One for the Hooks Read online

  “So tell me about Gabby,” she said, “and the idea of being a grandmother.”

  “The whole grandmother thing is going to take some getting used to. Gabby is going to take some getting used to too,” I said. “She seems the ambitious type—she was one of the producers on the sitcom before the whole thing fell apart. She didn’t seem very friendly, and I think she’s not happy with the accommodations. I’m sure Peter assured her they’d have my room.” I drained the last of my drink. “He dropped that they’re going to tell everyone that the whole house is theirs.”

  “I hope he’s not planning to entertain,” Dinah said with a laugh.

  “I didn’t think of that,” I said, and sighed. “I guess I’ll deal with that when I have to.”

  “You could have said no,” she said.

  “How could I when his brother is already living there when he’s not on the road? I probably should be glad that at least Peter didn’t bring any pets with him. Just a pregnant woman who seems a little hostile.” I looked at my friend. “Now it’s your turn.”

  “My news seems pretty paltry after that. It’s just Cassandra.” She managed to say the name so it came out as a groan.

  “It’s not easy dealing with adult children,” I said.

  “At least, Peter is your adult child.”

  I got it. Cassandra was technically Dinah’s stepdaughter. My friend had recently married Commander Blaine. She was long ago divorced, and he was a fairly new widower. Cassandra looked at Dinah as an intruder and made no attempt to keep it a secret.

  “I thought she lived someplace back east.” I said.

  “‘Lived’ is the key word there. Commander didn’t want to upset me, so he didn’t tell me that she moved to Woodland Hills and that he gave her a job at his Mail It Quick shop. I only found out when I went in there to get some stamps. Now that the cat’s out of the bag, he wants us to have weekly family dinners. I think I better hire someone to taste my food first,” she said with a smile.

  I took a sip of my Red Eye and willed it to give me a jolt of alertness. I hadn’t slept well the night before, for obvious reasons, and I had a full day ahead of me at the bookstore, along with the Hookers’ get-together later that day. “I might need another one of these,” I said, holding up the almost empty cup. “I just heard from Mason. He had some sort of emergency and flew in this morning. He said we’d get dinner.”

  “Oh,” she said, her eyes lighting up. “I’m sure he’ll whisk you off to someplace wonderful.”

  As I said, Mason Fields is my plus one. I hated the word “boyfriend,” but there weren’t a lot of better alternatives. “Significant other” didn’t work for me. It sounded forced. “Partner” was confusing—were you lovers or in business together? “Main squeeze” sounded like a tube of toothpaste. Whatever his title, he’d recently gone through a huge change in his life, almost like a rebirth. He was a high-powered attorney who mostly dealt with naughty celebrities and people with a lot of money. He spent as much time hand-holding as he did defending them. He had all the vestiges of a high-profile legal career, like a corner office in a Century City high rise that gave him a view of Santa Monica Bay, and custom-made suits. His Encino house was a mini mansion surrounded by beautiful landscaping, and he drove a deluxe Mercedes SUV.

  But when he’d looked back over his career, he’d begun to regret that he’d used his highly skilled legal talents to basically do nothing more than help guilty rich people get off. It had all suddenly seemed hollow and without meaning, and had caused him to want to change his life. He connected with the Second Chance Project, a group of lawyers who helped innocent people in prison get new trials. Mason was still a partner at his regular law firm and still dealt with his celebrity clients, but he was spending more and more time traveling around, tracking down new evidence and working on appeals for people who’d never gotten a fair trial.

  It meant we were apart a lot, but when I saw what it had done for his life, I could only be happy for him. Our relationship was on the casual side anyway. He was divorced and wasn’t interested in getting married again. I’d been married for a long time before Charlie died, and was very comfortable being single. The best way to describe our relationship was the adult version of going steady. Mostly we had fun together. I missed him when he was on the road, but seeing the change in him more than made up for it. It was like a youth serum. He looked and acted years younger and was brimming with passion, which spilled over nicely into our time together.

