Free Monica Ferris_Needlecraft Mysteries_01 by Crewel World

computer.
    Betsy herself was computer literate. A shame she hadn’t known Margot had an E-mail address; she could have saved herself this trip. A few weeks of E-mail exchanges and—no, that wouldn’t have done it. She had needed to get away, start over.
    She had sold her own computer along with most of her other household items when she’d decided to come to Minnesota. Too much trouble hauling a trailer over those mountains, too expensive to put things into storage. And wiping the slate clean was part of the process of starting over.
    Should she talk to Margot about her computer? Margot kept it in her bedroom, and had yet to invite Betsy into that sanctum. Margot might think she wanted to pry, though she didn’t. Certainly Margot hadn’t come into the guest room once she’d turned it over to Betsy. Not that she wasn’t welcome.
    Margot was a much more private person than Betsy. That could be because Betsy had been such a snoop when they were kids. Margot had had to fight for privacy, and gotten into the habit.
    But Betsy was willing to respect that. There were things she didn’t want to share with Margot, either. Such as how uncomfortable she felt taking her sister’s charity. She wasn’t sure whether her sister’s offer of a paying job in the shop was a sop to Betsy’s pride or because she could really use the help.
    But did any of that matter right now? Betsy felt herself sinking into the pillows, a very pleasant sensation. She dozed until the smell of coffee brought her awake again, and had a good breakfast with Margot—mushroom-and-green-pepper omelette with toast—then Margot left for the city and Betsy went down with Sophie to open the shop.
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    Shelly was somewhat distracted; school was going to start in five days, and she’d just found out that there would be thirty-five children in her fourth-grade class. That was far too many, and with the list of children’s names came a little memo saying there would be no teacher’s aide until halfway through the semester.
    So Betsy’s constant stream of questions about Crewel World, its history and profitability, were a nuisance. Shelly made her answers as brief as possible, though she sensed Betsy’s growing frustration.
    Officer Jill came in around ten-thirty for a cup of coffee and to place an order for more ultrasuede floss. On her way out she said, “Don’t forget this evening,” and closed the door.
    â€œWhat about this evening?” Shelly asked Betsy.
    â€œWe’re going to dinner and the Guthrie.”
    â€œWell, isn’t that nice! I’m glad you two are going to be friends.”
    â€œUs, friends?” said Betsy with a little laugh. “I’m only going because Margot can’t go. It was her idea that I take her place.”
    â€œWhat, you don’t like Shakespeare?”
    â€œSure, but I’m not so sure about Jill. Is she always like this?”
    â€œLike what?”
    â€œFrosty.”
    â€œShe’s not frosty, she’s just Norwegian. They’re not big on showing their feelings. She likes you.”
    â€œHow can you tell?”
    â€œShe came in for coffee, and Wednesday is Margot’s day off, everyone knows that. I don’t think she knows my schedule, so it wasn’t me she came in to see. I think she likes you, or wants to.”
    â€œDo you like her?”
    Shelly laughed. “Sure, but I’ve known her since kindergarten.”
    Betsy wanted to ask more, but a customer came in with a lot of her own questions, and Shelly took her to the back of the store, where a pair of upholstered chairs made answering the questions so comfortable the customer tended to stay a little longer and buy more than she might have otherwise.
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    Betsy drove to Jill’s house about five-thirty. It was time she learned her way around, so she was driving into the city. Jill got in and directed her back down Highway 7,