{"product_id":"queen-annes-lace-isbn-9780425280065","title":"Queen Anne's Lace","description":"\u003cb\u003eA present-day ghost leads China Bayles to a secret from Pecan Springs’s past in this haunting mystery from \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author Susan Wittig Albert.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhile helping Ruby Wilcox clean up the loft above their shops, China comes upon a box of antique handcrafted lace and old photographs. Following the discovery, she hears a woman humming an old Scottish ballad and smells the delicate scent of lavender.…\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSoon, strange happenings start to occur in Thyme and Seasons. When a customer sees a mysterious woman picking flowers nearby and then suddenly disappearing, China must finally admit what Ruby has always known—their building is haunted. But by whom?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAs China investigates, the tragic story of a woman in one of the old photographs unfolds. China delves into the century-old mystery and realizes that solving it could have unimaginable repercussions in the here and now.\u003cb\u003ePraise for Susan Wittig Albert's \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e Bestselling China Bayles Mysteries\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Engrossing...China continues to appeal with her herbal information and savvy sleuthing.\"--\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e(starred review)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"[Albert] consistently turns out some of the best-plotted mysteries on the market.\"--\u003ci\u003eHouston Chronicle \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"One of the best-written and [most] well-plotted mysteries I've read in a long time.\"--\u003ci\u003eLos Angeles Times\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Mystery lovers...will be captivated by this unique series.\"--\u003ci\u003eSeattle Post-Intelligencer\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Engrossing.\"--\u003ci\u003eThe Times-Picayune\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eSusan Wittig Albert\u003c\/b\u003e grew up on a farm in Illinois and earned her Ph.D. at the University of California at Berkeley. A former professor of English and a university administrator and vice president, she is the \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of the China Bayles Mysteries, the Darling Dahlias Mysteries, and the Cottage Tales of Beatrix Potter. She and her husband, Bill, coauthor a series of Victorian-Edwardian mysteries under the name Robin Paige. The Alberts live near Austin, Texas.Chapter One\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Queen Anne's lace (Daucus carota, aka wild carrot) traveled to      America from Europe and hopscotched across the continent with a      recklessly joyful abandon. Some herbalists speculate that its use      as a morning-after contraceptive made Queen Anne's lace a valuable      must-have herb for pioneer women, so they made sure to carry the      seeds with them wherever they went. With this in mind, I suppose      it's no surprise that we find this plant growing everywhere-along      roads and in ditches, in farmers' fields and urban backyards.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Queen Anne's lace earned its common name from the lacelike      delicacy of its doily-shaped white blossoms, each of which is      centered with a single, tiny bloodred flower.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Anne's Flower\"       China Bayles       Pecan Springs Enterprise\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I love Mondays. I really do.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Thyme and Seasons is closed on Monday and I can slop around in my      grubbiest jeans and T-shirt, doing all the housekeeping I can't do      when customers are asking for my attention every few minutes. On      Monday, there's time to appreciate the old stone walls, the      well-worn wooden floors, and the beamed ceilings that create a      lovely setting for my herbal wares. I can dust the antique hutch      and wooden shelves stocked with herbal vinegars, oils, jellies,      and teas. I can rearrange the books in the bookshelf and tidy up      the old pine cupboard that displays bath herbs, herbal soaps and      shampoos, fragrances, and massage oils. I can restock the wooden      rack that holds the bottles of extracts and tinctures and the      large glass jars of dried culinary and medicinal herbs. I can      rearrange the wreaths and swags on the walls and reorganize the      buckets of fragrant potpourri in the corners, as well as tall      stalks of dried sunflowers, baskets of dried Queen Anne's lace,      Silver King artemisia, yarrow, and tansy. And when the weather's      good, I can work outdoors in the herb gardens around the shop and      replenish the shelves of potted herbs for sale-basil, parsley,      sage, rosemary, thyme, chives-outside my front door.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e No offense to my friends and customers: I enjoy you, and if I want      to stay in the herb business, I need you. But if I were Queen of      the World, it would be Monday all week long.