Jess had a great sense of funky style, and with a sewing machine and a pair of scissors she could make over just about any piece of clothing. Everything she restyled ended up in the clothing shop on the waterfront in which she was part owner. Jess has been making her own clothes since she was a teenager because she’s curvy and could never find anything that fit her right.
“These are great,” I said, pulling two of the cushions out of the canvas carryall she’d handed me. Jess had cut the fabric into fat triangles and seamed those together to make the cushion covers. They were all a mix of bold colors—red, tangerine, lemon yellow, blue, sea green.
“I did some smaller ones that I was going to keep but I may end up bringing them here instead,” she said, pushing her long, dark hair behind one ear.
“Whatever works best for you,” I said. “Once we get into fall, people start nesting. These should sell pretty quickly.” I stacked the cushions on the cash desk.
Charlotte had gone out back to get two large, ornate picture frames that Avery and I had refinished and turned into bulletin boards. I’d finally decided where I wanted to hang them.
“The Angels have a new case,” I said.
“Anyone I know?” Jess asked, picking a stray strand of thread off one of the pillows.
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. Their client is a former student of Charlotte’s.”
“You do realize that Nick is going to have a cow.”
“Uh-huh. Liam already pointed that out.”
“Oh yeah, I invited him to join us for the jam,” she said. Jess and I were pretty much regulars at Thursday Night Jam, aka the jam, at The Black Bear Pub. The house band played old rock and roll and anyone was welcome to sit in for a song or a set.
“Liam or Nick?” I asked.
“Liam. You know Nick will be there unless he’s working.”
“Is there something going on between you and my brother?”
She laughed. “No.” Then she raised one eyebrow, smiled slyly and said,” At least not yet.”
Her expression went from amused to serious. “Has Mac said when he’s coming home?”
I raked a hand back through my hair. “There are things he needs to take care of in Boston. The house hasn’t closed yet and there’s still a lot of paperwork.”
Jess studied me for a long moment and I couldn’t really read the expression in her blue eyes. “He’ll be back,” she finally said. She gave me a hug and left.
Charlotte came in from the workroom then. “Are those the cushions made from the fabric we found in the first storage unit?” she asked, picking one up and turning it over in her hands.
I nodded.
“Jess does lovely work,” she said. “I like the pattern. Would you like me to price them and put them out?”
“Yes, to both,” I said. “The tags are by the cash register.” I pointed to the second floor. “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”
I headed upstairs but instead of going to my office I went into the tiny staff room for a cup of coffee. I’d sounded defensive when Jess had brought up Mac. That was probably because I hadn’t talked to him since Sunday evening. I’d gotten the breakfast text on Monday but nothing more since then. I missed Mac and not just for the dozens of things he handled around the shop. I missed the way he’d help me keep my perspective whenever the Angels had a case. I was fairly certain I was going to need that, especially when Nick found out what was going on.
That afternoon Charlotte, Avery and I went back to the storage unit. I’d just parked the SUV when my phone signaled a text.
It was from Mac. On my way to the airport. Call you later.
Airport? I wondered where he was going. If he were coming back to Maine he would have been driving. I read the words again. Mac had said he’d call me later. I’d just have to wait to find out what was going on.
With the storage unit partly empty, it was easier to look at what else was inside. Along a side wall we discovered a dressmaker’s dummy, a treadle sewing machine and another box of fabric including some beautiful embroidered pale yellow tulle. Charlotte held up the buttery yellow material. “I’m sure Jess will create something wonderful with this,” she said.
As we loaded the large cardboard box into the SUV it dipped sideway and an old wooden cigar box fell out. Avery picked it up and looked inside. The box was full of beads. “Look at these, Sarah,” she exclaimed. “They’re beautiful. Some of them have to be really old.”
I peered at the contents of the box. Avery was turning beads over in her fingers, making excited little exclamations of surprise. “Would you like to have them?” I said.
She stared at me. “Seriously?”
“Yes.”
The teen’s eyes lit up and she flung one arm around me in an exuberant hug. “I’d love them! Thank you.” She put the box on the front seat, gave the top a little pat and then bounded back inside.
Charlotte smiled. “I’d love to have that child’s energy and enthusiasm.”
“Maybe you should start having a green smoothie every morning,” I said with a teasing grin as I righted the tipped-over carton of fabric.
Charlotte put her hands on her hips. “I will when you do,” she said with an equally teasing gleam in her eye.
I laughed. I loved my coffee and everyone knew that.
It was late afternoon before we returned to the shop. The SUV was packed full and so was the trailer. We’d been able to get both the sewing machine and the dressmaker’s dummy onto the trailer through a combination of effort and luck. I was certain both would sell in the shop. Those sort of older items were always popular.
Mr. P. came out to help us unload everything else. “How was your afternoon?” I asked as we pulled another box of mason jars out of the back of the car.
“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” he said. “We kept the ship on course.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” I said.
With the four of us working together it didn’t take long to unload everything except the sewing machine and the dressmaker’s form. Mr. P. stood next to the trailer. I could tell by the way he was squinting at the last two items he was calculating whether the four of us could lift them out. I had a feeling that would be harder than loading them had been.
“There are a couple of pieces of plywood we can use as a ramp,” he said. “And we have the wheeled dolly. We can definitely move the sewing form. Maybe the sewing machine as well.”
I hesitated.
“Without anyone dislocating anything, my dear.”
Avery and I hauled out the plywood and the dolly, and to my surprise we managed to get everything into the garage with less exertion than I’d expected.
“I’m glad you were here,” I said to Mr. P. “I wouldn’t have thought to use the plywood and the dolly. Thank you.”
He smiled. “It’s just physics, my dear, but you’re welcome.”
I sent the others inside, locked the old garage, unhitched the trailer, and pulled the SUV into its usual spot. I headed in hoping I’d find that there was one of Rose’s molasses oatmeal cookies left in the staff room. Instead I stepped into the shop and learned exactly what Rose had meant when she’d said desperate times called for desperate measures.