The Stitching Hour Read Online Free PDF Page B

anyway.”
    â€œWhat do you know about them?”
    â€œOnly that they like to travel, have done a number of odd jobs, and that they’re leasing the building beside yours to operate the Horror Emporium through Halloween,” said Sadie.
    â€œVera seems to think the haunted house will do really well. She said the Atwoods are planning costume contests and things like that periodically to keep the attraction fresh and new.”
    â€œThey are.” She smiled. “They might even ask you to participate in some way . . . you know, judge a contest or something.”
    â€œReally? That’d be fun.”
    â€œBut enough about the Horror Emporium. Let’s talk about your open house. What would you like to serve?”
    â€œNothing too messy,” I said. “Some cookies . . . a cheese platter . . . maybe some veggies and dip. What do you think?”
    â€œSounds good to me. And instead of punch this time, let’s do coffee—regular and decaf—and peach tea.”
    â€œSuper. Are you sure you and Blake can fit it in without too much inconvenience?”
    â€œI’m positive,” she said. “I think doing the concessions for the Horror Emporium will be fun. All the foods are easy to make, and one waitress will man the stand each evening.”
    â€œI hope it goes great. I simply worry about you spreading yourself too thin.”
    She tilted her head. “Um . . . I thought I was
your
mother hen.”
    â€œWorks both ways,” I said. “Oh, by the way, Mom is going to be here for the open house.”
    â€œFantastic! I know the Atwoods will adore her.”
    I smiled. “Doesn’t everybody?”
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    After Sadie left, I got back to work on my ribbon embroidery project as Angus snored by the window. I should have known the peaceful afternoon couldn’t last.
    From the corner of my eye, I spotted Nellie Davis—puffy white hair sticking straight up in the breeze—walking down the street toward MacKenzies’ Mochas. A few minutes later, she and her latte burst through my front door. The movement was so abrupt that Angus sat up and began barking. I set aside my project and hurried to put my arms around him.
    â€œEverything’s all right, Angus. Hi, Nellie. How are you?”
    â€œI’m worried, that’s how I am. And you should be too.”
    â€œAbout the Atwoods, you mean?”
    â€œYes, about the Atwoods.” Nellie wore her typical all – black ensemble, offset by the paleness of her skin, the white hair, and her signature red-framed eyeglasses. “I’ve thought all along that you were cursed, but I didn’t think you’d brought it on yourself. Those two are just asking for it.”
    â€œWould you like to sit down, Nellie?”
    â€œNo, I don’t have time.” She looked over her shoulder. “Mark my words—those people are inviting evil right into our midst! Have you seen the dreadful things they’ve been carting into that building?”
    I shook my head. “What sort of dreadful things?”
    â€œSkulls, mechanical witches . . . coffins.” She took a dramatic pause. “Or maybe those are their beds.”
    â€œYou never know,” I said.
    Nellie peered at me. “I think I
do
know. It’s like they’re from another time . . . maybe even another world.”
    I decided to go ahead and throw out the
v
-word. “But if they were vampires, how could they walk around in daylight?”
    â€œNot being able to walk in daylight is a myth they’ve perpetuated to trick us,” said Nellie. “I looked up vampires on the Internet. What Hollywood tells us is a lie. Real vampires call themselves a
subculture
. I call them trouble.”
    â€œAnd you think the Atwoods are vampires because they brought coffins in for their haunted house?” I