The cat leaped as though startled, bowed her back, jumped from the box, and skittered sideways as Annie approached.
“Bad kitty!” she said. She kept her voice firm, but low. A scared cat would only make a bigger mess. “Oh, my goodness! Look at what you’ve done!”
Boots dove beneath the sofa, as if she knew the depth of her transgression and thought “Out of sight, out of mind” might work with her human. With a huff and a glower, Annie got on her knees and gathered sparkling bits of ribbon and shreds of shiny paper.
“Honestly, Boots,” she muttered as she plucked up every scrap she could, “what in the world got into you? You’re usually such a good cat.”
Boots, of course, had nothing to say. In fact, she gazed at Annie with a look of pure annoyance.
Just as Annie reached beneath a table to get what she hoped was the last bit, she smelled something foul. Not only was it foul, it was burning. She recognized it immediately.
“Oh, the popcorn!” she shouted and rushed toward the kitchen. When she and Wayne had used their old-fashioned popcorn popper, or when she was a girl making popcorn in Gram’s black iron skillet, it never created such an awful odor when she burned or scorched it. What was the difference between the old-fashioned stuff and the microwave popcorn?
A slightly gray fog hung in the air of the kitchen. Annie opened the door of the microwave. Smoke and stench puffed out at her like dandelion fluff, but luckily, there were no flames. Her eyes stung, and she nearly gagged. She took a dishcloth from the drying rack and gingerly extracted the charred bag. She carried it out the back door and deposited it on the frozen ground where the cold temperature would neutralize the stench.
Back inside, she opened the kitchen window. Frigid fresh air blasted inside as if it had long lingered, pressing against the glass, waiting for an opportunity to invade Grey Gables. Annie grimaced slightly, but she’d rather have the icy breeze than rank odor.
She grabbed a can of air freshener and sprayed every room in the house. As she rewrapped the gifts and then sealed the box for mailing, she hoped she wasn’t sending the odor of burned popcorn all the way to Texas. Finally, after closing the window, she took a long warm shower where she scrubbed her hair and scoured her skin until it was bright red.
The next morning, on the way to the Hook and Needle Club meeting, Annie felt as though the smell of burnt popcorn still permeated her every pore even though she had taken another shower and shampooed her hair again when she’d gotten up.
“My goodness,” Mary Beth said when Annie moved her chair slightly away from the group, “do you think we have a germ, or do you have one?”
Stella’s head shot up. “Anyone who is ill should not come to the meetings.”
Annie laughed as she settled down, pulled a fresh skein of yarn from her tote bag, and began a foundation chain for a new afghan pattern.
“I’m not sick,” she said. “In fact, I feel just fine. But I’m afraid I don’t smell very good.”
“Oh, good grief!” Kate said, giggling and sniffing. “Why? Haven’t you had a shower for a while?”
“I’ve had two! But I burned popcorn last night, and the stench filled the entire house.”
Peggy, who sat next to Annie, leaned over and sniffed delicately.
“Hmm. When I burn popcorn it never smells like lavender and tea rose.”
Annie lifted her forearm and sniffed the sleeve. “You don’t smell that?”
“I don’t smell a thing!” Peggy declared.
“Neither do I,” said Sara who sat on the other side of Annie.
The rest of women echoed Peggy and Sara’s assessments.
Annie smiled at them all gratefully, but she had a feeling they were being kind.
“I left all my windows open just an inch or two because Grey Gables absolutely reeks. I know it’ll be cold inside, but at least it will smell fresh. I’m going into Portland as soon as the meeting is over.”
Stella gave her a sharp look.
“Do you think that’s safe, Annie, to leave your windows open that way?”
“I think so. This is Stony Point, after all.”
“Hmm,” Stella said. Then she let out a deep breath and turned back to her work. “I’d certainly never leave my house open for all and sundry.”
Annie did not like the direction of this conversation and quickly changed the subject before anyone else could jump in with dire warnings and statistics.
“So, Mary Beth and Kate, how are the two of you liking the little table and chair, and the armchair and ottoman?”
