I looked up at her, never feeling more clueless in my life.
“I knew it,” Vi said. “Leave it to Clyde to be a picker when every woman in her family tree has been a thrower.”
There were rueful murmurs of agreement around the knitting circle and I wasn’t sure if I was being insulted or what I was being accused of. But I did feel that I finally got the hang of it once I adopted Isabel’s method.
Heather leaned forward to watch me struggle with the needles and yarn. “I think you’re getting the hang of it,” she said. “It takes a while.”
Amy looked at Heather’s gray cabled project. I couldn’t tell whether it was a scarf or a blanket. “I remember when you used to be afraid of cable needles.”
Heather laughed. “Now look at me!” she exclaimed. She held up her knitting for admiration.
“Now, whatever you do, Clyde,” Amy said earnestly, “don’t make anything for your detective.”
There was a round of nods and murmurs of agreement.
“They’re right,” Vi said. “I didn’t warn you because I never thought I’d see you knit, but you can’t make anything for a boyfriend or you’ll doom the relationship. You’ll break up before the project is finished.”
I dropped a stitch and swore under my breath as I tried to put it back on the needle.
Lucille gently took the needles from me and fixed the mistake before handing them back.
“I don’t think there’s a risk of that,” I said. “I’ll be lucky if I can make a scarf for myself before next winter.”
By the time the clock on the mantel struck four, I had managed six rows of knitting. I’d begun with twenty stitches and now had twenty-two on the needle. And there was a hole beginning right in the middle. I leaned back into my chair and stretched my neck. I did not find knitting relaxing. Between counting the stitches, and keeping track of whether I was knitting or purling, and fielding questions on everything from my love life to my career path, it was downright stressful. Mom and Vi had obviously filled the group in on every detail they knew about my private life.
I put the knitting down and got up to stretch my legs. I wondered what was taking Mac so long, and suspected he was afraid to come rescue me from the knitters. He can be such a coward sometimes.
I was standing by the window, watching the wind make little tornadoes out of the snow, when I heard the snowmobiles returning.
They pulled into the back of the building and I could just see them by angling sideways and peering to the far right.
Mac and Kirk parked the vehicles and climbed off. I couldn’t tell whether they had been successful in reaching the police or not. They certainly didn’t arrive with a police escort.
They stood with their heads close together, hunched into their coats. I saw Mac put out his hand and Kirk shook it, then Mac headed for the hotel while Kirk pushed the snowblower around the side of the building.
I quickly packed up my knitting and stuffed it into Vi’s bag. I whispered to her that I had to step out for a few minutes. She nodded and kept knitting while Isabel walked among the women, offering assistance and advice.
I left the room, took a deep breath, and let it out.
I rounded the corner toward the back of the hotel and almost collided with Mac. He was still wearing the snowman sweater and his jeans were damp from the knees down. I guessed I’d be seeing the pink Bermudas again soon.
“Hi, I was looking for you,” he said.
“You found me.” I put my arms around his neck and kissed him. His lips were still cold from being outside and he smelled like snow and gasoline.
He had just slipped his arm around my waist to pull me closer when we heard a discreet cough.
Mac’s shoulders relaxed and he rested his forehead against mine for a moment.
“Yes?” he said, and turned to see who had interrupted.
Emmett stood there, shifting from foot to foot. He glanced over his shoulder and took a couple of steps in our direction. His face was pink, but he still wore that friendly smile.
“I’m sorry to . . . interrupt,” he said quietly. “I’ve been thinking about Clarissa’s death. I didn’t think this would matter, but then the more I thought about it, the more I realized that anything can be important, right?”
He had Mac’s full attention now. Mac released me and I took a step back to steady myself. We both turned to Emmett and nodded encouragement.
“This probably doesn’t have anything to do with your investigation, but there was a meeting on Wednesday afternoon. It was just between Clarissa, Jessica, and Mrs. Garrett.”
“Do you know what the meeting was about?” I asked.
“No, but I know that René was really ticked off about it.”
“Why?” Mac said.
“He sees himself as a shareholder even though he and Jessica aren’t married yet. I don’t blame him—he’s put his whole life into this restaurant. If sweat equity counted for anything, he’d be the majority owner.”