The Double Cross by Clare O'Donohue

slightly inferior to her by waving her jewelry in my face. And yet, she seemed genuinely interested in reconnecting with her old friend, and that made me want to like her.
    I thanked her for the dinner, which apparently George had cooked, then walked out of the dining room. As I did I caught Eleanor’s eye. It was clear that she had something she wanted to tell me, so I gestured toward the bedrooms. She nodded slightly, the way they do in spy movies, and turned back to her conversation with George.

CHAPTER 8
    “I don’t think I can last another five days,” Susanne said, an hour later, as we gathered in the bedroom I was sharing with Eleanor. “I never should have agreed to do a whole week.”
    Eleanor sat on my bed, and I sat on the floor with Barney. Susanne just paced. We had barely settled in when there was a knock at the door.
    “It’s me,” I heard Bernie say. “Can I come in?”
    “Of course,” Eleanor said. “Susanne is worried about teaching her class. Tell her it’s going to be fine.”
    “It’s going to be fine. At least for you,” Bernie said. “I feel like a fool for coming here.”
    “Why did you?” I asked. I could see Eleanor give me the eye but I ignored it.
    And Bernie ignored me. “Anyone still hungry?” She was carrying paper cups, a small cardboard dispenser of coffee, and a bag of doughnuts.
    “Where did you get that?” I asked.
    “After dinner I went back to a bakery I found in town this afternoon. I figured we deserved a treat after that awful dinner.”
    The dinner was actually pretty good, but out of solidarity we all agreed. We sat, drank our coffee, and ate our doughnuts while Susanne and I filled the others in on the students.
    “It would be one thing if we had the right kind of classroom, with the right equipment, or if the students were really motivated. I think Rita and George just grabbed a few friends and neighbors and forced them to take the class,” Susanne said. “It’s not really a retreat. We’re the only ones actually staying here. I feel like such a fraud.”
    “Look at this place. Can you blame them for not wanting to stay here?” Bernie asked. “I tried to take a shower this morning and there was no hot water.”
    “Hot water is the least of our problems,” Eleanor said. “I woke up in the middle of the night and I swear I heard squeaking on the stairs. The place is probably filled with mice.”
    Susanne looked about ready to cry. “Not one person really wants to be in that class.”
    “But they are learning,” I pointed out, “and so am I. I’m excited to make a quilt based on one of my sketches.” As an art student, I had a million sketches, most of which would end up in a landfill. Translating a few to quilts would give a couple of good ideas a place to live.
    “They’re just such an odd group. I don’t think Helen and Frank spoke to each other all day,” Susanne said. “And Pete is a charming but he’s all thumbs. And the two sisters, the twins, there’s something off about them. I can’t figure out what they’re doing here. The others are all friends of the Olnhausens, but I don’t think they know them.”
    “They probably saw the ad in the Winston Weekly ,” Bernie suggested.
    “I don’t think so,” Susanne said. “Alysse, or the other one, said something about how they had to take the class. As if they were forced to.”
    “Well, they’re learning, whatever their reason for being here,” I said. “And in their own strange way, they all seem to be enjoying the class.”
    “I suppose.” But Susanne didn’t seem satisfied with my observation.
    “At least you accomplished something,” Eleanor said. “I spent the day just trying to explain the basics of owning a shop to that woman. She has never run a business. She’s never quilted. They’ve had this house, this land, for ten years—inherited it from her father. She said it was their summer place for years and years. And now she’s decided to turn it into an