by Terri DuLong
“A situation?” I questioned.
Embarrassment crept across Dora’s face. “Oh, well, I meant with marrying the wrong man.” Clearly wanting to change the subject, she said, “Well now, I’d just better get moving along. I’m sure you have plenty to do for your opening.”
Realizing the conversation was over, I said, “Yeah, and I have some spun yarn to package up for customers. But thanks for dropping by, Dora. I look forward to seeing you again.”
14
Standing in front of my spinning wheel with arms crossed, I surveyed the room in front of me. It looked like a bona fide knitting shop. And it was mine. I took a deep breath as I walked to the wall and rearranged some skeins of yarn. Lilly and I had gotten to the shop at 8:30, well before my 10:00 opening time. Alison was ten minutes late bringing home-baked muffins for my customers. Where the hell was she? Not that I had one customer in the shop.
I turned around to see her pull up in the golf cart and felt guilty. That was nice of her to even offer to do the baking.
“Here, let me help you,” I said, taking a large tray from her. “God, Ali, I think you made too many.”
“Don’t be silly. Think positive.”
After arranging the muffins, while I brewed the coffee, she said, “I love what you’ve done to this place. It looks so cozy for a knitting shop. Makes ya just want to curl up on that sofa there with knitting needles. Well, maybe not me…but somebody.”
I laughed. “You could knit as well as anybody. You’ve just never tried.”
“Is the reporter still coming out from the Gainesville Sun to cover your opening?”
“Yeah, said she’d be here this afternoon.”
“Terrific. I think you’re going to do well, Syd.”
“I sure hope so. My mail orders have slowed down though.”
“Everything goes in fits and spurts. Hey, what time is Monica due to arrive?”
“She said about four. She’ll get her rental car when she lands, and it’s about a three-hour drive from the Tampa airport.”
“I feel so bad that I’m booked solid for the next couple months. Otherwise, she could stay in one of the rooms in the main house.”
“It’s certainly not your fault she’s decided to come down here. We’ll be fine.”
“Well, it’s going to be tough sharing a small apartment with your grown daughter. God, you won’t have any privacy at all.”
I laughed. “What on earth do I need privacy for?” When Ali didn’t say anything, I turned around. “Well?”
“You just never know. You might want to…ah…you know. Invite a male friend back to your place sometime.”
“Oh, yeah, right. There’s all kinds of male friends breaking down my door for the pleasure of my company.”
Ali shrugged her shoulders. “Well, I happen to know there’s one in particular that might enjoy your company.”
“Noah Hale? Are you nuts? Don’t even think it. He hates me. I doubt he’ll ever forgive me for taking his precious gallery space here. And I get the feeling he thinks I’m a total ditz.”
“Don’t be too sure of that,” Ali said, as she poured herself a cup of coffee.
“Do you know something that I don’t?”
Ali pursed her lips. “All I’m saying is, be open, Syd. Give the guy a chance. Losing Stephen doesn’t mean your entire life is over.”
She was right. Lately, I’d given some serious thought to that topic.
“You were young when you married Stephen. You had a decent marriage, yes. But it doesn’t mean you won’t ever have feelings for another man again. But you need to allow yourself to be open to that possibility. Even Paul agreed, there’s a certain chemistry between you and Noah.”
“What? Are you guys talking about me behind my back? Chemistry? This isn’t a high school science class, Ali.”
“Just don’t isolate yourself in regard to a male companion. That’s all I’m saying.”
At 4:15 I glanced up when the wind chimes sounded on the door. “Monica,” I said, coming from behind the desk to hug my daughter. I spied the cast on her right arm and felt bad for not being overjoyed about her arrival. “How’s your arm doing? I’m glad you made it here okay.”
“At least there’s no pain. Yeah, it was a good drive. I’m glad Ali suggested coming up that Suncoast Parkway. No traffic. And the ride onto the island was spectacular. I hit that Number Four bridge, and it was like a postcard. All those patches of green and the sun hitting the water. God, you were right, Mom. This place is like paradise.”
