Unlike her usual lists, which had to be in chronological order and all completed in one day, this could be random and fluid. Some of her ideas were really off the wall and she didn't know if

she'd pursue them. And anything that popped into her mind as she worked could be added.

She'd also decided she should sit in on some of the rehearsals, or at least ask for a copy of the script that would be used for the community theater play. It was, if Shelley was right, a lightweight mystery story set in the 1930s. It might provide some additional insights. If not, it wouldn't matter. She already had a vague sense of what she should be doing.

On the morning of the day Jane and Shelley were due to attend the beginning of the rehearsals that evening, they also took their first lesson in Beginner's Needlepoint. Both of them had admitted to having tried it when they were younger and made a botch of it. The materials cost fifty dollars, but that included a book of patterns, the canvas, needles, and thread. The lessons themselves were ten dollars each and would take place on Tuesday and Thursday mornings for four weeks.

The teacher was a woman in her late fifties, Jane guessed, and the class was held at her needlepoint shop in a room in the back. She had all sorts of her own work displayed and some borrowed from former students, in the shop and in the small classroom.

"We'll start with introductions. I'm Martha Haworth. Call me Martha."

Jane and Shelley introduced themselves aslongtime friends and next-door neighbors. A young woman with brutally short blond hair and a bit too much makeup said her name was Tazz. The next student was in her late twenties and very well groomed. Junior League, Jane thought. Her name was Elizabeth. Elizabeth didn't say so out loud, but made it clear that calling her Liz wasn't acceptable.