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e This particular August Monday was hot and steamy, so I worked      outdoors for less than an hour, pulling weeds, trimming plants,      and cutting some parsley, thyme, and rosemary for the tearoom      kitchen. Then I cooled off with a little dusting and tidying-up      and planned to spend the rest of the morning peeking at my monthly      income and expense reports, reviewing the tearoom menus that Ruby      and Cass had proposed for the next couple of weeks, checking out a      couple of things on the website, and looking over the handouts for      September's classes on wreath-making. Lovely things. Lovely Monday      things.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e With this in mind, I took my laptop to the counter and sat down on      my stool. Khat-our shop Siamese and quite an autocratic      creature-jumped up beside me, placing a proprietary paw on the      computer keyboard and watching with interest while I pulled up the      previous month's financial data. I didn't need a degree in      economics to see that while July's bottom line wasn't quite red,      it wasn't quite as black as it should be. Sales had been a little      slow, and on top of that, I had paid a couple of sizeable bills      for the loft renovation, which happened because I decided that the      empty space over our heads really ought to be generating some      income. There was also a big bill for the veranda construction,      which was rather a whim but has made an attractive difference in      the street appearance of our shops.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I knew my building was old-well over a hundred years-but I didn't      know much about its history. It has been extensively remodeled, of      course, but it was originally built, I've learned, as a house.      When I started planning the loft project, I happened to look at a      photograph from the early 1900s and discovered that there had once      been a wood-frame veranda across the front. I loved that veranda      at first sight. No matter how much it cost, I had to have it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e And when the job was done and the building looked very much the      way it did when it was first built, the Pecan Springs Historical      Society installed a handsome plaque beside the front door. It says      The Duncan House, 1882-Duncan, the name of the family who      originally built the house. Jessica Nelson, a reporter from Pecan      Springs Enterprise, wrote an interesting article on its history,      with photos. I've framed it, and it's hanging on the wall behind      my counter.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The loft is finished, too, and rented to Lori Lowry, a textile      artist who uses it as a studio and teaching space. Which is a good      deal for Ruby and me, for on top of the rental income, Lori's      students like to browse through our shops and stop for lunch in      our tearoom. The local weavers' guild is planning a show there in      October, which will mean even more traffic.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I finished running the July numbers, frowned at them for a moment,      then decided that if I didn't count all those extra expenses      (which are really an investment in the building), the bottom line      didn't look all that bad. Cheered up a little, I found the file of      tearoom menus that Ruby and Cass had emailed me for posting on our      website, and began to study them. Khat and I were considering the      merits of grilled chicken with carrot and couscous salad when Ruby      came through the door from her Crystal Cave, which is also closed      on Mondays. At six-foot-something in yellow sandals, she was      dressed for her day off in a sleeveless yellow top and      lipstick-red shorts. Her hair is the color of fresh carrots,      finely frizzed, and today, her eyes were green (a sure sign that      she was wearing her green contacts-otherwise, they may be blue or      brown).\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She leaned against the counter. \"A little voice woke me up this      morning telling me that today would be a good day to clean out the      storeroom upstairs. If you're not doing anything, why don't you      give me a hand?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Cleaning out that storeroom had been on our joint to-do list for      some time, but it has never seemed very urgent. \"I am doing      something.\" I pointed at the computer screen. \"I'm doing menus.      And then the website.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You can do menus and the website later.\" Ruby stroked Khat's      tawny fur and he began to purr. \"There's not all that much stuff      in that storeroom. It won't take more than a couple of hours.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"And then what?\" I asked. \"We don't really need the space, do we?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Khat arched his back under Ruby's hand, turning up the volume on      his rumbling purr. \"Of course we do,\" Ruby said. \"We can use it to      store all the stuff we're keeping under the stairs.