The Double Cross Page 7

  “I don’t think George or Rita will care,” I pointed out.

  “They own everything up till the woods start. The owner of this land is a grumpy old guy with an antisocial streak.” He smiled widely while he watched me guess.

  “You?”

  “Too obvious a description.” He laughed.

  “Exactly the opposite. You’re the nicest guy in the class.” It took me a second to realize what I’d said. “Well, Frank isn’t exactly competition. But you’re not grumpy or antisocial.”

  “Just old,” he teased.

  I laughed. “I don’t want to get in trouble for trespassing.”

  “I’m just giving you a hard time. People trample through here once in a while, but very few stop to sketch it.”

  “It’s quite pretty here,” I said.

  He nodded. “This has been my dream my whole life. I wanted a nice piece of land close to where I could hunt and fish. It took everything I had to get this place. I love it.”

  “I can see why.”

  “Just be careful. Don’t want to see your dog get himself in a mess.”

  “I guess I should get him back before my grandmother misses him too much.”

  “She’s a nice lady, your grandmother. You’re all nice women,” he said. “Especially that Bernadette. She seems like a nice, old-fashioned lady.” Then he turned and walked farther into the woods.

  I stood watching him. Old-fashioned wasn’t exactly the description I would use for Bernie, but maybe something good would come of this trip after all. There was a little bounce in my step as Barney and I headed back toward the house, until a flash of light and a crash of thunder turned my nice stroll into an all-out run for safety.

  Barney and I were soaking wet by the time we got back to the Patchwork, and I knew that Rita would flip out if there was a wet dog tramping through her premises, so I left him in the entryway and headed to the kitchen, in search of paper towels.

  As I opened the kitchen door, I caught sight of a familiar figure. I took a step in to say hi, then realized that if I did I would be interrupting something, so I stepped back and listened. Walking away would have been the polite thing to do, but I didn’t do it. I couldn’t do it. My friend was making a big mistake, and I wanted to be nearby to stop it if I could.

  On the other side of the door, Bernie and George were talking in muffled tones, broken up by long silences. I knew what those silences were. She had clearly reconnected with her high school love.

  “Looking for something?” Rita was coming up behind me.

  “Paper towels,” I said loudly. “Barney got wet. I figured I could get something to dry him before I took him upstairs.”

  “I have some old towels in the basement,” Rita said. She turned into a dark hall and disappeared down some stairs.

  I coughed and headed into the kitchen, hoping I’d given them enough warning. I had. Almost. Bernie and George were standing several feet apart, but they both had a flushed, embarrassed look that would have been unmistakable to Rita had she seen it.

  “Is it still lunchtime?” I asked. “Can I get something? I just got back from doing some sketches in the woods.” I knew I was explaining way too much, but it gave me time to watch their faces for signs of guilt.

  George’s voice was calm. “It’s a buffet. Sandwiches and soup,” he said. “I think everything you’ll need is out there.”

  “I could use some company. Bernie, you want to sit with me?”

  Bernie nodded and walked out of the kitchen ahead of me. I stayed behind and almost said something to George. I just didn’t know what to say. It was none of my business, but if you see someone walking into traffic, you call out to stop them. And from where I was standing, it looked like Bernie was walking straight in front of a truck.

  “Not a word to anyone,” Bernie said, as we filled our bowls with cream of asparagus soup.

  “Is there something to tell?”

  “No.” She hesitated, and then, just as she was about to say something more, Susanne called out.

  “There you are, Bernie,” Susanne said. “I thought you were going to spend the whole day in your room.”

  “You’re in a good mood,” I said to Susanne as Bernie and I took seats at her table.

  “I think they’re finally enjoying the class.” She smiled. “It proves my theory: Everyone has an artist in them. They just need a safe place to play.”

  “There are no safe places,” Bernie muttered, giving me a sideways glance I pretended not to see.

  “I ran into Pete,” I said. “He seemed to be enjoying the class.”

  “He’s a carpenter by trade,” Susanne said. “He brings a builder’s perspective to his quilting. Very interesting stuff.” She leaned forward. “Bernie, maybe you don’t want to hear this, but he asked about you.”

  “Me?” Bernie seemed confused at the idea.

  “He mentioned you to me too,” I volunteered. “I think he likes you.”

  “I can’t imagine why. I barely know the man.” Bernie sounded defensive, and I could see that Susanne was about to question it. The two women were just making peace, and I didn’t want a new argument starting again, so I jumped in with a new topic.

  “I talked to Natalie,” I said. “She’s fine. Jeremy is fine. I meant to tell you, Susanne, but I got caught up with other things.”

  “Oh that’s okay. I talked to her a few minutes ago.”

  “How?”

  “I got a signal. Only for a couple of minutes, but long enough for Natalie to tell me she was fine. She also said she had some news for you.”

  I waited, but Susanne took a bite of her sandwich.

  “What news, Susanne?”

  “Don’t know. Lost the signal. If you walk around by the classroom, you might get through to someone.”

  “She must know something about George and Rita,” I suggested. “She must have found out something on the Internet.”

