Something Borrowed, Something Bleu.

A Home Crafting Mystery.

by Cricket McRae.

This book is dedicated to libraries everywhere.

Acknowledgments.

Iam grateful to everyone who had a hand in this book: agents Jacky Sach and Kim Lionetti; my critique partners Bob and Mark; and the hard working crew at Midnight InkaBill Krause, Terri Bischoff, Connie Hill, Courtney Colton, Lisa Novak, and Donna Burch, among others. Meg and Arden, owners of the Windsor Dairy, were kind enough to answer my questions. They make the best raw-milk artisan cheeses imaginable. Anything I got wrong is my own fault. The staff at the post office in LaPorte, Colorado provided information about lost mail. Thanks also to my parents, supportive friends, and readers who continue to ask after Sophie Mae. And, as always, Kevin has offered unfailing encouragement. Thanks for having my back.

The shrill ring of the telephone startled me out of a sound sleep. My heart bucked, and panic shortened my breath as I stared wide-eyed into the darkness and felt around for the handset. The numbers on my bedside clock glowed 3:58.

Any call at that hour inevitably signaled grim news.

The phone tumbled, slammed onto the hardwood floor, and skittered beneath me. Brodie let out a single, sharp bark from Erinas bedroom down the hall. Swearing, I slithered out from under the sheet. Pajama-clad behind up in the air, I groped under the bed.

There: something, but definitely not the phone. I dragged the mystery item out and held it up to the pale gray light barely beginning to glow through the window.

A pair of purple lace panties.

So that was where those had disappeared to.

The phone reverberated again. I tossed the errant underwear in the corner and pressed my cheek against the floor. My fingers scrabbled against wood. Dust bunnies retreated to the far reaches as I touched hard plastic and teased the wailing handset into my grasp. I sat up on the cold floor and peered at the caller ID with bleary eyes.

It was my mother, calling from Spring Creek, Colorado.

aAnna Belle, whatas wrong?a I demanded. aIs Dad okay?a Her sorghum-laced voice floated over the line. aGood morning, Sophie Mae. I hope I didnat wake you.a aWhat? Of course you woke me. What happened?a aYou sound upset. Itas too early in the morning for that, donat you think?a I managed not to growl. However, my blood pressure dropped an infinitesimal amount.

aWhy,a I began, the words even and deliberate, aare you calling me at this hour if someone isnat sick or dying?a aOh, good Lord, Sophie Mae. You used to be such an early riser in the summer. It is, after allaa A pause as she no doubt consulted her watch. aOh, dear. I didnat realize itas only five a.m. Iam sorry, hon.a aFour a.m.,a I said.

aBut oh. I always seem to forget about the time difference.a aSo nothingas wrong?a aWell.

aCan I call you back in a few hours?a Iad been working my tail off lately, making handmade toiletries and filling orders for my Winding Road Bath Products business, and I wanted a little more shut-eye before starting in yet again.

Plus, these days I wasnat in much of a mood to talk to my mother. Maybe I was a horrible daughter, but the frequency of her calls had increased lately as she tried to weasel her way into my wedding plans. Right now I didnat have the time or energy to try again to convince her that Barr and I wanted a small, simple ceremony. No wedding she was involved with would be either.

aWell, as long as youare up, I do need to talk to you,a she said.

I sighed. aRight. As long as Iam up.a Couldnat quite keep the sarcasm out of my voice. Anna Belle Watson had no qualms about doing whatever she needed to in order to get what she wanted. Her polite, Southern belle demeanor softened her manipulations, as did the accent toned by time to an alluring lilt. However, I wasnat one of her students or some untenured professor in the marketing department at Northern Colorado University. I was her daughter, even if she insisted that I call her by her first name, and Iad had a lifetime to see how she worked.

aPlease,a she said.

That, along with the tiniest quaver in her voice, gave me pause. aAre you sure everythingas okay?a I asked.

aI want you to come home for a visit.a I blew out a frustrated whoosh of air and stood. Sliding on my ducky slippers, I began to pace in the limited confines of my bedroom. From the backyard, the murmurs of contented chickens already pecking at their layer ration rode the cool breeze that curled in through the open window.

aSeriously,a I said. aI want a no-fuss, no-muss ceremony. Iave already had one big wedding. That was enough for a lifetime.a A small sound on the other end of the line. Then another.

aAnna Belle?a I stopped short.

