Thread the Halls

By Lea Wait

“A snow-sprinkled, holly-merry, twinkling page-turner of a mystery” from the USA Today bestselling author of Tightening the Threads (Kingdom Books).
 
Christmas in Haven Harbor, Maine, means family, trouble, and murder . . .
 
This Yuletide season, there’s no time for Angie Curtis and Patrick West to linger under the mistletoe. Patrick’s being needled by his mother—movie star Skye West—to set the stage for a perfect white Christmas as she brings her costar, screenwriters, and director home for the holidays. With his mother’s long list of wishes, Patrick’s becoming unraveled. To help, the Mainely Needlepointers offer to decorate Skye’s Victorian mansion and create needlepoint pillows as gifts for the guests.
 
But not long after the celebrity celebrants invade Haven Harbor, an unscripted tragedy occurs. Then some questionable Christmas cookies make Patrick sick. Before Santa arrives at the town pier on a lobster boat, Angie and the Needlepointers need to trim down the naughty list, catch a cold-hearted killer, and wrap up the case . . .
 
Praise for the Mainely Needlepoint mysteries

“Offers a wonderful sense of place and characters right from the very beginning. Highly recommended.”—Suspense Magazine
 
“A cozy debut that hits all the sweet spots: small town, family ties, and a crew of intriguing personalities.”—Library Journal 
 
“For a trip to Maine for the cost of a book, this is the author to read.”—Kings River Life Magazine

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kensington Books
• Release date: Oct 31, 2017
• ISBN: 9781496706317

Lea Wait

Lea Wait made her mystery debut with Shadows at the Fair, which was nominated for an Agatha Award for Best First Novel. Shadows on the Ivy, the third novel in her acclaimed series featuring Maggie Summer, is forthcoming in hardcover from Scribner. Lea comes from a long line of antiques dealers, and has owned an antique print business for more than twenty-five years. The single adoptive mother of four Asian girls who are now grown, she lives in Edgecomb, Maine. In addition to the Antique Print mysteries, Lea Wait writes historical fiction for young readers. Her first children's book, Stopping to Home, was named a Notable Book for Children in 2001 by Smithsonian magazine. Visit her website at LeaWait.com.

Book preview

2017

Chapter 1

"As some fair violet, loveliest of the glade

Sheds its mild fragrance on the lovely shade

Withdraws its modest head from public sight

Covets not the sun nor seeks the glare of light,

So woman born to dignify, retreat, and be unseen,

Fearful of fame, unwilling to be known,

Should seek but Heaven’s applause, and her own."

—Stitched by Eliza Ely in 1881, somewhere in New England.

After ten years of not celebrating December 25 other than by listening to carols on my car radio during surveillance gigs, I was determined this Christmas would be perfect. It wouldn’t be magical, like it was when I was a child. But I needed it to come close.

When I was young, Christmas had always made up for the other 364 days of the year that, despite Gram’s efforts, had been memorable in other ways.

Gram, where’s my star? I called to her. It has to go on the tree first.

It’s in a gold box, Angel, she answered from the dining room, where she and Reverend Tom (I still had trouble calling her new husband Tom, no matter how often he told me to drop the Reverend) were adding to the bowl of eggnog.

Gram was the only one who called me Angel. I liked the old nickname.

It’s probably in the same carton as the lights, she added.

Boxes of red and blue and gold Christmas balls were stacked near the fireplace, next to ornaments I’d made in elementary school, and a few needlepointed ones I’d added to the collection this year.

This tree was my first as a grown-up, on my own. I hadn’t bothered to have a tree in my Arizona apartment. Life there had been temporary. Last Christmas had meant white lights twinkling on saguaro cactuses and dinner with my boss in a Mexican food diner.

As usual, Gram was right. The gold box was under a string of colored lights.

I opened it carefully, hoping my star would be the way I remembered it.

I’d made the large, lopsided ornament in kindergarten, covering coat hanger wire with aluminum foil. I’d proudly brought it home and given it to Mama. Her perfume had mixed with the scent of pine as she lifted me up so I could put my star on the very top of our tree.

Sometimes I imagined the star still held a trace of her fragrance.

When I was a teenager I’d talked about replacing my star with something more elegant. But, secretly, I loved it and the years it represented: Christmases with Mama.

I stared into the box. In the past ten years the star’s silver foil had crackled, and pieces had fallen off.

