"I am," said Ryan gamely, holding out his hand. "Nice to meet you."

Ryan met her suspicious eyes, and I could see she was quickly charmed by him. Then each of the quilt club in turn shook his hand, exchanged pleasantries and was won over by his easy smile. It was a sad, sick commentary on my feelings that I was both annoyed by the women's reactions and proud that Ryan could easily captivate such a difficult audience.

I decided not to pay attention to Ryan's growing fan club, and instead pretended to listen to the discussion between my grandmother and Jesse's brother-in-law, Tom. Tom was a solid man of about thirty, slightly balding, and with the easy smile that Jesse lacked. His hands were large and covered with nicks and calluses. I could see Eleanor noticing his hands at the same time I did, and nodding approvingly. This was a man unafraid of hard work, she seemed to be thinking.

When they headed over to the old diner site, Nancy, Jesse, and I followed. Eleanor pointed to where the office and the bathroom should be, where shelves should be hung, and showed him the napkin that had been our original plan. Tom nodded, took notes and walked the space, hitting beams and saying how solid they were.

I looked over at Nancy, who for all her insistence on being included, seemed as distracted as I was.

"I hope he can do this quickly," I whispered to her.

"I'd love to get this over with myself," she whispered back.

Eleanor shot us a look as if we'd been caught passing notes in an exam. We immediately shut up.

"Let's look at the other side," Tom said.

Nancy, Jesse and I held back as my grandmother hobbled toward the door. Tom, being new, offered to help without being asked, and even called her ma'am.

"I'm fine," she shot back, even as she leaned on his arm to get down the one step to the street.

Outside the women completely lost interest in Ryan as they saw us head toward the quilt shop door. This was what they had come to see, and each of them wanted a good look.

"I thought only the killer was supposed to return to the scene of the crime," I said to Jesse as we walked into the quilt shop.

"Maybe they all did it." He smiled as he closed the door on everyone but Tom, Nancy, Eleanor and myself.

Inside the shop seemed cold and full of secrets. Outside I could see the women were openly staring through the large display window, but there wasn't really anything to see. Marc's body was gone, though traces of his blood remained on the floor. Nancy and I stared at them, but Tom merely stepped past as if they weren't even there.

"Is this where you want the cash register?" he asked as he moved in front of the picture window.

"I hadn't thought of moving it there, but I like that idea." Eleanor nodded.

"With the bigger space you can move it. It makes for a better flow of customers," he said.

"I can see that." She smiled brightly at him.

Tom lit up at her response. In only ten minutes of knowing my grandmother, he already sought her approval as much as the rest of us did. He started making other suggestions, changes in the plan on the napkin. He talked about adding whimsical touches, like a crib to hold the baby fabrics. He suggested a stronger wood for the shelves, crown molding at the ceiling and a revarnish of the wood floors.

"I was thinking of replacing this floor," Eleanor said.

"People don't look down when they shop," Tom said. "All you need to do is freshen it up and cover up the… stain." He pointed to Marc's blood. "There are better places to spend your money than on a floor."

Eleanor nodded. "Marc was going to do this for very little money. As you can imagine, a quilt shop in a small-town operates on a thin margin of profit. And I'm an old woman. I'm not likely to reap the benefits of a complete overhaul for more than a few years." She was playing him, but he seemed not to notice. "With the added expense of your labor, which is, I'm sure, well worth the cost, I'm don't know that I can afford all these fancy extras."

"I suppose I can cut out some things," Tom replied.

"What things?" I interjected.

"We can do something simpler. Keep as many of the old materials as possible. I can work without an assistant, but it will take longer."

"That won't do," Eleanor said. "This can't take longer than a few weeks or it's not worth doing." She seemed to be genuinely considering just returning the shop to its previous, overcrowded state.

"Oh, Eleanor, we've gone too far to turn back now," Nancy said.

Tom looked as his feet. "I know a young guy who works practically for free just to get some carpentry experience," he said. "And as far as my labor is concerned, I can lower the price a bit, for a trade."

Eleanor smiled just a little. "Trade what?"

"Well, I passed this shop many times when I visited my sister. And someone here made her a quilt when she went to the hospital."

"The quilt club," said Eleanor. "The ladies outside, Nancy and myself."

"Well, it was really nice, and it cheered up my sister throughout that whole ordeal." Tom looked toward Jesse, who nodded slightly and looked away. "It got me to thinking. My wife is home with our twin boys all day, and she's awfully stressed about it. I thought maybe if I… if you… made her a quilt, she could curl up in it at the end of the day and it would be, you know, something special just for her."

"That's the trade you would like?" Eleanor said.

"If it's not too much trouble."

"What are your wife's interests?"

"Um," said a puzzled Tom, "she likes to garden, or she did before the boys."

Eleanor steadied herself on one crutch and held out her hand. "It's a deal," she said. Tom reached out his, and they shook on it.

"You'll start tomorrow?"

"Yes, ma'am… Mrs. Cassidy."

"So will I. On the day I'm done with the quilt, I'd like you to be done with the shop."

"She's fast, by the way," I warned.

Tom just nodded. "First thing we should do is get paper over the picture window. I'll need to leave tools and supplies in here overnight, and people sometimes help themselves to things on a construction site. Especially if they can get a clear view in like this."

I turned bright red, remembering my afternoon with Marc.

"I've got the paper in my truck," Tom said. "I can do it now, if that's all right."

"It's fine," Jesse said. "We've done all the fingerprint and blood work here, but I'm not releasing the scene completely until tomorrow morning. I want to give it one more look."

"We'll stay out of your way until tomorrow," Eleanor said. "In fact, we should all go now."

Eleanor headed for the door, and the others filed behind her, like a rock star's entourage. But my attention had turned to the hole in the wall. I walked over and examined the space.

"What?" Jesse was suddenly behind me.

"The hole… it's larger," I said.

"You remember the size?" He looked at me, a bit impressed, maybe, but mostly skeptical.

"Yes," I said. "Marc and I discussed it. I remember it was about the size of an orange. It's bigger now, grapefruit size, maybe."

"Well, you know your fruits," he said lightly, but he bent down and examined the hole more closely.

"Are you coming?" Eleanor called back to me.

"In a second," I said. Then Jesse and I both turned and followed the others out of the shop as Tom came back in with a large roll of brown paper.