“I make them.” Edgar was up again, opening a cabinet on an empty entertainment center displayed proudly against the wall. The furniture layout would have made a lot more sense if there had been a large TV in that setup. He grabbed a few doilies out of a stuffed drawer and held them out. “Would you like some? I know Mr. Tom is dead set against decorating with doilies, but Niamh has been able to sneak in a few. Since you’re now the owner of the house, you can probably decorate any way you want.”
“Oh.” I gave him what I hoped was a regretful smile. “I don’t want to go against Mr. Tom’s wishes so soon. I’ll need to work him around.”
“Austin Steele, how about you? I’d be mighty proud to have my work displayed in your home.”
“No,” Austin said.
“Ah well, maybe you’ll come around.” Edgar placed them gently into their drawer before sitting down.
I picked one up from the arm of the couch, studying the gaping hole on one side, the bulging yarn on the other, and the small spot that looked okay in the otherwise terribly executed design. “Wow, you make these?”
“Yes.” He held up his long fingers, sporting even longer nails, one of them tipped with blood. I could feel the grimace on my face. “My goal is to create the perfect doily. I’ve always found that a perfectly symmetrical doily is as beautiful as it is calming. I haven’t been at it for very long, but one day, I hope to enter that perfect doily into the town craft show. It will be a thing of beauty, you mark my words.”
I gingerly returned the doily to its spot, a smile wrestling with my lips when I noticed Austin’s look of pure bewilderment and confusion.
“How long have you been at it?” I asked, clasping my hands on my lap.
“About fifty years or so. It started as a hobby, but it has become one of my life’s great passions.”
“Have you ever considered, maybe, a different color besides cream?” I asked, strangely fascinated.
“Oh now, Jessie, whoa.” Edgar chuckled softly, putting up his hands and leaning back a little in his seat. “You give my prowess too much credit. Those of us in the doily biz need to walk before we can run. I need to nail the perfect doily before I can dress it up a bit, otherwise I’d just be distracting from something not quite perfect.”
I nodded dutifully, trying not to laugh.
“What’s with the…” Austin gestured at the barrels and tubs.
“Oh! That is my life’s other great passion. Well spotted.” Edgar turned, leaning heavily on his right so he could get a better view of the closest barrels. “Those are gardening elixirs. I get them from Agnes. You know, the town witch? The real one, not the Jane who looks at palms and pretends to know things. She really is terrible for the false hope she gives young lovers. Anyway, I order the elixir in moderate increments during the spring and summer, when the ingredients are at their best, and then apply it during the winter when it is nearly impossible to naturally keep flowers in bloom. It keeps us with a lovely home year-round.”
“Why don’t you keep all this in a shed?” I asked.
“What, and have Marg from 856 Maple Drive snoop around and find out my secret? Not a chance, Jessie. No, I keep them in here, nice and safe. Do you want to see all the trophies I’ve won over the years? I win the wine and garden festival every year, without fail, and Marg has been driven mad with jealousy. She’s resorted to trying to cheat, of all things.”
“But…Edgar…you cheat.”
“I do not. I just use better growth serum than she does. If Marg didn’t look down her nose at Agnes, she could use the same serum and not rely on pig or cow poop or whatever it is she uses.” His grin was sardonic as he shook his head. “She wants to grow beautifully smelling flowers…with poop. It makes no sense.”
“Is Marg magical?”
“Oh no, she’s a Jane. She doesn’t believe in magic at all. It gives me a slight edge.” He grinned at me, his stained chompers on full display.
“Right.”
“Do you want some coffee? A soda, maybe?” He placed his hands on the arms of the chair and leaned forward, as though ready to sprint to the kitchen. “I think I might have leftover meat for a sandwich, if you want that? I know how much you like Niamh’s sandwiches.”
“No, no, that’s okay. We can’t stay long.” I waved my hand as a scuffling noise caught my attention. Austin turned a little on the couch, his knee bumping mine, his focus on the body stashed behind us.
“He’s waking up,” Austin said, turning back around. “We should probably let you deal with this, Edgar.” He scooted forward, ready to leave, and then stalled at the edge of the cushion. “Wait a moment.” A groan sounded behind us, but Austin didn’t seem to notice. “You met him on the edge of the property, and you found two others in the Ivy House woods?”