Gram saw me looking at it. Nothing lasts forever, Angel. Maybe you can cover it with fresh foil.

She didn’t understand. I want it the way it was, I said.

I’m twenty-eight. I knew I was being silly. But I wanted this Christmas to be the same as the Christmases I remembered as a child. After all, Christmas meant tradition. Even if not every Christmas was traditional.

I climbed the paint-spattered stepladder and wound the now-rusted wire around the base of my star and the top of the tree.

Curtis family traditions in Haven Harbor, Maine, meant Santas on the mantel, a tree that touched the ceiling, and wreaths on every door and window.

I secretly believed one of my Victorian ancestors had added our bay window to frame their Christmas tree. Yesterday, Patrick, the new man in my life, and I had donned our blaze orange (hunting season was over and his land was posted, but you never knew), cut my tree in his woods, and then stood it in the Christmas tree stand Mama and Gram had used before me.

Sharing the holiday with a special man was one change I welcomed.

Other changes were harder to accept. I remembered the excitement and anticipation of early Christmas mornings in a flannel nightgown, nibbling ribbon candy before breakfast while Gram made blueberry pancakes in the kitchen. Now Gram was married and living down the street in the rectory with Reverend Tom. They’d invited me to spend Christmas morning with them, but they were finding new ways to celebrate together.

Most of their plans didn’t involve me. They were part of his ministerial duties and were shared with the rest of his church family.

Gram was taking their first Christmas as a married couple in stride.

I wasn’t.

But I was trying. Today I’d invited my friends from Gram’s (now my) Mainely Needlepoint business to a tree-trimming party. I hoped new traditions would keep me from missing old ones.

When I was seventeen, hating Maine and all it stood for, and hating Mama for disappearing when I was ten, leaving me to deal with rumors and pity, I never could have imagined someday my life would be like this. After ten years of working for a private investigator in Phoenix, learning to handle a gun and follow and photo, I’d come home.

Mama’s body had been found, and I’d found her killer. I’d finally answered the questions I’d lived with for seventeen years.

Tonight I was surrounded by friends: Patrick West, the guy who wasn’t perfect, but who made me smile; Sarah Byrne, who’d moved to Maine from Australia, had a rocky few months recently, but had become my closest friend; Dave Percy, who taught high school biology and whose poison garden intrigued me; Captain Ob and his wife, Anna, who’d had a difficult summer, but were now ready to ring in a new year; Ruth Hopkins, who did needlepoint when her arthritis allowed, and wrote books when it didn’t; Katie Titi-comb and Dr. Gus, parents of one of my high school friends; Clem Walker, a high school friend who lived in Portland and worked for Channel 7, but was now home for the holidays with her family; and, of course, Gram and Reverend Tom.

And Trixi. As the tree began to shake I realized I’d been lost in the past and hadn’t seen her for a few minutes.

I reached through the wide branches and caught her, one small black kitten, on her way to the top. She jumped from my arms and skittered to her favorite hiding spot behind the couch.

As I climbed down from the ladder Patrick’s arm went around me. Penny for your thoughts? You look as though you left us for a while.

I’m here, I said, smiling into his eyes. Very happy to be right here right now. I stood on my toes and kissed his cheek. Who needed a kissing ball or mistletoe when I had Patrick?

He looked around the room, took a deep breath, and announced, This is as good a time as any for me to invite all of you to Aurora for a dinner party Christmas Eve.

Aurora was Patrick’s mother’s estate. She was an actress, making a movie in Scotland.

Skye will be back for Christmas? I asked.

She thought she’d have to work through Christmas, but they’ve had weather delays and script problems. Last night she called to tell me they’d decided to close the set for the holidays. She’s coming here with some of the others working on the film.

Really? Clem asked. Anyone famous?

Clem was the only one of us who’d never met Patrick’s mother, who’d bought Aurora as a retreat, far from the pressures of Hollywood. We’d all made it an unwritten rule that Skye should have the privacy she valued.

Patrick looked at Clem. He’d remembered my old friend was also a part of the media. By issuing a general invitation to his mother’s party, he’d included her. Paul Carmichael is coming, and an actress I don’t know, Blaze Buchanan. And Thomas and Marie O’Day, the screenwriters, will be here re-working the end of the script with Marv Mason, who’s directing.

