Read Online A Finely Knit Murder by Sally Goldenbaum - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sally Goldenbaum
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your husband a couple of times at art shows and around town. Not you, though. Nice to meet you in person.”
In person.
Josh knew
of
her, knew she was on the board, of course he did. And it was the board that had ripped away his steady, dependable job, the kind that puts food on the table.
“I think I had your granddaughter in class.” He looked between Jane and Nell.
“You must mean our friend Birdie Favazza.”
“Her granddaughter, Gabby Marietti, goes to Sea Harbor Community,” Nell added.
He nodded. “Yeah, that’s the one. She was in one of my classes. She was good, not great. She’ll never be a Winslow Homer, but she’s creative as hell with a personality to match. How it all works out for her will be interesting to watch.”
“We’ve all adopted Gabby,” Jane said.
Nell watched Josh as Jane went on about Gabby. His eyes shifted back and forth between the two women and then settled on the papers he’d been shuffling when they walked in. He was handsome in a New England cowboy kind of way—rough at the edges, arty, and not very sociable.
And, according to Gabby and the yellow circles left on the school lawn, he had a temper. That or a strange sense of humor.
But Josh Babson also seemed to be intuitive and caring about his students. And he was talented, according to Jane. So how had he incurred the wrath of Blythe Westerland that had caused him his job? And why?
The question flitted in and out of Nell’s mind later that day as she and Abby made their way down the produce aisle at the grocery store and then walked over to the fish market on the harbor. But the thoughts didn’t linger long. With Abby at her side and a meal to put together for Thursday night knitting, even Josh Babson was finally brushed aside completely, replaced by fresh crab, potatoes, and a hunk of ginger root.
Chapter 5
“S o, where’s Cass been?” Izzy took a bag from Nell’s arms, holding the yarn shop door open with her back. “Sam saw her at the Gull the other night. She doesn’t even like the Gull.”
“Who was she with?” Nell followed Izzy through the archway to the back room, where the big wooden worktable was already cleared, plates and wineglasses at the ready.
“A handsome dude. The same one we glimpsed Monday, unless Cass is suddenly seeking out men with facial hair. Sam was meeting a client for a beer, so they didn’t talk. But he wouldn’t have gone over to them anyway. You know Sam. He takes respecting others’ privacy to an absurd level.”
Nell laughed and began filling a basket with sourdough rolls. “I suppose we should do the same. She’ll be here soon—”
Of course she would. Thursday nights were the closest thing to sacred in the knitters’ lives. Other traditions could be shuffled around occasionally—even, on rare occasions, Friday night on the deck. But the place and day that had fostered the four-way friendship over the years was rarely upstaged. They couldn’t explain it easily to others. Was it the cozy knitting room with its casement windows that opened to the sea, the comfortable, worn seats around the fireplace? Or Nell’s fresh pasta dishes, Birdie’s fine pinot gris? The music, the yarn, the intricate patterns that engaged their minds and busied their fingers? All of that. But most of all, it was thefriendship that deepened every single week over angora sweaters and finely knit baby hats.
Birdie walked down the stairs, a cloth bag that held her wine looped over one arm, a knitting bag over the other. “Something is going on with our girl Catherine. I’ve noticed it for a while. I think she’s been lonely.”
“Her own fault,” Izzy said, dipping a carrot stick into a pot of cilantro hummus. “There’s Danny waiting in the wings.”
“He won’t wait forever,” Nell said. “Danny is forty. It’s not just women who become aware of some clock ticking away in the distance. The breakup with Cass was difficult. Danny sees things in an uncomplicated way—and
In person.
Josh knew
of
her, knew she was on the board, of course he did. And it was the board that had ripped away his steady, dependable job, the kind that puts food on the table.
“I think I had your granddaughter in class.” He looked between Jane and Nell.
“You must mean our friend Birdie Favazza.”
“Her granddaughter, Gabby Marietti, goes to Sea Harbor Community,” Nell added.
He nodded. “Yeah, that’s the one. She was in one of my classes. She was good, not great. She’ll never be a Winslow Homer, but she’s creative as hell with a personality to match. How it all works out for her will be interesting to watch.”
“We’ve all adopted Gabby,” Jane said.
Nell watched Josh as Jane went on about Gabby. His eyes shifted back and forth between the two women and then settled on the papers he’d been shuffling when they walked in. He was handsome in a New England cowboy kind of way—rough at the edges, arty, and not very sociable.
And, according to Gabby and the yellow circles left on the school lawn, he had a temper. That or a strange sense of humor.
But Josh Babson also seemed to be intuitive and caring about his students. And he was talented, according to Jane. So how had he incurred the wrath of Blythe Westerland that had caused him his job? And why?
The question flitted in and out of Nell’s mind later that day as she and Abby made their way down the produce aisle at the grocery store and then walked over to the fish market on the harbor. But the thoughts didn’t linger long. With Abby at her side and a meal to put together for Thursday night knitting, even Josh Babson was finally brushed aside completely, replaced by fresh crab, potatoes, and a hunk of ginger root.
Chapter 5
“S o, where’s Cass been?” Izzy took a bag from Nell’s arms, holding the yarn shop door open with her back. “Sam saw her at the Gull the other night. She doesn’t even like the Gull.”
“Who was she with?” Nell followed Izzy through the archway to the back room, where the big wooden worktable was already cleared, plates and wineglasses at the ready.
“A handsome dude. The same one we glimpsed Monday, unless Cass is suddenly seeking out men with facial hair. Sam was meeting a client for a beer, so they didn’t talk. But he wouldn’t have gone over to them anyway. You know Sam. He takes respecting others’ privacy to an absurd level.”
Nell laughed and began filling a basket with sourdough rolls. “I suppose we should do the same. She’ll be here soon—”
Of course she would. Thursday nights were the closest thing to sacred in the knitters’ lives. Other traditions could be shuffled around occasionally—even, on rare occasions, Friday night on the deck. But the place and day that had fostered the four-way friendship over the years was rarely upstaged. They couldn’t explain it easily to others. Was it the cozy knitting room with its casement windows that opened to the sea, the comfortable, worn seats around the fireplace? Or Nell’s fresh pasta dishes, Birdie’s fine pinot gris? The music, the yarn, the intricate patterns that engaged their minds and busied their fingers? All of that. But most of all, it was thefriendship that deepened every single week over angora sweaters and finely knit baby hats.
Birdie walked down the stairs, a cloth bag that held her wine looped over one arm, a knitting bag over the other. “Something is going on with our girl Catherine. I’ve noticed it for a while. I think she’s been lonely.”
“Her own fault,” Izzy said, dipping a carrot stick into a pot of cilantro hummus. “There’s Danny waiting in the wings.”
“He won’t wait forever,” Nell said. “Danny is forty. It’s not just women who become aware of some clock ticking away in the distance. The breakup with Cass was difficult. Danny sees things in an uncomplicated way—and
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