Deadly Notions - By Elizabeth Lynn Casey Page 0,34
spouting something that’s no more than wishful thinking on her part.” Melissa dipped a soft-tipped spoon into a jar of bananas and then brought it to Molly’s lips, the youngest of her brood razzing out as much as she consumed.
Leona made a face as the pale yellow fruit ran back down the baby’s chin. “She’s never going to attract a man that way.”
“I’ll worry about that in, I don’t know, maybe twenty years or so.” Using the edge of the spoon, Melissa collected the missed bananas from Molly’s little chin and redeposited it back in the baby’s mouth.
“As for that expression Rose just uttered, dear”—Leona trained her focus on Tori—“don’t you be adding that to our list of southernisms, understand? That one is just plain ignorant not to mention backwoods.”
“I think accurate describes it better, Twin,” Margaret Louise bellowed from her spot on Molly’s other side. “Don’t forget what Grandmammy used to say. ‘The easiest way to eat crow is while it’s still warm, ’cause the colder it gets, the harder it is to swallow.’ ”
“That’s why I preferred Grandfather.” Leona shifted in her seat and directed her attention toward Debbie. “Now don’t get me wrong, Debbie, I think a late morning gathering has potential, but really, if we’re simply going to sit here and listen to the likes of my sister and Rose Winters all morning, I really must be heading out. I have inventory to price at the shop.”
Tori lifted her hot chocolate to-go cup to her lips and took a quick sip. “Did you get a new shipment of antiques?”
Leona nodded. “I did. It’s not big but there are some really exquisite pieces.”
Dixie pushed back her chair and stretched her swollen legs outward. “Why did you ask us here, Debbie? Other than to assemble all the suspects in one place should Chief Dallas be hoping for a short workday?”
The bakery owner’s pale blue eyes skittered from one face to the next, her wider than normal smile simply adding to their near constant sparkle. “I have a request I’m hoping you’ll all consider. Something to keep us busy while the vulture circles.”
All eyes turned in Debbie’s direction.
“A sewing request?” Beatrice asked, her soft British accent a nice contrast to the southern drawl that was as much a part of life in Sweet Briar as sweet tea and gossip.
Debbie nodded.
“A group project?”
“Yes, Margaret Louise, a group project. If everyone’s willing.” Debbie reached beneath her chair and extracted a small brown felt bag that resembled a child’s lunch sack. Laying it in the middle of the table she stuck her hand inside only to pull out a hand-painted cardboard container.
“What’s that?” Dixie asked as she leaned forward for a closer look.
Rose, too, leaned forward. “Did you make that?”
“I did.” With a quick turn of her hand, Debbie opened the container and began to pull out something resembling potato chips.
Margaret Louise took one in her hand and turned it over. “Felt? You made a potato chip with felt?”
Dixie snatched it from Margaret Louise’s hand and held it in front of her thick glasses. “You’ve even stitched it in such a way to give the chip a curved effect.”
Reaching inside the felt sack once again, Debbie pulled out two pieces of bread and a clump of lettuce.
Melissa stopped feeding Molly long enough to grab hold of the lettuce and turn it over in her hands. “You made play food?”
“It’s cheaper than the store-bought stuff and it allows the kids to have the items they want rather than what is dictated by some company.” Debbie turned the sack upside down to reveal a slice of ham, two tomatoes, and a brownie. “Suzanna and Jackson love to play with this stuff.”
“It’s darling,” Tori said. “Absolutely darling.”
“Thanks, Victoria.” Debbie swept her hand across the contents of the felt lunch sack. “This is just some of the food I’ve made with felt for the kids. They have pizza, pancakes, cake, hamburgers with all the trimmings, peanut butter sandwiches . . . you name it. And all it takes to make it is a little creativity, various colors of craft felt, a simple pattern you can draw up on your own, and either a needle and thread or a machine depending on what you’re doing.”
“So what do you need from us?” Dixie asked between bites of her cinnamon crumb cake. “Do you want us to help you stock Suzanna and Jackson’s toy closet even more?”
Margaret Louise rushed to soften Dixie’s question. “Because we will if you need