Wow! Clem breathed. I’m a real Paul Carmichael fan. He’s gorgeous. And Marv Mason’s won two Oscars!

Sounds like a working holiday, Ruth Hopkins pointed out.

Exactly. Mom said besides the script, they’ve had personnel problems on the set they hope to work out while they’re here. She sounded distracted. And here’s my challenge. She wants me to decorate the house in what she termed ‘traditional Maine Christmas fashion,’ so all is ‘as she dreamed’ when she arrives. Patrick smiled, but looked tense. Her plane gets in December twentieth.

She wants you to decorate the whole house in two days? I gasped. Skye’s home was enormous.

Reverend Tom shook his head. Sounds as though she’s been watching old Christmas movies. This is Haven Harbor. Not a movie set.

Exactly, Patrick agreed glumly. She even rattled off a list of what she wants—garlands everywhere and an enormous tree, of course. And that’s just the beginning. She wants a horse-drawn sleigh and carolers. And an elegant buffet dinner Christmas Eve, including lobster.

Silence. A horse-drawn sleigh? Did Patrick’s mother think Maine was still in the nineteenth century?

Captain Ob Winslow was the first to speak. I’ll help with the tree, Patrick. What are neighbors for? But Anna and I’ve planned a quiet Christmas this year, just the two of us. I’m afraid we’ll have to pass on the invite to your fancy party.

Gus and I’ll be heading to Blue Hill for Christmas with the grandkids, said Katie. We won’t be in town Christmas Eve.

I’d be happy to come, Sarah said quickly. And you’ll be here then, right, Dave?

I’d planned to spend the holidays in Boston. But, sure. I can come Christmas Eve. Dave looked cornered.

I’ll come, said Ruth, quietly.

I’ll be there for sure, Clem put in.

Patrick glanced at her and then me, and shrugged.

I’ll help decorate, I put in. Like Ob and Anna, I’d looked forward to a quiet Christmas day, mine with Gram and Tom. And Patrick, of course. But I could manage Christmas Eve. I’d miss the children’s pageant at the church, but I could do that. I glanced at Patrick’s hands. Last June they’d been badly burned in an accident. The delicate task of hanging ornaments would be hard for him.

I’ll bet I can find some sophomores from my bio class who could use extra spending money over the holidays. School’s out already. You get the tree and ornaments, and I’ll find decorators, Dave suggested.

I’d really appreciate that, Patrick said with relief, squeezing my hand. Thank you, Dave. He looked around the room. I have to warn all of you. I know most of Mom’s friends in the movie business. I’m afraid there may be more drama at Aurora this Christmas than Haven Harbor’s used to.

As long as any dramas stay at Aurora, said Reverend Tom quietly. Here in town we’re pretty set in our ways of celebrating. After all, Christmas is a religious holiday. A time for families to be together. Not a spectacle.

I understand. Patrick nodded. I do.

His hand tightened on mine.

He might understand. But did his mom and her Hollywood friends? My dream of a quiet, perfect, Maine Christmas was fading fast.

But Skye seemed to picture Haven Harbor as a Currier and Ives scene. And nothing bad ever happened in a Currier and Ives print. Right?

Chapter 2

"Sacred to the memory of Jonathan Prat,

Born July 14, 1801, Died August 22, 1803, Aged 2 years."

—Silk embroidery in metallic thread stitched by Harriet Pratt (1797 – 1880) of Oxford, Massachusetts, at Abby Wright’s School in South Hadley. Harriet’s picture depicts a marble memorial to her brother. Her father (aged thirty- three), her mother (aged thirty), her younger sister (aged four), and Harriet herself (aged six) are weeping next to it. Harriet married William Dana on July 12, 1812, and on August 30 their son Jonathan was born.

I have a children’s pageant and a candlelight service scheduled for Christmas Eve, said Reverend Tom. But I could probably get some of the choir members to go to Aurora and sing a few carols between the services. He looked at Patrick. We’ve been needing some new choir robes.

I liked Reverend Tom. He treated Gram with love and kindness. It might sound crass to take advantage of the Wests’ wealth, but it was practical. And he’d be asking the choir to interrupt their Christmas Eve to sing for a group of people from away.

Patrick didn’t blink. He got the message. Mom would be happy to make a donation to the church, he assured Tom. He and Skye were used to paying for what they wanted. And getting it.

Carolers were taken care of. What else can we help with? I put in, before anyone else found a reason they couldn’t come to Skye’s party.

