Wishes, Lies, & Fireflies: A Sewing Circle Suspense, #1

Wishes, Lies, & Fireflies

A Sewing Circle Suspense

Claire Yezbak Fadden

Copyright © 2024 by Claire Yezbak Fadden

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For permission, contact the author at www.clairefadden.com.

ISBN: 979-8-9904749-0-4

Editors: Chris Hall, Barb Wilson

Book Cover: Liz Bank Design

Format: Enterprise Book Services, LLC

Publisher: Brightwood Books

Disclaimer

This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

For every sister who is a friend.

For every friend who is a sister.

For Yoohoo and Yukhta.

Always for Nick.

Chapter One

Spring 1958

Addie Burhan blew a lingering puff of smoke across the dining room, a tacit protest to her sister Beth’s three-cent raise. Playing poker on Thursday night with her and their three best friends, Helene, Mabel, and Peg, highlighted Addie’s week.

The gentle sound of Johnny Mathis played softly in the background as Addie eyed the ladies gathered around the diminutive cherrywood table. Does the glow of love still grow? Well, in friendships, it did. Addie treasured these ladies nearly as much as she loved her sister. Her Sewing Circle. Their card-playing night had turned into a standing date to relax, laugh, complain. And share secrets.

The Circlers were good at keeping secrets.

Addie gazed around the room, delaying the game for a moment longer if only to annoy Beth. That’s when their mother’s Fostoria crystal came into view. Beth had prominently displayed the rarely-used pieces in her china closet.

A warm smile slipped across Addie’s lips. Her big sister had laid claim to the goblets and footed dessert bowls, while Addie chose the tea glasses and tumblers, both daughters equally needing these small pieces of their mother’s memory to remain alive in their homes.

Addie returned her attention to Beth’s show cards—a three, a five, a nine, and a queen. She took another drag on her cigarette and exhaled slowly. Seriously, someone would have to teach her big sister the finer points of seven-card stud, but that person wouldn’t be Addie.

At least not tonight.

Are you in? Beth finally asked.

Addie glanced at the pennies and nickels piled in the center and attempted a quick calculation. There might be as much as fifty cents.

Addie eyed Beth’s tapping shoe. You have pocket deuces, and you’re gonna up the ante on that? She’s definitely bluffing. And judging by the nervous vibration of her shaking leg, she was bluffing big time.

Beth shrugged. Better to have pocket somethings instead of that mess you got showing. I see a lot of red. Too bad it’s not from the same suit.

Helene, Mabel, and Peg had already folded, turning their cards face down in front of them. Helene and Mabel sat back and giggled at what had become a weekly clash between siblings. Peg, the peacemaker, sipped her tea, waiting anxiously for the altercation to end.

Will you accept a postage stamp or a five-cent Mr. Clean coupon? Addie offered, stubbing out the butt in an ashtray and reaching for the nearby pack to light another.

Beth didn’t respond. Instead, she forked into her homemade cherry supreme. She held the dessert in front of her lips for a moment before sliding the gooey, whipped-cream-covered dollop into her mouth. She sighed. Delicious.

Addie rolled her eyes and tossed in three cents. Her just-lit cigarette dangled from the corner of her mouth. Mom’s favorite dessert won’t save you. Show ‘em, she demanded, whiffs of smoke escaping with each word.

Beth set her fork down slowly on the side of the dish, fanned out the three cards she had secreted in her hand, and placed them on the table. Two fives and a queen.

Baby sister, that’s what you call a full boat. Not a deuce in the bunch, Beth announced, pride dripping off every word like honey.

How in the… Addie’s voice trailed off. When had Beth learned to really play cards? Times were changing.

As if she read Addie’s mind, Beth explained, Last week, after losing that big pot to Helene, I realized I bounce my leg when I’m bluffing. Beth raked some thirty coins toward her. So today, I did the opposite. Worked, huh?

Addie shook her head in disbelief. Well, hell, now I’m going to have to figure out another way to pay for my Easter hat.

Beth narrowed her eyes and glared. What are you talking about?