“Oh, Annie, our break area is now so cozy and comfy,” Kate said.
“We’ve hung a few little ornaments on the wall and put down a cute little rug,” Mary Beth added. “You all will have to take a look back there before you leave. Again, thank you, Annie and Stella, for your generosity.”
“You’re so welcome,” Annie said.
“Of course you’re welcome,” Stella added. “I wasn’t using that table and chairs, and I’m glad to see them being put to good use.”
“So what’s the latest report about Stony Point’s Santa?” Annie said. “Any more gifts or money given out recently?”
“Mike Malone got a new computer delivered for the purpose of creating a better-quality news sheet,” Gwen announced as casually as she might have said, “Mike got a fresh haircut.” She continued working on an embroidered Christmas scene.
“My goodness!” Peggy nearly shouted. “When was that?”
“I believe it was late yesterday afternoon, shortly before he closed the hardware store.”
“That’s wonderful!” Alice said. “I so enjoy reading The Point. I’m sure that now it will be even better.”
“Yes,” Kate said, nodding enthusiastically. “I bet with the new computer, he can archive everything.”
“As I understand it,” Gwen said, “—and believe me when I say I don’t fully understand computers—” She paused while everyone laughed and then continued. “This new computer has some kind of publishing software that has all the bells and whistles the big newspapers use.”
“I think that’s perfectly lovely!” Annie sighed. “Mike is such a great guy, and he’s such an asset to our community. I’m so happy for him.”
“Since none of the rest of us had heard about Mike’s windfall yet, how’d you hear so soon?” Kate asked Gwen.
“Ouch!” Gwen gasped, putting the tip of her finger in her mouth. “Oh, my!” she said a moment later, looking at it. “Mary Beth, I’m afraid I need a Band-Aid so I don’t get any blood on this piece.”
While Mary Beth bustled off to fetch the first-aid box, Gwen held her fingertip to her mouth and looked at the others.
“To answer your question, Kate,” she said, “Mike called us last night, so excited he could hardly speak. Why, John was as excited as Mike, and he went over to the hardware store so he could admire the new machine.” She laughed. “You know, I would have gone, too, but one computer looks pretty much like another to me. And John didn’t get home until nearly midnight!”
Mary Beth returned with the first-aid box and opened it as she reached Gwen.
“Here,” she said, “let me have your finger.” As she tended to Gwen’s wound, she said, “I suspect it will take a while for Mike to learn all those bells and whistles you mentioned.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Gwen agreed. “I think John said something about Mike attending a class in Portland.”
“Courtesy of Stony Point’s Santa?” Annie asked.
Gwen met Annie’s eyes. “No,” she said slowly. “I believe John is going to fund it.” She glanced at everyone else. “Have you noticed how we all seem to be helping each other more since this mysterious Santa showed up? Not that I’m bragging on John, or saying our town has been miserly, but it’s as if some extra spirit of generosity has been poured on Stony Point, and it’s spreading.”
“Yes!” Alice said. “Like ripples in a pool.”
“Oh, I’ve always liked that analogy!” Kat
e said, smiling, fluttering her fingers in a gesture of water flowing.
Through most of the conversation, Sara Downs, who sat on Annie’s right, had kept her eyes and focus on the work in her hands. Annie paused to watch the little steel crochet hook flash in the light, creating tiny stitches that turned into vines and leaves in a bookmark. The woman worked with intensity, her face drawn tight, her hands as tense as talons. She wore a faded brown shirt with frayed cuffs and old jeans that were too big and cinched at the waist. Her scuffed sneakers had thin, worn soles and mended shoelaces. The ripples of generosity had not reached Sara who undoubtedly needed it as much or more than anyone in the town.
“How are you doing, Sara?” Annie asked.
“Fine,” the woman replied, with a quick glance up and brief smile.
Annie caught only a glimpse of the woman’s eyes, but she thought she saw worry, or maybe it was fear. Some thought lurked behind the facade, and it made her uneasy.
