Till Death Do Us Purl

by Anne Canadeo

  How long did it normally take to knit a wedding gown, anyway? Lucy had no idea. Longer than two weeks, she was certain of that.

  No wonder they’d called in Maggie and her reserves. She only hoped her dear friend’s nimble fingers were up to the challenge.

  Maggie and Phoebe soon returned with the food. The smell was tantalizing and reminded Lucy that she had skipped lunch.

  “Here we are. Everything’s nice and hot. Chicken with black beans and yellow rice.”

  Maggie and Phoebe set out the serving dishes, the entrée, and rice, along with a green salad and some trimmings—cheddar cheese, avocado bits, and sour cream. The women rose and fixed their dishes, returning to the table to eat.

  “This is delicious, Maggie. I’d love to get the recipe,” Rebecca said as she took another bite.

  “Rebecca’s already a good cook. Lucky Jeremy,” Nora reported. “Miles ahead of me when I was a bride. These days most young women look at cooking as more of a hobby than some required skill they need to run a household. A sign of progress, don’t you think?”

  “I want to marry a man who can cook for me,” Phoebe announced. “I think that’s progress.”

  “You’re always ahead of the curve, Phoebe,” Lucy noted.

  “Sometimes, right off the grid,” Maggie agreed. “Does Josh cook for you?” she asked curiously. Phoebe’s boyfriend played bass guitar and sang for a band called the Big Fat Whining Babies. With all that musical talent, Lucy wondered if he had any in the kitchen, too.

  Phoebe shrugged. “He makes really good coffee . . . and he made this quesadilla once. It had a scrambled egg in it. And some lunch meat.”

  Maggie’s eyes widened. “Case closed.”

  “Kevin cooks every once in a while,” Suzanne said of her husband. “But he makes such a big deal out of it. You’d think he’d just discovered fire. He’s like, ‘Look at me. I’m cooking food! Isn’t this amazing?’ I don’t expect a standing ovation when I put dinner on the table every night, know what I mean?”

  Dana smiled. “Jack’s the same way. It might take a few more generations of sharing that gender-specific task before men stop expecting applause.”

  “In other words, not in our lifetimes, ladies,” Suzanne translated with a laugh. “Anyway, getting back to the wedding,” she quickly shifted gears. “We hear that your plans have been bumped up, Rebecca. Two weeks from now, is that right?” Suzanne posed the question in her best TV talk show hostess voice.

  “March 24, not this weekend, the weekend after.”

  Rebecca seemed surprisingly resigned to this accelerated schedule, as Maggie had mentioned. But she did seem the type who took life’s many speed bumps in stride.

  A character trait that would come in handy during married life, Lucy knew well. Her marriage to her college boyfriend had lasted almost seven years and she’d been divorced now for three.

  While Rebecca had sailed serenely through the change in plans, Nora obviously had not. “We’d booked the Harbor House. Settled the menu, the flowers, everything. They were going to be married at that pretty stone church on the green.” Nora’s voice held a shaky note of longing. “We had to cancel everything.”

  “But Jeremy’s father offered to have the entire party, the ceremony and reception,” Rebecca quickly explained.

  “They have a huge estate . . . and a fabulous house,” Nora added.

  “And we managed to find a really good caterer. Even at the last minute. The rest of it, the music and flowers and all that, was rearranged somehow. Jeremy’s family really saved the day,” Rebecca said.

  “It’s only fair,” her mother added. “The plans were changed because of some business situation at his father’s company. Some big deal going on in the spring with a new product Jeremy is working on. His father told him that if they didn’t get married now, they would have to wait until the summer. Or maybe even the fall. Neither of them liked that at all. They want to have a reasonably sized reception and a honeymoon.”

  “I really want to be married with my family and friends around me.” Rebecca smiled at her mother. “And we didn’t want to wait. The wedding is just one day, no matter how nice the party. The important part is starting a new life with the person you love, for the rest of your life, right?”

  “How true.” Maggie nodded. “The way some young women plan their weddings these days, you’d think the priority was just the opposite.”

  “What does Jeremy do for a living?” Suzanne asked.