A sniffle.

OhmyG.o.d. aAre you crying?a Another pause, and then a quick, sharp laugh. aDonat be ridiculous.a Sniff.

I pushed. aTell me.a A pause, then, aYou have to come home.a What on earth? Was this one of her tricks?

aNow,a she said.

aNow?a The word came out as a squeak.

aYes. As soon as you can.a No sniffling and no hesitancy now, just hard demand in her voice.

I bristled. aWell, I donat know when that would be. Itas hard to up and leave when you run your own business.a aIam sure you can manage.a I thought of the rows of boxes on the counter in my workroom waiting to be filled with Winding Road orders. aAnna Belleaa aItas about your brother.a Slowly, I sat down on the edge of my bed. Bobby Lee had been dead for eighteen years. I realized with a start head been gone half my lifetime. aWhat are you talking about?a One evening, my brother had tossed a rope over the main beam in the great room of my parentsa home and hung himself. Anna Belle had found him when she came downstairs for her morning coffee. Half a country away, in Seattle, Iad been sharing a dorm room with my best friend Meghan Bly at the University of Washington.

aHe left a note,a Anna Belle said. The words punched through my memories.

aNo, he didnat.a My voice was quiet in my own ears. aWe looked everywhere.a aHe did. A letter, actually. And itas recently come into my possession. It reveals something we didnat know before. Perhaps even the key to why he did it.a Sadness, curiosity and something very like fear rushed over me. aWhat does it say?a aIall show it to you when you get here.a aAnna Belle!a aCome home for a few days, Sophie Mae. We need you.a aButaa.

aPlease.a Please? Again? I peered out the window at the high gray pre-dawnanope, no pigs winging their way above the rooftops yet. But they should be showing up any time now.

aItas been over a year,a she said.

I closed my eyes. Dirty pool, Anna Belle. But she was right; it had been too long. On top of that, I knew very well that my mother wouldnat tell me what was in Bobby Leeas note over the phone. She had a bargaining chip, and she wasnat above using it.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped off the cliff. aIall see when I can get away, check some flights, and get back to you.a aIall tell your father. Heall be thrilled.a We Watsons had once been a normalaand very closeafamily. My childhood had been flavored with lively conversations over the dinner table about politics, religion, and current events. My mother was an opinionated intellectual who insisted Bobby Lee and I call her by her first name. My father, Calvin Watson, had a seemingly inexhaustible supply of fascinating stories from his days as an investigative journalist. Over and over they told my brother and me we could be or do anything we wanted.

Then Bobby Lee died, and everything changed.

aAnd honey?a my mother continued. aYou might see if your new fiance can come. Might be nice if we actually met him before the wedding, donat you think?a aHeas looking forward to meeting you both. I just donat know if heall be able to change his schedule on such short notice.a I said.

aI understand. As long as you can. So weall see you soon?a aSoon,a I confirmed.

Her voice softened. aAnd I want you to know that I love you.a Flummoxed, I muttered, aLove you, too,a and we said goodbye.

She hadnat said that to me for I didnat know how long. Whatever shead discovered about my brother, it had affected her deeply.

aYouare going to Colorado with me,a I announced.

The sounds of workmen banging away filtered around the corner to Meghanas office, formerly the old front parlor of the house we shared in Cadyville, Washington. The scents of ylang ylang and rose geranium essential oils drifted from the darkened ma.s.sage room behind her, accompanied by the trickling sounds of the fountain. Brodie, his corgi muzzle gray with age, watched me from where he lay next to her desk. The constant noise from our house renovation set his canine sensibilities on edge, and these days he was never more than a few feet from Meghan or her eleven-year-old daughter, Erin.

My housemateas perfect eyebrow arched. aColorado? Going to see your mom and dad?a Over the course of our lengthy friendship she had developed a great fondness for my parents.