“Is everything all right?” Annie asked in an undertone as the women around her chatted with one another.
Another swift glance up and back down.
“Yes, fine, thank you, ma’am.” She closed her lips tight, perhaps from tension. Or was it a subtle way of telling Annie she had no interest in sharing whatever bothered her? And why should she? Annie and all the women of the club were practically strangers to Sara.
“Oh!” Annie said. “I nearly forgot! I still have those three bookmarks you lent me last week. I want to pay you for them.”
“But I haven’t washed or blocked them yet, and I need to add the stiffener.”
“I’ll bring them next week for you to do that, if that’s OK with you,” said Annie.
Sara nodded. “That’ll be fine.”
“But it’s all right if I pay you now, isn’t it?”
Sara smiled and relief leaped into her eyes.
“That would be just fine, thank you.”
“I also brought something that I thought you might like,” Annie said as she paid the woman for the three bookmarks. She removed a yellow-orange-brown–plaid tote from her project bag.
“I hope you’ll take this,” she said, shaking it out to reveal its full size and features. “I bought it a few years ago in Texas at a craft fair, and it’s just not me. I happened to see it in my closet the other day, and that soft, sweet yellow made me think of your lovely, quiet demeanor.”
“Oh!” Sara said, her eyes going large and round as she looked at the beautiful tote bag. She touched it with tentative fingertips. “It’s beautiful!” She raised her eyes to Annie. “But you don’t want to get rid of it, do you? I mean, it’s so fine and all.”
“Of course I want to give it to you. Honestly, Sara, I have a dozen tote bags at the house, not counting all the craft baskets and bags Gram had kept over the years. And you know what else? I have about five balls of white crochet thread, size 30. Would you like it? I’m afraid I’m not going to have time to use it until this time next year! I have several yarn projects planned.”
“But you’ll need the thread later, won’t you?”
“Perhaps. But I hate to see the thread get old. You know how fibers can sometimes become fragile after a while. If that happens then I’ll just have to throw it all away, and that would be a shame.”
“Oh, no! Don’t throw it away. I’ll take it and make good use of it, I promise.”
“I’ll bring it by The Cup & Saucer soon,” Annie promised.
A look of panic flashed across Sara’s face.
“What time is it?” she asked, looking around in what Annie could only describe as alarm. “Oh, what time is it? Am I late?”
“It’s almost noon,” Kate said.
Sara stuffed her work into her tattered plastic shopping bag and then placed that inside the plaid tote that Annie had given her.
“Oh, I’m going to be late!” she cried, dropping her crochet hook on the floor.
“Here,” Peggy said, handing it to her. “You won’t get fired for being a couple of minutes late; I promise. Jeff is a good boss.”
“I hope you’re right because I can’t lose my job,” she said, clutching everything to her chest. “I just can’t!” Without another word she fled from the shop.
Dead silence fell on the club members.
“My goodness,” Stella said at last, “I do believe that is the strangest woman I’ve ever met.”
Mary Beth nodded. “I wonder where she’s from, and what her story is.”
“I don’t like that she keeps so much to herself,” Gwen said. “I don’t mean to sound harsh, but that silent, sneaky look arouses my suspicions.”
“The very fact she refuses to talk about herself makes me uncomfortable,” Alice added.
“She’s very shy,” Annie reminded them.
“I don’t trust her,” Stella said, “and if I sound harsh, then so be it. I’m not so sure we should have welcomed her into this group so quickly, if at all. In fact, if she doesn’t become more forthcoming about herself, I recommend we ask her to stay away.”
“What?” Annie said. “Really? You never have anything good to say about the woman, Stella, but that remark is truly outrageous!”
Stella huffed in obvious annoyance.
“I’m not surprised you’re outraged, Annie, since you’re trusting enough to leave home with your windows open.”
“Actually, Annie, to be completely fair about what Stella said,” Gwen put in, “Sara really is not our kind of people.”
Annie felt her eyes grow large, and the ringing in her ears increased.
