by Alex Bailey
Ann was dismayed. How could it be—another widow in this group? She looked around the circle at the women who would not make eye contact with her. She began to have a very strange feeling about this crowd. What exactly is going on here? A knitting club, where no one but me, knits? And every story so far has ended with a dead husband. She’d made friends in the town through work and the tavern. Was this really the place for her? She stood to leave, thinking this might be her last meeting.
“Before you go,” Freda announced, “there’s another rule you need to know.”
What the hell kind of group is this, with all their strange rituals and rules?
Freda stood to face Ann, but everyone else remained seated. “You’re now a full-fledged member Ann. Remember that. You cannot repeat anything you hear in our meetings. And rule number one, you can never miss Knitting Club. And this one is just as important—you can never leave.”
“What do you mean, I can never leave? This isn’t Hotel California; this is a knitting club, for God’s sake!” Ann was both confused and livid.
“Just what I said. Once a member, you’re a member for life. No quitting Knitting Club. Ever. This is no game. See you next week.”
Everyone rose silently and filed out. Ann worried what kind of group she’d joined. How serious is this? I can never miss a meeting nor quit! What happens if I do? I might just have to test those rules one day.
Chapter 15
Ann arrived early Saturday morning to the Vinci Tavern to work on her cookies. She had high hopes for this venture.
She anticipated having lunch with her realtor friend. After the look Gloria had made during the last knitting club meeting, Ann wanted to make sure Gloria understood that she was only interested in Daniel, the chef, not Daniel, the man.
When Ann walked in, she knew Daniel was there even if the front door hadn’t been open already; she could hear Italian opera blasting from the kitchen.
She popped her head through the kitchen door and shouted, “Hello?” But her voice was too soft to be heard over the music, so she marched through the door.
“Oh hey, Ann. Ready to start this experiment?” Daniel lowered the volume on his cell phone.
“You betcha!” She was not only ready, but also very excited. She’d never done anything like baking cookies for money, except for the kids’ school bake sales.
“Okay, let’s get cracking,” Daniel handed her an apron and tall white hat.
Ann put them on and felt like a real chef. She caught a glimpse of her image reflected in the stainless-steel workbench and smiled to herself. I look legit.
Daniel noticed her admiring herself. “Feel like the Pillsbury Doughboy?”
“Not quite. I’m missing his cute little scarf.”
They got to work and when they were done, she placed several cookies into clear cellophane bags and tied them all with lime green and purple ribbons she’d brought with her. She stacked the bags in a large wicker basket.
“What’s up with the green and purple?” Daniel asked.
“My daughter, Adrien’s, favorite colors. I was kind of missing my kids when I was in the Stitch In Time and grabbed them so I could feel her near me.” Ann picked up one of the packages and rubbed the ribbons between her fingers.
Daniel nodded, “Tough to be so far from home?”
“Sometimes. It’s only been a short time, but the busier I get—with things like baking cookies with you,” she grinned, “the more I get my mind off of home.”
“Looks like we’re done here. Do you want to put this basket out front by the receptionist stand?”
“Should I make a sign?” Ann asked.
“Sure, did you bring the materials for that too?” Daniel teased.
“I did,” Ann held up a small piece of poster board and green and purple markers.
“Okay, get to it. I’ve got to get started on lunch.” Daniel began pulling pans off the gleaming shelves.
“But what about this mess? I need to clean up first.” She gathered the spoon and spatula and clunked it into the stainless-steel bowl.
“Don’t you dare!” he barked, snatching the bowl from her.
“But—”
“Look, Ms. Jones. I told you before, I really don’t like people messing with my kitchen. I’m willing to let you in here to bake your cookies. But that’s it. Now get out!” He grinned, then grimaced.
Though she wasn’t used to leaving dirty dishes in the kitchen, she appreciated Daniel’s help and wasn’t about to push her luck. What was up with all the men in Burrburgh? First Ben didn’t allow her to clean his office, now Daniel. But it was a refreshing change from cleaning up after her husband all those years. That man couldn’t have found the sink even if it had been laying in the middle of their bed. “Okay, have it your way.” She gathered her things and exited the kitchen.
