She put her hand on my arm. “It’s lovely. I’m very happy for you.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

I glanced toward Mac again and saw that Mavis and Selma had ambushed him. Mom followed my gaze.

“I’ll go rescue him in a moment,” she said. “I want you to meet the rest of the knitters.”

She steered me toward the fireplace, where a trio of young women were laughing and knitting. They turned and smiled when we interrupted.

“This is my daughter, Clytemnestra,” Mom said.

I smiled while clenching my jaw—not easy to do, but I had a lot of practice.

“Call me Clyde,” I said. I shot a look at Mom and said, “Everyone does.”

Mom smiled at me and went to pry Mavis away from Mac.

Tinkerbell stood and introduced herself as Heather.

When we shook hands I focused my thoughts on that contact and opened my mind to any insights. A fizzy, bright tingling touched my face and I knew Heather was just as open and friendly as she appeared.

“I work as an ICU nurse, but only to support my yarn habit.”

The other two chuckled.

“I’m Amy,” the pink-haired woman said. “I own the local yarn store. And this is Tina.” She gestured at her tattooed friend. “She’s a fiber artist.” Tina flicked a glance in my direction and grimaced a small smile. Both held a knitting project and didn’t offer to shake hands.

“She’s the mastermind behind the yarn-bombing competition,” Heather said and hooked her thumb at Tina. “Isabel even donated a cool set of knitting needles as the grand prize!”

“We were admiring the yarn bombing earlier,” I said. “It’s a very . . . unique competition.”

“Knitting isn’t just for grandmas anymore,” Tina said. “I like to see so many new people embracing it and using knitting to make an artistic statement and bring awareness.”

I wasn’t sure what kind of awareness was related to colored tubes on chandeliers, but sensed this sentiment would not be met with warmth.

“It’s a fun thing to do and since the owners are knitters—” Amy said.

Heather interrupted. “Not all of them. Clarissa has made her feelings pretty clear.”

“Right, well Jessica and Linda don’t mind having yarn draped everywhere,” Amy said.

Heather turned brightly toward me. “Your mother told us you’re a police officer on leave. Are you planning to go back to work?”

Amy elbowed her in the ribs. “She just met us—save the interrogation for later.”

“Oh.” Heather’s smile slipped a bit but she recovered quickly. “Sorry, I’m so used to asking personal questions at work that sometimes I forget . . .”

“It’s fine.” I smiled to reassure her. But how do I answer a question I had been asking myself every day for the past couple of months?

My search for a new career was reaching a critical point. My sister, Grace, had a knack for investing in the stock market and she had parlayed my inheritance from last summer into a great nest egg. But I couldn’t continue to use the money I had inherited for everyday expenses and I was getting bored. I didn’t want to return to police work. I had to live in Crystal Haven for at least six more months before I could sell the house or move out—an odd and meddling stipulation of the will.

I chose the simplest route. “I doubt I’ll move back to Ann Arbor, but I’m still figuring out what I’ll do next.”

“I understand that,” Tina said. “I feel like I change careers almost as often as Amy changes her hair color.”

The three of them laughed, and I grinned at them.

Heather tilted her head and looked into my eyes. “Your aunt was right: Your eyes are very striking. You know, people used to think that indicated psychic abilities.”

I looked away. “Yes, I’ve heard that.”

“Uh-oh.” Amy tilted her pink head toward the refreshment area. “You might want to go rescue your boyfriend. Clarissa doesn’t take no for an answer—ever.”

I turned and saw Mac holding two drinks and leaning away from a stunning blonde who was invading his personal space. She wore a tight black pencil skirt with a leopard-print blouse and shiny five-inch black heels. A panther stalking its prey flashed into my mind. She didn’t seem to be picking up on his signals, but I caught the SOS look he shot me.

“Excuse me,” I said to the knitters.

I heard quiet giggles from the trio as I made my way across the room toward Mac.

“This is Clyde,” Mac said, when I was still several feet away.

“Another surprise visitor! This weekend is getting more and more exciting.” The blonde turned a brilliant smile in my direction. It rapidly fled when she saw me.

Mac handed me my drink and slung an arm over my shoulder.

“Ah, I see,” Clarissa said. “Well, you can’t blame a girl for trying.”

Something caught her attention over my shoulder and her lips tightened.

“You must be the guests the storm blew in!” a woman with mousy blond curls said as she came from behind us to stand next to Clarissa. The two couldn’t have dressed differently if they’d tried. Jessica wore comfortable flats, khakis, and a cozy-looking cardigan over a white T-shirt. “I’m Jessica Garrett, one of the owners. I see you’ve met Clarissa.”

“We were just getting acquainted,” Clarissa said. She finished her drink in one long swallow.

“I hope you’ll enjoy your time here,” Jessica said. “I heard you had planned a warmer vacation than this one.”

“I’m sure it will be very relaxing,” I said. “The hotel is beautiful.”

“You’ll have to return when we have the spa open,” Clarissa said. “Have you ever had a spa treatment?” She looked me over and did not appear impressed.

“Once or twice,” I said. “What I really like is the sense of stepping back in time. It feels like a different century here.”

Jessica’s smile appeared more triumphant than pleased. “See, Clarissa? People like the cozy feel of antiques and warm colors.”

Clarissa’s lip curled. “They’ll like the new look even better, I’m sure. I can’t wait to update this place.” She swung an arm to encompass the whole lounge. “If we can convince your mother to part with even a few of her precious antiques, we can bring this . . . castle into the twenty-first century.”

Jessica’s triumphant smile slipped into a frozen, not-in-front-of-the-guests grimace. “Clarissa, could I speak to you in the hallway?” She turned to Mac and me. “Excuse us.”

Clarissa beamed at Mac, set her glass down on the table, and stalked into the hallway after Jessica.

I was close enough to the door to hear heated whispers and then they faded down the hallway.

A glance at my watch told me we still had half an hour before dinner.

Vi had cornered Wally behind the drinks table and was interrogating him about the history of the castle.

Mom sat by the window with Mavis and Selma. She shuffled her tarot cards as they looked on.

I sighed.

Mac leaned toward me and whispered, “I guess this wasn’t the best backup plan.”

I shook my head. “No, but it’s only for one night—we’ll get out of here tomorrow. Maybe we can even get another flight to Mexico.”

Isabel and Lucille walked into the room. Isabel zeroed in on the yarn in the room and went to sit with Tina, Heather, and Amy. Lucille zeroed in on Mac.

“What a wonderful surprise that we get to spend the evening with you two,” she said as she approached.

We told her the story of our flight cancellation and Mac’s alternate plan.

“I think Linda Garrett is planning to give us a tour of the hotel and tell us about all the antiques and artwork her family has collected over the years. She’s very proud of this place.”

“Is she the owner?” Mac asked. “I don’t think we’ve met her yet.”

“I thought she said she would be here. . . .” Lucille glanced around the room. “She and her daughter Jessica are co-owners with Clarissa Carlisle. Clarissa is Linda’s brother’s child. David Carlisle died recently and Clarissa moved here to help with the hotel.”