Since we started this group, I could always count on you to contribute ten or fifteen cents each week to my bottom line.

The twinkle that winning had put into Beth’s eyes dulled. What?

You have a terrible poker face, Helene chimed in. I’m afraid we’ve all taken advantage a time or two.

Beth placed a hand over her heart and gasped. Deception from the most important women in my life. Wow. Now who can I trust?

All’s fair in love and poker, dearie. Mabel’s grin brightened against her smooth, alabaster skin. We’re best friends—except when we shuffle.

That’s when all bets are off, Peg added, unaware of the pun and equally oblivious that her jaw no longer clenched in anxiety.

Beth cheerfully separated her newly earned pennies from the nickels. Well, if that’s how things are, I guess I’ll live with it. Or I could quit, and you’d have to play four-handed.

No fun in that, Peg said.

Addie tapped her flaming red fingernails against the table, a wicked grin playing on her lips. We could find another equally naïve card player, Addie suggested.

Oh! Like Nora! Helene shouted and clapped her hands.

Addie’s heart slammed against her chest at the mention of her former friend. One hand covertly gripped the hem of Beth’s Irish linen cloth. Not Nora. Anyone but Nora.

Helene continued, You know she’s back in town. I’ve missed her. She’d be a great addition.

Hey, I didn’t say I was quitting, Beth hastened to add. "Just don’t like the idea that yinz took advantage of me."

Sorrrry, Helene said. It’s just that you’re so…

So gullible, Addie supplied, recovering from the jolt of panic Nora Gallatin’s name spun her into. You believe everyone about everything, even when the facts point otherwise.

Well, maybe I prefer to think the best of people.

You definitely do, big sis, Addie agreed, looking at her watch. I have time for one more hand. Another chance to get some of my money back from you?

It’s only nine, Mabel said. We usually play until ten.

I have to get up early to make Ahren’s lunch. Tomorrow, he’s delivering way out in Willetburgh, across the state line. Want to make sure he has something proper to eat.

Well, aren’t you the perfect wife? Helene rolled her eyes. Makes the rest of us look bad.

I pack a lunch for Cal, Peg said defensively.

Of course you do, dearie, Beth answered. But Addie, this is new…catering to Ahren. What’s up?

Addie pouted and looked at each of her friends. Is there a law against taking care of your husband?

Helen huffed. Beth and Mabel laughed. No law I know of, Peg declared after a minute.

Addie slid the ashtray nearer. Are we playing or what? she asked, desperately wanting to move the conversation along.

Guess so. My deal, Beth said. Same game, deuces in the hole are wild. Ante up.

You were joking about Nora, weren’t you? Addie asked, her stare fixed on Helene.

Not really.

Well, I say no! There’s no flipping way I can be around that woman. I don’t want her anywhere near me. Addie raised a cigarette to her lips. She flicked her lighter several times before the flame finally caught. She sucked in the comforting smoke and blew out as though her vote settled the entire matter.

That’s your third cigarette in as many minutes, Helene said.

Never you mind how much I smoke or how fast, hell on wheels, Addie chided.

My, we’re a bit touchy tonight, Mabel said. All at the mention of Nora’s name. Make this my last hand. I need to get back to the motel.

Addie averted her eyes from Helene. She didn’t want to see the now-look-what-you’ve-done glare certain to be on exhibit. Instead, she set her burning cigarette in the ashtray and picked up the two cards in front of her. Pocket deuces.

Her gaze slid to Beth’s, but the look painted on her sister’s face sent a nervous flutter to the base of Addie’s stomach.

Clearly, the Nora matter was anything but over.

God, help me.

Chapter Two

Addie glared at her image in the full-length mirror anchored to her bedroom wall. She was rapidly approaching forty, and every bit of her age showed on her figure. She smoothed out her swing dress. At least the full skirt made her waist look small.

She leaned in to examine the dark bags forming under her eyes and blamed them on the past three sleepless nights. How could the Sewing Circle gals even consider bringing Nora back? The question hounded Addie. She could barely think of anything else.