Patrick looked embarrassed. Then he hit us with another of his mother’s requests. I hope some of you have a little time between now and Christmas. Mom would like to give each of her colleagues—all five of them—small balsam fir pillows embroidered with a Christmas tree and their names.

No one said anything. We Mainely Needlepointers looked at one another. Skye and Patrick had no idea how long needlepointing took.

Anna was the first to speak. I’m the newest needlepointer, but if they’re small, I’ll try to do one. Time is tight this time of year.

Small is fine, Patrick assured her.

Sarah shrugged. Count me in. I’ll be at my shop hoping for Christmas shoppers between now and Christmas. What about you, Dave?

Sure, he said, reluctantly. School’s already out for the holiday, so I don’t have lesson plans or papers to grade.

Ruth shook her head. My arthritis is acting up. I couldn’t finish one in—what is it? Six days?

And I’m booked with church activities. Sorry, said Gram.

I swallowed. I’ll do my best. I had other plans for the next week. Needlepoint was new to me, too, and I’d already volunteered to give up at least one day to help Patrick decorate. Plus, I had a little more to do on the pillow I was stitching for him as a Christmas surprise. The threads matched the vibrant colors and design of the painting hanging in his living room that he’d completed before he’d burned his hands. I’d been working on the pillow all fall, but it wasn’t quite finished.

I hoped my gift would encourage Patrick to paint again. Recently he’d spent most of his time at the gallery he’d bought on Main Street. His studio stood empty.

That’s four pillows, said Patrick, looking at all of us hopefully.

Okay, Ob sighed reluctantly. If Anna can do one, I can, too. Your mother’s worked wonders with Aurora. It’ll be good to see a Christmas tree up at the place this year. Ob and Anna lived across the street from Aurora.

Thank you all so much, said Patrick. That’s a relief. Mom will pay you all well, I promise, for the fast turnaround involved.

I’ll get back to those of you who volunteered. Patrick and I will talk. I sent him a glance I hoped he’d find meaningful. First thing in the morning I’ll call the four of you who volunteered to stitch and let you know the colors and dimensions of the pillows and whose name to stitch. We’ll use our usual pattern for the tree.

But Patrick wasn’t finished asking for help. Do any of you have suggestions for a caterer? he asked. I called the lobster bake place in Camden Mom used last summer, but they don’t do bakes in December. And every caterer I could find online was already booked for Christmas events.

A lobster bake in December? Not exactly. Patrick was out of his depth.

Maine’s restaurants and caterers were famous for their gourmet delights in the summer, but many of them closed in the off-season. Those still open were sure to be booked.

Gram came to the rescue. What about Bev Clifford? Her Wild Rose Inn is closed for the winter, and she’s a good cook. She’s a widow, and her son won’t be home for Christmas. Recently she told me she was dreading the holidays. Too many memories. Tom and I invited her for Christmas dinner, but as long as you want lobsters and good Maine food she might be willing to help you out.

In other words, nothing fancy. And Bev Clifford could use the money. Winters were tough for Mainers who ran businesses for summer visitors.

I’ll call her, said Patrick gratefully. He wrote down her name. "Mom isn’t looking for French cuisine. She used the words authentic and local when I talked with her. And, of course, seafood."

"Some French food is authentic Maine cuisine, Anna put in. Think of the patisserie downtown, and all our French-Canadian neighbors."

Right, said Patrick, who clearly hadn’t thought about Quebecois cuisine at all. I should talk to Bev Clifford about that.

"I’m sure she could make up some tourtières," suggested Gram.

What? Patrick asked, blankly.

Spicy pork pies. A traditional Christmas dish from Quebec. A lot of Maine folks bake them this time of year. And you’ll want local oysters as well as lobster, Dave suggested.

And local wines and beers, Patrick said, taking more notes.

Local distillers make spirits, I added. The only libation you may have to buy from away is champagne.

You could always introduce these folks to Moxie, Captain Ob said, a glint in his eye.

There are Maine fruit sparkling wines, agreed Reverend Tom, with a smile. Charlotte and I can suggest some.

Patrick looked overwhelmed. I only thought I had to worry about a tree and wreaths!

I have a cousin who has a horse, said Ob, getting into the spirit. And a wagon. Wouldn’t be a sleigh, like Skye wanted, but it’d be better than nothing. Most of us drive trucks and snow plows these days.

