Good Bones: A Taylor Quinn Quilt Shop Mystery (The Taylor Quinn Quilt Shop Mysteries Book 7) Read online

  Good Bones

  A Taylor Quinn Quilt Shop Mystery

  Tess Rothery

  Copyright © 2021 by Tess Rothery

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  June 2020 had brought warmth and sun to Comfort Oregon, after a soggy, cold, and terrifying spring. Taylor leaned against the Corinthian post of the front porch of her sister’s newly remodeled mansion soaking the warmth in. She inhaled that clean, invigorating scent of freshly cut grass, so thankful she could still smell it through her double layered quilter’s cotton mask and little square of Scott's blue shop towel she had cut for a filter.

  She liked to think that any personal sacrifice she had to make because of the state’s pandemic closures were worth it for the saved lives. Anyone with a heart thought human life was worth more than the slight discomfort of wearing a mask.

  Not that mask-wearing had been the biggest problem of the last few months. The family business she had so carefully fostered was all but dead.

  Taylor shut her eyes and counted to ten.

  She would not let herself get lost in apocalyptic thought.

  Her brother-in-law Jonah had set up the Flour Sax Quilt Shop online store. Folks could shop at her website, and through an Amazon store. It wasn’t ideal, but it was keeping the lights on.

  Only a few months ago she’d been excited to employ three full time people at the quilt shop, but the pandemic had killed her prosperity.

  Kind, talented, and a genuine pleasure to be around, her newest employee Farrah had suggested Taylor lay her off. Farrah was eligible for the augmented unemployment insurance payments, and since her husband was a tenured college professor, they were doing okay. He was teaching from home, but they could eat still.

  Roxy Lang, who had recently gone from being an old family friend to the mother-in-law of Taylor’s sister, had also offered to be laid off. Taylor appreciated it. Roxy received those same unemployment insurance benefits, but Taylor would put her back on the books as soon as she could.

  Taylor and her ex-boyfriend Clay ran the online store. Though there was little work, she couldn’t do it all herself, and he was the one who handled the bookkeeping.

  She hadn't taken a salary in over a year, and the bulk of his pay came via the free apartment and utilities. To help get by, she’d signed them both up for food boxes from the state. She hated to admit it, but they were cash poor and needed the food.

  Her small business owner’s pandemic grant application was still pending. Rumor had it the loans had all gone to huge corporations who ran little DBAs. She deeply resented the way big business was hurting people she loved, but she tried hard not to live in a place of anger.

  After all, Roxy, Farrah, and Clay had shelter and food.

  They would be okay.

  Taylor knew her grandparents Quinn, who lived comfortably on their small strawberry farm, would not let her starve to death, and of course, neither would her sister Belle.

  Jonah and Belle’s fortune had been made on the Internet. With the world’s teenagers all confined to their homes, Jonah and Belle had only gotten richer.

  But Taylor worried about the other little shops in town.

  Main Street remained dark week after week and though Comfort was a close knit-town, not everyone had the same help she did.

  During the first month of the shut down, Taylor, Roxy, and Farrah had cut yard after yard of fabric and elastic bands and packaged them in Ziploc bags so the locals could sew facemasks for the hospitals. There had been a home-front war-era excitement about it; rallying together to take care of others. She was proud of Comfort, and how they had risen to the challenge. But March turned to April, and April turned to May. And as the days dragged on, the hope that this would end wore thin.

  And so, it was with great relief that she sat on this front porch in early June waiting for guests to arrive for Belle’s first historical retreat weekend.

  Phase Two.

  The words felt magical. Yamhill County, Oregon had finally hit phase two.

  Comfort was able to open, at least the tiniest bit.

  Her soul felt warm and hopeful, like the sun that had finally melted the late winter snow had melted away the fear in her heart as well.

  Right now, she waited for the guests who were going to test Belle’s dream.

  For two nights, six guests and four staff would enjoy all the luxuries that the mansion had to offer while maintaining six-foot distances and wearing masks.

  Belle had decided not to require historic dress of anyone, which Taylor appreciated. She suspected she’d have looked nice in one of the long, loose dresses of the early 1900s, but she wasn’t in the mood to make one.

  She’d been elbow deep in neglected work at Flour Sax. It had started with cleaning and organizing the shop. She wasn’t ready to address her personal hoarding issues, but she’d managed to sell tons of things she’d stashed in the nooks and crannies of the store. Craigslist had cleared the shop’s closets and filled her wallet more than once. And while Clay managed the technical side of their online store, she’d also been busy cutting fabrics, packaging orders, and shipping things off.

  Clay and Roxy's relationship had been interesting since the pandemic. Lockdown loneliness was real, and she’d expected Clay and Roxy to share a Covid bubble. Instead, Roxy rarely left her place and wouldn’t let Clay inside. If he hadn’t had Taylor to hang out with at the shop, six feet apart of course, she didn't know what he’d have done.

  The same went for her.

