Looming Murder Read Free Page B

to him. “These are the heddles, and every one of them has to be threaded.”
    “Shit! There must be hundreds of them. It’ll take forever,” David replied.
    Meanwhile, Susan had partnered with Mercedes, who still looked miserable, while Jenny and Dolores inspected my counterbalance loom.
    I walked over to my table loom. “This one is only eighteen inches wide, so I think a good solution might be to make blankets of twelve-inch strips joined together.”
    “That’s a great idea,” Jenny said. “A sort of variation on friendship blankets. It’ll make it easy to work on the project from home too.”
    Dolores looked at me, puzzled. “Friendship blankets? I thought we were making baby blankets.”
    “Friendship blankets can be made in any size. It simply means they’re constructed of many pieces, usually woven by a number of friends,” I explained.
    “Oh,” she said, looking bored. Once again my eyes were drawn to her smooth forehead, and it suddenly hit me. Botox! That explained it.
    “That’s why they’re called
friendship
blankets,” added Jenny. “They can look really pretty with strips of different weaves and colors. They can be less expensive to produce too. They can be made from leftover yarns—of which I have tons, by the way.”
    I nodded. “That’s a good idea. I’ll go through my leftover yarns too. I probably have enough for the entire group. I’ll supply the warp yarns for the new weavers. You can choose what colors you want to use as weft from this collection.” I indicated the basket of partial cones of yarn at the foot of the AVL.
    Jenny fished through her bag. “We’ll have more than enough if you count mine.” She pulled out a number of skeins, showing them to a very disinterested Dolores.
    I wandered back to my table loom, where Susan was rummaging through her bag. “I already bought yarn.” She pulled out half a dozen spools of lovely pastels—light blue, soft pink, and creamy white. “They’re one hundred percent preshrunk Egyptian cotton.” She rubbed the end piece of the pink yarn between her fingers. “And so soft.”
    “If you’d rather keep those for another project, you’re welcome to any of my leftover yarns,” I offered. “Go ahead. I’m sure you can find something appropriate.”
    “No, thanks. I don’t mind making my baby blankets in a friendship pattern, but I want to make them beautiful.” And then looking contrite, she added, “Sorry. I don’t mean to imply that your blankets won’t be pretty. It’s just that I have my heart set on these yarns.”
    “No offense taken. Everyone’s allowed to make their baby blankets any way they want.”
    She nodded. “Thanks.”
    Hmm
, I thought. She was opinionated, which I rather liked in a person, most of the time. But something told me that Susan might turn out to be a bit overbearing. Standing next to her, Mercedes looked as if she was being tortured. Her eyes kept darting from the loom to her mother, throwing angry glares her way.
    “If you need help, just give me a shout.”
    She scowled. “Sure.”
    Soon, all six of the volunteers were discussing different weaves and choosing colors and yarns. I had planned my project earlier, had already measured my warp, and was about to start dressing my dobby loom when the house phone rang.
    “I’ll be right back.” And for the newbies, I added, “If you need help, maybe you can ask Jenny or Marnie.”
    I hurried into the kitchen, getting almost bowled over by an ecstatic Winnie. “Whoa there, big fellow.” I bent down to give him a quick head scratch, then picked up the receiver.
    “So, kiddo, how goes the weaving life?” Matthew’s deep voice greeted me.
    “Matthew, how nice to hear from you.”
    “You sound good,” he said. “Briar Hollow must be agreeing with you.”
    “I’m happy to report that I’m back to my old self. Briar Hollow is exactly what I needed.”
    “How’s Winston?”
    “He’s good. There’s so much space for him to roam