  “Why wouldn’t she tell Susanne that? Why wait to talk to you?” Bernie asked. “It has to be the other thing.”

  “What other thing?” Susanne looked up.

  I sighed. I hadn’t really wanted the whole group to know. Not because anyone would be dismissive of my feelings. Quite the opposite. I knew that once Susanne and, especially, Eleanor realized that Jesse had found someone else, they would align themselves with me against him. Even though it would be out of love for me, I didn’t really want anyone against him.

  “Jesse went on a date, that’s all,” I said.

  “What kind of a date?” Susanne sounded alarmed.

  “The kind with a girl,” Bernie said.

  “It won’t come to anything,” Susanne said confidently. “That man loves you. Even if he is too stubborn to admit it.” Susanne put down her soupspoon and looked at me. “He wants to be with you. I know it.”

  “And if he is who you want to be with,” Bernie added, “then don’t let anyone get in your way.”

  As she spoke, I glanced up and saw Rita hovering by the door.

  CHAPTER 12

  After lunch I wandered the grounds in search of a signal. In the war between modern technology and Mother Nature, technology was clearly losing. As I walked into a clearing, I got one bar on my cell, but when I dialed Natalie’s number, the signal disappeared again.

  “I give up,” I said to no one.

  Then as I put my phone in my pocket, it rang. I grabbed it before I even looked at the name of the caller.

  “What’s your news?” In my excitement at getting through to civilization I assumed it was Natalie.

  “Nell. It’s Jesse.”

  That required a deep breath and a change to a less frantic tone. “Hi, Jesse. How are things?”

  “Boring. We haven’t issued so much as a traffic ticket in over a week.”

  “That’s good, isn’t it? I mean, it’s what you want.” Jesse hadn’t cared for the excitement I brought to the place, so he should be happy, right?

  “I suppose. How are things at the r
etreat? Are you all having a good time?”

  “It’s okay.” I hesitated, then found myself explaining about the unusual students, the dilapidated house, the conversation I’d overheard the night before, and the fact that neither Rita nor George seemed to know, or care, anything about quilting, even though they were trying to turn their inn into a destination for quilters. All I left out was the situation that might be developing between Bernie and George, and the group’s decision to look into the Olnhausens’ background. That, I knew, would not go over well.

  But much to my surprise, the Olnhausens were exactly what Jesse wanted to talk about. “What do you think is their angle?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “It’s just weird,” he said. “They don’t know anything about quilting . . .”

  “They think they can make a few bucks off a growing trend. But you don’t become an instant millionaire from a bed-and-breakfast or a quilt shop, and it sounds like they need money now.” Since he was asking, I told him what I suspected. “George said something about Bernie marrying a millionaire, which she didn’t, but . . . It’s a long story. The point is that maybe they think they can get Bernie to give them some money.”

  “That makes sense,” he said. “It might be what they were talking about in the kitchen. It does seem like a hell of a coincidence that they hired one of Bernie’s closest friends for their first quilt retreat.”

  Now that I thought about it, it did. “I don’t know what’s going on but I don’t want Bernie getting in deeper.”

  “Nell, I’m going to . . .”

  The line went dead. I walked around in circles for nearly a half hour, trying to get the signal back, but no luck.

  I was about to go inside when something in the house caught my eye. I could see an odd scene playing out near a window of the third floor. Someone was grabbing the curtains as if they were trying to hold themselves up. As the person moved, I saw blonde hair and knew it was Rita. There was too much distance to see her expression, but the arm that wasn’t holding the curtain was waving frantically. She seemed to be signaling for help. Just as I was about to run to see what was the trouble, another figure appeared in the window. It was George. He pulled her away from the curtain, and as he did, he looked down. I knew he could see me watching him. Then he closed the curtain.

  I might have witnessed nothing more than a couple arguing, but it didn’t feel that way. I ran into the house and took the steps two at a time until I’d reached the third floor. There were three rooms off the landing. Two of the doors were open and led to empty spaces. The third door was closed. I knocked, but without waiting, I also tried the knob. The door was locked. I listened but could hear nothing. I knocked again. Nothing.

  I was sure something was going on. True, all I had to go on were hunches and suspicions, but there were starting to be too many of those to ignore. I could stand by the door and wait, but what good would that do? I needed to talk to someone with a generally more level head than mine. Since I couldn’t get Jesse on the phone, I would talk to Eleanor.

  When I got to the shop, though, it was empty. And it hardly looked the way I’d seen it earlier. Instead of boxes in the midst of being neatly unpacked and inventoried, rulers, scissors, rotary cutters, and packets of needles were strewn all over the place. It looked as if the room had been ransacked.

  I didn’t quite know what to do. The adrenaline of a few minutes before was giving way to confusion and frustration. I walked back to the bed-and-breakfast and looked around the dining room. Empty. As I was walked back into the entryway, I ran into one of the twins.

  “The bathroom in the classroom is unusable,” she sniffed.

  “The place is a bit rustic,” I agreed. “Not what you would like in a quilt retreat, I’m sure.”

  “My sister and I adapt to circumstances, regardless of our preferences.”

