Once Upon a Craft Shop, page 13
part #1 of Craft Shop Mysteries Series
“I’d have sneaked away earlier if I could have managed it.” Bianca smiled wryly. “I’ve been thinking about socks all week. I’d love to try them. I love knitting, but I haven’t knitted anything in a long time.” She cast a longing look toward the yarn aisle. “I’ll be quick.”
“It’s all right.” I watched her hurry away, feeling bemused. “If you need any help,” I called after her, “just let me know.”
“Thank you!” she called back.
Bianca spent a few minutes lingering over different types of yarn before she returned with a pack of fine double-pointed knitting needles, a pack of needle stoppers, and an armful of wool fingering yarn in an array of softer, feminine colors, and bolder, more masculine colors.
“Just put everything on the counter,” I told her, “and we’ll get you set up with an account on my store.”
“Okay.” Bianca did that, and then pulled her phone out of her back pocket. A moment later, we’d pulled up my online store and she’d put everything into the cart. Within another minute, she’d paid for everything and I put it all in a bag for her.
“The good thing about this,” I nodded to her phone, “is that you can place an order whenever you need to and then just come in and pick it up when you have time.”
Bianca’s face lit with joy. “That sounds delightful.”
“Does Dave not…allow you to knit?” I asked carefully, as I handed her the bag with her purchases. Sure, the question sounded absolutely ridiculous leaving my mouth, but…
To my relief, Bianca laughed. “Absolutely not. He just—” she flashed me a guilty look, “—doesn’t want anybody frequenting Celia’s Craft Shop.”
I waved an airy hand, though I wasn’t quite sure the sting of that would ever go away. “We already know that.”
This prompted a relieved smile from Bianca. “Well, he’ll have to get over it eventually.” She looked around my shop again, before giving me a sweetly mischievous grin. “Once people actually set foot in here, they’ll be back.”
”I hope so.” Sighing, I posted my hands on my hips, but I didn’t let myself dwell on it. Instead, I turned back to Bianca. “You’re all set.” I nodded to her bag. “I hope you enjoy.”
A beautiful smile lit Bianca’s face, making her even more stunning than she already was. “I intend to. Thank you, Celia.”
I jerked a thumb over my shoulder. “Do you want to go out the back?”
Bianca hesitated, something warring behind her eyes. “Maybe today?” Her smile slipped, losing a fraction of its brilliance. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I brushed her apology aside. “It’ll be fine.”
I directed Bianca to the back entrance, and, with another small, grateful smile, she slipped out into the alleyway behind the building. Shaking my head again, I locked up behind her and trekked up to my apartment.
Was this a strange way to do business? Yes. Was it still business? Also, yes. In the grand scheme of things, I couldn’t really complain.
Much.
Chapter
Twenty-Six
When I walked through my front door, a single glance at my apartment told me that Agnes had been busy in my absence. I still hadn’t seen much of her, but she certainly kept my apartment clean for me. And she seemed to like the occasional colorful beads and snacks I set out for her.
A single glance at the contents of my refrigerator told me I should probably fix myself a big chicken Caesar salad for dinner. But…I bit my lip, studying the lettuce in the vegetable drawer. I didn’t really want a salad tonight.
What I really wanted was a big burger and an equally large serving of crispy, golden French fries. (Yes, I know, very healthy.) Normally, I’d talk myself out of it, but tonight…I gave in.
It had been a rough week, even though it wasn’t quite over, and I was still recovering from a double whammy of moving and starting my own store. Even the thought of chopping a few vegetables for a salad felt like too much work tonight.
And I knew I could probably get a really good burger at one of the restaurants on the Square.
As I let myself out of my apartment and tromped back down the stairs to street level, I reflected that maybe I should have thought this whole living-next-to-the-Square-thing through a little more. In my little neighborhood in Louisville, I’d never been far from a number of restaurants, but this was ridiculous easy. I didn’t even have to drive. I could just walk.