Her stylish cut bobbed around her cheeks as she spoke. Monica had always been animated, and perky was one of the adjectives they’d used in her high school yearbook. Despite her skiing mishap, she looked great.
“So this is Spinning Forward,” she said, looking around. “I like it. Perfect for a knitting shop. So how’d your first day go?”
Trying to sound optimistic, I said, “Well, a bit slow really. I had some of the locals drop in, but beyond that…it was quiet. I’m sure it’ll pick up.”
I noticed that Monica refrained from giving me any encouragement.
“So what time will you be finished here?”
I glanced at the clock. “I don’t think a bus will be pulling up with any customers, so why don’t I close up and we’ll get you settled in at the Tree House.”
“Great. Where’s Lilly? I thought she came to the shop with you.”
“Yeah, normally she does. But for today, I left her home. Come on,” I said, grabbing my handbag and keys. “She’s waiting for you at the apartment.”
A week later I sat at the desk in my shop, chin in hands, as disappointment washed over me. Besides Dora, I’d only had a handful of sales. Lots of lookers, but not many buyers. I recalled what Dora had mentioned that morning about knitting classes. Maybe she was right. Many of the locals had dropped by, admired the beautiful yarns, and then admitted they didn’t know how to knit. Offer it and they will come, Dora had said. If they purchased their yarn from my shop, that purchase would include assistance and suggestions. Monday was a slow day for business and I didn’t open until 4:00 after I finished my shift at Cook’s. Doing a knitting class from six till eight might work.
Jumping up with a bit of renewed enthusiasm, I found a poster board in the back room. With colored pens in hand, I made a sign promoting the classes. Capping the pens and stepping back to observe my work, the sight of a couple hugging on the sidewalk caught my attention. Looking closer, I realized it was Noah Hale. The very attractive female was tall, slim, and sported a stylish blonde cut. She threw her head back laughing, as Noah embraced her once again. They stood talking for a few minutes and before departing, Noah leaned over to kiss her cheek.
Oh, right, Ali. There’s no doubt he’s interested in me.
A moment later, the chimes sounded on the door and the woman walked inside. Forcing a smile to my face, I said, “Welcome to Spinning Forward.”
“Hi, there. Thanks,” she said, as Lilly raced over for her requisite pat.
You traitor, I thought, while maintaining the smile. “Anything in particular you’re looking for?”
Walking to the wall of yarn, she said, “Yes. Alpaca in a soft shade of blue. It’s to make a sweater for a special person with the most incredible brown eyes, and I thought blue would be a nice contrast.”
Obviously the sweater was for Mr. Noah Hale and obviously this female had a vested interest in him. Well, la di da to both of them. “We do have a few shades of blue in the alpaca,” I said in my most professional voice and pointed to the yarn.
“Oh, yeah. This is perfect,” she said, scooping up an armful of skeins. “You have a lovely place here.”
“Thanks.” I wasn’t sure why I felt awkward that my shop was empty. “Do you live on the island?” I asked and then wanted to bite my tongue. What do I care where she lives?
“No, I flew in from Savannah yesterday. I’m only here until tomorrow. We have a great yarn shop there, but I see you also do spin
ning of dog and cat fur. That’s really different. I have a Maltese and I’d love to get some yarn from his fur. How would I go about having that done?”
I explained the procedure to her and handed her a card. “My address is on there and you can just mail it to me.”
After paying for the purchase, she extended her hand. “Thanks so much. I’m Tori, by the way.” Glancing at the business card in her hand, she said, “And you’re Sydney?”
“Yes, and thanks for stopping by.”
I watched her leave the shop, but not before noticing how well she wore the gray woolen slacks and matching blazer. Two things crossed my mind—that woman had made my till for the day, and I recognized a pang of jealousy toward this person who was clearly involved with Noah Hale. Why the hell should I care? Without warning, a flash of the years ahead crossed my mind—alone and possibly lonely. Pushing aside these thoughts, I grabbed the poster and taped it to the front window.
