A Finely Knit Murder Page 30
Laura Danvers had agreed to help pull it all together in a scant three weeks after Harry Winthrop’s arrest—and a town’s collective sigh of relief.
“It’s glorious,” Birdie said, leading her parade of friends down the first row of white chairs. The seats—row after row—were broken in the middle by a path and faced a terrace that was now a stage.
The pathway through the middle of the seats was marked by gold and burnt orange and yellow mums. And there were pumpkins, too, scattered in between the tiny stage lights. Teresa Pisano, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, walked up and down the aisle, straightening flowerpots and helping people to their seats.
Her cousin Mary, sitting in the second row, leaned forward. “Teresa volunteered to help tonight. And she apologized to Elizabeth as best she could. But I suggested she work full-time at the bed-and-breakfast for a while. And maybe I can get her some counseling.”
They looked over at Teresa. Her smile had a sadness to it, but there was hope there. With Mary’s help, Teresa would be fine.
It was a perfect evening.
“Gabby couldn’t sleep all night,” Birdie said, settling down next to Izzy and Sam. Nell and Ben were on her other side. “You’d think this was Broadway.”
“Better than Broadway,” Nell said. She wrapped her lacy shawl around her shoulders, a sea silk shawl Izzy had knit her long ago.
She looked over and smiled at Elizabeth Hartley, standing at the edge of the terrace. She was watching the crowds gather, a peaceful look on her face. She wore a shawl, too, finely knit of silky yarn in the colors of the sea. It floated over her shoulders, as if not touching her skin. Chelsey Mansfield had put in long nights, but finished the shawl in time. And Elizabeth wore it with gratitude.
A lone bench, made of iron and teak, sat at the side of the stage. Elizabeth walked past it now, up to the microphone.
She tapped the microphone and brought the crowd on the lawn to attention. There was standing room only, with people lined up behind the last row, just happy to be there.
At first Elizabeth’s voice was faint, even with the microphone in front of her. But when Chief Jerry Thompson stood and started clapping, the need for words disappeared. In minutes the applause rippled through the crowd, and then became a roar as what seemed like the entire town of Sea Harbor embraced the headmistress.
When the applause finally died down, Elizabeth uttered her thanks, her face flushed. Then she collected herself and welcomed the town to their school. “I want us to touch each one of you,” she said. “Through programs and caring and opportunity, no matter where your children go to school.” The programs would be expanded, she said, the scholarships increased greatly.
She pointed over to the bench at the side and explained why it was there.
Blythe Westerland. Her generous gift to the school would benefit everyone in Sea Harbor through the school. The board would make sure of that. “Her name will be engraved on the plaque and it will be set alongside the flagpole, a spot that was once important to her. It will be a reminder of the good she did here through her gift.”
They would be tearing down the boathouse, Elizabeth told everyone. A small studio would sit in its place—“A place to make beautiful art,” she said, and looked over at Josh Babson, sitting with Ham and Jane and the rest of the Canary Cove contingent. He nodded slightly.
Josh would design the studio, she said, and teach student classes there now and then, but most of his time would be back in a studio on Canary Cove. Josh Babson had found his home.
When she had exhausted her thank-yous—although she said it would take a lifetime to really do that—she looked over to the side where the choir director was waiting. “I think it’s time for the real evening to begin. The reason you have all come. Let the show begin.”
And it did, with a bang.
Daisy Danvers came out and spoke loudly and clearly into the microphone. She smiled out at the audience, waved at her parents and sisters, and asked for a rousing welcome to their opening act. True to their word, she and Gabby had talked the director into having the Fractured Fish open the show. And open it they did, accompanying a cast of munchkins, a ballerina lullaby league, and a lollipop guild that welcomed the audience, filling the terraced stage with fluffs of color and joyful dancing—all while Merry and Pete and Andy played in the background.
Cass and Danny, sitting next to Ben, had trouble holding back laughs, though even that slight motion caused Danny to wince, his hand instinctively touching his shoulder sling.
Esther Gibson’s guitar-playing granddaughter was next, accompanying Anna Mansfield, who was dressed entirely in green and singing with every bit of Kermit’s pathos. She held the audience spellbound as she sang “It’s Not Easy being Green.” Behind her, Nell felt the soft rustle of tissue as the singer’s proud mother wiped away a tear.
Gabby and Daisy led a group in a medley of songs—happy songs—about rainbows and sunshine.
But it was the finale that brought it all together. The terrace stage was empty, darkened. Quiet. The audience shifted in their seats, talking softly, waiting. Shuffling. Wondering if it was over.
But it wasn’t.
And then the finale began.
The Fractured Fish appeared on the darkened stage. And with nothing but small spotlights aimed at their sheet music, they began playing so softly that the audience wasn’t sure what they were hearing. A soft, rhythmic strumming.
Next, a spotlight fixed high in a tree turned on.
But it didn’t shine on the stage musicians. Instead its beam moved back to the very last row of white chairs, behind the standing room only crowd who shifted now to the side.
Angelo Garozzo appeared first, a fedora on his round head, a bow tie beneath his chin.
He began slowly, moving up the aisle, his finger shaking in the air and pointing to those in the crowd. To the right. The left. His fingers moving to the tempo of a familiar Pharrell Williams soul song.