She shook off her anger and instead ran to her vanity to apply a pancake foundation, temporarily concealing the circles under her lower lashes. She finished the look off with a smattering of loose powder. Pleased with the repairs, Addie snapped the compact shut. A few quick swipes at her chestnut curls and she’d be ready. At the last minute, she grabbed her grandmother’s pearl necklace, the one Beth loved, from the jewelry box on her dresser. She stood for a moment inspecting the beads before racing down the stairs into the living room.

We’re going to be late, she shouted to her husband, Ahren, as she shoved a window nearest the front door closed. Spring had arrived in southwestern Pennsylvania, but the afternoon’s gentle breeze billowing her bark cloth drapes had turned cold by early evening. She tugged the panels together, glad that soon the day’s light would extend beyond six o’clock.

Lucas! she shouted. Where are you?

Right here, Mom. Don’t have a hissy fit, her son replied in that derisive tone mastered by teenagers.

Addie wheeled around to take in his six-foot frame draped over an overstuffed chair, his stocking feet dangling off an armrest. A Mallo Cup candy wrapper and his high-top sneakers were discarded on the floor nearby. A musical show, American Bandstand maybe, blared through their Westinghouse console in the corner.

Don’t start with your attitude, Addie said. You’ve got chocolate and marshmallow all over your mouth. Turn off the television, get your shoes on, and let’s go. It’s your cousin’s confirmation day.

Yeah, I know, Luke answered, licking the corners of his mouth. I was at the church this morning, remember? He grabbed his shoes, laced them, then stood.

Honey, will you get the dessert from the refrigerator? she asked Ahren, standing in the doorway.

You didn’t make that awful green thing, did you? Luke’s voice boomed from behind her. I hope there’s something else for dessert if you did.

Addie frowned. I’ll have you know that everyone loves my lime Jell-O ring. Besides, your Aunt Beth will have lots of other goodies. She always does. She’s really the cook in the family. You, my handsome son, got the mother who makes reservations for dinner.

And delicious reservations they always are, added Ahren.

Addie curtsied. How did I get so lucky to marry you? She handed him the string of pearls—not real ones, of course, but a high-quality imitation, their mother had always said. Can you help with the clasp? She lifted her curls from the nape of her neck. Maybe I should try an Italian cut, she suggested, and turned back toward him. Then someone might mistake me for Sophia Loren or Elizabeth Taylor.

Ahren spun her around and planted a small kiss against her skin before hooking the necklace in place. Don’t lop off your curls, he said, tucking an errant one behind her ear. They make you more beautiful than a movie star. The couple stood that way, with Ahren behind her, his hands bracketing her waist as he nuzzled her.

Ahren always said the right thing at the right time. She’d never have to worry about him straying. That’s why she had picked him over Barry. Mom and Dad had approved since he was Lebanese. Barry wasn’t, but he was rich—something Ahren would never be.

She didn’t regret her choice. Her life had turned out fine being married to a five-foot-six high school running back. Not NFL quality. He never anticipated hearing from the Steelers, but Ahren was the guy who’d always been chosen for pickup games at Rockyburgh Park.

More importantly, he treated her like a queen. Something she wished was true about her sister Beth’s husband, Ted.

Addie attempted another curtsy, but this time, she wobbled on her kitten heels, nearly toppling them both.

Whoa. Ahren grabbed her waist tighter. You all right, honey?

Never been better, she giggled, turning to face him. A slight hiccup escaped, so she covered her mouth, giggling harder. I tried a new recipe that called for a splash of sherry.

Wow, that sounds great… Luke began, but his father’s glare stopped him.

You added alcohol to the dessert the kids will be eating? Ahren said. Do you think that’s wise?

The dissention in his words swept through her. These were the times she loved Ahren the least. He couldn’t mask the disdain and disappointment with her for even the slightest variation off the beaten path.

Addie never liked paths—beaten or otherwise. She wanted to explore the road not taken, brave her own course, but being married to Ahren prevented even the slightest meandering.