  If she hadn’t had Clay….

  She didn’t want to think about that. They had been deeply in love, long ago. Or at least she’d thought it was love back then. But the reality of seeing only him, day after day, had done the opposite of rekindling old feelings.

  The contact-free nature of Clay and Roxy's relationship was certainly a test. One that Taylor hadn't expected them to pass. But they seemed to flourish on the phone. It was almost like the two people truly liked each other for their personalities.

  While Taylor was glad she had someone to hang out with during the day, she couldn’t say she truly liked Clay for his personality.

  She turned her will to banishing thoughts of loneliness and isolation. She was in phase two, phase two. She repeated it to herself, savoring the freedom that would come with this change. Plus, she was about to have a glorious weekend with some lovely ladies.

  Some old friends, some people who might become new friends, and Maddie Carpenter.

  Maddie.

  She might be a problem, but Taylor and her counselor had decided to look at this as an opportunity instead. They might not reconcile,
but they could at least move on from the rift that had formed a few years back.

  Comfort was so small you’d have thought they’d have seen each other enough to make up by now. After all, the falling out had almost been laughable.

  No.

  She rejected that thought. Taylor did not find it laughable.

  Maddie, a child psychologist, had been giving Belle grief counseling. At the time Belle had been around sixteen.

  A situation had come up that found Belle and Maddie staying at a bed and breakfast by themselves. None of them had thought anything about it as they had all known each other forever. But Hudson East, who had been working at the bed and breakfast, had pointed out this was exactly the kind of thing predators do when they want to groom a teen for an inappropriate relationship.

  Taylor knew Maddie wasn’t a predator, but she’d brought it up anyway. Maddie had been horrified. The idea that she’d created the appearance of impropriety was unforgivable. They hadn’t spoken since.

  Taylor didn't have kids in school and Maddie didn’t quilt, so they never ran into each other.

  On occasion Taylor had seen the back of Maddie’s head in the grocery store and turned away. And maybe Maddie had done the same thing. But otherwise, Maddie hadn't so much as strolled past her shop on Main Street. And Taylor certainly didn't take any of her long rambles past the house where Maddie both lived and worked.

  This event could be a new beginning.

  For Maddie and Taylor, definitely. And the end of pandemic prison.

  Belle had spared no expense in landscaping the long sweep of gravel that curled in front of the house. The U-shaped driveway was newly created, but there had been plenty of land for it. The house sat on almost two acres and was well back from the street. The boxwood lined drive circled a round, moss lawn that was perfect for their regional weather. No need to fertilize, or mow. Just enjoy the golden green luster all year round. With the acres of lawn all around the house, this little patch was an attractive contrast.

  An impressive concrete fountain stood in the center of the moss lawn. One could sit on the porch and lean against the post, like Taylor was doing, and watch the little birds flitter in and out of the water as it splashed playfully in the tiers of concrete bowls. Taylor was torn. Would the fountain have been better with something silly like peeing cherubs? She didn't know. The perfectly balanced classical design was so satisfying on its own.

  And speaking of balance, Belle had done her best to balance the lopsided house. For decades, the dark brick chimney had given the impression that the corner of the building was sinking. Belle had attempted to anchor the other corner by painting the tower a deep eggplant. The home was decorated with three historical colors, like all well-restored Queen Ann Victorian style buildings. The body of this house was a dusty sage green, and small areas, such as the dental trim, had been picked out in a brighter cream. The contrast, or pop as the HGTV folks said, came from that eggplant.

  Belle seemed to love and long for balance.

  But the chimney still seemed to be pulling the house into the ground, as though the hard clay soil had been replaced by sand.

  Belle’s schedule for the weekend event was meticulously balanced between organized time and free time. Between active time and restful time. Taylor less-than-secretly wished she could be a guest instead of staff. Wealthy Edwardian women had hours of restful peace to get ready for dinner, and Belle had scheduled that for her guests as well. Taylor would have used her time to play sudoku and listen to audiobooks. She had meant to read more during the pandemic, and longed to give it a try. While she dreamed of the many ways she'd spend her spare hours, the chartered van with their six guests drove its crunching way up the gravel of that U-shaped drive.

  “Up, up,” Belle urged. Her tone was friendly, but Taylor knew to take her seriously.

  She joined the staff standing on the lower step of the porch to welcome the guests.

  They hadn’t been required to wear black and white uniforms like staff at Downton Abbey, but they did have matching black polo shirts with name tags. Taylor knew they looked good, and that Belle was proud. It was an interesting new dynamic for them, and though sometimes a little uncomfortable, Taylor liked it. Belle had been born to direct.

  “Girls, don’t run,” the querulous voice of Lorraine Love, a woman whose rough youth had left her looking many years older than her mere fifty-some, called after two young women who practically scampered out of the van. Tansy, the woman in her mid-twenties, was Lorraine’s daughter. The other girl, Pyper, was Tansy’s half-sister. Pyper’s mother, Sissy Dorney, stood next to Taylor with the staff.

