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Overview
Former antiquities bounty hunter, Julie Ellis, is on the run, trying to stay one stiletto step ahead of her past. She accepts a position as manager of the Quilt Haus Inn in Missouri wine country, thinking it the perfect place to keep a low profile and start a new, less-dangerous career. It is—until Daniel Franklin walks through the door and asks for a room.
Daniel claims he’s come to Straussberg in search of a famous sunken ship that he believes is buried in a nearby farm field. Julie finds the handsome historian’s story odd at best, but when a dead body is discovered at the proposed dig site, it becomes clear somebody else believes the theory and doesn’t want the ship or its secrets exposed. Who in the town would possibly care about the old shipwreck? As frightening things start to happen at the inn—all seemingly connected to the hunt for the missing ship—Julie and her quilting friends must unearth the truth before someone else is buried.
INCLUDES A FREE QUILTING PATTERN INSPIRED BY THE STORY!
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781573674782 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Annie's |
| Publication date: | 04/01/2015 |
| Series: | Vineyard Quilt Mysteries Series |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 224 |
| File size: | 1 MB |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
Threads of Deceit
By Mae Fox, Jan Fields
Annie's
Copyright © 2014 Annie'sAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-57367-478-2
CHAPTER 1
Six months later.
The black Buick Verano slipped smoothly out of the bustle of late-season tourist traffic and slowed to a stop at the curb. The two women in the car leaned forward to peer out the front window at the tall, red brick Victorian perched on the low hill. Everything about the house was neat: the clean lines between cream and blue painted trim, the precision of the old brickwork, the way the tall peaked turret seemed to jab at the clouds floating by in the late summer sky.
Forty-year-old Julie Ellis smiled at the house, thinking it was a perfect match for the woman beside her. Hannah Marks had that same precision about her, that same orderliness. She liked order and rules and systems. She would fit in perfectly at the Quilt Haus Inn. Julie, on the other hand, knew she might find that her own square peg had a bit more trouble cramming into any available round hole.
Hannah leaned back into her seat and pushed her glasses up on her nose. "This is never going to work."
"What?" Julie pulled her eyes away from the house and flipped down the driver's-side visor. She ran a hand through her dark curls, hoping they were properly tamed. She needed to look the very soul of virtue. Maybe a bun? She looked around for a pencil to hold the bun in place.
"You playing innkeeper. You'll be organizing high-stakes poker matches with the elderly quilters by the end of the week just to stir things up."
"First, not all quilters are elderly," Julie said, squinting as she peered at her lips. Should she put on a bright "atta girl" lipstick or go for the innocent, natural look?
"That's not relevant."
Julie continued as if Hannah hadn't spoken. "And second, I happen to like quilting. I haven't had much time for it, but I'm looking forward to having that chance now."
"Right ... I give it four days before the first casino night. That's assuming you even get the job."
"I'll get it. I always get what I go after."
Hannah rolled her eyes at that, looking suddenly younger than her normally stern thirty-something. "I applaud your choice of a non-larcenous career change, but this job is going to bore you to tears."
"No job is boring if you do it right. And I plan to do this one right."
"So you're committed to this."
"I am."
"And you honestly believe it's going to work."
"I do."
"Come on, Julie. We're in Straussberg, Missouri. Missouri!" Hannah pulled a handful of paper from her oversized tote. "Allow me to read from the riveting visitor's information guide: 'A picturesque nineteenth-century village filled with friendly people, strong family values, and beautiful, river valley surroundings. A destination spot for tourists drawn to its antique shops, quaint wineries, German heritage, and grand historic homes.'"
"I like antiques."
"You steal antiques."
Julie turned sharply toward her friend. "I liberate them from thieves and return them to their true owners. Or I did anyway. I didn't steal, not morally. And I don't do any of that anymore. I'm an innkeeper now. Besides, I don't need you to tell me about Straussberg. I've been here before."
Hannah looked at Julie in surprise. "You have not."
"I have."
"I've worked with you for ten years. Our recovery jobs have taken us to New York City, London, even Rome — but never Missouri. I would have remembered."
"It was before I got into the antiquities recovery business. Long before you became my assistant."
Silence pooled in the car for a moment.
Finally, Hannah said, "We're not here for any reason you haven't told me, are we?"
"We're here because our last job upset some very nasty people, as you well know."
"Which it wouldn't have if you'd just called the police."
Julie groaned. "Yes, yes, you were right. But we need to remember the important thing — that I recovered the vase and made one dying grandmother very happy."
"Somehow I think the fact that you were almost killed qualifies for the 'important thing' status," Hannah said.
Julie waved that away. "I'm fine. And now the important thing is that Straussberg is the perfect place to start a new, less-dangerous career, which is something you've often said you wanted."
"I'm not sure hiding from international art thieves is really that much less dangerous, but I'll agree that this looks like the last place they'd come looking for you. Of course, that assumes you'll let Straussberg remain a nice quiet village. You do like to stir things up."
"Only when they need stirring."
"I feel the inevitable end of us being chased out of town with pitchforks and torches drawing near."
