Tapestry of Lies: A Weaving Mystery by Martin Carol Ann

Author:Martin, Carol Ann [Martin, Carol Ann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2014-01-07T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

The next morning, I picked up a newspaper and glanced across the street at the darkened windows of the Coffee Break. I wondered what Rhonda’s plans for the future might be. She’d probably take some time off to mourn and then she might continue the business on her own, or maybe sell it and retire. I didn’t know her well enough to like or dislike her, but I felt sad for the woman all the same. I headed to work with the paper under my arm and was just about to walk in when I heard the sound of a car door slamming.

“Della, hi.” I turned around. It was Margaret. She was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt as she came around a beat-up Honda, carrying a large cardboard box. “I decided to bring over my weaving projects. I was just going to drop them off upstairs and ask you when you’d like to see them, but—”

“I’m here now. Why don’t we do it right away?”

“Gee, thanks.” She grinned and followed me inside. I walked around the shop, turning on lights, while she dropped the box on the counter and pulled open the flaps. “I hope you like them.”

“I’d be surprised if I didn’t.”

She unfolded sheets of silk paper, revealing a beautiful light blue wrap. She lifted it out carefully. The yarn was fine, the weave tight and perfectly even. “Is this what I think it is? A pashmina?”

She beamed. “Yes. Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful.”

She touched it gently. “It’s actually silk and cashmere, not real pashmina, but I think it’s just as lovely.”

“How many of these do you have? I’m sure I can sell them—and for a good price.”

She parted the box flaps again and took out a small pile. “I have four more—white, cream and two black.”

“Would you be willing to leave them with me on consignment?”

“Willing?” she gushed. “You bet.”

“How much do you want for them?”

The bell rang, interrupting our conversation. I turned. Jenny was walking in, carrying a box of pastries.

“Hi, Margaret. Hi, Della. What are you two doing here so early?”

“I was showing Della my weaving, and she’s agreed to sell them on consignment.”

“Her work is beautiful,” I added.

“I can’t wait to see. I’ll get the coffee going and be right back.” She disappeared behind the curtain, and I returned to the girl’s beautiful pieces.

“What else have you got in there?” I asked.

She dove back into the box, this time bringing up a pile of fine linen hand towels. “I know these aren’t so popular anymore, but I love making them.”

“I disagree. They sell reasonably well in my shop. Many of my clients use them as fancy dish towels, or they display them in their powder rooms.”

“That’s what I would do with mine if I had a powder room.” She went back into the box and brought out a stack of place mats.

“I could kiss you,” I exclaimed. “I never have enough of these. They sell out faster than I can get them in.”

“Really?” she said.

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