  “He’s a scientist. The senior chemist at At-Las Technologies. His family owns the firm.” Rebecca sounded proud. Rightfully so, Lucy thought. She’d heard of that company, one of the largest in the area.

  It all made sense now. The groom was the crown prince of At-Las Technologies, raised in a beautiful castle on the harbor, where the couple would soon be married. No wonder Rebecca seemed so serene. She was marrying into a fortune.

  All the more impressive that she insisted on making her own gown, when her fiancé could have afforded to buy her any one in the world.

  Nora seemed to sense what Lucy and the others must be thinking after pegging her affluent, soon-to-be in-laws. “I told Rebecca we should just go to Boston or even New York and buy a gown and all the trimmings. But she has her heart set on knitting her own—and the shrugs for the bridal party. She still wants the wedding to have a personal touch, to be meaningful to her and Jeremy.”

  “I’m going to do this just one time in my life,” Rebecca insisted. “I want it to be special. Anyone can go out and buy a dress in some wedding boutique.” She paused and glanced at her mother. “I’m sorry . . . does that seem really crazy or unreasonable?”

  “Not at all,” Maggie quickly assured her. “I understand. I made my own wedding gown, too.”

  Lucy and the rest of their group all turned to look at Maggie. Obviously, none of them had ever heard that before. “You did? I don’t think you ever mentioned it.” Lucy glanced at her friends, just to be sure.

  “Oh, I must have.” By the way Maggie shrugged, Lucy could tell Maggie knew she’d never told them.

  “I definitely would have remembered.” Dana pinned Maggie with a look.

  “I wasn’t a very proficient knitter back then. Ambitious, I will say. I’ll show you pictures sometime,” she added. “It was sort of a hippie-girl, granny-gown style.” Maggie motioned on her figure as she described it. “Quite in keeping with the Golden Age of Granola. The first Golden Age, I mean. Anyway, Bill and I were married in a farm meadow. I dragged that gown through some nasty stuff on my way to say my vows and back. It wasn’t very well made and didn’t wash well, either,” she finally admitted. “Maybe that’s why I’m eager to try again to do it right. I promise you my skills have improved considerably.”

  “You’re the best, Maggie,” Rebecca replied quickly. “I appreciate any help you can give me. I really want to do this.” She glanced over at her mother. “I just feel bad for my poor mom. She’s been so great about all these sudden changes with the wedding. I know it’s been harder on her than me.”

  “How sweet,” Suzanne cooed. “I wish my daughter would say something like that. She’s in that horrid teenage stage right now. She even hates the way I breathe,” she added with a laugh.

  “Rebecca went through all that. I promise it will pass,” Nora said. She reached over and patted her daughter’s hand. “It all passed much too quickly. Before you know it, they’re all grown up and you’re planning a wedding day.”

  “With a few unexpected glitches,” Rebecca added.

  “Hey, that’s what we’re here for,” Dana said. “Maggie already signed us on to help you.”

  “Really?” Nora looked as if she didn’t quite believe it. “All of you?” she asked, gazing around.

  “Absolutely. One for all and all for one. We’re like the musketeers,” Suzanne said.

  “With knitting needles,” Dana added.

  “We’re your basic knitting dream team,” Phoebe said.

  “We�
�ll each make a bridesmaid shrug. Phoebe is going to make one for the flower girl,” Lucy noted.

  “If you show us the patterns tonight, we’ll get started.” Maggie told Nora. Lucy could tell that their fearless leader was pleased the knitting circle had come to the rescue.

  Nora glanced around at the circle of women, her smile wide and incredulous. “I thought we’d have to give up on the bridal party and just focus on the gown at this point. Honestly, we appreciate the offer, but you don’t have to go to all this trouble—”

  “No buts about it,” Suzanne said, interrupting. “Where Maggie knits, we follow.”

  “There’s not nearly as much chitchat once I get them pointed in the right direction,” Maggie said. “Okay, ladies. Let’s clear away these dishes and get to work.”

  Once the table was cleared, Nora and Rebecca took out the patterns and pictures of the gown and shrugs. Then they showed the group their progress, which was alarmingly little, Lucy noticed.

