Cross-Stitch Before Dying Read Free

didn’t say that last part out loud, of course . . . only in my head.
    As soon as Sadie left, I called Reggie. Reggie was the librarian for Tallulah Falls’ only public library. I could tell by the clipped efficiency of her voice when she answered the phone that I’d called her at a busy time.
    “Hi, it’s Marcy,” I said. “I won’t keep you, but I’m calling to ask if you’d be willing to help out my mom with some Bollywood costumes.”
    I didn’t need to explain anything further. Reggie knew my mom from the times Mom had visited Tallulah Falls, and all my friends had enjoyed listening to her “war stories.”
    “That sounds fantastic,” Reggie said. “I’ll be over to the shop on my lunch break to get all the details.”
    •   •   •
    As I’d hoped, Angus spent most of the late morning napping by the window while I attended to customers, opened the box that had been delivered yesterday afternoon, and restocked the pegboards with embroidery hoops and frames. The merchandise area of the shop was separated from the sit-and-stitch square by a black-and-white checkerboard tile floor. I’d worn heels today, and they clicked on the tile as I placed the canvas and monk’s cloth on the maple shelves, refilled the bins with yarn and embroidery floss, and put the overflow in the storeroom. Normally, that clicking sound combined with our being alone in the store would’ve made Angus come bounding over to jump and nip at me. Today he was too worn out from the earlier game of fetch.
    Once my work was caught up—for the moment—I returned to the sit-and-stitch square and felt pleased with myself for a job well done. I glanced up at the clock and saw that it was a quarter until twelve.
    I went into my office and made sure there were sodas in my mini-fridge. After Reggie had told me she’d be by around noon, I’d called and asked Ted to bring us a pizza for lunch.
    I heard the bells over the shop door jingle, and I hurried out of the office. I was glad to see that Ted had not only brought the cheese pizza I’d asked for, but that he’d also brought Reggie’s husband, Manu.
    They were quite a contrast standing there side by side. Ted was six feet, three inches tall, dwarfing Manu, who stood a mere five feet, seven inches. Not that I was one to talk about height. At five feet nothing, Manu dwarfed
me.
    Ted was muscular and athletic. Manu was muscular, too, but he had a stockier build. And while Manu had deep-set dark brown eyes, Ted’s eyes were as blue as the ocean on a clear summer’s day.
    I greeted Ted with a quick kiss. “This is a nice surprise,” I told Manu.
    “When you said Reggie was coming over, I thought we should make it a foursome,” Ted said.
    “I’m glad you did,” I said.
    Angus, who’d loped over when the men first walked in, was busying himself trying to sniff at the pizza box that Ted was holding up out of the dog’s reach.
    “You’ll get your share, buddy,” Ted said.
    “Especially after Reggie gets here,” Manu added.
    “I’ll grab us some paper plates, napkins, and sodas,” I said.
    Ted and I usually ate in my office; but since Manu and Reggie were joining us, we’d need to dine in the sit-and-stitch square.
    When Reggie arrived, I put the cardboard clock with the plastic hands on the door indicating I’d “be back” in half an hour. I didn’t lock the door, but I hoped any customer who might come by during that time would respect our desire to eat lunch uninterrupted.
    As we ate, I explained about Mom’s new project and advised Reggie that Mom had requested her specifically because she did such gorgeous chikankari work. Reggie was sporting some of that white-on-white embroidery today on the fitted cuffs of her cream-colored tunic. Unlike her husband, who favored Western dress such as jeans and plaid shirts, Reggie preferred her traditional Indian attire of flowing tunics with matching pants or saris.
    “I’m flattered that your mother thinks I’m good