I looked at her in amazement. "You do all that?"
She looked at the floor, modesty prevailing. "When I can. It's hard with two boys and a husband to take care of. Sometimes, though? I stay up most of the night spinning, and Rocky doesn't even know it, he's such a sound sleeper. I'm tired the next day, but somehow calmer, too"
"I know what you mean." I stroked a particularly silky royal blue and teal roving. "What's this made of? It's not alpaca, is it?"
"Oh, no. Hmm. Let's see, I think it's soy." She dug out a tag I hadn't noticed. "Yep, soy fiber. I ordered it online last year, curious about how it would spin up, but I haven't had a chance to get to it yet.
We spent the next hour exploring the offerings of her extensive fiber stash and talking about the different flavors. In addition to soy-and if you could make yarn out of bamboo, why not make it out of soy, for heaven's sake-she had silk "handkerchiefs," a variety of sheep's wool from coarse to fine, fluffy alpaca, angora, cashmere, mohair, even a tuft or two of musk ox.
"Musk ox? You've got to be kidding," I said.
"Oh, no. You can even get camel hair to spin, and some people spin up the hair from their dogs." "
I bet that smells great if you use it to make a sweater and then get caught in the rain."
She laughed. "Then there are the plant fibers. You've seen the bamboo and soy, but of course there's also corn and cotton and hemp and flax."
"Flax?"
"That's what linen is made out of. Some people say in the fairy tale, Rumpelstiltskin spun flax into gold for the miller's daughter, not straw."
"Huh. Now how did I manage to live this long without knowing that?"
We finally exhausted ourselves, as well as the wine, and returned upstairs. It was dark outside, and I was surprised to find the clock read almost eleven-thirty.
"Uh-oh," I said, and dug my cell phone out of my bag. Sure enough, Meghan had left me a message.
It began, "Why do you even have that thing if you don't turn it on, Sophie Mae?" I sighed. Just because I was starting to remember to turn on my cell phone didn't mean I was used to actually carrying it around on my person all the time. She should be happy I had it at all.
The message ended, "Are you coming home tonight or not?" In between there was a lot of stuff that sounded a tad too much like nagging from my housemate. I hated being nagged, but I had to admit that in this case I pretty much deserved whatever I got.
I deleted the message and hung up the phone, sighing. "Better go. I'm in trouble at home."
"Was that your boyfriend?"
"Worried housemate," I said.
"Oh, gosh. You can't go now," Gabi said. "It's way too far, and you've been drinking."
Well, true enough, but I'd only indulged in a glass at dinner and another in the basement. I'd be okay having ingested ten or eleven ounces of wine over five hours. However, the wine bottle was indeed empty, and now that I really looked at Gabi, I could see she was flushed and a little tipsy.
"I'll be all right," I said, though the truth was that I felt bone weary, and the thought of the drive didn't hold much appeal. "Besides, I didn't bring an overnight bag."
"Oh, don't worry about that," she insisted. "I can set you up with everything you need. You just call home and let her know you'll drive back first thing in the morning."
I made a decision. "I'll see if I can get a hold of her. If I can, I'll go ahead and stay."
"Oh, goodie," Gabi said.
That gave me pause. Oh, goodie, indeed. But the idea of waiting to drive home in the morning was still mighty appealing. I called home, and Meghan answered on the second ring.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"I'm fine. Things kind of got away from me, and now it's late, and I'm going to stay up here."
"You're still in La Conner?"
"Close enough. I'm at Ariel's brother's house. We got to yammering, and his wife? Gabi? She's a spinner, so we got kind of involved in talking about… well, stuff. You know."
Meghan sighed. "I know."
"I've had a couple of glasses of wine, too, and Gabi invited me to stay. It seems like a good idea." "
I guess you'd better then."
"Tell me I didn't wake you."
"No, I was talking to Kelly. Did you find out anything about Ariel?"
"Not much. I'll tell you about it when I get home."
"All right. I'll see you tomorrow."
Gabi was delighted to learn I'd be staying, all oh goodie all over again. "While you were on the phone I put out a nightgown in the guest bedroom, and I had a spare toothbrush and some other things. You'll have to share the bathroom with us upstairs, but at least the little beasts don't go in there, so it's clean."
I thanked her, and turned toward the stairway to the second floor.
"Oh, wait," she said. "Let's sit out on the porch now that it's cooled off and have another glass of wine before bed."
"I think I've had enough," I said. "It's been a long day."
"Please?"
Oh, Lord. I was beginning to regret staying, but I was stuck now. "The bottle's empty."
"I opened a new one." She held up a fresh bottle of white zinfandel like a trophy.
Taking a deep breath, I said, "Okay. One glass, and then I'm off to bed."
"Okay."
On the porch, I had to admit the cool air felt nice. It smelled of vegetation and dust, occasionally cut by the sweet scent of a hardy jasmine planted in a pot in the corner. I could make out the tiny, white star-shaped flowers wending up the porch railing.
I took a sip of wine, which was enough to confirm I still detested white zin.
Gabi said in a suddenly quiet voice, "I know Rocky's reaction must seem odd."
I tried to switch gears from our previous light-hearted conversation. "He's grieving. Everyone does that differently."
"There was a policewoman here yesterday."
"He mentioned that."
"She asked a lot of questions."
"Well, that's her job," I said.
She shifted in the chair beside mine. "Some of the questions were a little harsh. Put Rocky on edge. She almost acted like it was Ariel's fault she got killed."
Nice, Robin. Real nice.
"But he answered the questions, didn't he?" Of course I itched to know what the questions-and answers-were, but I resisted. "Because he wants to find out who killed his sister, too."
"Oh, sure. Of course. It was just kind of hard on him, you know. He loved Ariel, but she's caused him a lot of grief over the years. At least this will be the last of it."
"The money?" I asked.
"And the men."
I took a chance. "You know, she was having an affair with the husband of one of the other artists at the co-op."
Gabi shook her head. "Another married man? Of course she was.
I shrugged. "Maybe they fell in love. It happens."
"Oh, she wasn't in love." Gabi sipped her wine. "Ariel didn't know how to love, not really. Trust me, she benefited in some very practical way."
"How sad."
Gabi was silent for a moment. "And dangerous."
Maybe it was the hour, maybe the wine, but the conversation was taking a baffling turn. "Dangerous how?"
"Their parents. She didn't get along with them. Always felt like they were too hard on her."
I waited.
Gabi leaned in, the cloying smell of cheap wine rolling off her. "The car wreck. I saw Ariel doing something to their car before they left that day." She sat back.