Making a mental note to create a menu and do more meal prep next week to keep myself within my food budget, I stepped out onto the street. A warm early evening breeze ruffled my hair and I smiled. Today had been a little cooler than earlier in the week, and right now it felt amazing. I decided I wanted to eat outside, too.
As I crossed the Square, my phone vibrated in my back pocket. It startled me at first—I hadn’t received many texts since I moved to Starhaven. Pulling my phone out, I saw that it was Zel, texting me to thank me again for being willing to teach her how to knit and giving me her schedule. After a little back and forth, we settled on Wednesday afternoons around two.
I shoved the phone back into my pocket, a thrill of excitement humming in my veins. The more I thought about teaching others how to do some of the things I loved, the more excited I became. The idea resonated inside me, like the beautiful clear tone of a bell being struck deep inside me.
I was still smiling as I approached the Starhaven Grill. The scent of grilled meat wafted through the air, making my stomach grumble that it had been a long time since lunch. Like most of the restaurants around the Square, a handful of little patio chairs and tables dotted the sidewalk in front of the Starhaven Grill. Most of them were full, with people eating and laughing and discussing their days.
My steps quickened. Oh, it smelled so good. A burger and fries were definitely the right choice for dinner tonight.
I crossed the crosswalk with a handful of other people out walking the Square and made a beeline for the Starhaven Grill’s front door. As I did, however, the back of my neck prickled.
Somebody was staring at me.
Without letting my cheerful smile slip, I scanned the area. Nobody sitting in front of the restaurant was paying me a bit of attention, but…
There. My eyes widened a little, and then narrowed. Dave. Of course it was Dave.
The little man stood next to a police car parked in one of the slots across from the restaurant. He’d been talking with the officer driving the car, but apparently, he had eyes in the back of his head and those eyes had spotted me. Also apparently, he’d been unable to keep himself from glaring at me.
I almost waved at him and kept walking. Almost. But then I glimpsed who he was talking to and my steps faltered. It was the handsome young police officer from the other night. Officer Nick…Nick something, right?
A blush threatened to burn my cheeks even as I thought the word handsome, but I did my best to tame it. What in the world was that about? When was the last time I blushed when I saw some guy I’d only just met?
Good grief. Mentally, I shook my head at myself and reminded myself why this mattered. Renaissance Man had crossed my mind several times throughout the course of the day. This police officer—Nick—might be able to tell me what had happened to him.
Instead of heading to get some dinner, I instead shifted my angle and marched straight over to Dave and the police officer.
It was almost worth it just to watch Dave’s eyes just about pop out of his head with shock. His grumpy, sour expression flashed to one of panic before he managed to cover the emotion with an irritable scowl again.
“Well, good evening, gentlemen.” I offered both men my sweetest butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-my-mouth smile. My cheeks tinted just a little under Officer Nick’s scrutiny, but I hoped he and Dave would both chalk it up to the heat.
Bristling silently, Dave drew himself up to his full height and fixed me with a glare that could have frozen molten lava. “What do you want?”
Part of me (the part that thought it would serve him right for being so mean) wanted to snort in laughter—he was still so much shorter than I was and I just knew it would bother him. But my momma, whatever her faults, raised me better than that.
“I’d like to speak with Officer…Nick, was it?” I lifted a questioning eyebrow at the dark-haired police officer in the driver’s seat.
“Nick Poindexter.” His smile could have lit the entire Square.
The force of it hit me square in the chest. I almost took a step back out of shock, but managed to control myself. No need to give Dave the dwarf yet another reason to belittle me.
“Right,” I said, just a tad breathlessly.
Dave muttered something unintelligible under his breath. Nick and I both ignored him.
It was Nick’s turn to lift a questioning eyebrow. “What can I do for you, Miss O’Malley?”
He remembered my name. If I’d been ten years younger, I probably would have swooned. As it was, now that I’d come to it, my courage almost failed me.
