Free Angora Alibi by Sally Goldenbaum Page A

It’s just big enough for Purl to crawl through and along the
     two-by-fours into the apartment above. I thought I had lost her once until I heard
     her sweet meowing coming through a light fixture. Now she comes and goes freely. I
     hope you don’t mind, Janie.”
    “I’ve always wanted a cat,” she said, her eyes lingering on Purl. “With ten of us
     kids, the last thing my parents needed was a pet. Purl and I will be wonderful friends.
     I’ll never be lonely.”
    Tommy looped an arm over her shoulder. “And, hey, if Purl needs any help on the lonely
     front”—he brushed a thick wave from her eye with the tip of his finger—“I’m a great
     stand-in.”
    Janie laughed.
    Justin coughed for attention. “Yeah, Janie. Me, too.”
    Nell shook her head. Poor, naive Justin. Tommy’s disdain for him—not to mention his
     protectiveness of Janie—seemed to escape him. Social nuances were definitely not Justin’s
     strong suit.
    Janie filled in the awkward quiet that followed. “If it’s okay, Izzy, I’ll move in
     for real on Saturday.”
    “Sure. And we’ll be around to help.” Izzy began walking toward the door.
    “We’re off, then?” Janie looked up at Tommy.
    “Yep. Gracie’s Lazy Lobster Café.” With two hands on her shoulders, he turned her
     toward the truck. “I’m starving. Bring you anything, ladies?” he called back.
    “I’ll be sound asleep before you get to Gracie’s amazing key lime pie,” Birdie said.
    The knitters waved them off and walked back inside to reheat their dinners. It wasn’t
     until Nell glanced out the window that she noticed Justin. She had almost forgotten
     about him. He was sitting in the shadows of Archie’s bookstore on the seat of the
     shiny bike. Although Janie hadn’t said anything, it was clear she wondered where it
     had come from. An expensive toy for someone with little money.
    Justin looked up and noticed Nell watching him. Gaslight lit his face, and he waved,
     a large sweeping movement that ended with a thumbs-up and the familiar dimpled smile.
    Justin Dorsey wasn’t sad. He looked like a child on Christmas morning with a new toy,
     content to spend the evening in other ways.
    Nell’s returning wave was lost in the rumble of the engine starting up, a thundering
     sound that filled the alley and broadened the smile on the cyclist’s face.
    In the next instant, he was gone, leaving a cascade of flying gravel in his wake.

Chapter 6
    T ommy was right about the rain. When Izzy finally locked up the shop, waved the others
     off, and climbed into her car, fat drops were falling onto the windshield. She sat
     there for a minute, switching on the radio as she watched the taillights of Nell’s
     car disappear down Harbor Road.
    After Janie and Tommy left, they’d reheated the quesadillas in the microwave and stayed
     long enough to fill both their stomachs and the need to make a little progress on
     the booties and rompers and tiny sweaters that needed to be finished for the baby
     shower. Willow and Jane Brewster had insisted on planning it—small, they promised
     Izzy, just good friends. They hadn’t decided on the theme yet, but no matter what
     it was, the tiny outfits needed to be finished soon.
    Janie’s move, however, had interrupted the usual rhythm of their Thursday-night knitting—the
     slow, easy hours they looked forward to all week. Their tonic, as Birdie put it. Their
     pocket of peace.
    But they’d make up for it as they always did when unexpected circumstances cut their
     Thursday evening short. A Sunday morning together when the shop was closed or a knitting
     rendezvous on Birdie’s veranda or Nell’s deck. It was a need as deep as their friendship—the
     joy of casting on and binding off, of slipping strands of silky yarn through their
     fingers, of creating warmth and softness to cradle a newborn babe or protect an old
     fisherman from harsh winter winds.
    Izzy turned out the lights and followed the others out, locking the