Free Loom and Doom by Carol Ann Martin

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    â€œEverything you’re saying sounds logical. And any other time I would say you’re right,” she replied. “But if you’d seen the way the new owner’s wife greeted him when he walked in, you’d be suspicious too. She came out from behind the counter and threw her arms around him as if he was her long lost brother or something.
    â€œI have no idea what their relationship might be, except that they’re more than just casual acquaintances—of that I’m sure.” She let out a long sigh, and when she spoke again I was relieved to find her sounding more like herself. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m just letting my imagination get the better of me. Anyhow,” she continued determinedly, “Coffee, Tea and Destiny will be open again soon. And I’ll make this shop so irresistible that customers won’t be able to stay away.”
    â€œThat’s the spirit,” Marnie said, giving the air a punch.
    â€œAre you planning anything special?” I asked, relieved at the change of subject.
    Her resolute expression of a second ago morphed into one of defeat. “I have no idea.”
    â€œI have one,” Marnie said. “I’ve got dozens of cookies in my freezer. What you should do is hire someone to stand outside for your reopening and hand out free cookies and invite people to come in. I bet every person who walks in will also order a coffee and more of those cookies to take home.”
    â€œThat’s a brilliant idea,” I said.
    Marnie wasn’t finished. “You know what else we should do? Instead of waiting until the day after tomorrow to open, why don’t we aim for tomorrow, even if it means working right through the night? We all know that nothing drives business in this town like gossip. Tomorrow, every person in Briar Hollow will have heard about Swanson’s murder and will be looking for a gossip session. We have to make sure those sessions happen right here.”
    Marnie was right. After the last local tragedy, Jenny’s shop was packed. Customers sat at the tables, ordering cup after cup of coffee while reminiscing about the victim, grieving for the family, and speculating about who might have done the killing and why.
    â€œWork right through the night?” I said.
    â€œGreat idea,” Jenny said, holding my gaze as if begging me to agree.
    I shrugged. “Let’s do it.”
    â€œWell, then, what are we waiting for? We’ll finish Della’s shop in no time and then we can put all our energy into yours,” Marnie said.
    We returned to my shop and picked up where we’d left off. Soon, I was so engrossed in the painting that when the bell above the door rang, I almost jumped out of my skin. Two women walked in.
    â€œWell, hello,” one of them said. “I’ve been walking by here every day for two months. I’m so happy to see you’re at the painting stage at last.”
    Her name was Judy Bates. I had met her a few months earlier at a county fair where I’d rented a booth to promote my shop and sell my woven goods. Judy had run the stall next to mine where she sold oil paintings. She was a pretty woman a few years older than me, with brown hair and a pixie smile.
    â€œDella, meet my mother,” she said. The woman looked like an older version of her daughter. I’d seen her around town a few times but had never officially been introduced.
    â€œNice of you to stop by,” I said.
    They walked around,
ooh
ing and
aah
ing, even though there was nothing to see except lots of plastic drop cloths and half-painted walls.
    â€œCareful. I don’t want you to get any paint on your clothes,” I said. They scooted to the center of the room, away from buckets, brushes and rollers.
    â€œSuch a lovely shop,” Judy said. “You have such a cozy space here,” Judy continued. “I can’t wait for it to reopen.” The small talk