And snow mobiles. I know. I do know. I’m sorry. Mom spent time here, but she hasn’t lived here. And this is our first winter. We both still have a lot to learn about Maine. Patrick smiled at everyone. I’m throwing myself on your mercy. I really appreciate all this help.

I touched his arm. You can do it, Patrick. It may not be exactly what your mother has in mind. But she has to be flexible. This isn’t a movie set. Haven Harbor is a real town, and we all have real lives.

Real lives that had been planning Christmas for months. I’d looked forward to joining Gram and Tom for Christmas morning and having Patrick join us for Christmas dinner. Now he’d be spending Christmas Day with his mother and her Hollywood friends at Aurora.

He was the man in my life, at least for now. I was willing to help him arrange his mother’s house for her guests.

But I didn’t want to sacrifice family time for the amusement of people I’d probably never see again.

Patrick might be used to doing that. I wasn’t.

Chapter 3

Liberty in the Form of the Goddess of Youth Giving Support to the Bald Eagle.

—Silk embroidery stitched by Louisa Bushnell (1799 – 1887) in Essex, Connecticut, depicting the goddess reaching up to the eagle, an American flag on her right, and the scene surrounded by a garland of flowers.

Patrick excused himself to call Bev Clifford.

The rest of us looked after him as he headed for the quiet of the kitchen. Reverend Tom shook his head.

I expected a few comments from the needlepointers about folks from away who expect too much from locals, but everyone held their tongues. Maybe on my behalf. They’d all accepted that, at least for now, Patrick was my guy. (He didn’t know it, but that gave him a little more leverage around Haven Harbor, especially with my friends.) Or maybe they’d been willing to help because of the promised donation to the church, or because it was Christmas.

I poured myself a glass of egg nog and was silently grateful.

Quiet carols were playing on my computer (the living room, minus the Christmas tree and decorations, was also my Mainely Needlepoint office). Captain Ob added two logs to feed the flames on the hearth. Everyone else was eating, drinking, or needlepointing. Clem, who didn’t know the others as well as I did, was chatting quietly with Sarah. I hoped Sarah was filling her in on how Skye and Patrick would expect us to keep news about the famous guests quiet.

Time to put on the ornaments! I announced.

I’ll pass on hanging balls, but I’ll supervise. Let you all know if you’re overloading the tree on either side, Ruth suggested. Her arthritis was keeping her close to her walker these days.

The rest of my guests each took a box of ornaments and went to work.

Patrick rejoined us in a few minutes. Thanks for recommending Bev Clifford, Mrs. McCully, he said to Gram. She’s on board. I’m going to meet her tomorrow afternoon at Aurora.

Good, I said. Now, here’s a box of ornaments for you to hang.

Yes, ma’am, he said, smiling.

I handed him ornaments I’d made as a child—gold-painted starfish tied with red ribbon and papier-mâché shapes of uncertain intent. The attached pieces of string or wire would be easier for him to hang than the small hooks on the balls.

He picked up a glittery picture frame made of Popsicle sticks holding a picture of eight-year-old me. Pretty cute kid, he grinned as he hung the ornament on a nearby branch.

With everyone helping, decorating took less time than I’d imagined.

After we’d found places for every gold or red ball and lumpy ornament we sat to admire our handiwork. Katie and Dave picked up their needlepoint. Most of us sipped more eggnog.

I haven’t told you all, Sarah shared. Last Saturday I went to an auction up in Thomaston and bought an amazing collection of antique needlework tools. You should all come to my antiques shop to look. I’m afraid they’re expensive, but I’d love you to see them before they sell. They’re the sort I’d only seen in museums.

Tools? I asked. Unlike most of the others, I was still learning about needlework. I had no idea what antique needlework tools would be.

"An elegant lady in the eighteenth or nineteenth century

Reviews for Thread the Halls

[carlathelibrarian · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I have been following this series since it began and was getting a bit behind. With a new book due out soon, I realized that this Christmas edition of the Mainely Needlepoint series was just what I was looking for, now that I am beginning my Christmas reads.

