Dire Threads Read Online Free PDF Page B

that white and natural light.” I was going to have to talk to Haylee about how she had “just happened” to find a shop and apartment I was sure to love.
    The hardware store was so old that the sign above its door was made of wrought iron and said The Ironmonger . Inside, nothing besides merchandise seemed to have changed in a century. Even the lighting was dim, as if whoever had installed the bulbs had decided that anything brighter than the original gas lanterns might be too luxurious. The effect was cozy, giving the natural woodwork a charming patina. As in my shop, the floor was black walnut. The walls were lined with oak drawers, each with a handle above a small metal square framing a slip of paper with the drawer’s contents handwritten on it.
    Several of the men sitting around the potbellied stove had witnessed my lunchtime fight with Mike. Two much younger men, Irv Oslington, the mayor, and Herb Gunthrie, our hunky postman, had now joined them. Herb waved his good arm and threw me one of his heartstopping, devil-may-care grins.
    Haylee’s three mothers, who usually ate dinner together, taking turns in each other’s apartments, scooted into the hardware store right behind us. They were very protective of Haylee and, as I’d seen this afternoon when they streamed into my shop in my defense, had decided to protect me, too. Having seen Haylee roll her eyes at their lack of subtlety, I grinned to myself. Who or what were they trying to guard me from now?
    I told Sam I needed two padlocks.
    “Betcha I can find you a pair that use the same key, so’s you’ll only need to carry one. They stamp secret codes on the packages. Here, I’ll show you.”
    Apparently, he’d owned The Ironmonger for so long he didn’t need much light to find his stock. He hauled packages of padlocks from a deep drawer underneath the counter and held one up where I could see it. “See this four digit number printed up here in this corner? All’s we have to do is find two packages with matching numbers and eureka! The locks will have matching keys.” He dumped packages of locks on a table near the old-timers and Irv and Herb. They immediately started shuffling through the packages and shouting numbers at each other.
    Clay poked around in barrels of nuts and bolts.
    Opal hugged me. “I guess we showed that Krawbach creature, didn’t we?” I wasn’t so sure. She looked me up and down. “Have you made an appointment with Dr. Wrinklesides yet?”
    “Why?” I asked, startled. Had my anger at Mike turned my face permanently purple?
    “He’s got lots of experience. He’s so good the coroner calls on him for assistance.”
    How reassuring. With any luck, I wouldn’t need a doctor.
    Edna sidled up to me. The top of her bright orange head came almost to my shoulder. “We were discussing you over cocktails,” she whispered. “You’re too thin. Like Haylee. You’re both wasting away. You could have an eating disorder.”
    If I did, it was the same as Edna’s and Opal’s—being too fond of food.
    Naomi, the bony one, edged between us. “Haylee and Willow both look great.”
    Clay had moved on to spools of twine, chain, and wire. He had his back to us but must have heard every word. His shoulders shook. I wanted to laugh, too. The urge came out as a huge smile, which undoubtedly would have encouraged the three women to continue with their nagging if they hadn’t been distracted by the arrival of a tall, muscular, blue-eyed blond man.
    “Ooh,” Opal whispered. “Now Willow really will have to go see Dr. Wrinklesides.”
    “Why?” Edna asked.
    Opal elbowed her. “She’s about to break out in hives.”
    Edna looked bewildered, but Naomi giggled. Shielding her mouth with her hand, she stage-whispered, “It’s that beekeeper, the one who’s sweeter than his honey.” The three women gathered around me and a carton of windshield scrapers.
    Throwing an apologetic glance at my fierce chaperones, the beekeeper spoke to me over