Her husband accepted the tried-and-true—tradition and routine. That’s the way we’ve always done it was justification enough not to change a single thing. Even relocating a table lamp was cause for extensive discussion. And usually, the lamp stayed right where it was.

Yes, Ahren was a housewife’s dream—stable, reliable, steadfast…

And as boring a man as anyone would ever meet.

We can’t always be wise like you, honey, she said, pinning a hat to her head and grabbing her purse. Let’s go.

Addie tried to recall one time in their nineteen-year marriage that Ahren had done anything that wasn’t wise, measured, or careful. He’d never been spontaneous, not even in their early years. But she couldn’t blame him. She’d already been pregnant when they’d exchanged I do’s. Luke had arrived a few weeks early, and being a mother had consumed Addie, overriding her adventurous side for years.

Still, the fact that Ahren never made plans for the two of them to be alone irked her. Either set of grandparents could have watched Luke, but Ahren hadn’t ever seemed to crave that closeness the way she did. He was happy to collapse in his easy chair, inhale the pot roast she’d made, and watch the evening news.

Ahren couldn’t come up with an original idea if his bosses paid him for one. That’s why he drove a route for Gallatin Coal and Fuel. There wasn’t anything creative about delivering coal to furnaces in the greater Keystone area. All he had to do was attach the truck’s chute through the window and wait for the lumps to tumble into the customer’s basement. And then repeat every other week.

It was a steady job with one large problem: no one needed coal during the hot summers.

The dog days started as soon as school let out in June and often stretched past Indian summer. They had to make Ahren’s six or seven months of salary last for twelve because, by Labor Day, they usually had spent their paltry savings. No way could they survive until October, when the weather would finally cool. When their fridge stopped working last March, Addie had started giving piano lessons to the locals.

After confirming that Ahren held the dessert, she whooshed out the door, skirts swirling in her wake. She breathed in the crisp air, cool against her skin, and strode to the car.

It had been nearly a month since Addie learned of Barry Gallatin’s return. She hadn’t seen him; still, thoughts of the man who had never quite moved out of her life echoed. As she stood by the coupe waiting for Ahren and Luke, troubling thoughts of another woman’s husband invaded her like hornets buzzing in her ears.

And nighttime magnified the lie. A lie she kept buried to remain Ahren’s loving wife and Luke’s caring mother.

***

Beth Jacobsen replaced the lid on a pot of cabbage rolls steaming on the gas range before swatting at her son Joel, who tried to fork a delicacy from inside the Dutch oven. Stop, she directed. Everyone will be here soon. We’ll sit for dinner, and you can eat as many as you want then.

Come on, Mom. You know there won’t be any left for me once the family gets here—especially after Aunt Addie, Uncle Ahren, and Luke fill up.

Beth swatted at him again. Don’t talk like that about your godparents. Who stood behind you today as you said your vows and became an adult in the church?

Joel stared at his empty fork. Beth guessed that he was strategizing how to connect its tines to a pig-in-a-blanket.

That’s right. Beth huffed. Your Uncle Ahren. Now, go comb your hair and get ready for your party.

I don’t want a party. I just want to eat. Joel raked a hand through his unruly waves.

Beth straightened her apron before herding her youngest through the kitchen’s swinging door. I’m not arguing with you. She kissed his cheek before whispering, And I’ll put some pigs-in-a-blanket aside for you.

Thanks, Mommy, Joel said and turned, nearly knocking his sister over as he raced to his room.

What’s his problem? Opal said, looking over her shoulder.

He’s a hungry boy. Beth motioned at the cotton napkins in Opal’s hands. Put those on the buffet and make them look nice. Then can you chop the vegetables for the tabouleh?

Beth pulled a stack of green melamine plates from the cabinet and followed Opal to the dining room. Where’s Ruby? That girl always disappears when there’s work to be done.

Only two minutes separated her daughters in age, but those two minutes made Opal the much older twin. She was reliable, whereas Ruby was flighty as a feather boa and just about as useful.

I need both of you to give me a hand. The family will be here in less an hour.