Almost.
I could still see Dave in my peripheral vision, and that alone would have been enough to spur anybody in my position onward.
I took a deep breath. “I know you might not be able to tell me, but I’ve been wondering what happened to the man I found in the park. Is he okay? He was hurt, but I wasn’t sure how bad.”
A slight crease formed in Officer Nick’s forehead as he surveyed me. Our gazes locked, making me feel like he was taking my measure—and I wasn’t sure what he’d found. The sounds of laughter filling the balmy evening air faded away, until it was just me and Nick…and Dave.
All at once, Nick deliberately blinked and shifted in his seat. Oddly, his gaze flicked to Dave before returning to me. “You said in your statement you’d never met him before.”
“That’s true.” It was my turn to shift from foot to foot. I should have left it at that, but a burning compulsion to explain myself overtook me. I’m not even sure why. “I have no idea who he is.”
“Then why are you so interested?” This from Dave, who was still scowling at me. He’d shifted positions too, crossing his arms across his chest.
“He was hurt.” I narrowed my eyes at Dave, unable to completely quell a flash of irritation. I directed my attention to Nick again. “And he was really upset about somebody he’d lost, but he didn’t seem to be able to remember who she was. And I guess I can’t help but feel slightly responsible for him, seeing as how I’m the one who found him.”
Nick started to respond, but Dave cut in before he could utter so much as a syllable. “That’s part of an ongoing investigation, isn’t it, Officer Poindexter?” He offered me a scathing smile. “Which means it’s none of your business.”
“Dave…” Nick said with a sigh.
“I’m not wrong,” the short man said confidently, without looking at Nick.
A glance at Nick told me that Dave, unfortunately, was right. The police officer’s handsome face wore an expression of regret. He offered me a slight smile.
“I’m afraid he’s correct, Miss O’Malley. We’re in the midst of an ongoing investigation and I am not at liberty to disclose those details. All I can tell you is that he’s received medical attention.”
“No, no, it’s fine. I understand.” I held up a hand, mirroring his smile. “Like I said, I was just curious because I found him and he needed help.”
“Don’t believe everything you hear around here,” Dave muttered.
I ignored him. So did Nick, though his gaze darted to Dave again before returning to me. He opened his mouth, but another voice cut him off before he could speak.
“Hey, what’s happening?”
I turned to find another somewhat familiar figure crossing the street toward us from the restaurant. The heavyset policeman, Nick’s partner. He held two brown bags of food.
“Hi.” I greeted him with a polite smile too, trying to remember his name. Officer…Riordan, was it? “I was just asking about Renaissance Man.”
“Renaissance Man?” The heavyset man actually stopped mid-stride, confusion wrinkling his round face.
A hot flush worked its way up from my neck to my hairline. “Oh, sorry, I meant the man I found in the woods by the park.” Embarrassed, I twitched one shoulder in a shrug. “That’s what I’ve been calling him in my head.”
“Oh.” Still looking confused, the heavyset man approached the squad car to hand one bag of food to Nick through his open window. “Well, I’m afraid we can’t discuss that, ma’am. It’s an—”
“—ongoing investigation,” I finished ruefully. “Yes, I understand.” Glancing at Nick, I inclined my head in a nod. “Thanks anyway. Good night.”
With that, I stepped off the curb and headed across the street toward the restaurant. My cheeks still felt hot, but I resisted the urge to press my hands to them. Honestly, I probably should have realized they wouldn’t be able to tell me anything.
It had been worth a shot to allay my curiosity, though.
Now, on to dinner. The farther I got from Nick and the closer I came to the delicious smells pouring out of the Starhaven Grill’s open door, the more the butterflies subsided and hunger pains took over. Even across the street, however, I still felt Dave’s glare boring into my back.
Just before I crossed the threshold, a dark thought struck me. Should I really be spending money on dinner out again when I’d barely made any money so far in Celia’s Craft Shop’s first week open?
