Tapestry of Lies: A Weaving Mystery Read Online Free PDF Page B

Winnie, picked up his doggy bed and carried it to my bedroom, where I dropped it in the corner.
    “There you go, big boy. Make yourself right at home.”
    He threw me a grateful look, climbed onto his cushion and promptly closed his eyes. A few seconds later, he was already asleep—lucky dog.
    The phone rang, and I picked it up.
    “What are you doing home at this time of day?” my mother asked, sounding worried. “Is everything all right? I called the shop and got no answer. You didn’t close your shop, did you?”
    “No, Mom. Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m still in business. There’s a big party tonight and half the town is going. It was a slow day, so I decided to close early and get ready.”
    There was a sigh at the other end of the line. “I still can’t believe that you left a wonderful career as a business analyst to become a weaver.” This was a familiar refrain. I steeled myself for a long diatribe, but thankfully she changed the subject—to her next favorite one. “But I suppose in this case there is a silver lining. You and Matthew live so close to each other now. Is he going to the party with you?”
    “Don’t get too excited. A bunch of us are going together. It’s not a date.”
    “Still, wear something nice—a dress. How about that beautiful blue dress, the short one? It shows off your legs so nicely.”
    “I’ll wear a dress. I don’t often get a chance to dress up out here.”
    “And wear some makeup too—not just a touch of mascara and lipstick.”
    “I always wear makeup. You know that.”
    “And flirt with him, for God’s sake.”
    “I’m hanging up now, Mom. Love you. Good-bye.” I put down the receiver and looked at Winston. “How would you deal with a mother like that?” He groaned. “You got that right.”
    Just a few days ago, my mother had reminded me that I was in my midthirties and that if I wasn’t going to listen to my own biological clock, then I should at least remember hers. That she was in her late sixties and wanted grandchildren. Was it just mine, or do all mothers drive their daughters crazy?
    Winston stared back with one eye closed. “You’re the only one who isn’t trying to get Matthew and me together.” He blinked and dropped his head onto his front paws.
    I opened my closet and riffled through in search of the perfect outfit. I wanted to look sexy for Matthew, yet not too obviously so. This was a small town. In these parts, wearing anything other than jeans was considered dressing up. I pulled out the blue dress my mother had mentioned and noticed a small stain.
Damn
. Hopefully, it would come out with some spot remover. But no time for that now. I returned to my closet. I continued searching until I came across my red jersey dress. It was my favorite because it made me look tall and thin, a real feat, considering my height. I held it in front of me and turned to Winnie, who was snoring softly.
    “What do you think, Winnie? Will Matthew think I look sexy in this dress?” He opened one bleary eye and stared at me, unconvinced. “Come on, Winnie. Help me here.” I hung the dress back up and pulled out another. This one was navy and rather plain, with a turtleneck and long sleeves. “How about this one?”
    This time, he raised his head and barked.
    “Oh, so you think I’ll look better with every inch of my body covered up. I think you’re trying to sabotage my efforts here, big boy. That’s it, isn’t it? You don’t want Matthew to fall in love with me.” I returned the navy dress to the closet and picked up the red one again. “So there. That’s what I think of your advice.” Winnie gave a low, disapproving growl, but I stepped into the red dress nonetheless.
    At five o’clock I was ready. My mother would approve. I had paid extra attention to my hair and makeup, and I looked great. My dark brown hair fell in lustrous waves onto my shoulders, and my eyes looked deep and sultry under smoky makeup. As I transferred my wallet and