Angie and the Mainely Needlepointers are getting set to have a quiet Christmas season when Patrick West, Angie's boyfriend, drops a bombshell and asks for favours. His mother, actress Skye West, has decided to come home to Haven Harbor for a white Christmas. Not only that, but she is bringing home some people she is working with on her recent, troubled movie. He needs help decorating the mansion, making needlepoint gifts for each of the guests as well as inviting them all for Christmas Eve. There go Angie's plans down the drain. She had wanted to have a quiet Christmas with Patrick, but any time with him is a gift after all he has been through so she helps him get everything ready for his mother’s arrival. Skye and her entourage arrive but before they spend one night in Maine, one of them is found dead in the snow. While trying to keep Christmas on track and find the killer, Angie becomes a suspect, not only in the murder, but in poisoning Patrick as well. There is a definite chill in the air and it’s not from the typical Maine winter weather. There is a killer nearby, she just needs to figure out who before it is too late.

Angie grows more in each story. She is really getting comfortable running the needlepoint business and her own needlepoint skills are improving. Whenever a dead body shows up, she tries to stay out the investigations but she ends up right in the middle anyway. Angie’s relationship with her grandmother is so special and I love when she laments about being an adult and not having her grandmother around to make her hot cocoa or whatever else she needs. Skye and Patrick are rich and used to getting what they want, so they take some getting used to, but they are not rude and malicious. Skye is a mother first, so whenever something happens to Patrick, she goes all mama bear, not always thinking about how she treats others. I am enjoying the relationship of Angie and Patrick, but he needs to think more about her, than his mother. I hope that improves as the series goes forward. I had a niggling in the back of my mind about one of the characters as the story unfolded and I was right in my suspicions. The motive for the murder was the one sticking point so the twist at the end was a great way to wind up this mystery. The story was well paced, with some surprises and that huge twist. Each chapter begins with a tidbit about needlepoint or a bit of a historic sampler, but you do not have to read them if that does not interest you. Another great entry to this series. I recommend it to cozy mystery lovers, especially those who love to learn about the area the story takes place.

[aztwinmom · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

In Thread the Halls, Angie is excited to spend her first Christmas back in Maine after years spent in Arizona. She wants to relive old traditions and make new ones with her boyfriend, Patrick West. Just a few days before Christmas, Patrick announces that his mother (a famous movie actress) and a group of movie people will be arriving for Christmas. Suddenly, Angie’s plans are turned upside down. One of Skye’s guests is killed, Patrick is poisoned, and Skye and the police blame Angie! A surprise ending ties up the mystery nicely so everyone can enjoy Christmas. The story quickl drew me in and I didn’t see the ending coming.

[cathyskye · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Lea Wait brings readers a wonderful Maine Christmas in this sixth book in her Mainely Needlepoint series, which has been one of my favorites from the very first book. Since Angie worked for a private investigator for ten years while living in Phoenix, she has the background to make her one of the strongest amateur sleuths you'll find. She shares all her findings with the local police, and she doesn't do anything stupid-- both things that I really appreciate.There hasn't been much needlepoint being done in the last few books, but that's not really a problem. Wait begins each chapter with a quote from an historic sampler, and those quotes can tell readers quite a bit about the embroiderers and the times they lived in. (People really can live on through their stitching.)The mystery is a good one with a large suspect pool, and the motive for the crimes isn't easily deduced. I had my eye on one suspect in particular, and I enjoyed watching the mystery unfold. What I didn't enjoy were Skye West and her son.A week before Christmas, and this woman decides that she wants her large Victorian mansion lavishly decorated, a never-ending gourmet food supply on hand, and needlepoint gifts stitched for each of her guests. Everyone in town is supposed to drop what they're doing and dance to her tune because-- after all-- she does pay well for what she wants. (Her son behaves the same way.) I won't tell you what my response would have been, but you can tell that I felt like a put-upon member of the Mainely Needlepoint family.Chances are excellent that you will, too. A wonderful Maine setting, strong mysteries, and an excellent cast of characters. Come join the family. I promise I won't make you learn needlepoint!

