Chapter Thirty-Two
May straightened her glasses and settled back into the booth at the Green Plate across from Amka and Ophelia, with Daisy tucked in beside her. It felt good to have friends pressed in close with the world so chaotic around her. For the first time in days she wasn’t the only one holding the weight of everything. They each had baskets of chicken wings in front of them because that’s what Gus had cooked for lunch. They were honey barbecue, sticky and sweet.
Daisy wiped her fingers on a napkin. “I don’t know what we’re going to do. I don’t have time to fly to Fairbanks or Anchorage. Do you guys?”
“No,” Ophelia said immediately. “Not even close. Brock and I have been tracking down different suspects in these murders and we’re getting nowhere. I really don’t have time to lose an entire day.”
Amka took a slow sip of her tea. “That’s not to mention the weather keeps turning on us. What if we got stuck outside of town?”
May swallowed. “I can’t. I’m on duty all the time.” It wasn’t entirely true with Dr. Patterson back, but it felt true. Patients didn’t schedule illness around weddings or murder investigations. And Ace. She trusted him to handle himself. Still, worry sat low and constant in her stomach.
Flossy shuffled down from the counter and paused at their booth. “Hello, ladies.”
“Hi, Flossy,” May said, automatically scanning her face and posture. Good color. Steady breathing. No tightness around the mouth. The woman’s cholesterol and anxiety were controlled, but May never quite stopped assessing.
“How’s your back doing?” Amka asked.
“Much better, thank you,” Flossy said.
May lifted one eyebrow.
Flossy waved her off. “I didn’t need a doctor. It was just a little strain. Amka helped me carry in my groceries.” She leaned in closer. “I couldn’t help overhearing you talking about flying to the city.”
May nodded. “We were going to get bridesmaid dresses since the wedding’s this Saturday, but we’re all pressed for time.”
Flossy clapped her gnarled hands together. “Perfect. I have an idea.”
Ophelia stretched her arm. “Oh yeah? What’s your idea?”
“Lottie and Tillie Whitlow inherited their aunt Sylvia’s house and just moved up here last week. Have you met them?”
“No,” Daisy said.
“This is news,” Amka added, brows drawing down.
Flossy’s eyes gleamed. “I met them yesterday, and get this. Lottie is a seamstress and wants to open a shop in town.”
“In Knife’s Edge? Do we have enough people to support a seamstress?” Daisy asked.
“Sure we do,” Flossy said firmly. “People always need clothing, especially during tourist season. The school needs costumes for plays. There are curtains, cushions, repairs. Hemming alone could keep someone busy, and I’d like to help her out. Those girls seem like they need it.”
Ophelia tapped her fingers on the table. “Interesting.”
“Where is this place?” Amka asked.
“Oh honey, it’s right at the end of First Street, just past Puck’s Bar. They’re planning to turn the front of the house into a shop.”
Ophelia took a sip of her soda. “I know that place. I thought it was abandoned.”
“It was,” Flossy said.
May glanced around the diner as the familiar hum of conversation rolled through the room. Gus barked orders toward the kitchen. Maybe they couldn’t get to Fairbanks. Maybe they couldn’t control the district attorney or the weather or a U.S. senator’s ego. But they could solve the bridesmaid dress problems. “This might be perfect.”
Flossy leaned in again. “You girls should go see them. I think they’d be thrilled for the business.”
“Are they both seamstresses?” Daisy asked.
“No. I don’t know what Tillie does.” Flossy sat back, looking mildly disappointed in herself. “I should’ve asked. Anyway, give them a chance, would you?” She wandered off toward the counter, muttering about needing to pay better attention.