Walking home with Lilly, I felt every day of my almost fifty-three years. Doing the shifts at Cook’s and rushing to open the shop was beginning to take its toll on me. What I’d give to have a Jacuzzi bath like I had in my old home. To ease away the aches with a nice glass of wine. Climbing the steps to the apartment, I realized that thinking about Lexington and Stephen and my old lifestyle felt like it was another person that had experienced all of that.
Opening the door, I gasped. Looking around my normally very neat and organized kitchen, I took a deep breath. It sure as hell did not look like this when I’d left in the morning. Coffee cups were piled in the sink, along with a stack of dishes. A frying pan with caked-on eggs sat on the stove. Inching its way down my cabinets from the counter was a stick of butter that had turned from solid to liquid. Newspapers covered the table.
Walking into the bedroom, I saw the still-unmade bed and clothes heaped in a pile on the chair. I opened the bathroom door to find balled-up towels on the floor with remnants of makeup covering the vanity.
Tears stung my eyes. What the hell had I gotten myself into? I swung around to see Monica coming in the door, clutching shopping bags in her left hand.
“Hey, Mom. I hope you weren’t worried. I met a new friend last night at Frogs and we’ve been in Gainesville shopping all day.” She saw the look on my face and stopped. “Oh, sorry about the mess. But Bree called at nine and I didn’t have time to clean up before we left.”
I had been up since five, stood on my feet for seven hours serving food, opened my shop, and worked another three hours. All of this while my daughter slept in and then gallivanted around Gainesville shopping for the day. Something was wrong with this picture.
My normally calm way of dealing with things slipped away. “This is unforgivable, Monica. There is no way in hell I’m going to allow this in my house. You didn’t do this when you were sixteen. For Christ’s sake, you weren’t brought up to live like a pig.” I heard my voice going up a few decibels. “And you damn well will clean it all. Now.”
Grabbing my cigarettes, with Lilly close on my heels, I stormed out of the apartment, down the stairs, and out to the garden. I was glad to see it was empty and plunked down into the lounge. Lighting up a cigarette, I blew out the smoke and wondered how much longer I could tolerate living under the same roof as my daughter.
15
By early March, my business hadn’t increased dramatically. I had visions of still waiting tables at Cook’s, my walker in hand, years from now trying to make ends meet. The weekends were a little busier with tourists on the island, but sales during the week were slim. While mail orders were beginning to increase again, it wasn’t enough to give me a sense of security. I was beginning to question why I thought I could make a go of a yarn shop.
Monday evening knitting classes was also bringing in some additional income, but all of it had me worried. One of the snags I was now encountering was not enough time to tend to the daily chores in the shop and maintain a prompt schedule of spinning fur for customers. Coming into the shop earlier allowed me some time to catch up, so lately I was lucky to get six hours’ sleep at night. I sat spinning a champagne-colored fur from a cocker spaniel in Fort Lauderdale, and wished I could take on an assistant. But that was out of the question. And making everything even more discouraging was the fact I’d come down with a nasty cold. I had to admit—my energy level was on low and I was running out of steam fast.
A soft tapping on the glass door caused Lilly to bark. I looked up to see Eudora Foster standing on the pavement. Glancing at the clock, I saw it was 10:05 and time to remove the CLOSED sign from the door.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I here too early?” Dora inquired.
“No, not at all. I’m afraid I lost track of time. I’m getting pretty behind on my mail orders, so I’ve been coming in early to catch up. What can I do for you?”
“I need to purchase some yarn to make that Aran sweater I’d been talking about. I made them years ago when Marin was small, and she’s been hinting for another one.”
I sneezed and reached for a tissue from the box. “Sorry,” I said, and led the way to the yarn Dora was looking for.
“You sound terrible. And you don’t look so good. You need to be home resting.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, right. Don’t I wish. I’m afraid that’s not possible. I’m here till five. You never know when a bus will pull up out front—all women wanting yarn,” I said with sarcasm.