  As she turned and walked out the front door, I felt as though I’d been scolded for the condition of inn. But there wasn’t time to worry about Alysse/Alice. I had better reasons to be angry.

  I walked upstairs to the guest bedrooms and checked each one. No one, not even Bernie, was around.

  I went back downstairs, to the only room I hadn’t checked. The kitchen.

  “Hi.”

  I bumped into George.

  “Is everything . . .” I hesitated. “Is Rita okay? I thought she looked upset.” There was no point in pretending I hadn’t seen.

  “She’s fine. She’s going out.” George was flustered. His hands were shaking.

  “She didn’t seem fine,” I pressed. “Can I help?”

  He took a deep breath. “No. She’s fine. I think we’re just a little overwhelmed. I didn’t think it would turn out like this. I thought . . .” He hesitated. “I guess I thought it would all be okay if I just believed it would be okay.”

  “What would be okay?”

  George stared down at his shaking hands. “I guess I wasn’t cut out to be an innkeeper,” he said quietly.

  “Running an inn and opening a shop. It’s a lot to take on for someone without experience. You don’t have hotel experience, do you?”

  George stared at me. Finally he seemed to recognize that he hadn’t answered. “No hotel experience,” he said.

  “Is that what you were fighting about?”

  George looked at me. There was a flash of anger, then a blank expression that frightened me more than the anger. “Did you want something?” he asked.

  I needed a reason to be in the kitchen, so I said the first thing that came to me. “I’m thirsty.”

  George smiled and slowly took a pitcher of lemonade from the table and poured it into a glass; then he got up and opened the freezer door. I waited as I heard the sound of ice cubes being dropped into the glass.

  “Here you go,” he said. He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms so that his hands were hidden. “How’s Susanne’s class coming?”

  “Great. Thanks.” I gulped down the lemonade. “I should head back.”

  “Get a sweater,” he said. “It’s getting a bit chilly out there, and the classroom isn’t as well heated as I would like.”

  I nodded and headed upstairs to my room. Anything to get away from him. I checked my cell phone, just in case there was a signal and I could try Jesse again. Nothing. I went back to my room and flopped on the bed. As I did I noticed a large spider dangling from the ceiling. It spun its elaborate web right above my head, twirling in and out of its delicate creation, waiting for an unsuspecting fly to get caught. That’s what we were, I thought: unsuspecting flies. But not anymore. Whatever was going on, we would find out the truth. Hopefully.

  “It can’t get any worse,” I said.

  As I spoke, the spider dropped onto the pillow.

  CHAPTER 13

  “Nell.”

  I opened my eyes to see a figure standing above me.

  “Nell.”

  I looked up. The figure was becoming clearer but it still felt far away. I wondered for a moment if I was still dreaming, until I felt hands on my shoulders and realized that someone was shaking me.

  “Nell.” The voice was more insistent.

  I blinked hard and looked into the face. “Jesse? What are you doing here?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I guess. I must have fallen asleep.” I forced myself to get out of bed. “Have you seen my grandmother?”

  “She went into town.”

  I shook the sleep off me. I was confused. I stood up to give myself half a chance at staying awake. “I fell asleep.”

  “You said that.”

  I looked down at the bed, my head still in a fog. “There was a spider on the pillow.”

  Jesse ran his hand along the pillow and the bedcover. “It’s gone.”

  “No. You don’t understand. There was a spider on the bed pillow, and I fell asleep.”

  “So? You were tired. Based on what you told me on the phone, this whole trip has been pretty stressful.”


  “But there was a spider.”

  “Okay.” His voice was calm and reassuring. “There isn’t one now. And you’re not exactly squeamish about spiders, are you?”

  “No,” I admitted, “but I don’t want to nap with one either.” I looked up at him, as it finally sunk in that he was there. “Something’s wrong,” I muttered.

  “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. You must have had a bad dream.”

  Against my better judgment, and all the rules of playing it cool, I lay my head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around me, and I found myself drifting off again.

  I pulled back, if only to keep myself awake. “It wasn’t a dream. I think I was drugged.”

  Though it wasn’t yet night, the sky was dark. It wasn’t windy but it was cold. There was a sudden flash of light followed quickly by a loud clap. Maybe it was the fog in my brain, but everything about this place was beginning to seem unreal.

  Jesse wrapped one arm around my waist and held my hand with the other one. As I was coming down the stairs, I’d felt unsteady, but now with the cold air hitting me, I was finally waking up. Still, I leaned into Jesse as we walked toward Susanne’s class.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “I want to get you away from here.”

  “I’m fine,” I said, but I felt woozy and a little scared. “Where’s my grandmother?”

  “Susanne thought Eleanor must have gone somewhere with the lady who owns this place, but she doesn’t know where,” he said. “She also said the husband is supposed to be around here somewhere, but the place is deserted. Where is everyone?”

  “I have no idea. I thought Eleanor would be unpacking in the shop, but no one was there when I went by a few hours ago.”

  “No one is there now either,” he said. “Bernie isn’t around. Susanne and a few other people are in that building.” He pointed toward the classroom. “She looked as though she was finishing up for the day.”