Yarn to Go by Betty Hechtman Page B

she brought up his social life.
    Bree started to push her chair back. “Well, I suppose that’s the end of the retreat.” She sounded relieved. “It’s fine by me. I didn’t sleep a wink last night. There were all these creaks and groans in the building all night long and the bed was lumpy. Did I mention that I’ve never stayed in a hotel room by myself before? Frankly, I don’t think I’ve missed much. My boys will be glad to see me coming home. I can just imagine what I’ll be coming home to.”
    Kris put out her arm to stop her. “No plans have been changed yet.”
    Olivia shrugged. “Even if the retreat ends, I’m staying. There would be nothing but trouble if I came back early.” I waited for her to add to her statement with some kind of explanation, but Olivia just stopped talking. I wondered if we’d ever know what was bothering her so. She was pleasant looking when she let go of the upset expression, and gave off a vibe of someone solid and dependable.
    “I suppose Sissy and I could move into one of those cute bed-and-breakfasts in Carmel and finish our mother-daughter weekend there.” Melissa had taken a cup of coffee and started to push it away as if she was getting ready to depart.
    “Thanks for consulting me,” Sissy said in an annoyed tone. “Didn’t you hear what Kris said? There aren’t any plans to end the retreat yet.” The mother-daughter argument was all too familiar. Is that what my mother and I sounded like? I vowed right then never to argue with her again, at least not in public.
    “I was just trying to handle the situation,” Sissy’s mother said before pulling the cup back in front of her and refilling it. “What about Scott?” We all checked the room and Sissy pointed to a faraway table.
    I went over to tell him the news. He saw me coming, and as soon as I got close to the table, he jumped up from his seat and drew me by a tall window. His brow immediately went into furrow mode as soon as he heard, and for a few moments he didn’t speak. Then he said, “I suppose the media will be here. These days everything goes national. You have to keep me out of sight.” He slumped in distress. “My wife thinks I’m in San Francisco. And my boss can’t hear me being listed as part of a knitting retreat.” He went outside, shaking his head. Did he even care about Edie?
    When I got back to the table, Tag Thornkill had just arrived. He must have jumped in his car as soon as Lucinda called. As always, he was dressed in neat perfection. But then everything about him was neat perfection. Lucinda looked upset, and Tag stood in front of me.
    “Lucinda really needs to come home. Everything is off at the restaurant without her there.” He looked down in a dejected manner. “The staff just won’t listen to me.” A moment later, he’d raised his head and leaned toward the table to straighten the place setting next to me before rearranging the salt and pepper on the lazy Susan in the middle of the round table. “And now with this terrible incident . . .”
    “Do you want to leave?” I said to Lucinda.
    “No,” Lucinda said a little forcefully, then it seemed to register that she was in public. She turned toward Tag. “Honey, you go on back to the restaurant. I’m sure everything will be fine without me. Besides, Casey needs me right now, don’t you?” she said, turning toward me with pleading eyes.
    “Yes, of course. I need Lucinda here now more than ever,” I said. Tag appeared disgruntled but finally left. As soon as he neared the door, Lucinda undid the place setting he straightened and took the salt and pepper shaker off the lazy Susan, and when the saltshaker spilled some of its contents, she left it there.
    I felt like rolling my eyes. Poor Edie was dead in her bed and all anyone could think about was their own personal troubles. Well, maybe I was guilty of that, too.
    I thought of what Scott had said about the media. Would the story make its way all the way to