Threads of Evidence Read Free Page A

for me), were sitting at the table. I hadn’t decided whether it was Sarah’s blond hair streaked with pink and blue, her Aussie accent, or her frequent quoting of Emily Dickinson that made her the most memorable member of the Maine Antiques Dealers Association. Her excellent needlework made her a valuable member of our Mainely Needlepoint team. She and I also had agreed to establish a sideline to the business: identifying, conserving, and restoring old needlework. Was that why she was here today? It would have taken something important to convince her to close her antique shop on a June afternoon.
    â€œIced tea?” Gram asked. She and Sarah already had glasses. “I made a couple of pitchers this morning. They’re in the refrigerator. Green pitcher’s black tea. Clear pitcher’s herb.”
    Iced tea wasn’t exactly what I’d been thinking of. I poured myself a glass of the caffeinated variety. When I was growing up, Gram had only made that kind, complete with fresh lemons and mint from the garden and an amount of sugar I didn’t want to guess at. Now she’d discovered green and herb teas and left both varieties unsweetened.
    I added a packet of artificial sweetener to my glass and fleetingly wondered if it would be too obvious if I walked to the dining room and added gin. But I was still Gram’s little girl. She did indulge in a glass of wine now and then—something she hadn’t done while I was growing up—but I didn’t think she’d be sympathetic to gin in iced tea.
    I’d have to wait for a more serious drink.
    In the meantime I joined Sarah and Gram at the old pine kitchen table.
    â€œYou were over to Ob and Anna Winslow’s place, right?” asked Gram.
    â€œDelivered that needlepoint kit Anna ordered, and gave Ob the last of the checks we owed him. He’s hoping to fill his summer with fishing charters, not needlework.” I took a deep drink. Gram did make good iced tea. “Seems to be something going on at the old Gardener estate. Ob said someone’s bought the place.”
    Sarah and Gram exchanged glances. “That’s what I was saying before you arrived,” said Sarah. “Although that place gives me the willies. It reminds me of Emily’s line— ‘I know some lonely Houses off the Road.’ But if it’s fixed up, it could be a stunner. Exciting to think of it, isn’t it?”
    â€œI’ve always loved it,” I answered. “Never saw the inside, of course.” ( Except for the carriage house, I reminded myself privately.) “It’s a shame it’s been left to decay so long. No one can afford to build houses like that today.”
    â€œI don’t know,” said Sarah. “Maybe no one in Haven Harbor could, but there are wealthy people in the world.” She looked from Gram to me. “People from California, for instance.”
    â€œWhy do I have the feeling you know something more about it?” I asked.
    â€œLast week, when I was having my hair done at Mane Waves, Elsa Fitch said she’d heard the old place was for sale. I didn’t even think to mention it to you. We weren’t going to buy it, and places in that condition can be on the market for years,” Gram said.
    Sarah grinned. “I know all about it. I was sworn to secrecy, but I have to tell someone! And I even have an excuse to tell both of you.”
    â€œSo? What did you hear? Talk, lady!” I said.
    Sarah was almost bouncing in her seat. It must be exciting news, or Gram had made the caffeinated iced tea a lot stronger than usual.
    â€œWell,” Sarah said in a dramatic whisper, leaning over, “Aurora, the old Gardener place, has been bought by Skye West!” She leaned back as though she’d just announced the Messiah would be dropping in for lunch.
    â€œSkye West, the actress?” I asked hesitantly. Among the many areas of culture I didn’t keep up