Free The Double Wedding Ring by Clare O' Donohue Page A

employee and a former juvenile delinquent turned expert barista.
    Susanne unfolded the quilt top slowly, as if she were preparing us to gasp and applaud, which we did. I’d been expecting our twelve blocks to be sewn three across by four down, with maybe some borders added. But Susanne had gone above and beyond, as usual.
    The blocks were arranged asymmetrically, with Suzanne’s hand-embroidered details, including the names of Eleanor’s children and grandchildren, Oliver’s daughter and granddaughter, the date they met, and the date of the wedding. It was a love story in thread and fabric: Oliver’s hugely successful career as a painter, Eleanor’s years in Archers Rest, the name of their favorite restaurant, their engagement over the summer—everything was there.
    â€œWell, you’ve outdone yourself again,” Maggie declared, making Susanne blush.
    â€œI think it’s the best quilt I’ve worked on,” Susanne said, which was saying something given the dozens of ribbons for her re-
markable quilts. “I think it’s because it’s all of us working together. It’s all our creativity.”
    â€œI’m going to start quilting it tomorrow,” Natalie told us. “I’ll do it when Eleanor’s not in the shop, and I’ll take it off the frame when she comes in.”
    â€œJust cover it,” I suggested. “She’s too busy to pay attention to what’s on the longarm machine.”
    â€œBut make sure Nell puts in the last stitch,” Maggie said, to the absolute agreement of the group.
    â€œWhich will do what?” I suspected it had something to do with the many quilt superstitions that dated to the beginning of the art form.
    â€œWhoever puts the last stitch in a wedding quilt will be the next to marry,” Bernie said.
    â€œThen you do it,” I told her. “You’re between husbands at the moment.”
    â€œThree was enough.” She laughed. “At least for now.”
    â€œI thought it was that if an unmarried woman put the last stitch into a quilt, she would never marry,” Susanne said.
    â€œThat’s ridiculous.” Maggie rolled her eyes. “If that were the case then no woman from the nineteenth century would have found a husband.”
    â€œBut just in case,” Susanne offered. “Maybe the last stitch should be Bernie’s. Since she’s fine either way.”
    We all laughed so loud that several patrons looked over at us.
    â€œIt’s a beautiful quilt.” Carrie ran her hand over the patches. “We’re a talented group.”
    Bernie laughed, though more quietly this time. “Now that we’ve got the wedding gift out of the way, I assume, Nell, you can fill us in on what’s going on with Jesse?”
    â€œI wish I had something.” I told them about my conversation with Greg, and my concern that Jesse’s past had something to do with the case. “There’s a license plate that needs looking into. . . .”
    â€œMy nephew works at the DMV,” Bernie offered. “I’ll see what I can get out of him.”
    I checked that off my mental list. “And there’s a matter of a business card.” I gave the details and Maggie wrote down the information.
    â€œNothing else in the car?” Susanne asked.
    â€œAccording to Greg, clean as a whistle except for a notebook. And no one has been able to see what’s in it except Jesse.”
    â€œAnd he’s not sharing?” Susanne asked.
    â€œNot on this one. I think he really wants to be the one who solves his friend’s murder.”
    Natalie jumped in. “I did some digging on Roger Leighton. I figured we’d need to know, so I looked into it last night after I put the kids to bed. Roger left the police force about six months ago. Health issues, something with his back, and he had asked for early retirement.”
    â€œHow did you find