Home to Sparrow Lake

Appearing surprised, Aunt Margaret asked, “Then how—”

“Alex.”

“Really. The chief of police fixed our store window? And how did that happen?”

Kristen explained, telling her aunt about their earlier encounter and then Alex’s showing up to replace the pane of glass.

“I do believe he’s sweet on you.”

“Is not!”

Her aunt laughed. “You’re certain of that?”

“Well, it wouldn’t matter if he was.” Kristen threw herself back into her desk chair. “I can’t get involved with anyone from Sparrow Lake.”

“Why ever not?”

Hearing her aunt’s indignant tone, Kristen thought she was on a roll, insulting people when she didn’t mean to. She tried to explain in a nonconfrontational way. “I have nothing against anyone here, but you know I’m leaving as soon as I find a new job in Chicago. I have to get my career back on track.” She would show everyone that she could do it. Her former bosses, the business associates who’d no longer had time for her, the friends who’d come to her emotional aid but had looked at her with pity. “I don’t believe in long-distance relationships. They never work out.”

“Relationships are more important than careers, sweetheart.”

“You couldn’t prove that by me.”

“Just remember that a job can’t take you in its arms for a hug when you need one.”

Her aunt, the romantic, Kristen thought. Aunt Margaret might have found her true love in Donald Becker, but Kristen hadn’t forgotten how Jason had abandoned her in her hour of need.

Much the same way her father had abandoned his whole family.

* * *

THOUGH SHE’D SWORN she was going to leave the store early that evening, Kristen ended up hanging around long enough for one of the quilting classes to start. Gloria was teaching a beginner/intermediate session in the back and there were five women seated around the large table there. Kristen knew two of the women, but the others had probably moved to town after she’d left for college.

“This is Margaret’s niece, Kristen,” Gloria told them, her dark eyes bright. “She’s here to help her aunt with the store.”

Kristen nodded at Nellie Martin, an elderly woman wearing large black-framed glasses. She owned the consignment shop a couple of streets over. “Hi, Nellie, it’s good to see you again. I’ve come to love consignment stores.” She’d frequented a couple in Chicago where she’d gotten most of her designer duds at a significant discount.

“Well, then, drop by and we’ll get reacquainted,” Nellie told her.

Kristen moved on to the next woman at the large table, a mousy little middle-aged woman in a gray dress. Emily Auerbach was the mayor’s wife.

“How nice that you take classes here,” murmured Kristen, to which Emily merely nodded with a tight smile.

Emily always had been more than a little eccentric, as Kristen had realized when she was a kid. On Halloween one year, Emily had posted “Keep Away” and “No Candy Here” signs on her lawn. The next year she’d decorated. No signs. Still, one of Kristen’s friends had insisted Emily was a real witch, and all the kids had avoided her.

Gloria introduced her to one of the new women in town—Shara Lessley, a beautiful young African-American woman with a headful of tiny braids. The other was Laurie Jamison, a thin redhead. Kristen tried to connect descriptions with names so she could remember them. Even so, she would be lucky if her tired brain recalled anyone.

“Are you an artist like your aunt?” Shara asked.

Kristen shook her head. “Good grief, no. I’m a businesswoman.” She admired the gorgeous metallic printed fabrics Shara was working with. “Is that a quilt?”

“It’s going to be a quilted wall hanging.”

“You ought to learn to quilt,” Nellie told Kristen. “It’s not that hard. Just work on a simple square to begin with.”

“Or a place mat or pillow covering,” Gloria agreed. “I like to see a quilter take on a whole project to begin with, even if it’s small.”

“I don’t know,” said Kristen with a laugh, happy to realize the women were dedicated to their craft. Her aunt had told her that at least one person from Sew Fine’s classes won a ribbon at the county fair every year. “I’ve never so much as taken up a hem. I don’t think sewing is one of my talents.”

“Nonsense, everyone can sew if they try.” Gloria raised her brows. “And knowing something about quilting could help you with the business end of things. Why don’t you sit down and join the class?”

“That would be wonderful,” added Shara, the others nodding in agreement. “We could use some new blood. We’ve been hanging out together for a couple of years now.”

Then it was more like a quilting circle than a class, Kristen decided. She didn’t want to stay any longer, especially not tonight. However, she agreed to at least drop by the class again next week. Before she left, Gloria plunked a prepackaged kit of color-coordinated strips in her hands.

“What’s this?”

“Just take them home and play with the fabric, the colors and the designs.”

Kristen objected, “Well, I can’t just take this. I have to pay...”

“Don’t worry, I’ll write the kit down for the records, Ms. Businessperson,” Gloria told her.

“Well, okay...”

“Try it, you’ll like it.”

Gloria sure could be a compelling salesperson, Kristen admitted, heading home. Sew Fine was lucky to have her. Kristen even opened the package of material strips and spread them out on the bed before she went to sleep. In shades of blue and turquoise and contrasting green, they certainly were pretty. But not only was quilting out of her sphere of knowledge, it took too long to finish anything.

Longer than she would be in Sparrow Lake.

* * *

ALEX WASN’T ONE to give up easily when he wanted something. And it seemed he wanted to get to know Kristen Lange even more than he’d originally realized. Just trying to have a simple conversation with her was a challenge. He could only wonder what spending time with her would be like. Undoubtedly, she would dispute everything the way she had when he’d caught her breaking into Sew Fine.

If she knew about his current investigation, she wouldn’t be happy. And if she had accepted his dinner invitation, he would have felt obligated to tell her about it, considering her brother was involved.

Not that Brian Lange seemed like a bad kid.

Alex had seen how hard Brian was working in the store. And he’d heard Margaret sing the kid’s praises more than once.

So why was Brian looking for trouble with Matt Stapleton and Andy Eccles?

Nellie Martin had been the first to make a formal complaint. Someone had mixed a rainbow of clashing colors and styles on the consignment store’s mannequins. One was wearing lingerie on top of its outer clothing, while another sported a purple feather boa over what appeared to be a raincoat. He’d had to force himself to keep a straight face on that one. Women’s styles were so crazy at times, he hadn’t even been certain that mischief was afoot, and Nellie wore a pair of what seemed to be fairly strong glasses. He’d wondered if the aging woman simply had trouble with her eyesight and had dressed the mannequins in dim light, then had been horrified to see her work the next day. After all, there hadn’t been a break-in—Nellie had admitted she’d left in a hurry and may have forgotten to lock up.

But then the other calls started coming.

Old Mr. Fergus had risen one morning to find two panels of his picket fence had been pulled out of the ground and were lying neatly on his front lawn. What was he supposed to do? He was too old to put them back himself, and he couldn’t afford to hire someone to do the work.