Thread and Gone by Lea Wait Read Free Book Online Page A

embroidery?”
    â€œOf course.” I opened the envelope and took out the leather packet and then the letter and the stitching. “The needlepoint and this note were inside the leather.”
    Mrs. Pendleton didn’t touch any of the pieces I spread out on her desk. She just looked at them. “You’re right to keep them safe. That needlepoint is exquisite.”
    â€œNo matter how much we find out it’s worth, it’s definitely special,” I agreed.
    â€œYou said Mary knows her needlepoint will be with me?”
    â€œYes.”
    She leaned back. “Put everything back in the envelope, then. I’ll put it in my safe, I promise. And I won’t release it to anyone but you or Mary. No matter who asks.”

Chapter 7

    Mutual happiness our mutual object. May the cares that bind the covetous never disturb our peace. May we yield therefore one to another and be equally yoked in the command of God.
    Â 
    â€”Stitched marriage certificate between Reuben Dade, age twenty-two, and Lucinda Brooks, age sixteen, 1821, Gloucester, Massachusetts

    My new panini press worked beautifully. I carried my sandwich and a glass of lemonade out to our porch to eat. Sunny July days shouldn’t be wasted.
    After I finished I tossed the crumbs from my sandwich to the sparrows holding their daily meeting at our front yard bird feeder.
    I’d been so busy preparing for Gram’s wedding, and then for my dinner party, that I’d gotten behind in paperwork for the business. I turned on my computer and starting sorting through invoices.
    The afternoon went quickly. Office work wasn’t my favorite kind, but my in-box was finally empty and I had a stack of envelopes ready to mail.
    I was about to have an end-of-day beer when Ruth called.
    â€œAngie, I wanted to thank you again for the lovely dinner you prepared last night. I so enjoyed getting out a bit and seeing everyone.”
    I made a mental note to keep more closely in touch with Ruth. She was the oldest of the needlepointers, and her arthritis kept her from doing much stitching. At her request, I hadn’t given her any jobs recently. But there must have been days when she felt isolated in her home. Spending time online wasn’t the same as being with other people.
    â€œI’ve been thinking about that needlepoint Mary Clough showed us last night. You and Sarah are the experts on old needlepoint.” I rolled my eyes. I wished I were an expert. But Ruth was still talking. “But I know a little bit about it, too, and I’ve always loved English history. When Sarah said last night she thought the stitching might be Elizabethan, it got me to thinking. So I spent time online this afternoon.”
    â€œYes?” I said.
    â€œI may not be right. In fact, I keep thinking I couldn’t be right. But what Sarah said was true. That embroidery square looks very like other work by Mary, Queen of Scots.”
    â€œDo you think so?” I blurted. “I meant, it’s old stitching. But . . . royal?” I’d convinced myself that, at best, the needlework was a copy.
    â€œMaybe not, maybe so. But check it out. That stitching and the work Mary Stuart did have a lot in common. She was famous for her needlepoint, you know.”
    So I was learning. Yesterday I didn’t know that. In fact, I still wasn’t sure who she was.
    â€œYou said queen of Scots. So she was Scottish?”
    â€œOh, my dear, yes. She became queen of Scotland when she was six days old. When she was five years old she was promised to Francis, the Dauphin of France, and sent to France to learn French and the customs of their court. She and Francis married when she was sixteen. A year later his father, the king, died. Francis became king of France, and Mary, his queen. But a year after that, Francis died of an ear infection. Isn’t it awful what people died of years ago? So Mary went back to Scotland with two titles—queen of Scots