I plopped into her big cushy guest chair. aDidnat you hear the phone ring this morning? It was Anna Belle, up bright and way too early, determined to chat with her only daughter.a She smiled. Dark curls swung around her delicate features as she shook her head and looked toward the ceiling. How nice that she found my motheras antics amusing.

aSo why am I supposedly going on this junket with you?a she asked.

aBecause now I have to go back home, and Iam not going by myself. Barr said he might be able to get off work for a day or so, but thatas it. I just know Anna Belle is determined to plan a big wedding while Iam there.a She waved her hand as if dispelling a foul odor. aBah. Youare a grownup. Stick to your guns.a aFine for you to say. She cried.a Shock replaced Meghanas smile. Her blue-gray eyes widened. aAnna Belle? Cried?a I nodded. aJust a little. And she said a'Please.aa She let out a low whistle. aWow.a The shriek of a saw blade shuddered through the walls. Meghan and I winced. At our feet, Brodie whined.

aBut all of that finally led up to what she really wants.a I folded my arms across my chest.

Meghan looked pointedly at her watch.

Fine. aShe found Bobby Leeas suicide note.a My housemate leaned forward and put her elbows on the desk. aOh, G.o.d. Really?a She barely breathed the words. aWhat does it say?a aShe wonat tell me.a Frustration leaked out with my words.

A short laugh escaped before Meghan caught herself. aIam sorry. I know itas not funny. Not funny at all. Itas just that your mom is so a aYeah. I know she is. But the truth is I do want to see them, and I havenat been back for a while.a And I wanted to knowaneeded to knowawhat that note said.

A loud crash made the ceiling vibrate. My housemateas eyes narrowed. aThis racketas making it impossible for me to work here. Clients canat relax, and Iam a nervous wreck.a aI know. Itas awful. Iam sorry. But wonat it be worth it?a When Barr Ambrose had asked me to marry him, Iad balked. Not because I didnat love the guy to death, but because Meghan and Erin Bly had become my close, if nontraditional, family. Luckily, Barr had antic.i.p.ated my reluctance, and he and Meghan hatched a crazy plan to keep everybody happy. It was, in short, the perfect solution.

We bought into ownership of her large house and set to getting things changed around so Barr and I could have our own digs. The upstairs would be a one-bedroom apartment with a tiny kitchenetteaBarr and I would still use the main kitchen most of the time, but it would be nice to be completely separate if we wantedaand we were adding two bedrooms to the main floor, as well as expanding the bathroom. My work area, office, and storeroom still took up the entire bas.e.m.e.nt, and Meghanas office and ma.s.sage room just off the front entryway remained unchanged. It was a huge project, but so far the contractor was on schedule. That in itself was a miracle, but it was still a real pain to live with.

aOf course. Itall be great,a she said. aNot least because it means youall be sticking around.a A speculative look settled on her face. aWhen exactly are you planning this trip to Colorado?a aThe sooner the better.a She reached for her desk calendar, opened it and ran her finger down a row of dates. aIave been booking light anyway, trying to schedule around when the workers are here. But itas getting so theyare here all the time.a A look up at me. aAnd Erin doesnat start school for two weeks.a aDay after tomorrow? Does that give you enough time?a She considered. aI think so.a I tried not to look satisfied. aExcellent. Iave checked flights already. There were some good last-minute fares online, so Iall go ahead and book three?a She hesitated. A power saw screeched, and she grimaced. aYes. Three tickets.a aYou wonat regret it. Thereas plenty to do around there, and you guys deserve a little vacay.a The screeching increased. Meghan gritted her teeth and nodded. aTalk about understatements.a I ducked out and headed down the narrow wooden staircase to the bas.e.m.e.nt. When Iad talked to Barr, who was one of the Cadyville Police Departmentas two detectives, head been intrigued by the phone call from my mother. First off, head never met my parents and was curious about them. But the sudden appearance of a suicide note after eighteen years really piqued his interest. Unfortunately, head been unsure whether he could get time off to come meet them, as he was scheduled to testify in a drug case some time during the next week.

My computer sat in the corner of my storage room, the online fares Iad found still on the screen. I quickly booked the tickets and then used my cell phone to call Cyan Waters, the teenager who worked for me several times a week. She was already familiar with how to fill and ship orders for Winding Road customers, and sounded happy to work some extra hours. In fact, she a.s.sured me that her sister Kylaawhoad also worked for me until recentlyacould help out if needed since she wasnat leaving for college for a few more weeks.

I turned to the shelves that covered the walls. Winding Road inventory packed them top to bottom. It was a relatively slow time of year, and Iad been good about keeping my stock high to avoid having to scramble for the upcoming Christmas rush. Iad have to fill the gaps once I returned, but that was okay. It was hard to complain about business being good.