Probably not from a monetary aspect, I admitted to myself.
But from a celebratory aspect? Heck, yeah. Best thing I could do was celebrate having had the handful of customers I’d had so far, including Zel and Bianca.
That was most definitely a win.
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
Monday morning found me back in my shop, sitting behind the front counter with a cup of coffee. (My own, not a latte from the coffee shop, as tempting as it was.) My glittering silver shawl knitting project sat in its tote on the glossy hardwood floor next to my chair, but I let it be for now.
Too early to pull that out. Best to save it for the inevitable mid-afternoon slump.
Taking slow sips, I glanced around my shop, looking for anything out of place, or anything that I needed to straighten or organize. There was nothing, of course. Thanks to my rather desultory lack of customers, everything was exactly as it should be.
I blew out a sigh. I’d wait Dave out. I would. It was just…hard.
Week two of my own business, beginning with a whimper.
Ah, well. I shook my head and picked up my phone to scroll through my music choices for today. If nothing else, I had Wednesday’s knitting class with Zel to look forward to.
I’d just settled on an upbeat collection of Owl City songs when the bell above the door jingled merrily. My heart skipped a beat in anticipation.
“Morning,” I called out, looking up with a smile. My smile froze as I took in my potential customer.
A short, hunched figure wrapped in what I could only describe as a gray cloak and clutching an old carved cane of dark wood stood on my welcome mat. An old woman’s pale face, as wrinkled as a crumpled piece of paper, peeked out from beneath the hood, along with a few wispy gray strands of hair. Her dark eyes swept a searching glance around my shop before settling on me.
Faced with her sharp, oddly bright expression, the hair on the back of my neck prickled a little. I had the sudden—and keen—awareness that this woman, no matter how old she might appear—was a force to be reckoned with.
“Good morning.” Her voice held a thin, reedy quality, but with a depth that almost seemed to resonate in my small shop.
I half-rose from my chair. “Can I help you with anything?”
The old woman studied me, unblinking, and then glanced around again. “I am looking for knitting needles. And tapestry needles.”
Those were two very different things for two very different crafts—and I loved it. I offered her a friendly smile. “Knitting needles are on aisle three.” I pointed to the clearly marked short aisle. “You’ll find tapestry needles on aisle four.” I hesitated. “Would you like me to show you?”
“No need.” The old woman raised her free hand and then moved slowly toward the knitting section. A scent of lavender and something sharper—hawthorn?—lingered in her wake.
I watched her go, trying not to stare. Outside of television, Halloween, and a Renaissance Fair, Starhaven was the only place I’d ever seen a grown adult swan around in a cloak before. Let alone a woman as old as she appeared to be.
Either I was attracting this kind of person all of a sudden or… My thoughts stilled.
Or there really is something different about this town, whispered an oddly knowing voice in my head. Just like you’ve suspected. Let’s not forget you have a brownie living in your house.
I hadn’t forgotten. But I had kind of…acclimated to it? Enough to the point that I was edging into used-to-it territory and Agnes’s presence no longer brought me up short.
Funny how fast we humans adapt to things.
The old woman took her time exploring my selection of knitting needles. She lifted several packages off of the shelf and examined them closely before replacing them. At last, she found the one she wanted and moved on to the tapestry needles.
I found myself extremely curious to see what she had decided on, but in order to keep from staring at her, I picked up the tote with my silver shawl. I could not, however, bring myself to resume knitting. I’d have to put it down whenever the old woman finished and was ready to check out, and I didn’t want to stop in the middle of a row.
My gaze returned to the old woman. I desperately wanted to ask her about the cloak—usually I wouldn’t have had any trouble making small talk and asking a question about why she chose to wear a kind of fashion statement—but I couldn’t get the words out. My tongue seemed to stick to the roof of my mouth.
It was a most curious feeling, sitting there not knowing quite what to do with myself. I bit my lip and reached for my coffee and my phone instead.
