Looming Murder by Carol Ann Martin

“We’re hardly the same size. It would be difficult to convince Francine you were buying them for yourself.” I didn’t bother pointing out that being almost a foot shorter, I wasn’t exactly Jenny’s size either.
    In spite of the fact that Jenny was rather flaky and Marnie was more than just a little pushy, there was something so forthcoming about these women that I really liked them. As the conversation wound down, I found myself making them promise to drop by again the next day.

Chapte r 6
    A f ter washing the dishes and putting them away, I returned to my project, finished warping the loom and soon lost myself in the rhythm of my work.
    I had just wound a bobbin with blue yarn and was starting a point twill when the doorbell chimed. I put down my shuttle and was walking toward the door when two women stepped in. I glanced at my watch—already past one. Time had flown.
    The first woman was a middle-aged blonde in a business suit. “Hi, I’m Kate Radley.” She strode purposefully over to me and handed me her business card. I glanced at the second woman as she turned toward one of my display tables. It was Susan Wood from my class.
    “I’ve been meaning to drop by,” Kate went on. “I understand you’ve just moved into town. Welcome to Briar Hollow.”
    “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Radley—”
    “Oh, please call me Kate.”
    At that moment Susan turned toward me. “I was telling Kate about all your beautiful linens and how much fun I had last night.”
    “Thank you. I had a good time too.” Returning to Kate, I introduced myself. “I’m Della Wright. Call me Della.” I glanced at the card in my hand, recognizing the logo of the company. “You’re with Cottage and Castle Realties.”
    “Yes, I am. If you ever want to look at properties, give me a call.” I couldn’t help but wonder if Susan hadn’t told her I had already promised to go house-shopping with David.
    Susan put down the tablecloth she had been admiring and crossed the room to look at the items in the maple hutch. She picked up one of my dish towels. “These are the towels I told you about,” she called over her shoulder to Kate.
    Kate went to take a look. “They’re almost too nice to use.” She turned over the price tag, her forehead furrowing. “That’s a lot of money for a dish towel.” She closed her eyes, calculating under her breath. “But I suppose it’s reasonable for something that’s handwoven.” She turned to Susan. “You’re right. These would make wonderful housewarming gifts for my clients.” She counted out the pile of towels, picked them all up and brought them to my desk. “I’ll take all of these.”
    “You just made my day.” I carefully folded each one in tissue paper. “I’m glad you like them. I made them myself.”
    “You did?” She looked thoughtful. “Do you think you could add a small card saying something like ‘Handmade by Della Wright’?”
    “Already done.” I unfolded one of the towels and indicated the thick cream-colored tag tucked inside. I had spent a small fortune on those tags, but they looked so rich with their gold lettering, they made each of my items seem more precious.
    “Would you like me to gift-wrap these for you? It’s no trouble.”
    She beamed. “That would be perfect.” She glanced at her watch. “I don’t have time to wait right now. How about if I pick them up in a few hours?” She turned to Susan. “Or maybe you can pick them up. Susan is my office assistant.”
    “I didn’t know you worked for the same company as David.”
    “I’ve been there for years.”
    Kate leaned in, whispering dramatically, “When Susan told me that David had joined your group I couldn’t believe my ears. I can’t imagine David taking weaving classes.” Her eyes narrowed and she smirked as she searched my face. “Did he happen to tell you
why
he joined the weaving group?”
    “Yes, he did.” I was beginning to suspect the real reason for this shopping