Julie gave her friend a smile that made Hannah moan in despair. Then she hopped out and headed up the wide steps cut into the hillside.
It was time to start her new life.
As she approached the house, she couldn't help but admire the lavish gingerbread trim and the way the paint drew the eye to every detail. The plantings around the tall Victorian were minimal to allow the building to shine. Julie slowed her pace as she climbed the steps to the small front porch, where rocking chairs waited for guests to sit and enjoy the warm day. Upon closer inspection, she saw signs of wear in the mortar between the bricks and the faded paint on the porch supports. But it was still a beautiful old house.
Julie strode into the front foyer, sizing up the small woman standing by the front desk. The iron-gray curls and dainty glasses perched on her nose gave the woman a storybook grandmotherly look. But Julie also recognized the hint of steely determination in the way the woman stood and in the tilt of her chin. A person would be ill advised to underestimate her.
"Welcome to the Quilt Haus Inn," the older woman said.
"Thank you. I'm Julie Ellis. Are you Millie Rogers?"
The woman's sharp gaze swept over Julie in an instant, her polite smile never wavering. "I am." Then she looked past Julie to Hannah, offering a befuddled look that Julie didn't believe for an instant. She had a hunch Millie knew exactly how to play the slightly confused old lady. "Goodness, I didn't realize I had two applicants coming today."
"Only one applicant, I'm afraid," Julie said. "This is Hannah Marks, my research assistant. You see, I'm writing a book on the history of quilting in America. I saw the ad for an onsite manager for your lovely inn, and I thought the job would be perfect for me. I love organizing things and meeting new people. And I'm wild about antiques and quilting."
Millie raised one thin eyebrow. "This job will require a great deal of your time. We have a fairly small staff — basically a cook, a housekeeper, and Shirley, who runs the tearoom and fabric shop. They've all been here nearly as long as I have. Shirley and the housekeeper will be a huge help to whomever I hire, but the new innkeeper will need to be prepared to pitch in whenever and wherever is needed."
"I don't mind work," Julie said.
"In addition, you'd be expected to register the guests and plan all of the special events. As you are aware, we cater mainly to quilters. They expect a high level of service. If you're trying to divide your time between a book project and the work of the inn, I'm not certain that would be appropriate."
Julie's smile never wavered. "I barely devote an hour or two a week to writing. Poor Hannah despairs of my ever getting the book done, I'm sure. But I have plenty of hours in the day for the job here. I wouldn't consider applying otherwise."
Millie frowned slightly. "It has been hard enough for me to accept the fact that I'm running out of time on this earth and retire. I don't plan to sit around counting the hairs on my cat's head or talking to my plants. I'm going to travel, and I won't always be easy to reach if things go wrong here. I need someone I can trust completely."
"I hope to convince you that I am that person," Julie said. "I would so enjoy being back here in Straussberg. My mother was raised here. Perhaps you knew her since you share a last name. Adelaide Rogers?"
Millie's eyes opened wide with what was clearly genuine surprise. "I had no idea that Addie had a child."
"That's understandable. My mother didn't believe in hanging on to the past. She said her marriage to my father cut a lot of old ties."
Millie sighed. "Your mother was a beautiful child and sweet in her own way, but she was a wild one. Her marriage to Bertram Ellis was simply the straw that broke a very shaky camel's back. I'm not saying I condone the way the family treated her, but I suppose I do understand it."
Julie's smile tightened. "That makes one of us. At any rate, I know family history can be complicated, but my parents are gone now, and that's another reason for my interest in the area. I want to experience the land where my mother grew up. And I would do a good job for you here. I assume we're related somehow?"
"Our kinship is rather distant. But I suppose you are family...." Millie's face reflected a flutter of emotions until it finally locked on one. "You can have the job. When can you start?"
"I'm ready right this moment," Julie said. "But any time after that is fine too."
Millie turned to look at Hannah again. "Do you need additional rooms for your friend?"
Hannah smiled. "I will probably rent a room closer into town. I have the names of a few places. First, I'm going to find a job of my own. My work researching leaves me with a lot of spare time as well." She paused. "Do you know anyone hiring a sous chef? I can also do short-order cooking. I'm not proud."
Millie's sharp eyes lit with interest. "You can cook?"
"I worked for two years in a small Amish restaurant in Pennsylvania," Hannah said. "And before that, I worked a number of months as a short-order cook in a little diner. My specialty, though, is pastry, but I assumed it would be easier to get a sous chef job at first."
"As it happens, our cook is leaving," Millie said. "Like me, she's retiring, though for different reasons. The poor old dear has health issues. Personally, I'm trying to get out of this place before I get health issues." She laughed dryly at that. "At any rate, if you're interested, we could try you out. You would fix breakfast most days and a larger brunch on Sunday. You'd also do some baking for the tearoom, but I imagine you would still have some time to research your book."
Hannah glanced at Julie and was rewarded by a bright smile. "That sounds wonderful, doesn't it, Hannah?"
"It does. I would love to give it a try."