  “Yes, I can’t wait to see him.” I debated getting another Red Eye, but when I leaned back and looked into the bookstore, I was troubled by what I saw. “They should be winding down by now,” I said, shaking my head as I got up. Dinah followed me through the magazine racks before we reached their gathering spot.

  I stopped on the edge to wait for an opening to step in. One of the women was in the midst of asking a question. I recognized her as one of our regular customers. She had short brown hair, tinged with a little gray, and a forthright manner. I couldn’t remember her name other than it reminded me of mayonnaise. “Why don’t you ever talk about the first movie you were in?” she asked.

  Merry’s smile barely faltered. “You mean Eels? It was so long ago and not exactly a shining performance.” Her eyes moved over the group. “For those of you who missed it, it was a low-budget horror movie. Think a cheap version of Jaws, but with slithery, black snake-like fish that can zap you with an electric charge.” She paused to let them all chuckle. “I still have a souvenir from the film.” She glanced over to where a man was lounging against one of the bookcases, looking at his phone. “My husband, Mick, was the eel master. He created all the mechanical eels.”

  He looked up at the group and did a solemn bow before his face broke into a grin, and he used his arm to imitate a swimming eel. Then he pointed at his watch.

  “I didn’t realize how late it was. The discussion with all of you was so inspiring, and I hate to have to go,” Merry said, turning to me. “I could come back in a few days.” She glanced back toward the group, and they all nodded enthusiastically.

  By this time, her husband had come over to join her. “That’s not a bad idea,” he said. “We didn’t have any books to sign this time, but I’m sure something could be arranged for next time.” He looked out to the group. “You could bring your friends.”

  “I’m sure we could make that happen,” I said, putting an arm around Merry and attempting to separate her from the group, but Ms. Mayonnaise stuck next to her. I started to escort Merry and Mick to the front, when there was a shriek and the blur of a red cape as Adele Abrams flew out of the children’s department, waving her phone on a selfie stick like it was a magic wand. When she stopped moving, I saw she was wearing a silver crown that was askew. She seemed ready to latch onto Merry, and I tried to stop her.

  “Can you give me something for my vlog,” Adele said, reaching around me. She quickly caught her breath and straightened her crown when she saw her image in the phone. “Going live,” she said in a false bright tone. “I have a special guest, Merry Riley. Tell my followers what you’re doing here.”

  Mick appeared ready to step in, but even though Merry had no idea what was going on or who Adele was, she rose to the occasion and brightened her smile.

  Before Merry could say a word, Adele continued, “To all my many, many followers. I know my vlog started out to be about crochet and yarn, but it’s become so much more. I’m sharing the adventures of my life with you all. And the exciting people that I meet.” Then she finally let Merry talk about her book.

  Ms. Mayonnaise realized she’d been squeezed out of their interchange and joined me. “You shouldn’t let that woman with the crown bother Merry,” she said in a scolding tone.

  “They seem to have worked that out on their own,” I said, doing my best to sound friendly.

  Ms. Mayonnaise let out a harrumph and went back to get her things.

  “You have to deal with a lot,” Dinah said, catching up with me. �
��Force-of-nature Adele and people like that woman telling you how to do your job.”

  “It’s not the first time she’s made a friendly suggestion and probably not the last. I don’t think she can help herself. We talked a little once, and she told me she was retired from an administrative job at a private school and felt it was her duty to step in when something didn’t seem right to her.” Dinah laughed when I explained the issue with her name.

  “Ms. Mayonnaise is probably more exciting than her real name anyway,” Dinah said as we continued to the back of the store. I surveyed the yarn department to see if there were any early arrivals for the Hooker gathering, but the wood table was empty. We dropped our tote bags on it before going back to where the book group had met, then started putting everything back the way it was.

  We were just finishing up when a woman stepped in front of me.