Lye soaps in creamy earth tones stacked high along one wall. Other shelves held bottles and jars of bath salts, bath fizzies, foot scrubs, lip balms, lotions, air fresheners, and body oils. Another wall held raw materials: essential oils, b.u.t.ters, vegetable oils, solid palm and coconut oils, and jars of herbs and natural colorants. I closed my eyes, inhaling the plethora of heavenly aromas, and a quiet calm replaced the jittery anxiety Iad felt ever since talking to Anna Belle.

Shead refused to talk about Bobby Lee for years. Perhaps she simply couldnat bear discussing it when everything was still raw, and never quite got past that. The vibrancy of our family had faded until we had only the colorless sh.e.l.l of regular phone calls in which we said the same things over and over and the occasional visit where we walked around each other like ghosts.

Iad intended to go back to Colorado after graduating from college, but then I fell in love with a Washington boy. Mike Reynolds and I got jobs, got married, and got on with life.

Until he died, too.

But this phone call had been different from the others. Anna Belle had been different.

What message had my brother left behind?

_____.

The architecture of Denver International Airport was supposed to reflect the outline of the Rocky Mountains, but the swooping white peaks looked more like a series of circus tents. Beside me, Erin strained against the seatbelt and craned her head to see through the scratched Plexiglas as the pilot guided the plane down the runway to the terminal. Pushing away, she flopped back in her seat with something that sounded very much like a harrumph.

aWhatas wrong?a I asked.

A scowl pinched her elfin features, so much like her motheras that she could have been a clone. aI thought Colorado had mountains.a I smiled. aLooks like we landed in Kansas by mistake.a She twisted in her seat to look at me with intelligent gray eyes. aNice try. Iam not stupid.a aTry looking out the other side of the plane,a I suggested.

To my right, Meghan dug her cell phone out of her pocket and turned it back on with a beep. There was already a message from her long-distance boyfriend, Kelly OaConnell. They were trying to coordinate a flight for him, so they could spend some quality time together. It was Sunday, and Barr was still hoping to manage a few days off to join us later in the week. In the meantime, Iad be spending my quality time with Anna Belle and Calvin Watson.

At the top of the last escalator, our fellow travelers dispersed into the crowd of people waiting by the fountain in the main terminal. The shooshing sound of water muted their conversations. I searched the faces lined up behind the barrier but didnat see either of my parents. Meghan touched my arm and pointed. From a bank of chairs fifty yards away my father stood, waving his arm to get our attention. My mother remained seated, a look of mild interest on her face.

I waved back and guided Erin in their direction. She shook off my hand with an impatient gesture. I shot a questioning look at Meghan, who frowned, then shrugged.

aHey you guys! How was the flight?a Dad embraced everyone with enthusiasm. I was glad to see Erin grin and hug him back. She was becoming hard to predict.

aWe had to get out of the house before five this morning so weare a little tired, but everything went smoothly.a I turned to my mother and smiled.

She stood and patted me awkwardly on the back, then greeted Meghan and Erin in turn. Dad put his arm around my shoulders and squeezed again. For a brief moment I leaned my head against his chest.

Anna Belle looked around at the group. aLetas get some double lattes, then, and hit the road.a Ever efficient, she turned on her heel and led the way to the coffee bar. Over her shoulder she tossed, aSophie Mae, I like your hair short like that. Shows off your pretty green eyes.a aUm, thanks.a aYou should have cut it like that years ago.a Beside me, Meghan grinned.

As we followed behind my mother like a string of baby ducks, I examined my parents. In the last year the lines on my fatheras lean face had deepened, and a few more white strands accentuated Anna Belleas smooth copper hair. Other than that, little had changed. As always, they both were prime specimens of physical fitness.

Anna Belleas cropped pageboy framed a face that had once graced magazine covers. Her stint as a model had been short, intended only to make money for college. Shead always drilled into Bobby Lee and me that physical beauty was ultimately meaningless. Of course, she was right, but Anna Belle Watson could better afford that att.i.tude than most, with her high cheekbones and dark, intense eyes. It also looked like she spent more time than ever in the gym. Muscles defined her bare arms and roped up her tanned calves to the hem of her Bermuda shorts.