Opal fanned out the napkins in a lovely arc, seemingly nonplussed that, once again, Ruby had gotten away with goofing off. She’ll be down after she takes the curlers out of her hair.

What? Who’s she trying to impress? Her cousin won’t care.

True, but Dante is coming, and she wants to look especially nice for him. Opal patted her napkin arrangement beside the Fostoria crystal goblets that only saw daylight on the most special occasions.

I didn’t know Opal invited all the Gallatins. I told her she could invite Genna. Beth grabbed tomatoes, cucumbers, and fresh parsley from the refrigerator, handed them to her daughter, and pointed to the cutting board. That’s how many more people? She counted out loaves of Syrian bread.

Oh, not the whole family. Just Genna and Dante. He’s giving her a ride over, so Ruby suggested he stay for dinner.

A growing uneasiness in her stomach doubled. Addie would have a kitten knowing any Gallatin would be here, much less two of them. Beth hadn’t dared tell her sister that she’d seen Nora twice in the past month, both times at Woolworths. They’d exchanged pleasantries, but neither woman had made an attempt to rekindle their long-ago friendship.

Beth owed Addie that much.

Opal looked up from the piles of chopped vegetables cluttering the counter. Ruby’s liked Dante for as long as I can remember.

Beth shook her head. At this rate, Ruby would be married as soon as she graduated from high school. How can that be? She was five or six when Nora and Barry moved to Pittsburgh, and they’ve only been back since January.

Don’t know. What I do know is that since she and Genna became best friends, all I hear is ‘Dante, Dante, Dante. He’s so tall and handsome.’ Opal rolled her eyes.

Is that so? Well, of course he’s tall. Barry was over six feet when we were in ninth grade.

You went to school with Dante’s dad?

Beth swung around so quickly that Opal jumped back. What are you talking about? We all went to school together; me, your Aunt Addie, Ahren, your dad…all of us. We were a gang until folks started getting married, and Barry moved to Pittsburgh.

Ruby appeared in the kitchen doorway, her hair a tousle of curls and a brightness of young love surrounding her. Why did he move?

So glad you could join us. Beth pointed to the sink, where a colander full of green beans waited to be cleaned and trimmed. Want to lend a hand?

Ruby grabbed a pink paisley-print apron from a nearby hook, slipped it over her head, and tied the sash. So why did Dante’s family move? she asked again, chopping the ends off the string beans.

Why does anybody do anything? Money. Beth laughed. By then, Mr. Gallatin had succeeded in the coal industry. He moved his corporate offices to the big city and didn’t look back to our little town, where he’d left folks without jobs, including your grandfather. Mostly, he wanted his only son, the heir apparent, living closer so he could run the business.

"Air a parent? What’s that?"

It means he’s next in line to inherit Gallatin Coal and Fuel, right, Mom?

It’s h-e-i-r, not a-i-r. And yes, Opal, you are right.

I kind of remember them living here, Ruby said. I’m really glad they’re back.

"Are you glad the whole family is back? Or just Dante?" Opal giggled.

Smart aleck, Ruby hissed, snapping a bean pod in two.

It was tough for some people when the company relocated, Beth said, not really addressing the girls. Might take time for folks to warm up to Barry and Nora.

Ruby giggled. I’ll warm up to Dante. A flighty coquettishness painted her words as though nursing a crush on Tab Hunter or Frankie Avalon.

Fixing the green beans is help enough, Beth said, wiping her hands together.

Did you know that Mom went to school with Dante’s parents? Opal asked.

Ruby twirled around as though royalty had entered the dreary kitchen. Really, Mom? You ran with the Gallatins? Ruby asked, eyes wide.

We were friends, Beth said, emphasizing were.

That’s so cool, Ruby said.

It was at the time. Now get back to the beans.

Beth purposely downplayed the importance of Nora. From kindergarten through high school, the two had been closer than petals on a flower. Until Barry had proposed to Nora. Weeks later, Addie got engaged to Ahren.

Nora and Addie had been bridesmaids in each other’s weddings, and Beth was the maid of honor to both. Not long after the last handfuls of rice had been thrown and the tiered cakes cut, the friendships splintered.