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Then what will we put under the stairs?\" There's a bathroom      there-well, a toilet and sink. And piles of junk. When you sit on      the john, you're staring at boxes and bins of our out-of-season      decorations. Christmas lights, Halloween ghosts and goblins,      Easter bunnies, stuff like that. \"Most of our customers don't use      that bathroom,\" I pointed out. \"They use the restroom off the      tearoom.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yes, but sometimes people have to wait.\" Ruby twiddled a frizzy      lock of her red-orange hair. \"There are times we could use a      second bathroom. If we move the holiday decorations to the      storeroom upstairs, we can put in a new vinyl floor and paint the      walls. Maybe add a cabinet under the sink and some decent      lighting, so it doesn't look quite so much like a toidy in the      Pecan Springs jail.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"How do you know what a toidy in the Pecan Springs jail looks      like?\" I asked, interested.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Ruby rolled her eyes. \"You know what I mean, China. Our customers      will appreciate another bathroom. We'll be killing two birds with      one stone.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It sounded to me like a whole flock of birds and a big basket of      stones. Not to mention a lot of work. \"Well, maybe,\" I conceded.      \"But we don't have the money to fix up the bathroom right now. And      while the loft is air-conditioned, that storeroom isn't. It'll be      an oven up there today. We'll roast.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Ruby pulled her gingery brows together. \"China,\" she said      seriously, \"that little voice is telling me that we ought to do      this today. Lori doesn't have classes on Monday, so we can haul      that stuff out and not worry about getting in her way.\" She bent      over and planted a kiss between Khat's charcoal ears. \"You know      what Benjamin Franklin said. Never put off to tomorrow what you      can do today.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I'm more familiar with Mark Twain,\" I countered. \"Never put off      to tomorrow what you can do the day after tomorrow.\" I thought for      a moment. \"Or was it Oscar Wilde?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The Victorian-style shopkeeper's bell mounted to my front door      tinkled pleasantly, and both of us turned around to look. But the      door was locked and I had hung up the Closed sign to deter      prospective customers. Nobody was there.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Khat arched his back, hissed, and jumped off the counter. Ruby      frowned. \"What's wrong with him? And why is your bell ringing?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Dunno.\" I shrugged. \"Vibrations or something, I guess.\" I waggled      my eyebrows. \"And maybe Khat is telling us that today isn't a good      day to clean out the storeroom.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Maybe he's telling us that it is,\" Ruby said decidedly. \"Come on,      China. Let's do it.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I pressed my lips together. When Ruby has an idea, I can either      stand back and watch or be a good sport and join the party. After      a moment's reflection, I joined the party.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"If you insist.\" I closed the menu file and shut down my laptop. I      glanced down at Khat, who was sitting on the floor, gazing fixedly      at the bell. \"Come on, Khat,\" I said. \"You may find a mouse or two      up there.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The bell tinkled again, affirmatively.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You see?\" Ruby said in a meaningful tone. \"It's telling us that      we're supposed to do this.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Looking back now with the wisdom of hindsight (funny how that      works, isn't it?), I wonder what would have happened if Ruby      hadn't listened to that little voice telling her that today was a      good day to clean out that storeroom.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Or if I had said, Sorry, Ruby, but I absolutely positively have to      get these menus uploaded today? How long would it have been before      we discovered the wooden chest and the carton of old photographs?      Maybe we wouldn't have discovered them, ever. How would that have      changed what happened?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Or if I had removed that bell.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e We'll never know, of course, because Ruby did hear that voice, and      when she asked me to help I did say yes. We did discover that      chest, and after that, the photos. And the bell continued to ring.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e And thereby hangs a tale.