Free Thread Reckoning by Amanda Lee Page B

love, you’re the only one who can answer that question.”
    “But I don’t want to get it wrong. Like today when Ms. Ortega was found stabbed to death outside my shop, I began to think maybe I should get back together with David and come home to San Francisco.”
    “One,” said Mom, “you don’t have to get back with David in order to come back to San Francisco. You know I’d love to have you back home, but don’t make that decision when you’re stressed out. Two, don’t run scared. From or to anything. You’ll regret it if you do. If you’re thinking of giving David a second chance, don’t commit to anything until after this business is resolved and you’re thinking clearly again.”
    “You’re right.”
    “I’m always right. It’s because I’m old.”
    I laughed. “You are not old.”
    “Okay. I’m experienced,” she said. “I will tell you this much. I don’t know about David, but I know that you have grown and changed since you and he dated last. Don’t let the past completely influence your decision. Try to see him with fresh eyes.”
    “I will. Thanks, Mom.”
    “You’re sure you don’t need me to come to Tallulah Falls?” she asked. “I can be there in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. Okay, probably more like a few thousand shakes of a lamb’s tail, but you get my meaning.”
    “I’m fine. I’ll keep you posted.”
    “You’d better.”
    As I was hanging up the phone, a customer came in for some cross-stitch canvas. I led her over to the canvases and pointed out some new flosses I’d just gotten in. She bought two canvas sheets and a few skeins of floss before leaving.
    Afterward, I sat in the sit-and-stitch square and thought about Frederic and his mother. I wondered if the senior Santiago—the one Francesca had worked for all those years—had known his son was giving her such a bad deal. Maybe if he knew about Francesca’s death, he and Frederic could talk. With David sauntering back into my life, I understood all too well about the need for closure and having unanswered questions put to rest.
    I went into the office, pulled up a search engine on the computer, and typed in Santiago Corporation . The company was one of the first listed for discount office supplies. I clicked on the company’s Web site and saw tabs for ink, furniture, technology, paper, and general supplies.
    I scrolled to the bottom of the page and saw About Us . I clicked that link. There was a photo of Caleb Santiago Jr. and his brother, Nicholas. They were in a warehouse. One held a clipboard, and both were smiling at the camera. They were wearing dress shirts, ties, jeans, and hard hats. It was obvious the photo was meant to show that these two megawealthy young men were “regular guys,” people you could trust with your business. Caleb had straight, dark brown hair while Nicholas’s was wavy and black, but both had athletic builds, brown eyes, and friendly faces. I’d buy office products from these people.
    I tried to see something sinister in Caleb’s countenance, but I couldn’t. Maybe he had caught Francesca snooping. After all, I didn’t know the Ortegas well enough to make a judgment call. Francesca—and her son, too, for that matter—seemed nice, but that didn’t mean they really were. Or maybe Francesca was merely loyal to the senior Santiago and was snooping in Caleb’s office for his father. What if the dad had asked Francesca to make sure his son was running the company appropriately?
    I read the paragraph giving the history of the company. Caleb Santiago Sr.’s father had started the company in 1962. Caleb had taken over the reins when his father retired, and Caleb Jr.—the elder Santiago son—had likewise taken over when Caleb Sr. retired. The paragraph related the story of how the first Santiago had begun selling high-quality pens door to door. Today the business was conducted primarily online, but customer representatives were always on hand to take your calls. Sometimes, they