“I always do,” Daniel called after her.
She took a seat in a booth and designed her sign. Drawing two lime-green palm trees under a sun with a purple hammock between them, made her realize she was homesick. Below the drawing she wrote, “Southern Fried Chocolate Chip Cookies” in fancy script. Then she placed the sign in the basket and set it on the receptionist stand at the front door.
Ann forgot how much she enjoyed drawing. She hadn’t had a reason to draw anything since her kids were young. Gloria wasn’t due to show up for another half an hour, so she pulled out a pad of paper and sketched some other designs. The laid-back feeling of a hammock was the scene she was going for. She drew a dock with a row boat next to it, then a pool with a float in the middle. Then she drew an umbrella on the sand with a beach chair next to it, then a pair of lime green flip flops, with purple hibiscus flowers on the side of the strap.
Ann was going to town drawing the images of her homeland on the West Coast. The more she drew, the more homesick she got. She missed her kids and longed to see her friends. That’s it! I’m going to book a flight home. Alex said I could stay anytime. I’ll call her as soon as I get home to let her know I’m coming. Ann was elated thinking about her trip.
Gloria showed up on time. She admired Ann’s artwork while Ann finished up on a pineapple next to a drink with a miniature umbrella sticking out of it. “Oh, Ann, I didn’t know you were an artist. Watch out Monet.”
Ann stood and gave her friend a hug. “You’re so funny. I’m just having fun. Did you see the sign at the front door? I made that one too.”
Gloria turned toward the front door, “Indeed, I did. I also saw your fabulous cookies. They look divine. I hope to have one after our meal. This is so exciting, Ann. It’s the beginning of your entrepreneurship.” Gloria scooted into the booth’s seat opposite her.
“Well, I’m not jumping the gun. I’m just happy where I am right now.”
Gloria nodded toward Ann’s tropical drawings. “Are you, Ann? Are you happy here?”
“Actually, Gloria, I’m a little homesick. I wasn’t…until I stopped in to get the items for the cookies and saw the ribbons—lime green and purple next to each other and they reminded me of my daughter. Then I thought about my friends, and the beach, and well, everything.”
“It takes time after moving this far away from your home to get used to all new friends and landscape.” Gloria smiled a knowing smile.
“I guess if anyone would understand, it would be you,” Ann said. She could only imagine what Gloria had felt after leaving everyone and everything behind, including her country, to move here with her husband.
“Why not take a quick trip back home for a long weekend or such?”
“I think I will. Except I need longer than a weekend. I was thinking of taking a couple of weeks, so I can have a good long stay with my friend, Alex. I don’t want to bother the twins in school, but maybe I can take a drive up the coast and visit some friends.” Ann noticed the pained look on Gloria’s face and wondered what she’d said to distress her.
“Ann, love,” Gloria leaned in toward her and whispered, “you can’t do that. You know the
rules. You can’t miss a meeting.”
Ann was confused. What was Gloria talking about? “I don’t—”
“Knitting club. You can’t miss a meeting. Look, we’re not supposed to be talking about it. But you’re my friend. And you’re new to the club. Freda was dead serious when she said that you must never miss a meeting.”
Ann was stunned. Even Gloria bought into that weird set of rules. Gloria was so well educated. She didn’t seem the strange or unusual type. But, Ann wasn’t about to let some wacko running a knitting club rule her life. She shook her head and changed the subject. “So, Daniel’s here. He helped me with the cookies.”
Gloria rubbed her forehead, and then straightened up. “Is he now? Daniel. The man who owns the Vinci Tavern is actually in his own pub?” She grinned.
“Okay, well, what I meant was, don’t you find him attractive?” Ann wanted the two of them to make a move. Why on earth are they so distant? It’s obvious they have a thing for each other.
“Why? Do you?” Gloria asked.
“Sure. I think he’s great looking. And a hell of a nice guy too. So, I’m wondering why you never—”
“Ann, we get on very well. We’ve been chums for years.”
“But he likes you.”
