Murder by Yew (An Edna Davies Mystery #1)(27)

By morning, her face still felt flushed, and her body burned hot and cold at the same time. She wanted to pull the covers over her head and stay there until Albert came home, but she couldn’t.

Saturday. Her art class would arrive after lunch to spend the afternoon sketching in her yard. She lowered the covers and turned to the window. Thick, black clouds covered the sky. Oh, no. “Not today,” she moaned aloud.

Reaching over to the bedside table, she turned on the radio to hear the weather forecast. As she listened to her favorite classical station, she slipped into a drowsy half sleep and missed most of the news but came fully awake in time to hear the bleak weather report. Rain and drizzle most of the day. Not expected to clear before evening.

She groaned and threw back the covers. The furniture will have to be moved to fit nine easels into the living room, ten if Liz is going to paint, she thought. I’ll need some things for the class to work with—a basket of flowers or fruit and maybe one of my Phoenix glass vases. I’ll bring in a pot of aloe to sketch for my garden club presentation. That final thought cheered her only slightly.

As she showered and dressed, Edna’s mind reeled with all she had yet to do that morning. She would have to get fresh fruit from the grocery store and and scour her gardens for blooms and grasses to fill at least one large urn. The class should have a variety of still lifes from which to choose, and she'd better hurry before the rain started.

She decided to go to the market first, hopefully arriving early enough to avoid meeting someone she knew. If she had ever thought of wearing a paper bag over her head, today was the day. Her cheeks warmed again at the thought of her mortification last evening.

By the time she returned from the store, having run into very few people and nobody she knew, a light drizzle was falling. She donned her mackintosh and a rain bonnet, pulled her translucent rubbers over her shoes, and went out to search the yard for anything she might use for a fall floral arrangement. As she moved about in the wet grass, she wondered whether she should simply call Liz and cancel the class.

No, she decided firmly. I am not going to start hiding behind my curtains. She smiled wanly, picturing herself peeking furtively from behind lace drapes. That would be as good as saying I did whatever the police suspect me of doing.

By the time she had gathered some asters and wild grasses and had dragged a couple of potted plants from the rock garden into the mudroom, she was damp and cold. Wavering again in her resolve, she trudged around the downstairs halfheartedly, wishing that she had not invited the class to her home. At the time, knowing Albert would be away, it seemed a good idea--and fun. Now, it was a task that weighed her shoulders down and stuffed her head with cotton. She sneezed.

I might be catching a cold, she thought. Maybe I’ll phone Liz and call it off. After all, it was supposed to have been an outdoor event, sketching the gardens or the house or whatever inspired the students. I’d have put refreshments out on the patio table and people could come and go as they pleased. Now, inside, everyone will be closer together, crowded in, much less casual. They’ll all be watching me.

Sitting at her desk and staring at the phone, she sneezed again, then shook herself mentally. What was the matter with her? She would not behave as if she were guilty. At that precise moment, the phone rang, causing her to jump. She grabbed it before it rang again. “Hello.” Even to her own ears, she sounded defensive.

“Good morning, Edna.”

Liz! Maybe she was calling to cancel the class.

“Hi, Liz.” Edna tried to sound more cheerful.

“I'm calling to find out what you want to do about this afternoon.” The art instructor went on, as if she’d read Edna’s mind. “I know when you offered to host this event, we counted on good weather, but it looks like our beautiful Indian summer days are over.”

Oddly, when Liz offered her a way out, Edna’s determination returned. She reminded herself that to cancel now would probably be worse than going through with it. Had the visit by the police made her overly paranoid? Was she making a mountain out of a molehill? She thought back to her teens when she’d worn a blouse with a ripped seam beneath one arm. She knew it was there, and although she had been wearing a sweater over the blouse, she had a strong feeling everyone around her was aware of the tear.

Was that what she was doing now? Because she felt unreasonably guilty, was she supposing that everyone in town was whispering and pointing at her behind her back?

“Edna?” Liz's voice broke into her thoughts.

“We can still have the class here, if everyone's willing. If the rain doesn't stop, we can set up in the living room.” Edna went on to explain to her friend and instructor what she had planned and ended by saying, “We might be a bit crowded, but I think there'll be room for everyone.”

“Wonderful. It’s settled then.” Liz sounded relieved. “I'll tell the others.”

Edna hung up and was pushing herself out of the chair when the phone rang again. This time it was Starling, her youngest child.

“Hi, Mom. Dad home?”

Although she was thirty years old and part owner of a successful studio, Starling still seemed like a teenager to Edna.

“No, honey. He's in Chicago this weekend.”

“Oh, that's right. He's speaking at some sort of conference, isn't he?” After a slight pause, she said, almost as if to herself. “Darn. I wanted him to look at my car.”