[joannefm2 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

**SLIGHT SPOILERS AHEAD**Moving back home to Haven Harbor, Maine after ten years away, Angie Curtis is getting ready to celebrate her first Christmas with her friends and family. While having a tree decorating party at her home with everyone, her new beau Patrick West, son of famous actress Skye West, asks everyone's help in decorating his mother's mansion - Aurora - for the holidays. It seems he just received a phone call from her where she's filming in Scotland, and she wants her costars, screenwriters and director to experience a 'real Maine Christmas.' But with Christmas only days away, how can they get ready in time?Everyone already has plans of their own, but with the offer to pay well and the fact they like Patrick, they agree. Everyone in the Mainely Needlepointers has agreed to make small gifts for the guests, and others have offered what they can - knowing the extra money wouldn't hurt. They've even convinced a local widow to become a live-in cook at Aurora during the visit. It's not going to be easy, but Angie, with some trepidation and the help of her friends and family, thinks it can be done in time; although it means changing some of her own holiday plans.Once everything has been done and the guests have arrived, Patrick asks Angie to come and meet everyone. But before they enter the home, they decide to take a walk around the estate to look at the stars in the clear night sky. On their way back, Angie sees something in the snow, and even though Patrick tells her it's probably nothing, her curiosity - and the fact that she worked for a private eye in Arizona for ten years and has a natural instinct - tells her to look closer. She discovers that it's a body, and calls in the local police.The dead man turns out to be one of the actors from the movie, but no one seems to remember him going outside or seems to have any reason to kill him. Yet he's dead, so someone must have had a motive. They soon realize that the murderer had to be someone from the house party, but who? They were nearing the end of the film, and why would they jeopardize all their jobs for murder?Angie tries to stay out of the investigation as she has other things to worry about. A storm is heading their way, everyone has been invited to the Christmas Eve party at Aurora, and there's an annoying potential customer from Texas who's enthralled with Skye and keeps showing up at Angie's unannounced peppering her with questions and trying to get her to introduce her to Skye. When it becomes apparent the killer has another target in mind, Angie begins to wonder if her life is going to crumble like Christmas cookies before she's able to wrap up a murder...I love reading about Angie and her friends. Although I do have reservations about the newest addition to her circle - Clem - who showed early on (no spoiler here since it's almost immediate) that she's not much of a friend at all. Angie's grandmother Charlotte is settling into her new life as the wife of Reverend Tom, Angie and Patrick are well on their way to becoming a couple, and reading about the local trimmings - home grown trees, handmade wreaths, food, etc., is a nice way to bring you into the Season.The mystery itself is done well. We're drawn into the story early on, and looking for clues along with Angie into who would want Paul dead. Even Angie herself is considered the main suspect at one point. The mystery is interspersed with the sights and sounds of Christmas, including an old-fashioned (sort of) sleigh ride, a parade, and the arrival of Santa Claus by boat. It's a delightful way to investigate a murder.All that aside, there is enough action to keep one interested, a few red herrings and people of questionable behavior, and a tight little mystery to solve. The characters are convincing, with a sweeping descriptions of Haven Harbor and what it must look like during Christmas. We are brought into the town as if we were there, a place that would be wonderful to visit. All in all, it's a pleasant way to spend an evening.When we come to the end and the murder is solved (as we know it must be) it is satisfying and yet a bit sad. There is also a bit of a surprise attached to it, and given the circumstances, I don't think anyone would know how they might react in the same situation. This is the sixth book in the Mainely Needlepoint Mysteries, but can be read as a stand alone. If you choose to go back to the beginning, the first book is titled Twisted Threads. I look forward to the next in the series. Highly recommended.

[kris_anderson-1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Thread the Halls by Lea Wait is the sixth book in A Mainely Needlepoint Mystery series. Angie Curtis is looking forward to a quiet Christmas in Haven Harbor, Maine with her family, friends, and boyfriend, Patrick West. Then Patrick gets a call from his mother, Skye West that she is returning for Christmas and bringing some movie people with her. Patrick needs help getting Aurora (their estate) prepped for Christmas in two days (there goes Angie’s quiet Christmas). The Mainely Needlepoint group help Patrick prepare for the holidays including custom embroidered little pillows for Skye’s guests. After the guests arrive, Patrick and Skye are taking a walk when they discover one of the actor’s dead in the snow. Was it an accidentally killing by a hunter or was it deliberate? Then Patrick eats poisoned cookies and Angie is blamed. She is determined to find the culprit and get her Christmas back on track!Thread the Halls is nicely written and has a nice pace which makes it a quick read. The emphasis in Thread the Halls is on Christmas, friendship, food and family. The murder does not occur until the 25% mark in the story. There is little investigation in the book and it is child’s play to solve. There might as well be a giant neon arrow pointing to the culprit. There is a little surprise near the end that some readers might not anticipate. It was interesting to read about various Maine Christmas traditions including the Christmas boat parade (we have a similar one in my area). My rating for Thread the Halls is 3 out of 5 stars. Thread the Halls can be a standalone book. All the pertinent details are included in this installment. I was not a fan of Patrick West (or his mother) in this book. He assumed his money would get him everything he wanted done (which is mentioned several times). I did tire of the repetition of information. The same details are repeated throughout the book. I would have preferred more substance and less fluff. If you are looking for a cozy mystery that is big on Christmas spirit, then check out Thread the Halls.