  “Just the person I want to see,” she said in a bright tone. Without waiting to see if I recognized her she said, “Sloan Renner,” and held out her hand.

  “Of course, I know who you are,” I said. She was a regular customer and had come to a lot of our events. We’d gotten talking after a demonstration a cook book author had put on. There was something stylish about her—the collar was popped on her shirt, and the cuffs rolled up, but somehow she managed it so it looked completely natural. I saw she was holding some hardbound books from our bargain table. She noticed me checking the titles and moved them so they were too far away for me to read. “They’re just for show. I’m working on a house, and I wanted to have some books stacked next to a chair. I saw Martha Stewart do it and thought the look was fabulous.”

  I introduced her to Dinah. “Sloan wears a number of hats and all very well,” I said. “Let’s see, she’s a set designer for one of the studios. When she’s not doing that, she’s a real estate agent, stages houses before they go on the market, and clears houses so she can stage them.” I looked at Sloan. “Isn’t there something else?” I said.

  “I have a new service setting up backgrounds for online group meetings, and there’s the occasional odd job,” she said with a friendly smile. “I like having a number of professions. So when one starts to ebb, I can find one that flows. Besides, I have to keep my sister in designer shoes.” She said it like it was a joke, but I remembered something about her having a sister she was helping support who had a lot of health issues.

  “You’re in charge of the yarn department here, right?” she said. I nodded and she continued, “I’m working on a emptying out a house, and we found a bunch of yarn. It seems like it’s high quality, and I’m trying to figure out how to dispose of it. Do you suppose you could have a look at it? Maybe you could add it to your inventory.”

  I wasn’t sure how to answer her. It was true, we had bought up yarn from a shop going out of business, but I wasn’t so sure about something from someone’s house. “We have a lot of stock right now,” I said as an excuse, but Sloan persisted.

  “Why don’t you look at it before you decide? I’m sure my client will let it go for cheap, and you could make a tidy profit,” she said.

  “I suppose there’s no harm in having a look,” I said.

  “Then come tomorrow,” she said, and pushed a business card on me. “Got to run. I left my dog in the car.” I immediately felt concerned since it was summer, and started to say something. “Don’t worry—she’s in the shade. I love that pup and wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her.” She pointed to the card. “I wrote the address on the back.”

  I waited until Sloan left. “Before we waste any time going over there, I’m going to check with Mrs. Shedd and see if she’s even interested.” I went looking for the bookstore co-owner. She was in her office, pouring over a book catalog.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” I said. Pamela Shedd had honey-blond hair without even a strand of gray. The texture was smooth and shiny, though she was well into her sixties.

  “No problem,” she said.

  I explained about the yarn that Sloan had mentioned. “She’s claiming the owner would sell it for a low price. What do you think?”

  She shrugged. “You know more about yarn than I do. Have a look and tell me about it; then we’ll decide.”

  Dinah had gone back to the yarn department, and I headed to join her.

  “I found this on the floor,” Dinah said, handing me a silver bangle. “What should I do with it?”

  I picked up my tote bag off the table and held it open. “Drop it in here. It probably belongs to someone in the book group. I’ll put it in the lost and found.”

  “So what did Mrs. Shedd say?” Dinah asked.

  “She was okay with me having a look. It’s probably going to turn out to be a lot of cheap stuff or wool that moths have gotten into.”

  “It doesn’t hurt to have a look,” Dinah said.

  “I’m glad you feel that way, because you’re coming along. But for now it’s Hooker time.”

  Chapter Three

  “Did I see you talking to Sloan Renner?” Elise Belmont asked as she pulled out her chair and dropped her crochet things on the table in the yarn department. Elise was one of those women who looked like a gust of wind could blow her over with her slight build. Her birdlike voice added to the image that she was ethereal and kind of out there. But it was all false. Elise had a laser focus on whatever she was interested in at the moment. Now, it was real estate, and Sloan Renner was competition.

