Chapter 12
Cora tried to focus on the reception—the guests, who were an impressive group of women who happened to be mothers; the food, which was not what she had ordered, but delicious nonetheless; and the lovely, exotic Hawaiian music. Even with all the other things to keep her mind occupied, Cora’s thoughts kept turning to Zee, stuck in jail perhaps because of a personal vendetta. Well, they couldn’t keep her there much longer. Not legally. They’d have to charge her or let her go by tomorrow.
Who was this judge anyway? Maybe Cora should pay him a visit and take him some of her famous blueberry muffins. That thought rolled around in her mind for a few minutes.
“There you are!” Ruby said. She was trailed by a couple of women, one of whom was holding one of Cora’s placemats in her hands.
“I love your placemats,” she said. “I’m Vicki, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you,” Cora said, noting that Vicki seemed a bit nervous. “A weekend away from your children. How are you doing so far?”
Vicki was a tall, busty woman, with gorgeous pale skin and a healthy glow. “New mom,” she said. “My baby is almost a year old. I didn’t want to leave her, but my mother and husband insisted.”
“She’s a bit of a nervous wreck,” the woman next to her said. “I’m Lisa.”
“Nice to meet you both,” Cora said.
“How did you make these?” Vicki said. “I know we’re supposed to be here for beading, but I love these.”
“You don’t just have to bead while you’re here,” Cora said. “Our retreat is set up so you can do the crafts we teach or whatever else we have available. We have a fiber arts room and a paper arts room. Follow me and I’ll show you.”
Ruby took off in the other direction, waving her fingers as she went by, a gesture to let them know she was moving on.
Cora flicked on the lights in the fiber arts room.
“Wow,” Lisa said. “This is unbelievable. Look at all the felt!”
“We have no idea what we’re doing,” Vicki said, and grinned. “We’re not real crafters, but we thought this retreat would be fun.”
“I see,” Cora said. “Well, you don’t need any special skills to make that placemat. In fact, you don’t even need a loom.”
“What? How?” Vicki said, while Lisa was oohing and aahing over the yarn, which was lined up in bins along the wall.
“All you need is a piece of cardboard or wood and some string,” Cora said. She opened a desk drawer. “Here’s my homemade loom.”
She held up the sturdy oblong-shaped piece of wood. “You can also use an old frame and pound the nails into it. If you use cardboard, you cut the edges and use those slats, instead of nails, to string your jute.”
“Oh, I see,” Vicki said.
“I used old denim and other old fabric that I had.”
“She repurposes and upcycles everything,” Lisa said, while still elbow deep in the yarn. “I read about her online.”
“I know. I do follow her blog,” Vicki said. “So how small do you cut the fabric?”
“About half-inch strips, but they don’t have to be precise.”
“So, once you string the jute onto your nails, you start weaving the fabric in between the jute threads.”
“Yes,” Cora said.
“They’re so tightly woven. I’m not sure my fingers could manage.”
“It takes practice, but I use a crochet hook,” Cora said.
“I might try this while I’m here so if I have any questions you’ll be here,” Vicki said.
“Sounds good to me. You could take the beading classes and work in here at night,” Cora replied. “We have a basket of scrap fabric over there and you can just help yourself.”
“That’s so generous of you,” Lisa said, joining them. “You have some amazing yarn.”
“Thanks,” Cora said, beaming. A friend of hers worked at a national craft store and tried to nab samples for her from time to time. In return, Cora always purchased her yarn from her.
A beeping alarm on her phone alerted Lisa. She lifted the phone from her pocket and clicked on it. “Oh,” she said. “We need to go. Vicki and I bought tickets to see Fiddler on the Roof tonight. We love community theater.”
Cora’s heart nearly dropped to her feet. Sweat pricked at her forehead.
“It’s a great show,” she said.
“We read about the director,” Vicki said. “Did you know him?”
Cora nodded, her stomach rolling in waves. “Yes, I did.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Vicki said. “I hope they nail whoever killed the man.”
“Me too,” Cora said. She desperately wanted to change the subject. Needed to change the subject.
“Oh, I hear they already have someone in custody,” Lisa said. “A woman. Do you believe that?”
“I do,” Vicki said. “Women can kill just as well as any man. You know my theory.”
“Theory?” Cora prompted.
“My theory is there are more women murderers out there than what we know. They’re just too smart to get caught,” Vicki said.
Even though that could be true, Cora didn’t want to think about it. She ushered them out of the room. “The party awaits, ladies.”
She drew in a breath, vowing to keep the party chatter away from the topic of murder.