Millie rubbed her hands together. "Marvelous. We have some house specialties you'll need to learn, but I can show you those, and you'll have Inga Mehl's help, of course. She's our housekeeper, but she lends a hand in the kitchen in the mornings. She's not chatty, but she's extremely competent, and loyal to a fault." Millie's smile flashed between Julie and Hannah. "I can't believe my good luck, filling two positions at once! Let me show you both to your rooms."
"Sounds good," Julie said.
Millie took them on a tour of the old mansion, clearly very proud of her inn. Her initial reticence seemed to be completely gone, and she chattered about the history of the Quilt Haus Inn, stopping frequently to point out specific items and tell stories associated with each. When a guest finally interrupted them to ask Millie a question, it was a relief to slip away to collect their luggage.
Hannah swung a heavy suitcase from the trunk of Julie's car, then slung a duffle over her shoulder. "So, how much of that family story was true?"
"I never lie," Julie said, "about family."
"Have you considered what you're going to do when she wonders why you don't actually write a book? Which brings me to another question: Why claim to be a writer?"
Julie shrugged. "Sometimes I like to ask nosy questions. People expect that of writers. And if we ever have to ... leave suddenly, we'll have an excuse to fall back on. We can tell Millie that we got a big offer on the book and now have to go write full time."
"And you're thinking we might have to leave suddenly?"
"You never know. I like to be prepared. Besides, who knows? Maybe Iwill write a book." Julie hauled her own sleek black luggage from the car and turned to head for her new home. "I'll have to do something to keep things interesting."
"That's exactly what has me worried," Hannah grumbled.
CHAPTER 2Within six weeks, Julie and Hannah had mastered their new roles so well that Millie applauded herself on their hire every time she dropped by the inn. Not that she did so often. She made an appearance now and again between the postcards she sent from virtually every attraction in Missouri, some of which Julie had no idea existed. Julie had gotten cards from the Jesse James Home, Talking Rocks Cavern, and Leila's Hair Museum. Hannah declared the last one just plain creepy.
Julie found that the innkeeper's job tested her skills in diplomacy and her personal depths in patience. She often thought back to how she'd told Hannah she was certain the job wouldn't be dull, but some days, a little dullness would have been a nice change.
"At my age, I simply cannot suffer that kind of heat!" Mrs. Cantrell's shrill voice jerked Julie out of her reverie. The old woman thrust her head forward, peering with dark eyes through her slightly smudged glasses. "Last night, I nearly died of heatstroke."
Mrs. Cantrell's twin sister, Miss Lawson, shuddered, setting the feather on her floppy round hat quivering. "We never imagined the third floor could be so beastly hot."
Julie's suite was also on the third floor, and she didn't find it disagreeable, but she knew arguing with the guests never turned out well. "I'll be happy to turn up the air conditioning on the third floor."
The sisters turned their matching horrified expressions toward Julie, and for a moment, she was reminded of two owls with ruffled feathers. She half expected them to hoot.
"Oh no," Miss Lawson said. "It's not healthful to breathe artificial air."
"Our neighbor put in one of those horrible air conditioners," Mrs. Cantrell said. "She was dead within the month."
"Her son insisted it was smoking that got her, but she lived through years of smoking and then died within the month of getting the air conditioner." Miss Lawson leaned in conspiratorially. "It's no mystery what really caused her death. We try not to go anywhere with an air conditioner."
"Which isn't easy," Mrs. Cantrell added, and the sisters bobbed their heads in unison.
"I'm sure it isn't," Julie said. "Maybe you could open the windows in your bedroom? Since you have the tower bedroom, you should get a nice cross ventilation."
Mrs. Cantrell shook her head. "We don't care for open windows. All sorts of pollen can blow in. My sinuses are quite delicate."
"They are indeed," Miss Lawson affirmed. "And I have ghastly allergies."
"I could bring up a fan?" Julie suggested.
"And blow the heat around!" Miss Lawson flapped her hands in distress. "We might as well sleep in a convection oven."
"You do have the oddest ideas," Mrs. Cantrell added, though she gave Julie a gentle pat on the arm to soften the remark.
For a fleeting moment, Julie had a warm, wistful longing for the days when the greatest conflicts in her life came from gun-wielding bad guys. At least she could hit them. She sighed softly. "Do you have any ideas to suggest?" The sisters responded with a sharp-eyed glare. "It's not our job to figure out how to do yours," Mrs. Cantrell said. "But the heat on the third floor is simply unacceptable."
Julie stretched a painful smile. "I could move you to the second floor. We have one remaining empty suite on the second floor."
Miss Lawson narrowed her eyes and thrust her pointed nose closer to Julie. "We wouldn't want to pay a higher rate."
"We can't just throw money around," Mrs. Cantrell added.
"No, no, I'll let you have it for the same rate," Julie said.
The sisters looked at each other, then back at Julie. They gave a decisive nod in unison.
"Fine," Miss Lawson said. "We're going to get breakfast now. Tell us when our new room is ready."
"Of course," Julie said.
As the matching set of old ladies strutted away, their heads tilting toward each other, Julie heard one last sharp comment: "The inn was much better when Millie was here."
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Threads of Deceit by Mae Fox, Jan Fields. Copyright © 2014 Annie's. Excerpted by permission of Annie's.
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