Back on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #4)(71)

“Anyone heard from Alix in the last few days?” Colette asked a moment later.

She seemed concerned suddenly, although when I’d first mentioned Alix I hadn’t sensed any uneasiness in her.

“Come to think of it, I haven’t seen her in a while,” I said slowly. Alix usually dropped in two or three times a week. She’d long been more than a customer; we were friends.

Friends. And then it hit me. “You know what we need to do, don’t you?” I said in a rush, wondering why I hadn’t thought of it earlier. “We should hold a wedding shower for Alix.”

“Great idea,” Colette agreed. “Just us—her knitting friends.”

“How about next Wednesday, since that’s our last class,” Susannah suggested.

I nodded. “That would be perfect. We’ll make it a surprise.”

Everyone agreed enthusiastically. We discussed knitting-related gifts—pattern books, yarn in a color we knew she liked, a gift certificate for the shop.

“We could order a cake from the French Café,” Susannah said. “Alix might even end up decorating her own cake.”

We all found that amusing, especially in light of the problems she’d had over her wedding cake. She’d talked about it one afternoon when she’d come by for yarn. She’d sounded depressed about the decision Jacqueline and Susan had made regarding it. I tended to side with Alix, but not wanting to cause any discord, I said nothing to her or to Jacqueline.

“Has anyone else planned a shower for her?” I asked, certain there must be others.

“Tammie Lee Donovan,” Colette said. “Alix brought it up the last time we worked out at Go Figure.”

That made sense. Jacqueline’s daughter-in-law was a good friend of Alix’s. And I recalled that Jacqueline had, in fact, mentioned the shower. Tammie Lee had invited all their friends from the country club, where both couples were prominent members.

“She didn’t seem that excited about it,” Colette added.

“I don’t think she knows a lot of the women who frequent the country club,” I said. “She’s probably feeling a bit apprehensive.”

Colette’s mouth turned down in a sympathetic grimace. “Yeah. She’s afraid she’ll be out of her element.”

“There’s another shower being held by the ladies at the Free Methodist Church the week before the wedding,” Susannah said.

“That’s nice,” I murmured.

“It would be if it were someone other than Alix,” Colette said.

“Is she uncomfortable about this one, too?” Susannah asked.

Colette hesitated. “That might be an overstatement. But she seemed kind of shocked people would do that for her. I think she’s afraid she might forget someone’s name.”

That was a problem I could easily identify with. A lot of people come to my shop, and while I make an effort to remember all their names, I sometimes forget. It’s embarrassing to admit, especially when they’ve been to A Good Yarn a few times.

“It isn’t like Alix to miss our workout sessions,” Colette said. “But we haven’t gone together since last week. She’s not answering her phone and she wasn’t at work today.”

I was beginning to feel worried, even a little scared.

The bell above the door chimed then, and in walked Jacqueline Donovan. She marched purposely toward the back of the store, where the rest of the class had gathered. And she looked…unlike Jacqueline. Her hair was actually disheveled, her mascara smudged and her raincoat badly wrinkled. Appearances are important to Jacqueline, and I’d never seen her like this before.

She glanced at the table and her shoulders sagged. “Oh, dear.”

“What is it?” I asked, but I could guess. She was searching for Alix.

Her next words confirmed it. “When’s the last time any of you saw Alix?” she asked.

We all looked at one another. “Last week for me,” Colette admitted. “We were talking about her just now, wondering where she is.”

“Have you heard from her?” Jacqueline demanded, turning to me.

“No—not recently. Has anything happened?” I was convinced there must be something seriously wrong for Jacqueline to leave her house with less than a full application of cosmetics and several pieces of expensive jewelry, not to mention a perfectly pressed coat.

Jacqueline seemed indecisive, then shook her head. “I don’t know yet,” was all she’d tell me. She remained stubbornly tight-lipped. If anyone had an opportunity to talk to Alix, it would be Jacqueline, since Alix lived in the Donovans’ guesthouse. Surely Jacqueline needed only to cross the lawn and knock on the door. This told me Alix hadn’t been home. And that meant trouble.

“If you see her,” Jacqueline said urgently, “promise you’ll get her to phone me.”

“Of course.” That would be an easy promise to keep. I was truly worried now, without knowing exactly why.

Jacqueline left and as soon as the door closed, the three of us exchanged anxious looks.

“Now I’m really wondering what’s wrong,” Susannah muttered, stopping long enough to count the stitches on her needle.

“Maybe holding a wedding shower isn’t such a good idea, after all,” Colette began.