“And I like him too. That’s what mates do. They like each other.”
“Right. But he likes you. And I can see it in your eyes. You like him too,” Ann blurted out. “Plus, when you thought I had come to see him—”
Gloria’s eyebrows shot up, “What?”
“Never mind.” Daniel had just emerged from the kitchen door.
“Hey pretty lady!” Daniel beamed. “I didn’t know you were meeting Ann here. And Ann, I didn’t know you were even still here. Well, I’ve got a treat for you. Check this out.” Daniel handed them each a menu. When his hand glided over Gloria’s, her face lit up.
On the bottom of the menu, listed under desserts, was “Southern Fried Chocolate Chip Cookie topped with vanilla ice cream, and a drizzle of chocolate-hazelnut sauce.”
“I think I’ll skip lunch and go straight to dessert,” Gloria winked at Daniel.
Ann wanted to yank Gloria out of her seat and throw them both into an embrace. But instead, she said, “I don’t want to deprive myself of Daniel’s fabulous cooking. So, I’ll have the chicken walnut salad.” She’d had something similar back home but instead of strawberries, it had avocado. She was looking forward to the salad Daniel-style.
“I’ll have my usual,” Gloria said still smiling at Daniel.
He scribbled on a notepad.
“And Ann, have you thought of a name for these cookies?”
“I thought they already had a name? Southern Fried Chocolate Chip Cookies?”
“No, I mean, like Famous Amos. Mrs. Field’s. You know, a name,” Daniel said.
“What about Artisan Cookies?” Gloria asked. She picked up the pad and showed it to him. “Did you know Ann’s an artist? Look at these drawings. They’re fantastic!”
“I like that name, but I think you’re giving me way too much credit on the art thing,” Ann said.
“Yeah, the drawings are good, but you said it was your grandma Smith’s recipe? How about Granny Smith’s Cookies?”
“It’s bloody brilliant!” Gloria squealed.
Ann loved it too. “I can’t think of a better name,” she gushed.
“I’ll reprint the menus with the name,” Daniel said, as he dashed away. “And I’ll start your meals.”
When Daniel returned with their meals, he handed them each a menu with the name change, “Granny Smith’s Cookies.”
“We’d like to order two, please,” Gloria said without asking Ann.
Ann saw a side of Gloria that tickled her. She was acting like a school girl in a sweet shop. She was almost giddy.
“This is going to be the most glorious dessert ever. You just wait and see. Your cookie with ice cream and hazelnut sauce—to die for!”
Ann was happy with Gloria’s encouragement, but even happier she’d changed the subject from the knitting club, because she was determined to take that trip back home.
Chapter 16
After she set the platters on the table at the knitting club meeting, Ann greeted Gloria, who was waiting to fill her in on some exciting news. “Daniel said he sold out of the cookies the same bloody day you baked them!”
“Really? I didn’t know,” Ann had been so busy at work she hadn’t thought about the cookies. “So, how do you know this? Did you see or hear from Daniel since we had lunch there on Saturday?”
Gloria blushed. “Well, yes, Ann. As a matter of fact, I did hear from him. We had supper last evening.”
Ann nodded as if she knew all along that those two had a thing for each other.
“Look, I told you. We’re friends. We do have supper together on occasion. Now can we just get on with it?”
“Okay, okay. So, what did he say?”
“He wanted to know if you could come back again on Saturday, perhaps a bit earlier. He believes he could sell even more cookies than last week. The word has gotten around and a patron came in asking for a dozen. Daniel said he’d been meaning to ring you up to see if you’ll be able to have a go at it.”
“Sure. I’m free Saturday. And I can definitely start earlier.”
“Ladies, let’s get started,” Freda’s voice thundered. “Anyone?”
No one flinched. All heads bowed as if they were praying. “Okay. Ele. You’re up.”
After the lights were dimmed, the painting was moved to the center of the circle, and several ladies grabbed another cookie, Ann pulled out her knitting project, anticipating Elegante Villanueva’s tale.
