Murder on a Starry Night: A Queen Bees Quilt Mystery by Sally Goldenbaum Page A

three years old.” Kate laughed.
    “Well, one needs to plan.” Phoebe lifted her chin up into the air.
    When they reached the top, Adele waved the Bees into separate rooms, directing them to smooth their tops out on the beds.
    Po walked into the small room that had been Oliver’s. Everything was the same as the last time she had seen it— the book case filled with books, the small desk positioned beneath the window with a yellow pad of paper and cup of pencils ready for his use, the copy of Professor Fellers’ book. She stretched out her quilt on the narrow bed and stood back.
    “It’s perfect,” Adele said from the doorway. She looked at the stars shining up from the bed.
    Po turned. “You think Ollie would have approved?”
    Adele nodded. A sad smile eased the sternness in her face.
    “This must be difficult for you,” Po said.
    “I don’t let things be difficult, Po. It’s a choice.”
    “Not always, Adele. But you do seem to handle things that would get the better of most of us.”
    Adele didn’t answer. She walked over to the window and stood next to Oliver’s telescope, pointed up to the sky.
    Po walked over to her side.
    “I didn’t neglect my brother, you know.” Adele’s voice was so soft Po could barely hear her words. “I did the best I could under the circumstances. Things are not always as they seem.”
    Po felt an urge to wrap an arm around Adele, to pull her close and comfort her. But she knew instinctively the slight openness Adele had allowed would disappear in a heartbeat if she disrupted the moment.
    Adele looked back at the quilt, and when she spoke this time, the softness was gone, and the protective shield was back in place. “The colors are good and the paint color goes well with it, don’t you think?”
    Po nodded. She looked around the room and agreed that the deep blue of the walls and the white smooth woodwork were perfect for the multi-starred quilt. And then her gaze settled on Ollie’s desk and the yellow pad, waiting to be used. “Ollie didn’t use a computer, did he? But he loved to write. I can’t imagine writing anything in long-hand anymore.”
    “He wrote all the time, even as a child. It was one thing he could do well, even when he didn’t always communicate well in conversation. Some people are like that, you know.
    “He wanted to write a book someday. That Peterson girl wanted all his writings, but I wouldn’t give them to her. Why would I do that?” Adele shook her head and bent over to smooth the quilt with the flat of her hand. “Everyone wants a piece of Ollie,” she said softly.
    “People liked your brother, Adele,” Po said.
    Adele didn’t answer, but the slight nod of her head and sad smile told Po that she knew it to be true.
    “Here you two are,” Selma said, walking into the room. “I think all the quilts are going to work beautifully, Adele.” Adele turned around. “You’ve all done a nice job. Once they’re completely finished, we’ll have an open house so everyone can see. And now we will have coffee and scones down on the back veranda before you leave.”
    “No need for that,” Selma began, but Adele had already walked out into the hallway and started down the steps, motioning for everyone to gather their quilt tops and follow her.
    “I guess we’ll have coffee and scones,” Selma said to Po, shrugging her shoulders. “But let’s keep it short, Po. I have a full day ahead of me.”
    “We all do, Selma. I agree. Short it will be.”
    The wrought iron table on the brick veranda was set with an embroidered tablecloth, and a platter of blueberry scones sat in the center, next to a vase of bright yellow mums and pot of sweet butter. Adele urged them to make themselves comfortable and slipped back inside to get the coffee.
    “This is so lovely,” Po said, admiring the fairytale setting. She stood next to Kate at the stone railing of the wide veranda and looked over the yard. Sunlight streamed through the trees, casting soft