Years later, when Nora was pregnant with their third child, Barry had followed his father to Sewickley, a wealthy Pittsburgh suburb. So why had they moved back to this sleepy hamlet? Rumors suggested that Nora wanted to be closer to her sickly mother.

Was there another, more ominous reason?

Funny how the drama from years ago reappeared. They’d been so young and naïve.

We should leave the past in the past and invite Nora to join the Sewing Circle, and then we’d have the girls back together.

As soon as the thought crossed her mind, her stomach clenched. Addie would never permit it.

Why is Dante coming to your brother’s confirmation party? Beth asked finally. And why didn’t you ask me? You know I worry about having enough food.

Mom, you always have enough food. We could invite the football team, and there would be leftovers, Opal declared.

Beth ignored Opal’s response, keeping her gaze trained on Ruby, who peered out at her from behind a fringe of black eyelashes.

I told you, he’s giving Genna a ride. It would be rude— Opal finally answered while Ruby stood silent.

I don’t like you chasing boys, Beth admonished. It’s just not done.

Well, if you’re Ruby Jacobsen, it is. Opal laughed.

Ruby sent a glower in Opal’s direction.

You better not embarrass me with Nora.

The twins giggled.

I mean it. We’ve been friends a long time. Sadly, though, the length of time wasn’t an accurate indicator of the quality of that friendship. I won’t have her thinking my daughters are boy crazy.

"Not daughters. Opal waggled a finger. Daughter. The one you named Ruby."

I don’t have time for this, Beth said, placing her hands on her hips. We have people coming for dinner, and all I have ready are the grape leaves and the cabbage rolls.

You made cabbage rolls, too? Opal smacked her forehead. "Of course you did. Because your son won’t eat mishees."

The snarl in Opal’s voice made Beth wince. "He doesn’t like grape leaves, and this is his party. He’s the one who got confirmed."

It’s always about your son, she singsonged, using a jovial tone to mask this open secret.

In Middle Eastern families like the one Beth grew up in, boys were valued above girls, men above women. Her husband, a mixture of Danish and German, seemed to warm to the practice.

Don’t start. Go check on your father. See if he’s awake, but don’t disturb him. Hopefully, he’d slept off last night’s overindulgence in the beer garden.

Okay, Mom. And you know I’m kidding, right? She left, not waiting for a response.

There’d been a tinge of humor in Opal’s voice but also a trace of truth. From the time when Beth was a young girl to her life now as a married woman, the gears turned around the menfolk. She wouldn’t validate this truth to Opal and Ruby.

Well, not before they got married.

She wanted her daughters to see the world as a limitless canvas with more colors than just pink or blue for them to paint with. But that was a discussion for another day. She had ambrosia salad to make and the lubee—green bean and tomato stew—to cook. No time to let her mind consider the world’s injustices.

Beth grabbed the red and yellow hook-and-loop potholders Joel had made in summer camp and opened the oven door to check on the pan of grape leaves baking inside, praying they would stretch to serve ten instead of eight.

Chapter Three

Can I drive? Luke asked, dangling Addie’s keys to the Chevy Bel Air from his finger.

Yeah, sure, his dad replied, grabbing them and unlocking the doors. When you start making the payments.

Luke huffed and climbed into the backseat. Can we at least put the top down?

For this short ride? By the time we get to Beth’s—

Ignoring Ahren, Addie reached across the seat and pushed a button on the dashboard. Seconds later, the roof disappeared, revealing a dimming sky.

Ahren cast a dismissive look at his wife. Guess we have enough time after all.

That’s much better, Addie declared, jostling her hair a bit to feel the rapidly cooling wind travel through her strands. Fresh air. Just what we need. She turned slightly to give her son a wink before taking in the breeze grazing her face and rushing past. Inside the Chevy, the impossible seemed possible.

They’d owned the car only a few months, and it was the center of one of the few fights she and Ahren had had during their years together. They argued over the purchase, of course. Ahren had been reluctant to buy another car when the payment would be nearly thirty dollars a month.