“Well then, what you need is an assistant. Somebody who can fill in for you. You know, like on days like this.”
“That would be great. Except I can’t afford to pay anybody.”
“The business isn’t doing so well?” Dora questioned.
I let out another sneeze and shook my head. “Certainly not as well as I hoped it would. It takes time to build a business. The thing is, I’m short on time. Right along with short on money.”
Nodding, she began fingering the wool. A few moments later, she turned around to face me. “I have an idea. Now just tell me if I’m butting in and I’ll mind my own business. I have plenty of time on my hands and I love to knit.”
I wasn’t following where Dora was leading. I raised my eyebrows and waited for her to continue.
“What I’m saying is I’m a pretty good knitter, and you wouldn’t know this, but it was always my dream to have my own knit shop.” She paused while fingering the wool. “I’d love to help you out, Sydney. I wouldn’t expect to get paid. I don’t need the money. But I’d love to be here in the shop and helping you at the same time.”
Had I misunderstood? This woman, who just happened to be an expert knitter, was offering to assist me for free? “I don’t know what…” I began hesitantly. “What to say. That’s so incredibly kind of you.”
Dora laughed. “Not kind at all. Incredibly selfish on my part. I’d just love being in here surrounded by all the different yarns. And it’s easy to see, you could use a little help. Like today. You should be home in bed sipping hot tea.”
I smiled. Dora was right—on both counts. I should be home resting, and I certainly could use her help on the weekends. I also really needed to devote more time to advertising. Ali had kept nagging me to do this and assured me it would increase my business. There just hadn’t been enough time. Working both day and night was beginning to catch up with me.
“Well,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I’d be honored if you’d help me out in here. You’re an expert knitter and would be a great asset to me. However, I can’t let you do it for nothing.” I thought for a moment. “I tell you what. How about if I give you a fifty-percent discount on any yarn or items you purchase in here. I get it at cost, so I really wouldn’t be losing anything. And it would make me feel better for the time you’re giving me.”
A broad smile crossed Dora’s face. “Deal,” she said, extending her hand. “And how about if I start right now? You go home and get some rest.”
I glanced at my watch. It was only 10:30. “Are you sure?” I questioned.
“Positive,” Dora sai
d. “Just explain the cash box to me and I’ll be fine. If you don’t mind, I’ll purchase that Aran yarn right now and I can start the sweater. Anything in particular I need to know about the shop?”
I couldn’t believe my good fortune. “Well, if, and I say if, there’s any mail order deliveries, Clyde usually shows up between two and three. And if any stock comes in, you can open the box and just put the yarn and stuff in the bins.”
“I think I can handle that. I know my way around this shop pretty well. Just one request,” she said. “Could I run over to Cook’s and get myself a sandwich to go for my lunch? And then I’ll be all set.”
“Of course you can,” I said with a smile and watched Dora cross the street.
Bending down to pat Lilly, I shook my head. People really are kind, I thought. With a little help maybe I could make this business into something.
Surrounded by a box of tissues, a mystery novel I couldn’t seem to get involved in, and a cup of tea, I sat in bed propped up with pillows. By the time I’d arrived home with Lilly, I was grateful for Dora’s offer. I was running a low-grade temp and the pressure in my face had increased. No doubt the cold had settled in my sinuses.
“Come in,” I hollered to a knock on the door.
“I thought some nice hot soup would help,” Alison said, walking in with a tray.
“I’m not an invalid. I could have fixed something later.”
“I know you could have. But you don’t have to. Stay bundled up and you’ll be over this quicker.”
“Thanks,” I said, straightening up to take the tray. “I never get colds. Hell, I’m never sick. I can’t imagine where I caught this.”
“Gee, could it be all the stress of the past year finally catching up with you? You were a nurse. You know what stress will do to your immune system.”
I nodded, taking a sip of the homemade chicken soup. “Hmm, yummy.”
