Read Silver Six Crafting Mystery 01 - Basket Case for Free Online

distinctive long hemp rope handles wrapped in fabric with the ends artfully frayed. Two were left. Should I hold one out for Trudy now? No. If she followed up on her request to buy a basket, I could find one for her quickly enough. I finished packing and broke down the rest of the boxes for easy storage.
    At five fifteen, the last of the vendors wheeled her SUV out of the gravel drive and the yard looked pristine. The crepe myrtle sapling didn’t have so much as a bent leaf, and there wasn’t a scrap of trash anywhere. Impressive, especially considering the number of people who’d been on the grounds today.
    I folded Sherry’s tables and leaned them long way against the porch rail, then strode to the south part of the wraparound porch to help Aster, Maise, Dab, and Eleanor with their tables. I knew they were capable of folding the tables on their own. They’d managed the setup, after all. But, hey, they were all in their early seventies and had been on their feet all day.
    Besides, I needed all the brownie points I could get with his group.
    I found the Silver Six in a hushed-tone huddle. Folded tables rested on two hand trucks along with a couple of intact boxes—packed with their own festival leftovers, I guessed—and more neatly folded boxes. I couldn’t overhear them, so I took a moment to observe them more closely.
    No outward signs of illness, and they all seemed mentally sharp enough. Heck, I was beginning to droop from the long drive and the long day, while the seniors seemed to have reserves of energy. Sherry stood tall as a five-foot woman can, and had kept a trim figure. Eleanor had, too, while Maise and Aster had figures like my mother. Matronly, Mom had called it. Dab was thin but not emaciated, Fred rounded but not morbidly obese. Except for Fred using a walker, he didn’t look the least bit infirm, and neither did the other compatriots. Or would that be conspirators?
    Eleanor looked up and spotted me, all conversation halted, and every face turned my way. Yep, they were plotting. At least they all looked healthy doing it.
    I waved and bounced down the stairs, weaving my way through the herb garden. “That was a wonderful festival,” I said as I approached. “Shall I move these tables for y’all?”
    Sherry smiled. “Certainly, Nixy. They go in the barn. Dab and Fred will show you where, right, gentlemen?”
    “Whatever you wish,” Dab said gallantly.
    “And your unsold baskets? There weren’t many, and they all fit in one box I left on the porch.”
    “Those go in the basement, but I’ll take care of them.”
    “You sure? It’s a big box.”
    “But not heavy. Now, when you finish moving the tables, Nixy, bring your things and come on in for supper.”
    “I’ll even break out my dandelion wine to celebrate,” Aster said.
    I expected immediate action, yet, except to shift from foot to foot, no one moved. Maise glanced at her watch, gave a small nod, and they all turned toward the road.
    I turned with them, having to shade my eyes against the intense western sun, even though I wore my sunglasses. Birds chirped, but nothing moved. No cars passed. The rustic rail fence didn’t appear to be damaged, and the cute farmhouse mailbox enclosure was intact and upright as far as I could see. Nothing seemed out of place because, again, there was not so much as a gum wrapper in the yard.
    Impatience got the best of me.
    “I’ll bite. What are we looking at?”
    “Not looking at,” Maise said. “Waiting for.”
    Sherry linked her arm in mine, and I had another flash of memory about my mother. “Jill Elsman has been driving by each afternoon about this time,” she said. “We wave at her.”
    “Just being friendly?” I asked doubtfully.
    “Psychological warfare,” Maise snapped. “She thinks she’s intimidating us. We retaliate with a peaceful show of force to keep her off balance.”
    “She’s already unbalanced,” I muttered, but waited shoulder to shoulder with the Six until another