Thread and Gone by Lea Wait Page A

get her own property back,” said Pete with a small smile.
    â€œThen it’s okay if I tell her? I feel responsible for her losing her needlepoint.”
    He shrugged. “Up to you. But it was just sewing. I’m more worried about the reactions of whoever’s jewelry was stolen.”
    Just sewing. But what if it were sewing worth a small fortune? Or the down payment on a lobster boat?
    I had to tell Mary what had happened.

Chapter 13

    And thou shalt make an hanging for the door of the tent, of blue, and purple, and scarlet, and fine twined linen, wrought with needlework.
    Â 
    â€”Exodus 26: 36

    Mary hadn’t returned my call from yesterday, but this time she answered right away. She was at the Currans’ house, where she’d been living since her parents died. She sounded surprised that I wanted to see her now, but she explained where the house was and agreed I could stop in.
    I didn’t mention what had happened to the needlepoint. I wanted to tell her that in person.
    She wasn’t going to be happy.
    The Currans’ house was smaller and more contemporary than most in Haven Harbor. I couldn’t date it—I know more about target shooting than architecture—but I’d guess early twentieth century.
    Sarah answered the door.
    Gram would have said the living room was “decorated in cozy.” Flowered slipcovers on the chairs and couch, Hummel figures in a glass cabinet, a large braided rug on the floor, and afghans thrown over the couch. The furniture faced a flat screen TV.
    Mary was wearing black yoga pants and a loose T-shirt from the botanical garden in Boothbay. Her shirt, and one of her cheeks, were smudged with dust.
    â€œCome in.” She opened the door wider. “I was working at my house this morning, but I usually come home to have lunch with Cos. And Jude, if she’s not working. We just finished. You’ve met Jude?”
    I nodded. “At Maine Waves. Hi, Jude.”
    â€œHow’s Charlotte?” she asked.
    â€œGram and Tom are still on their honeymoon. They’ll be back tomorrow or the next day.”
    â€œTell her, if she needs her hair done, to call ahead. We’re a little shorthanded with summer people here. And we’re short one hairdresser.”
    â€œI’ll tell her when she gets home,” I assured Jude.
    â€œAnd this is Cos,” Mary said, pulling her friend forward. “She’s been my best friend forever.”
    BFF. People really said that? Cos was a younger and shyer version of Jude, with hair still its natural brown. She smiled at me.
    â€œGlad to meet you, Cos.” I turned to Mary. “I’m sorry, but I have to tell you something upsetting.”
    Mary sat down on the couch, Jude and Cos in back of her, as though for protection. “It’s about the needlepoint, right? It isn’t old and fantastically valuable?”
    â€œWhat did I tell you and Josh, Mary?” put in Jude. “Miracles don’t happen.”
    â€œI don’t know anything yet about the value of the needlepoint,” I said.
    â€œYou wanted to talk about my family, and the history of my house. But I don’t have much to tell you. Maybe we could go over there after Jude goes back to the salon.”
    â€œI’d like to do that,” I agreed. “And you’re right. That’s why I called you yesterday. But this is something else.” I hesitated. I had to tell her the truth, flat out. “Yesterday I took your embroidery and packet down to Lenore Pendleton’s office for her to keep in her safe.”
    â€œYes?” said Mary. “That’s what you said you were going to do.”
    â€œBut now everything’s changed.” I plunged forward. “This morning Rob and a friend of his found Lenore Pendleton’s body, in her office. She’d been killed.”
    â€œRob found her body? What was he doing in her office?” Mary asked. She seemed more