  The girls halted.

  Pyper, who seemed to be a perpetual college co-ed, giggled. “Sorry!”

  Sissy winked at the girls.

  A masked driver unloaded far more bags than seemed reasonable, while three other ladies got out.

  Taylor’s heart nearly snapped when she spotted Maddie.

  Maddie had changed.

  She looked sharp. Pointed. A deep crease between her eyes hinted at an internal fight. In honor of the bright, warm June she wore something like linen pants and a loose blouse that matched. They looked new and costly. Things were perhaps going well at work, and that was why she looked so stressed. Bearing the burdens of worried children on your heart day after day would put those lines on anyone’s face.

  Taylor hadn’t met the other two guests before, but Belle had prepped her. She was to expect a tall woman with curly salt and pepper hair named Jeanne, and a brunette with blond highlights and wire framed glasses named Courtney. Belle’s prep work said that Courtney, Jeanne, and Maddie had been friends in college.

  When Lorraine had shared the opportunity with folks who supported the Flour Mill Museum, Jeanne had snapped them up within an hour. And yet, the three women stood awkwardly with each other.

  Maddie looked past the staff. She squinted into the distance as though she were trying to make out far away details beyond the house.

  Courtney was on her phone.

  Eventually Courtney would look up and see the house. Taylor hoped she would be impressed.

  Jeanne had deep shadows under her eyes. Bags that spoke of many, many, late nights, and possibly a little malnutrition. Taylor sympathized. She knew the meals this weekend would be top notch. The young chef, to use the word lightly, might not be the most experienced, but she was good at plain cooking. She’d been raised in her family business. Taylor knew Aviva Reuben not just as a waitress from the local family-owned diner, but also from her friendship with Belle. They’d even worked on solving a murder together, though Taylor was glad there’d be none of that this weekend.

  Belle insisted Aviva work from something called The Rumford Complete Cookbook that had been published in 1908 so that the food would be as authentic as possible. As the kitchen was amply provided with everything from local chicken to Grandma Quinny’s freshly harvested strawberries, there was no way anyone would leave the table hungry.

  “Welcome to the Boone-Love family home." Belle held her arms out wide, not quite as dramatically as Oprah does when giving everyone in her audience a car, but close.

  The gesture suited the fluttering in Taylor's heart. For the first time in months, they were together, not that this particular group held sentimental value for her, but they were people. People were together, and it felt like a gift. Like a gift Oprah would give.

  "We hope, Jonah and I, that you enjoy your stay. The Boone-Love home is a grand historic mansion, built in 1904 by the great-grandson of Daniel Boone who was also one of the heirs of the Love Flour Mill fortune. We hope someday it will be a jewel not just in our little town, but in the whole of the Pacific Northwest. We want this event to launch a new life for the home that’s worthy of its history. We hope through the years, many groups will come to recreate, rest, and appreciate those who came before us in all of their glory…" Belle paused with an eyebrow lifted, "and sometimes, disgrace."

  Taylor wondered why her sister wo
uld bring up disgrace at a time like this. Hadn’t they had enough bad news? Today everyone should be thinking of the coming summer. One that was most likely going to be virus free. That was the hope in Taylor's heart. This weekend was the beginning of the return to normal.

  “Everyone find your bags," Belle said. "We'll take you to your suites, first. Give you a moment to refresh after what I hope was a pleasant trip on the chartered van. We’ll meet in the front hall in twenty minutes to tour the property. A little introduction, so to speak." The guests were then directed to their individual suites.

  The home, when Belle and Jonah had completed the renovations, included fifteen bedrooms, ten of which were spacious enough for a small sitting area and an attached bathroom. It boggled the mind how a house this large ever made its way into a town this small.

  The guests had shed their light jackets and tidied their hair. Perhaps a year ago they would have touched up their lipsticks. Instead, they wore fresh new masks. Jeanne, Courtney, and Maddie wore matching cotton masks with the logo of the community college where they had met.

  A glossy, mahogany grand piano with a music-stand reminiscent of a wagon wheel held center stage in the home’s foyer. Aviva, a young woman whose talents never ceased to impress Taylor, sat at the piano playing a sweet little Chopin sonata. Taylor knew it was Chopin because the sheet music that obscured the music stand at the moment said so, and not because she had any deep knowledge of classical music.

  From the foyer, they turned to the parlor, which was the room through the grand archway. The piano echoed in the vastness of the space though thick brocade drapes in the same eggplant and sage colors as the exterior of the home attempted to soften the walls. The parlor boasted an assortment of spindly legged chairs, a fainting couch, two wing back chairs, and two settees upholstered in dusty sage velvet. Belle must have cleaned out the Comfort antique mall to create her collection of side tables, coffee tables, whatnots, hutches, and secretaries. She hadn't worked with an interior designer, and yet the space felt organic. Comfortable, not crowded. The fifteen-foot ceilings helped with that.