blond hair was cropped short, a contrast to Graceâs auburn locks, which tumbled in easy curls to her shoulders.
Betsy sometimes took a seat at the table, and she did so now, allowing a few minutes for the groupâs members to greet one another and bring outâand comment onâtheir needlework projects in progress.
She was herself working on a needlepoint canvas of red and pink roses from a counted cross-stitch pattern. Instead of wool, she was using size three perle cotton. She hadnât done any of the roses, with their leaves and buds, in the shop because counted cross-stitch was not her forte
and the frequent changes of colors took all her concentration, but now she was doing the background in buff, using the basket weave stitch, which was easy.
âThat thing youâre stitching,â said Bershada. âI just love those colors, so rich. Whatâs it going to be, a pillow?â
âNo,â Betsy said. âItâs going on the seat of a chair.â
âGirl, if I put something as beautiful as that on the seat of a chair, no one would be allowed to sit on it.â
Betsy, who had slaved over the piece for many hours, was inclined to agree that no one of lower rank than the Queen of England was going to rest her bottom on the stitching. She had spent countless hours frogging (or ripping out stitchesâârip it, rip it, rip it,â hence the term); nearly as many hours as sheâd spent stitching. But all she said was, âThanks, it is nice, isnât it?â
The general sharing of needlework progress had subsided, and the gossip was about to begin, when Betsy spoke up again. âMay I ask you all something?â she asked. âItâs important, about Tom Riordan.â
Tom Takeâs misfortune had been a hot topic since the night of the storm, and all eyes lifted to Betsy when she mentioned his name. âWhat about him?â asked Doris in her throaty voice.
âHis cousin is in town, and sheâs been asked to clear out his house.â
âBy who? You?â asked Emily, not the sharpest knife in the drawer.
âTom didnât ask anyone to do it, Iâll bet,â said Phil, grinning.
âNot Tom,â agreed Betsy. âBut his social worker and his attorney think that if this woman doesnât take on the task, Hennepin County willâand they might not be as careful of his things as she will.â
âHis cousin is a woman?â said Bershada. âDoes she look something like Tom?â
âShe looks a lot like him, actually. Why, have you met her?â asked Betsy.
âNot to speak to, but I saw a woman standing outside Tomâs house last week, kind of looking it over, and she didnât look happy with what she was seeing. I thought maybe she was a real estate agent. That house might be a mess, but itâs on a big lot only a block from the lake, and property values around here are staying nice and high.â
There was a murmur of agreement.
âAnd this woman looked like Tom?â asked Cherie.
âYes. Yes, she did. I almost went over to speak to her, but she was looking kind of mad, so I didnât.â
âThat was probably her,â Betsy said. âHer name is Valentina Shipp. Leona sent her to me, because she thought maybe I could get some volunteers to help Ms. Shipp sort out the things in Tomâs house.â
âWrite my name down,â said Phil immediately. âIâll do it for free. In fact, Iâd pay her for a chance to get a close look at the inside of that house.â
âNo need to do that, Phil,â said Betsy, smiling. She sobered. âBut this is a job for volunteers. Thereâs no pay involved. Ms. Shipp is far from wealthy. She drove here all the way from Indiana to help Tom, because heâs the last of her family.â
Phil looked around the table. âWhat, Iâm the only one who would like a chance to see just what Tom Take has