A Groom wirh a View

the next room in that case, but instead said mildly, “Where are the linens for the beds?“
    “I sent ‘em all out to the laundry last week. Ought to be back today.”
    Jane nearly collapsed in relief. She’d had visions of ransacking the countryside for an ungodly number of sets of sheets and pillowcases. “I’d like for you to rig up a clothesline and put these quilts out to air, please,“ she said. The “please“ was only a nicety. She’d hoped the request sounded more like an order.
    “Gonna rain,“ he said.
    “If and when it does, you can bring them back in.“ Jane was starting to get a little testy. Livvy had led her to believe that Uncle Joe, while a bit crusty, was something of a workhorse around the place, which obviously wasn’t true. “There’s a car pulling up outside. I hope it’s Mrs. Crossthwait.”
    And so it turned out to be. She drove, somewhat surprisingly, a very sporty Jeep which was full of sewing paraphernalia. Her sewing machine, an ironing board, various ironing objects that Jane believed were called “hams,“ boxes of thread and fabric, pins and bias tape, envelopes full of tissue pattern pieces, and a lot of assorted items Jane couldn’t begin to identify. There was also the enormous box containing the wedding dress and three smaller boxes housing the partially completed bridesmaids’ apparel. “I’m so glad you’re here, Mrs. Crossthwait!“ Jane said.
    “What’s that, dear?”
    Jane repeated herself, shouting a bit. “We’ll help you get this all to your room. I’ll have the handyman take your sewing machine when he finishes another job.”
    Mrs. Crossthwait was one of those people with round, plump faces that didn’t quite match her tiny little body. Her hands were big-knuckled but still agile and she appeared to be bustling even when standing perfectly still. She flung up the back door of the vehicle and started loading Jane and Shelley down with boxes and small cases of tools and materials.
    “I don’t like the looks of this place,“ Mrs. Crossthwait said.
    “I’m sorry about that,“ Jane said. “But we’ve given you an excellent room to work in. Lots of light and space and a good sturdy sewing table right by a window.”
    They started toward the house. “It’s not that,“ Mrs. Crossthwait said. “It’s a bad place. A bad aura. Wicked things have happened here and will happen again.”
    Shelley’s intolerance of auras amounted to near obsession.
    “Well, it better happen pretty soon because the house is being torn down in a couple months,“ she said briskly. “Come along, Mrs. Crossthwait. I’m so eager to see the dresses.“
    “Nice enough girls they are, the bridesmaids,“ Mrs. Crossthwait mumbled, puffing as she tried to keep up with the younger women. “Hope nothing happens to them.”
    Jane turned to roll her eyes at Shelley, missed her footing on the surprisingly slick steps, and nearly dropped a whole case of bobbins.
    They got Mrs. Crossthwait settled in the upstairs room, which turned out to be something of a mistake because she climbed the stairs so slowly and awkwardly. Jane and Shelley made three trips with sewing materials in the time it took Mrs. Crossthwait to ascend the stairs. Then they went looking for Uncle Joe. He’d strung a grungy old rope between a couple trees and was just trying to make his escape when they caught up with him. “We need you to take the seamstress’s sewing machine to her. It’s in the Jeep in front and she’s in the middle bedroom upstairs,“ Jane said. “Sorry, miss. Bad back.“
    “Then you can use that dolly I saw in the attic,“ Jane insisted.
    He muttered something that might have been an obscenity and shuffled off.
    Jane and Shelley started hauling quilts outside. The laundry truck arrived just as they brought out the first four quilts. The driver of the white van hopped down and started setting white butcher-paper-wrapped parcels on the steps. “This is the Thatcher place, right?“ he asked.
    Jane confirmed that it was.
    “Did you know these are linen sheets? We had to charge extra.“
    “Linen sheets?“ Shelley asked. “The real things?“
    “Genuine antiques,“ the deliveryman said.
    Jane ran and got the checkbook Livvy had set up to pay for wedding expenses. As the truck pulled away, Shelley said, “Somebody has or had a lot of money. I wonder what’s going to happen to the linens when the house is torn down.“
    “I imagine they’ll get an antiques dealer in