  The shrug was fairly simple, as Maggie had promised. It was styled with a three-quarter-length raglan sleeve. The long V-shaped opening trailed off into two long sections that tied above the waist.

  The style was very forgiving for a knitter and flattering to almost any figure. And it wouldn’t need personalized fitting on the various bridesmaids, Maggie pointed out. Luckily, for there was no time for that step.

  Nora had brought enough yarn to get them all started. Phoebe made copies of the pattern and picture, and Maggie handed out the correct size needles to everyone. They all cast on at the same time, Maggie acting as if the NASCAR of knitting was about to take place.

  “Okay, ladies . . . on your mark. Get set. Knit!”

  Lucy knew she was only kidding, but it was hard to ignore the four sets of needles suddenly clicking all around her. She struggled to keep her own pace and focus on her own knitting without looking over at her friends to check their progress. It was the best way to run any race, she knew, and just another way that knitting imitated life.

  Rebecca and Nora had chosen a silky, extrafine yarn in a dusty rose color that immediately brought to mind rustling gowns, rose petals, and the opening chords of the wedding march.

  The bridesmaids’ gowns were off the shoulder and fairly bare, they’d told the group. Since the gowns had been chosen for spring weather, the matching sweaters were needed now just for warmth.

  Lucy liked the style, which she knew would make her knitting easier and faster. It was funny how that worked. She often knit items for her family—her two nieces mainly, who lived in Concord and sent in their orders by e-mail. She rarely refused to fulfill their requests. But when she didn’t share their enthusiasm for some zany hat or miniskirt, it was slow going.

  The wedding gown was another story. A long, complicated story, Lucy thought as she listened to Rebecca and Maggie discuss the pattern and formulate a plan of attack.

  Like a general in a battle tent, Maggie didn’t seem the least bit dismayed as she compared the completed sections to Rebecca’s picture and tried to figure out ways they could speed along the process. The material for the gown was a fine ecru lace that draped over a lining of the same shade satin. A local seamstress had made that part of the dress, which now served as a basic outline for the rest.

  Maggie brought out a dressmaker’s form from the storeroom and they slipped the satin lining over it, then pinned on the pieces of knitted lace Rebecca had so far completed. It wasn’t much, Lucy noticed . . . and didn’t look like much, either.

  But Maggie had an amazing ability to visualize. Not just imagining the blank spaces filled in, but also redesigning the entire style. She was amazingly artistic, using her needles and fiber the way a painter used a brush and pallet.

  “—so I’m wondering if we could just add a few inches here, we might skip this other layer entirely,” Maggie suggested, making a light sketch on the photo of Rebecca’s gown. “That will save a lot of time and it will still drape smoothly. It might even look better.”

  “That’s a great idea. I didn’t even think of it.” Rebecca looked over the dressmaker’s form again and nodded. “I was about to start that section tonight.”

  “Good, let’s figure out the adjustments.” Maggie found a pencil and paper, then set to work with her gauge tool and calculations.

  “I honestly didn’t expect you all to help out like this.” Nora sounded so grateful, she almost looked teary-eyed. “I hope you didn’t feel pressured. I’d feel so bad about that. I have the rest of the yarn at home, so please don’t go out and buy anything.”

  “Oh, we rarely resort to that.” Dana glanced over her shoulder at Maggie. “There are a lot of perks to hanging around here. Believe me.”

  Lucy couldn’t deny it. Membership in their knitting circle definitely had its privileges.

  Nora laughed. “I’ll bet. But I absolutely forbid Maggie to supply the yarn, too. I’ll drop everything off here tomorrow and you can each take what you need. I guess that’s the best way to handle it.”

  It was a good plan, they all agreed. The knitting group was usually in and out of the shop all week long, bringing Maggie their knitting messes or just dropping in for a break from real life. Lucy worked at home, running a graphic design business. She needed to get out of the house at least once a day, and have a real conversation—with someone other than her dog—just to save her sanity.

  Once Rebecca and Maggie were finished restyling the gown and dividing up the work, Nora and Rebecca packed up and said their good-byes.