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But before I tell you what happened when Ruby and I went upstairs,      it might be helpful if we took a few moments for introductions. If      youÕre a regular visitor to Thyme and Seasons, you know who we are      and what weÕre all about, so you have my permission to skip the      next dozen or so paragraphs. If youÕre new to Pecan Springs or      just want to see if anythingÕs changed since the last time you      were here, youÕre invited to read on.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e My name is China Bayles. In a previous incarnation, I was a      criminal defense attorney with a large Houston law firm that      catered to big bad guys with bottomless pockets who could hire our      top-dollar dream-team defense. There were a lot of things I      enjoyed about being a lawyer-and yes, money was certainly one of      them. In those days, I was as ambitious and greedy as anyone else      and willing to fight for my place on the ladder with whatever      weapons it took. But after spending a decade of my life in that      knock-down, drag-out environment, I began to wonder whether the      justice I was engaged in seeking was the kind of justice we needed      in this world-and whether Houston was the place I wanted to live      for the rest of my days.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e When the answers to both of these urgent questions finally came up      no, I turned in my resignation, cashed in my retirement account,      and bailed out. I landed in Pecan Springs, a small, friendly town      just off I-35, halfway between Austin and San Antonio, at the      eastern edge of the Texas Hill Country. I bought a building on      Crockett Street and opened an herb shop I called Thyme and      Seasons. When people ask me \"Why herbs?\" I give them the short      answer: \"Because plants don't talk back.\" When they ask \"Why Pecan      Springs?\" I reply, \"Because it seemed so crime-free and peaceful.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e And then I laugh out of the other side of my mouth, because while      Pecan Springs is a great place to live, it is not and never has      been crime-free. Don't be fooled by the cozy images you see in the      glossy Why You'll Love to Visit Pecan Springs! brochures handed      out by the Chamber of Commerce. Our nice little town has its fair      share of crime, just like every other nice little town,      everywhere-maybe even a little more, since we're conveniently      located in the I-35 Corridor, the narco-corridor, some call it:      the main artery for the nation's south-north drug trade. If you      come here expecting Mayberry, you'll be disappointed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Pecan Springs and Thyme and Seasons were just the first of several      major earthquakes in my life. After years of insisting that      marriage required too many compromises, I married Mike McQuaid,      whom I had met years before in a Houston courtroom. McQuaid is a      former homicide detective, currently a private investigator with      his own firm (McQuaid, Blackwell, and Associates) and an adjunct      professor on the Criminal Justice faculty at Central Texas State      University. We are the parents of two great kids. McQuaid's son,      Brian, will be a sophomore at the University of Texas this fall,      majoring in environmental science. He lives with his girlfriend in      Austin. Caitlin, my fourteen-year-old niece and our adopted      daughter, lives with McQuaid and me in a big Victorian house on      Limekiln Road, about a dozen miles west of Pecan Springs. We share      the place with a gloomy basset hound named Winchester, a grizzled      orange tomcat named Mr. P, Caitlin's flock of chickens, and a      legion of fugitive lizards escaped (or descended) from Brian's      collection of reptiles.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e And then there's Ruby. She is my business partner, sidekick, and      owner of the Crystal Cave, the only New Age shop in Pecan Springs.      Together Ruby and I jointly own and manage the tearoom behind our      shops (Thyme for Tea) and a catering service we call Party Thyme.      We also co-own (with Cass Wilde) the Thymely Gourmet, which      delivers packages of healthy precooked food to upscale singles who      want to eat right but don't have the time (or don't know how) to      cook. Ruby has two grown daughters and a granddaughter, although      you'd never know it to look at her. After an early divorce, she      has managed to stay unmarried, although she is partial to      intelligent men and cowboys. Just now, she is seriously dating a      very nice guy named Pete who manages an olive ranch, a      relationship that is complicated by the fact that the ranch is a      couple of hours away and Pete's job doesn't allow him a lot of      free time.","brand":"Berkley","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46301638263013,"sku":"NP9780425280065","price":7.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780425280065.jpg?v=1767735273","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/queen-annes-lace-isbn-9780425280065","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}