Feeling like a pale lump of dough, I turned my attention to my dad. Lean and only slightly taller than Anna Belle, he had a thick blonde mane and clear hazel eyes. An electric-blue-and-chartreuse floral shirt topped his khaki shortsaone of the many Hawaiian patterns in his extensive collection. His gait was loose and easy as he walked beside her. In fact, he looked remarkably calm, and I wondered what that was all about. Head mellowed over the years, as had my mother, but he had always been a man with fire in his belly, intense and curious and interested in everything.

Especially when my brother was alive.

In line at the coffee counter, Anna Belle asked, aWhat does everyone want?a She took our orders and presented them to the barista in a succinct and slightly impatient list. My mother seemed to be in a real toot to get on the road. A few minutes later we were armed with various forms of caffeine, green tea for my father and a lemon granita for Erin. Our suitcases were circling on the conveyer when we got to the baggage claim station, and we rolled straight out to the parking garage.

On the way, Anna Belle culled me from the herd, her hand on my elbow guiding me far enough away that the others couldnat hear her mutter, aYour father doesnat know about the letter.a I looked my surprise at her. aWhy not?a Ahead of us, Dad turned in our direction, a quizzical look on his face. Anna Belle pushed me back toward the group. aIall explain later.a You sure as heck will, I thought.

aWeare here!a Erin jumped out and stood on the sidewalk with her hands on her nonexistent hips, face tilted toward the azure sky.

I rubbed my gritty eyes. My neck screamed as I turned my head to look out the window; Meghanas shoulder had proven an awkward headrest on the ride to Spring Creek. The last vestige of air conditioning slipped out Erinas open door and the dry summer heat wrapped around me like a python. Anna Belle was already on the front step, keys jingling in her hand. The hydraulic support of the hatchback wheezed open behind me.

I peered out at the house Iad grown up in: brick mixed with oatmeal-colored siding, two stories high and featuring a fully finished bas.e.m.e.nt courtesy of my fatheras hard work. The yard boasted a tiny patch of gra.s.s, but was mostly landscaped with drought-hardy plants like Russian sage and sunset hyssop, interspersed with puffs of blue fescue gra.s.s. Zinnias brightened the s.p.a.ces in between, as did the two identical ceramic urns that flanked the front door, planted with verbena, lobelia, and geraniums. Red Colorado flagstone, artfully arranged river rock, and chunky boulders provided structure: high desert xeriscaping at its best.

It was always a bit of a shock to return to Colorado after living in the verdant green of the Pacific Northwest. I could feel my sinuses crinkling from the dry air, and blinked rapidly to prevent the moisture in my eyes from wicking into the atmosphere.

Oh, and it was hot, too. August hot. And I donat care what they say about a adry heataaonce you hit 95 degrees, it just doesnat matter anymore.

aNice nap?a Meghan asked.

I wiped the sheen of sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. aI guess.a My mother beckoned Erin to the front door. Dad started unloading luggage behind me. The ache spread up my neck and settled behind my eyes. At least it went with the coffee-sour stomach.

I did not want to go into that house.

Why my parents hadnat moved was beyond me. How could they stand living there after what had happened? The one time I had the temerity to ask, Anna Belle had changed the subject.

Meghan opened her door and stepped to the pavement. I took a deep breath and followed her.

aHere, Dad, let me take that.a _____.

My former bedroom was larger and had a king-sized bed, so Anna Belle put Meghan and Erin in there. That left Bobby Leeas old room for me. I found the prospect less than thrilling, but kept my mouth shut in the name of common sense. Our childhood rooms were both run-of-the-mill guest bedrooms now. Had been for years. There wasnat a trace of either of us in the entire house anymore, except for the cl.u.s.ter of photos on the bookshelf in the great room. My inner child found that disconcerting, but the grown-up part of me said to stop being such a big baby.

Still, while I unpacked I expected a vestige of my brother in his old room, if only in the feel of the air against my cheek. But there was nothingajust taupe walls, blue Venetian blinds, a navy chenille bedspread, and a distressed pine dresser with a stinky fake gardenia candle on it. A cheap framed print of Pica.s.soas Don Quixote dominated one wall.

Kitty Wampus, my parentsa orange Abyssinian cat, sprawled on my pillow, shedding at will. I shooed him off and tried to shake some of the fur off, but it clung like Velcro. I sneezed and tossed it back on the bed. From the floor, the offending feline began to purr and do that cute squinty thing they do. Then he jumped back up and curled on the pillow again.