  I nodded as Dinah and I took adjacent chairs at the table. “What were you talking about? Are you selling your house? Did she try to get the listing?” Elise asked with an edge in her voice.

  I heard Dinah laugh at the idea of me selling my house now that Peter and Gabby had moved in. “Actually, she was talking to me about yarn. She’s emptying a house, and there’s some yarn she thought we might be interested in for the bookstore.”

  “Emptying a house?” Elise said. “What do you mean?”

  Just then Ms. Mayonnaise wandered into the yarn department, looking a little lost. Despite her reprimanding me just a few minutes earlier, I knew the attitude in the bookstore was the customer was always right, so I excused myself and went to help her.

  “I’m just looking around,” she said. “I’ve never come back here before.” Her gaze took in the inviting area. The back wall was lined with stacked cubbies filled with yarn. A selections of crochet hooks and knitting needles hung from a rack next to the cubbies. In addition to the table and straight-backed chairs, we had several more comfortable chairs in the area for anyone who wanted to sit and work on a project or check out the many craft books we had.

  “I heard you have a group that meets here.” Her attention moved to the table as more of the Hookers arrived.

  “You’re welcome to join us,” I said, but she held back.

  “The book club was enough for today,” she said. “Merry was a great guest. Her book is so inspiring. I had no idea that she was a neighbor.”

  Just then I remembered her name. “Anastasia,” I blurted out rather abruptly, and she gave me a funny look before she turned to go.

  I caught Dinah’s eye, and she nodded with understanding. “Anastasia—mayonnaise, I get the connection,” my friend said.

  Rhoda Klein had just found a seat. She was a solid sort of woman with a thick New York accent. She had short dark hair and dressed for comfort. Sheila Altman took the seat next to Rhoda. They were like night and day. Sheila’s round face always seemed on the edge of an anxiety attack. She’d learned to keep herself from going over the edge by pulling out something to crochet, and kept a small ball of string and a crochet hook in her pocket for an emergency. She was the youngest of the group, barely out of her twenties, and for now working at the lifestyle store called Luxe that was located down the street.

  I saw Eduardo Linnares striding across the bookstore. It always amused me to watch people react to him. Some people recognized him from his model days. His image had been used on countless romance novels, where he was dressed as a buccaneer, pirate
, firefighter, or one of the various renegade royals. But when the publisher had asked to use him as the model for the pirate’s father, he decided it was time to hang up the flowing shirts and move on. He’d been a spokesperson for a while and finally bought an upscale drug and sundry shop, called The Apothecary, in Encino. What was he doing with a crochet group? He’d learned the art from his grandmother when she realized there weren’t any granddaughters to pass her knowledge on to. He had large hands but could manage the most delicate thread crochet. He was a totally nice guy, and we all accepted him as one of us.

  I had to laugh when I saw that Anastasia had followed him and come back to the yarn department. “He’s one of your group?” she asked, watching him intently as he sat down. “I, uh, have a lot of your books,” she said. She sounded kind of gushy, which seemed at odds with the way she’d been before. Her expression changed to one of embarrassment. “I read all different kinds of books,” she said, sounding suddenly defensive.

  Eduardo shot her a charming smile. “I’m afraid I can’t take credit for what’s between the covers of the books, but I’m glad you enjoyed them. We all need to get away from it all for a while, and there’s nothing better than a good love story.”

  “You’re so right,” she said, sounding a little dreamy. The set of her face had softened, and she let out a sigh. “I’d stay, but I have an appointment.” She gave him a last wistful look and left the area.

  We all looked to Eduardo. “It’s nice to be able to make somebody’s day with a smile and a nice comment,” he said.

  “You should have given her a card for your shop,” Elise said. “Why not get some business from being so nice.” She swiveled her head toward me and brought up Sloan and the yarn. “You were going to tell me about her emptying a house and you buying some yarn.”