“Oh my goodness,” she squeaked out. Then louder, “Oh my goodness!” She swallowed hard before saying through the sand in her throat, “If you will excuse me, I really must get out of here before I say something I’ll regret. But I heartily recommend those of you who look down on Sara to examine your hearts and minds to see if you can find a scrap of the true spirit of Christmas.”
Blindly she gathered her crochet, her coat, scarf, and hat, and then she left A Stitch in Time. The stench of their attitudes smelled far worse than the popcorn she had burned the night before. Right then Annie Dawson was not sure she ever wanted to return to the Hook and Needle Club.
9
By the time Annie pulled into her driveway after her trip to Portland, evening had fully fallen, and the stars seemed to pop like sprouts out of the frozen sky. She stood a moment to absorb the rhythm of the ocean waves and the quiet peace of the night.
The conflict earlier in the day at the Hook and Needle Club meeting still rankled Annie when she thought about it. Somehow she must persuade Stella and Gwen to look past Sara’s poverty and skittish behavior and into the soul of the woman. Otherwise, she must reconcile herself to the fact that her friends were elitists who would never accept Sara into their midst. If they made that choice, then Annie would have to rethink her own place in that group of women. She wasn’t so surprised by Stella’s words, but Gwen’s surprised her. Even though Gwen had a social position to maintain, Annie thought that Gwen had learned not to judge people unfairly after a similar attitude toward her youngest son’s fiancée had almost cost her his trust and affection.
Annie’s successful venture into the city on behalf of Sara and her craft had soothed Annie’s troubled mind somewhat. She was eager to seek out Sara on Wednesday with the good news of two rather large bookmark orders.
Weary and shivering, leaving her tote bag with her crochet project in it, Annie took groceries from the backseat and then trudged to the house as the wind shoved against her. The steps up to the front porch seemed steeper than usual that night. She paused on the top one and glanced toward the windows. Wind stirred the curtains. She was glad she’d left a light on in the front room, but she wished she’d had the presence of mind to turn on the porch light before she left. She put the groceries on the floor next to the door and fished the key out of her pocket.
It seemed rather foolish to Annie now that she’d bothered to lock the door when she’d left the wind
ows open. She inserted the key and turned it. The door opened silently.
That’s what oiling the hinges and having a good handyman like Wally Carson will do for you, she thought with a smile. She was glad she’d asked Wally to come out to Grey Gables a few weeks earlier to check on things like door hinges and weather stripping, the furnace, the oven, and water pipes.
She hoisted the shopping bags into her arms and stepped gratefully over her threshold. She paused long enough to sniff like a bloodhound for the scent of burned popcorn. Even with the windows just barely open, the house was very cold. The air inside the cold house smelled as clean as fresh snow. She closed the door with her foot. With her breath pluming in the chill, Annie walked toward the kitchen when she noticed light spilling into the hallway.
Had she left the light on in there as well as in the front room? She didn’t remember doing so, but it was possible, especially given her flurry of activity that morning as she organized her day. The bags were heavy in her arms, and she hurried on, eager to deposit them on the counter. The telephone rang the moment she released the bags.
“Hello?”
“Annie!” It was Alice. “I’ve been watching for you to get home.”
“Hi, Alice,” she said, still miffed with her friends, including this one who had not come to Sara’s defense. “I just walked in.”
“I saw your car lights so I gave you a minute to get in the house. Listen, I want to talk to you. Is it all right if I come over?”
Annie was tired and right then all she wanted was to close the windows, turn up the furnace, have a warm drink, take a hot bath, and crawl into bed.
Annie’s response was slow enough that it prodded Alice to speak again. “Please?” she asked. “I … I’m sorry about what happened at the meeting. All of us talked about it after you left, and we’re all so sorry about what happened. In fact, Gwen and Stella both admitted they were out of line. You will forgive us, won’t you, Annie?”
Annie sighed. She was tired and annoyed, but she was also loving and forgiving. If Alice wanted to smooth over the churned waters of the Hook and Needle Club, then Annie refused to turn her down.
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