Slowly the familiar strains filled the air as the lawn came alive with the Sea Harbor Community Day School’s very own rendition of the “Happy” video shown round the world.
“‘Because I’m happy. . . ,’” Angelo sang, his voice so rich and full no microphones were needed to pick it up. His head moved from side to side, and then his shoulders and his whole body began to bounce as he sang on.
Daisy and Gabby followed right behind him, their bodies shaking and moving, their hands stretched high in the air, clapping along to the rhythm.
“‘Because I’m happy,’” Daisy and Gabby repeated, belting out the refrain, their hands in the air, hips moving and legs spinning.
“‘Clap along . . .’” Angelo sang, his head thrown back and his eyes closed, the words filling the air all the way to the moon.
And the crowd did.
The entire school paraded up the aisle, in groups and pairs and alone: a joyful parade of students and teachers and lunch ladies. Maintenance men and nurses, counselors and administrators. Hands high. The rhythm of their clapping moving their bodies.
The “Happy” refrain repeated over and over, clap by clap.
They waved their hands in the air and followed Angelo toward the stage, their refrain so full and rich it began to pull the audience from their seats, first a few in the back, and then the entire yard filled with people who moved back and forth, arms reaching into the air, hands clapping in perfect time.
“‘Because I’m happy . . .’”
Elizabeth Hartley appeared in the line, her narrow shoulders moving, her head high, her hands free and moving above her head.
The refrain grew louder and louder as happy tears were wiped away and the parade moved onto the stage, with Angelo, Daisy, and Gabby in the front, clapping and moving and grinning at the audience, who they had pulled to their feet.
“‘Because I’m happy . . .’”
F
inally, they bowed as one, the wild cheering of the audience forcing another and another and another bow.
And then they spilled out into the audience for hugs and apple cider and to continue their celebration.
Birdie and Nell found Cass and Izzy sitting on a flagstone step, their arms looped together. They sat down beside them.
“Group hug,” Izzy said, and they complied, humming the catchy tune as their bodies leaned into one another.
They sang the refrain softly, the words almost tangible now in the evening air, their arms around one another, their words as one.
“‘I’ll be just fine . . .’”
And even without clapping, they knew it to be true.
Gabby’s Fingerless Mittens
Materials
Yarn: Sport weight; 1,2 balls; 130 yards-160/50g
Needles: US #4 or #5 DPNs or #4 or #5 circular needle 32" or longer, or size needed to obtain gauge; markers and stitch holder (or waste yarn)
Gauge: 24 st = 4" on US #3 needles, st stitches
Abbreviations
CO=cast on
BO=bind off
pm=place marker
sm=slip marker
st=stitch
St st= Stockinette stitch
sl=slip
k=knit
p=purl
KFB=knit into the front and back of stitch
K2tog=knit two stitches together
Directions
(Knit two of the following; right and left mittens are the same.)
CO 42 (46, 48) stitches, pm for beginning of the round, and join to work in the round.
Work k2, p2 rib for 2 inches.
Work St st for 3 more inches (5 inches from beginning).
Shape thumb gusset
Set-up round: k1, pm, k to 1 stitch before the end of the round, pm, k1.
First round: k to 1 st before 1st marker, KFB, sm, k to next marker, sm, KFB, k to end of round. You will now have 46 (52,56) st.
Second round: k all stitches.
Repeat first and second rounds 4 (5, 6) times.
Set thumb aside.
K to second marker, remove marker, k1, sl 5 (6, 7) st to holder or waste yarn (these stitches will be worked later).
Remove marker at beginning of round.
Sl 5 (6,7) stitches to holder or waste yarn (these stitches will be worked later).
PM at beginning of new round. Join to work in the round.
Work 1 inch (1.5'', 2'') in St st.
Work 1-inch rounds in k2, p2 rib.
BO loosely.
Finishing thumb gusset
Join yarn and pick up and knit 10 (12, 14) thumb stitches from holder or waste yarn.
Pick up and knit 4 st from join at side of mitt.
PM and join to work in the round.
Next round: k to last 4 stitches, k2tog, k2tog.
Work a half inch (.75", 1'') in St st.
Work 3 rounds in k2, p2 rib.
BO loosely.
Finishing
Weave in all ends.
Grilled Shrimp Salad
Serves six
Ingredients
18–20 medium shrimp, peeled and deveined
½ cup minced red onion
½ cup minced celery
¾ cup fresh lime juice
3 large garlic cloves, minced (1 tablespoon)
¼ cup chopped cilantro leaves
½ cup olive oil
2 T soy sauce
2 avocados
2 cups fresh snow peas
1 bunch arugula
Salt and pepper to taste
Directions
Grill shrimp on soaked wooden skewers over medium coals, brushing lightly with olive oil, about 2–3 minutes on each side.
Wisk together lime juice, garlic, cilantro, soy sauce, and olive oil.
Blend in celery, snow peas, and onion.
Add shrimp to dressing; toss until shrimp is coated.
Before serving, toss shrimp and dressing once more, add sliced avocados, toss with arugula, and season with salt and pepper.
Nell usually serves this to the Thursday-night knitters with warm crusty rolls and an assortment of cheeses, gherkins, olives, and mild peppers.
(Nell also keeps a bottle of hot sauce handy for those who like an extra kick.)
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