  “I just want to thank you all again,” Rebecca said as she packed up her knitting tote. “I can’t tell you how much better I feel about my wedding now.”

  “Aw . . .” Suzanne practically gushed. “We’re happy to help you, Rebecca. You’re going to be such a beautiful bride. A real knockout.”

  “You’ll have to send us plenty of pictures, for Maggie’s bulletin board,” Dana added. “We’ll definitely want to show off our contributions.”

  “Never mind the bulletin board, I’d like to borrow the gown and put it in my window.” Maggie seemed to be inspired on the spot, having one of her visions. “I can make a gorgeous wedding display. I’ve been looking for something special to perk up business this spring.”

  “Pictures . . . window displays. For goodness’ sake, you’re all invited to the wedding,” Nora replied quickly. “After bailing us out this way, it’s the least we can do. You must come . . . Please?”

  Nora’s tone was firm. She didn’t want to hear any dissent. Lucy didn’t think the mild-mannered mother of the bride had it in her.

  Maggie answered for all of them. “That’s very gracious of you, Nora. I think we’d all love to see Rebecca walk down the aisle. Perhaps we could come just for the ceremony?”

  The rest of the group quickly agreed. Lucy felt relieved. She wanted to see the ceremony, but felt awkward about sitting through an entire wedding reception for a couple she hardly knew. It was hard enough sometimes when you were family, she reflected with a wry smile.

  The others all agreed that the compromise would work well for them, and the Baileys seemed satisfied.

  “We’ll be checking in soon with a progress report,” Nora said to Maggie. “It will still be a push, but I will say I might get a good night’s sleep for the first time in weeks.”

  “Don’t worry. I promise the wedding will be wonderful,” Maggie said. “The gown will be finished in time and everything will work out fine.”

  Lucy didn’t know how Maggie could be sure about all of this. But at times, her friend had a tone of such authority. When Maggie said something, it always sounded so convincing.

  The front door of the shop had barely closed behind Nora and Rebecca when Suzanne gave out another dramatic sigh.

  “Don’t you just love weddings? No wonder all those reality shows about bridal gowns and wedding planners are so popular.”

  “You don’t really watch that stuff, do you?” Phoebe stared at her, bug-eyed. “Those shows are so lame. Bride
of Frankenstein, is that the one you like?”

  “Bridezillas,” Suzanne corrected her. “Actually, my favorite is Dream Dress, if you must know. The perfect mindless entertainment when I need to unwind after a hard day not selling any real estate.” She picked up the start of her shrug again and made a face at Phoebe.

  “Rebecca is no bridezilla, that’s for sure. If they had a show called . . . Cool, Calm, and Collected Bride, she’d be a shoo-in.” Lucy counted the stitches in her last row, careful not to mess up the shrug pattern. She found the start of a project was the easiest time to make mistakes. “I watch Dream Dress once in a while, too, Suzanne,” Lucy added, offering some support. “We all have our guilty TV pleasures.”

  “Oh, I don’t have any of those.” Maggie laughed. “Well, maybe one or two. But I’m surprised to hear you admit to that one, Lucy. Any special reason you’re brushing up on bridal fashions? Is there some news you’d like to share?”

  Lucy felt her face get a little warm and focused on her knitting. She blushed so easily, she hated it.

  With all this wedding talk, she knew her friends would get around to her relationship sooner or later. “Just some junk food for the brain, that’s all.”

  “Don’t play dumb with us,” Suzanne said. “I was wondering the same thing.”

  Lucy smiled nervously, but didn’t know what to say.

  “Look, she’s smiling, but she won’t answer,” Suzanne said to the others.

  “That’s because I don’t have anything to say . . . I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” she insisted.

  “Of course you know,” Suzanne insisted. “How long have you and Matt been dating now? At least a year.”

  That calculation was correct. But why did Suzanne make it sound like a very long time and from Lucy’s perspective, it wasn’t long at all?

  “That’s right. Only a year, I’d say,” Lucy corrected her.

  “Is everything all right? I thought things were going well,” Maggie said with concern.