Soup

I went to Walmart today.  The place was teeming with people loading up on frozen pizza, bottled water, and canned goods.  I'm puzzled by the bottled water because I don't think the water supply is affected by the virus but maybe I'm the only one that drinks tap water anymore.  I got a rotisserie chicken and some frozen mixed veggies to make a cauldron of chicken soup, some to eat and some for the freezer.




Coming home I noticed that Friday's lone crocus had acquired some pals.  There used to be a lot more crocuses, purple ones and white with purple stripes, out there but these yellow ones are the sole survivors, I guess.  They're so cheerful.




 
While the soup was simmering I worked on the mosaic mitts.  The panels run down the back and palm of the mitt.  Once I knit the last few black rows (on the right) I'll pick up stitches on the ends for the cuff and top, then knit the second one.  The rainbow yarn is what I bought at the quilt show, the black is leftover from a sweater I knitted about three years ago that's big enough to cover a Smart car.  One of these days I'll fix that sweater so I can wear it.

15 March--Barbara Malcolm, Three Cheers for Murder. 

After closing the store that Wednesday evening, Cecilia checked that her clothing was unstained and drove to Teddy’s parents’ home to pay her respects.  She and her late husband were casual acquaintances of the Simonsen’s.  Cecilia drove her dark red minivan to the affluent neighborhood at the east edge of town and parked under the maple trees that line the street.  She sat in her car for a few minutes collecting her thoughts about the rash of deaths in town, took a deep breath, and got out of the car.  There were several cars parked in the vicinity of the house and the porch light was on.  She assumed that the Simonson’s families have gathered.  She went up the brick walk, up the steps and rang the bell.  The door was opened by a man appearing to be in his early 60's.

 “Can I help you?” he asked in a pronounced British accent. 

“I’m Cecilia Robbins.  I’m a friend of Fred and Barbara’s.  I’d like to extend my condolences if it would be convenient.” 

“Won’t you come in, Mrs. Robbins.  I’m Emery Allgood, Teddy’s father-in-law.  They’re in the study.” 

“Oh, Lord Allgood!  Teddy spoke of you often when she was in my store.  I’m pleased to finally meet you.  This is so awful.  Teddy murdered.  I can’t believe anyone would murder a sweet girl like her.  And I’m sorry we had to meet like this.  Teddy was such a wonderful woman with a wonderful gift for helping people.  It’s a shame that her good works will stop now that she’s gone.”

“On the contrary, Mrs. Robbins.  Fred, Barbara, and I have decided to continue Teddy’s work as a memorial to her and David,” he replied gravely.

As they were speaking Lord Allgood escorted Cecilia toward the back of the house and opened the door to the study.  It’s dark walnut paneled, carpeted in dark red wool, the tall narrow windows are draped in mellow, aged cream-colored brocade edged in gold braid.  The furnishings are traditional.  A pair of leather sofas face each other across a mahogany coffee table on an Oriental carpet in shades of burgundy and gold, an antique rocking chair with a side table sits near the granite fireplace opposite the door.  The mantle is covered with an artful arrangement of items, an old clock, and a small watercolor of Allgood Manor.  Candles grace every surface as do fresh floral arrangements.  At the right end of the room between a pair of windows is a desk with a state-of-the-art computer, a photo of Teddy and David on the beach in Barbados where they met, an antique lamp with an amber glass shade and very little else.  Behind one of the sofas is a table with a reading lamp and stacks of books, magazines and a tiny engraved gold box.  The entire doorway wall consists of floor to ceiling bookshelves with a mix of old, much-loved books in their muted jackets and new, more colorful books.  In front of the window at the left end of the rooms is an inviting conversation group of comfortable chairs.

Seated in two of the chairs are Teddy’s parents.  Dressed in somber clothes they look like they’re in shock.  Barbara looked up as the door opens and rises to greet her friend.  Fred Simonson sat unmoving, staring blankly. 

“Cecilia,” Barbara said, extending both hands to her, “how nice of you to come to see us.”

Hugging the grieving woman, Cecilia held her for a moment and then led her to a sofa.  “I can’t tell you how sorry I am.  Teddy was such a wonderful woman.  I can’t imagine who’d want to do such an awful thing.  But I know Detective Archibald is doing everything in his power to solve the crime.”  Except listen to me, she thought. 

I went to the Y before I went to Walmart and walked for 20 minutes on the treadmill.  Late this afternoon the YMCA sent out notice that they'll be closed starting tomorrow.  Good thing I went today.  Hopefully the situation will even out in a couple weeks and we can go back to what passes for normal around here.  I worry about small businesses, especially the taproom.
--Barbara