[diana.hauser · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

THREAD THE HALLS by Lea Wait is a Mainely Needlepoint Mystery. This is Ms. Wait’s 6th title in her popular ‘cozy mystery’ series involving Angie Curtis, her friends, neighbors and needle working business partners in Haven Harbor, Maine.Angie wants to enjoy a very special, nostalgic Christmas. But Patrick’s mother, Skye West, decides to bring her movie set co-workers to Aurora (her restored home in Haven Harbor). Her requests for decorations, catering, activities and special needlework presents leave everyone frazzled. A Christmas blizzard and the murder of one of her guests complicate everyone’s holiday plans. I like this series. The characters are interesting and realistic. I can imagine knowing these people. The plots are fairly believable (though they lack suspense).I like the cover art and I like each chapter’s beginning with a reference to historic needlework pieces. These references are so poignant.I like the recipes at the end of the book. In THREAD THE HALLS, Bev Clifford’s Tourtiere Pie (French Canadian Pork Pie) is a classic dish reminiscent of Maine’s French Canadian heritage.I like the location and sense of place. This series is extremely, over-the-top all things Maineish. The cultural, historical, and geographical details are interesting and welcome, yet can get a tad bit overdone. In this title, I think all the Maine details overshadowed the characters and the plot. Sky West’s guests, especially, suffered from a lack of character development. And the ending seemed to come out of nowhere and was very unsuspenseful.Cut a piece of tourtiere pie; brew a pot of tea and enjoy this cozy mystery.

[lostinalibrary · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Thread the Halls is the sixth in the cozy mystery series A Mainely Needlepoint Mystery by author Lea Wait but the first one I’ve read. It’s set in Haven Harbor, Maine where Angie Curtis is busy preparing for her first Christmas in the town in ten years. She plans on spending a quiet Christmas with family and friends as well as her boyfriend, Patrick. However, when Patrick announces his movie star mother, Skye is heading to the town with some of the people from the movie she is working on, all her plans for a quiet holiday are thrown out the window. Suddenly, she and her friends are helping Patrick to prepare for the arrival, decorating and needlepointing gifts. And if that isn’t bad enough, the media gets wind of the arrival and a rabid fan is determined that Angie introduce her to Skye. However, almost immediately after the celebrities arrive, one of them is murdered, not that any of the others seem to be upset. Then Patrick is poisoned and Angie finds herself chief suspect. Thread the Halls s a fun fast read. It was pretty easy to spot the culprit but that really didn’t make the story less enjoyable. It is more about the spirit of Christmas and the importance of friends, family, and traditions especially at the holidays. The best part of the book, at least for me, was a paragraph at the beginning of each chapter giving a small history of needlepointing going all the way back, in one case, to Shakespeare. These included quotes from real samplers (some seemingly quite morbid by today’s standards given that many were created by children as young as nine) as well as short biographies of the creators. A well-written cozy just in time for the holidays.Thanks to Netgalley and Kensington Books for the opportunity to read this book in exchange for an honest review

[cyderry · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Angel has been dating Patrick West so when his Film star mother calls and says that she's coming home for Christmas and needs to have the house decorated and food catered, Angel helps out with her team of needlepointers getting the house ready. On the evening of their arrival, Patrick and she take a walk in the snow and find one of the guests shot to death. Things get even more frighting with snowstorms and near deaths but Angie manages to keep from being plowed under.So much fun and a great read for the holidays.

[annarellix-322425 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I was sad when the book was over because I wanted it to continue. A Mainely Needlepoint Mystery series is amongst my favourite series and this books is the best one. Characters have been improved, the plot is tight and there is no hole. I was kept guessing til the last page and was not expecting any further twist but I was surprised.
Many thanks to Netgalley and Kensington Books for giving me the chance to read this book

[nlb1050 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Another great book by Ms Wait.