Clare O’Donohue - The Lover’s Knot

I lay on the floor with the pile of fabric under my head and listened to the work upstairs. I could hear a power saw cutting wood for something, then lots of clanging and moving about. Jesse had been right to recommend his former brother-in-law for the job. He was serious and committed and really knew what he was doing.

It made me wonder what noises Marc would have been making had he been up there doing the work. It was obvious to me now that he was all enthusiasm and ambition but he probably didn't have the skills to do a good job. I thought about what Jesse had said, that Eleanor had given him the chance because she liked the idea of someone rising to the meet the challenge, as she had done. She must have wanted Marc to feel pride in having accomplished a difficult task. Maybe then he would have moved beyond his reputation as town womanizer.

But someone else didn't see such possibilities in Marc. To that person he was dangerous and expendable. I stared at the ceiling and listened to the noise so I didn't have to think about who that person might be. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw something. I turned my head toward the doorway of the office and realized what it was.

I reached out and grabbed the piece of green paper. It was a twenty dollar bill. It seemed careless of Eleanor and Nancy to have money lying on the floor near the back wall, but with the chaos that once ruled this room, I guess it was possible.

I sat up and started on my fabric flowers again. However these turned out, at least I wouldn't get in trouble for not having held up my end of the bargain.

I had to admit that the flowers were quite pretty, even if my edges weren't cut as precisely as Nancy or Eleanor would have done them. I laid each one out to make a kind of bouquet. Natalie was right. The entire time I was working on my flowers I hadn't thought about my on-again, off-again fiance, the murder of the town gigolo or any of the dozen or so secret spats and sad stories I'd encountered in Archers Rest. I just thought about the flowers. Eleanor and the other quilters in her group were constantly praised for industriousness. But all the time they were secretly using quilting to take a break from life. Well, I wasn't going to tell anyone.

I was on my last flower when I heard Tom closing up the shop, so I headed upstairs and home to Eleanor. I dropped my finished flowers on the kitchen table where she was sitting having tea and going over the day's receipts. I sat at the table while she looked through my work.

"These aren't half bad," she said. "Though I think the shape may be a tad traditional for the kind of quilt we're making."

"These are the shapes Nancy told me to cut," I protested. "I just spent the better part of the day cutting those."

"Well, that's the artistic process isn't it?" She smiled. "We started off with a traditional look, but it's moving in a different direction." When she saw my disappointed face, she added, "I'm sure we'll find a use for them."

"If you don't, I'll make my own quilt with them." The words came out of my mouth quickly, and to my surprise I even meant them. I liked my flowers too much to let them end up on a scrap heap.

I could see Eleanor smiling, but she only said, "How were things at the shop?"

"Good. But I found this," I said as I held up the twenty dollar bill. "It was on the floor in the office."

"Well, it didn't come from the shop's deposits." She pushed the large binder containing the shop's balances toward the middle of the table. "Every penny accounted for since we opened the shop."

It was a neatly organized system, with debts in red ink and income in black, both printed in the neatest of handwriting. "This is kind of old-fashioned. You should do this on a computer. It would be so much easier."

Eleanor leaned over the notebook. "It's worked for me for years." She looked up at me and smiled. "But I suppose we could use some updating. We'll have more inventory now."

It was an unexpected concession, but it also felt like she was beginning to see me as more than a granddaughter. Maybe I was becoming an ally, a partner. Eleanor peered into her empty cup.

"More tea?" I asked. She nodded. Okay, maybe she didn't see me as a partner, maybe she saw me as the help, but at least she saw me as capable of something. That had to be an improvement. I got up and put her kettle on.

"I ran into Bernie," I said tentatively, figuring she'd find out anyway. "I wanted to take a peek into Marc's apartment."

I waited for a scolding, but none came. Instead she sat up and gave me a curious stare. "Find anything?"

"A note asking to see Marc. Jesse said it didn't mean anything."

"You were there with Jesse?" The curious stare had turned into astonishment.

"More like he found me there," I admitted. "He thinks I'm interfering with his investigation."

"You are."

I waved my hand dismissively, filled my grandmother's teacup and sat down again. "I also went over to Natalie's place to talk to her."

Eleanor's mouth dropped open. "About what?"

"Marc. What else?" I told her what I'd realized about Natalie's baby. Eleanor shook her head and listened. "So, what's the Jesse-Natalie story? Another love triangle?"

"Heavens, no," Eleanor said. "When Jesse moved back to town, his wife had just gotten diagnosed with cancer. She was new to the area, didn't know anyone. Natalie was about her age and they became friends. Good friends, I understand. But Natalie was young and I think she got a bit spooked by the enormity of the illness. I believe she just backed off, stopped returning calls, that sort of thing. It really hurt Jesse's wife. And anything that hurt her hurt Jesse."

"Still, that's hardly a reason to be so hard on her about Marc."

Eleanor shook her head. "You weren't here to see how he loved her. Even in her situation, it was impossible not to envy what they felt for each other." She smiled a half smile at me.

And even though I knew almost nothing about Jesse and his wife, I did feel a shudder of envy. "I suppose tragic circumstances make people closer," I said.

"I don't know. I think they just bring out what you really feel for each other. If you are close, you'll become closer. If you're not, then a difficult time may well pull you apart." She sipped her tea. "Did you talk with Ryan this afternoon?"

I shook my head. Eleanor nodded at me, picked up my flowers and examined them again. "You did a lovely job with these. Did you enjoy making them?"

"Yes. But don't get any ideas."

"I think quilting is a lot safer than being an amateur detective, Nell," she said, with a worried tone in her voice that made me feel a bit guilty for running around. "As much as you want to clear Ryan, you shouldn't interfere anymore. Promise me."

I nodded. I didn't want to tell her that there was now another reason why I was looking for Marc's killer-a reason I'd only just realized. It was fun. And now that I knew that, I wasn't sure I could stop.

I knew it was better if I appeared to stay out of the investigation for a while, just in case Jesse made good on his threat to arrest me, so for the next week I immersed myself in the renovations at the shop and helping my grandmother. I drove to the mall a few the shop and helping my grandmother. I drove to the mall a few towns over and bought a computer program for finances. By Friday morning I had a newly purchased laptop on the dining room table. Though I wasn't much of a computer wiz and Eleanor was sitting beside me the entire time asking questions about how to copy or delete things, I still managed to put her store's books and inventory onto the program.

"It's a pity they didn't have these years ago," she said.

"They did have these years ago, Grandma. And now that you have this one, you should update the cash register at the store to one that's computerized. That way you will always be able to keep track of the money and the inventory."