Ele flipped her unruly locks to her back and squirmed in her seat. Her cat, Superstition, must have had a sixth sense that Ele was feeling nervous, because he jumped up onto her lap and landed on top of Ele’s overalls. He nudged his owner’s hand. Ele took the hint and rubbed under his chin, and began her story, “My parents came to this country in the early seventies, when they were just seventeen. They traveled to California from the furthest south of Mexico that you could be and found work immediately in a farmer’s field picking cantaloupes. They were very smart. They made friends easily and learned English quickly. I came along a few years later, followed by seven more siblings. We all lived in an old barn in the farmer’s fields. When we got old enough to pick, our summers were full of hard work and heat.
“My parents were great; they made everything fun, even picking cantaloupes. They sang songs in Spanish when we were in the fields. But only spoke English when the farmers were around. Their friends told them early on that some of the farmers would short change them. They wanted to give the impression they were more educated than they were.”
Superstition lifted his head further so Ele could reach under his neck. She obliged him and scratched, making her cat purr loudly. “Sometimes we played a game, Who is it? with the cantaloupes. Odd-shaped melons or funny shapes on the fruit from the dirt made them look like people. We would hold it up and say, ‘Who is it?’ And everyone would shout out names. Once, my little brother, Vicente, held one up and about five us shouted out, ‘Napoleon!’.”
Since no one reacted, Ele shrugged and said, “Well, it made the time go by much faster. And other than having to run off to the woods and squat when you had to go to the bathroom, the sweltering heat, the bugs, snakes, and other critters, it was pretty fun. At least the part where all of us were together was fun. My dad would crack some really dumb jokes, mostly in Spanish, which wouldn’t make any sense to you guys. But he was like a Mexican Rodney Dangerfield, if you can imagine that.”
Ann grinned to herself, as she could imagine that.
Ele began to relax enough that Superstition jumped off her lap. “Tossing cantaloupes is a lot like tossing softballs. That’s how I got to be so good I can coach softball now,” she glanced at Freda who was glaring back at her, and said, “but um, let me get back to my story. It wasn’t all picking
cantaloupes all the time. When school was in session, my dad insisted we attend class. He only let us help in the fields during summer break. I loved school. I had really great teachers and I joined many clubs. I loved the art club the most. And my best friend, Teresa, talked me into joining the computer club. She said that was the way to meet boys. She was right, because we were the only girls in the club. We didn’t have a clue about computers. But we didn’t need to know. The boys were more than willing to teach us.
“That’s where I met Horace. He was president of the computer club and insisted I sit next to him. He was so very handsome. Teresa said he looked like a dork with thick glasses and a pocket protector, but he was just right in my eyes. I had to really question her taste. And one time I got him to leave the Vaseline out of his hair. Thick curls fell down his forehead and into his eyes in such a sexy way. Teresa said it made him look no better and that he then looked like a hippie dork. But what did she know? She thinks George Clooney is hot.”
That comment raised a few heads. And a few eyebrows. But no one said what they were thinking.
“Horace and I went steady from tenth grade on. He planned every single one of our dates. When we graduated from high school, we got married in his parents’ backyard. It was a hot day, and I was boiling in my wedding dress, which my mama had made for me out of some of the finest melon sacks she could find. She bleached them and the dress looked like a beautiful organza gown.”
Organza? From a melon sack? Ann wondered if Ele needed glasses.
“My sisters were my bridesmaids, and we couldn’t afford fancy dresses for them either, so Horace’s mom took down some of her old curtains. She said she was going to get all new ones when Horace moved out anyway, so it was no skin off her nose. And my mama sewed them some nice sundresses. It was just like in the Sound of Music. I think that’s where she got the idea, anyway.
“Things went really well for us back then. Horace got a job with a computer company that was just starting up. He did pretty well. Got stock options and they paid him right nicely too. We had Hazel right away, and that kept me pretty busy at home. He wanted to spend all his time with me when he got home in the evenings, didn’t like me talking to my family on the phone. Horace saved enough money to open his own computer company, called Debuggery. He hired some of the guys he worked with to go to people’s homes and fix their computers.”
