The next few days moved at an excruciatingly slow pace for Christine, who had been irritable as well as anxious. She could barely contain the excitement of seeing her friends again.
Her cell phone rang.
“Yes?” Christine said.
“Hi, Christine. It’s Tawny. We’re just passing through Phoenix, Arizona. We’ll be there in a matter of hours.”
“Excellent! I can’t wait till you guys get here! Man, oh, man, the torture of the waiting game! I’ve been going nuts trying to keep myself preoccupied.”
“I hear ya.”
“Oh, by the way, have you heard from Jimmy?”
“Yeah. As a matter of fact, he’s right behind us. We met him at an out-of-the-way greasy spoon in Texas. Heck, what would life be like without cell phones?”
“Word! See ya soon!”
“Huggers.”
“I don’t believe this,” Vivian said to herself. She fumed as she stood at the kitchen counter and poured raspberry-flavored iced tea into a tall glass. “I don’t understand that girl at all. It’s been one week and not a word from her. Maybe I should chalk it up and consider the source.”
Vivian went into the front room and sat on the loveseat. She put the glass of tea on the coffee table. The embroidery bag with her needlepoint and cross-stitching materials had been placed on the floor two feet from her. She reached over and pulled it toward her.
“It’s just as well,” Vivian said. “Christine obviously hates me and for what? Trying to be a good sister?”
Vivian looked in the bag, withdrew a skein of black yarn and a package of needles, and laid them on the table.
“Well, Christine, you’ll just have to come to terms with it yourself, I guess.”
Vivian pulled out the needlepoint canvas from the bag and was stunned to see that it had been crudely drawn over with a thick, dark-red marker. Drops of blood oozed and fell from the roses. Bless This House now read CURSE This House.