boarding School, a Quaker school in West Chester, Pennsylvania, in 1808.

Sarah and I vowed not to think about murders anymore that evening. Instead, we watched You’ve Got Mail and The American President and Notting Hill. Romantic comedies that were light and funny. If life worked out as well for real people as it did for those fictional characters, the world would be a different place.

I couldn’t forget what had happened to Clem, or that I could be in danger, too, but I tried to focus on the movies, not on what had happened today . . . or what might happen tomorrow.

We said good night after midnight. I collapsed on Sarah’s fold-out couch and slept better than I’d expected. Ruggles joined me at some point and slept on the pillow next to me. Did he sense my anxiety and want to comfort me?

By morning the snow had stopped and been replaced by sea smoke . . . winter fog that lingered over the ocean and nearby land. Beams of sunlight only occasionally shone through the billows of white, low-hanging clouds close to the dark blue harbor water.

My home was only a few blocks inland, but far enough from the harbor that I rarely saw sea smoke from my windows. Seeing the swirling mists outside Sarah’s windows was a treat. When I was a child I’d loved fog in the summertime and sea smoke in the winter. Both seemed like nature’s magic, covering the world, and making parts of it appear and then disappear.

Sea smoke was still hypnotic. Only the tantalizing smell of coffee pulled me away from the window.

Sarah brewed coffee dark, the way I liked it. We ate cinnamon toast and didn’t say much. Last night’s wine was slowing us down.

After breakfast and putting Sarah’s couch back together I made a list of what Trixi and I would need if we stayed with Patrick for a couple of days. I hoped it wouldn’t be more than that. Patrick might try to make my visit amusing or romantic, but the reason I needed to stay with him wasn’t fun. And, although Pete and Ethan wanted me out of Haven Harbor, if anyone in town was asked about me, they’d say Patrick and I were together. Most people in town knew me, and since Patrick was Skye West’s son, and now owner of the gallery in town, people knew him, too. Secrets were hard to keep in small towns.

Sarah peeked over my shoulder. “How long a list are you giving him?”

I hadn’t been focusing on the list. “Do you think Trixi and Bette would use the same litter pan? Or should he bring Trixi’s with him?”

“I vote you let the cats work that out. If it doesn’t seem to be working, he can always go back another day for your litter box.

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