Last Chance Knit & Stitch

by Ramsay, Hope

  But maybe their usual, normal selves hid something rotten. Molly couldn’t get past the fact that both of them had let her down. She would have called them on it, except now was not the time.

  For once, Molly held her tongue. There was no point in creating a big argument by expressing her disappointment in a public place. She screwed on her best face and best behavior. For Beau’s sake.

  And when Beau finally opened his eyes later that morning, it was to see both his mother and his father at his bedside.

  Molly visited shortly thereafter to pat his hand and give him the first Chemo Cap that she’d knitted for him. He asked to rub her short hair for luck, the way the members of the 1990 dream team had done.

  She left him then. She planned to go home for some sleep and a shower and return for the evening watch.

  She made it halfway down the hall toward the elevator before Momma caught up with her.

  “There are a couple of things I need to say to you,” Momma said as she pulled Molly into a big motherly hug that Molly deeply wanted to return. But she stood there, frozen and still angry. Momma seemed to realize this.

  “First of all, I want to apologize for running out on y’all. I realize now how hurtful that was. And to be honest, I didn’t really enjoy seeing all those sights all by my lonesome. And I will regret what I did for a long time. I just got so angry and, well, we’ve talked before about how destructive anger can be if you give it full rein. Which is what I did.”

  Molly said nothing. She was dead tired, and this was a terrible time for Momma to be making her grand confession. But she listened, even if she found it hard to look her mother in the eye.

  “I should have told your father what I wanted. I should have made him understand. And when I decided there was no point in waiting for him, I should have told everyone I was going to follow my dream regardless. And I should have left a way for you to contact me.”

  “Yeah, you should have.”

  “And I shouldn’t have put that note on the door of the yarn shop. I guess I was just feeling so disappointed in my family. It wasn’t right to try to turn you into my clone.”

  Molly finally looked up. “Momma, my dream of starting a car-restoration business is not some kind of failing. It’s not a problem. It’s what I want. I wish you’d understand that.”

  “Honey, it’s only that I sometimes think you sell yourself short. And I just thought that if I could force you into a different way of thinking, then maybe …” Her voice failed her.

  “Maybe what?”

  “I wanted you to understand that you can still be the master of your fate, even if it doesn’t involve doing a man’s job.”

  “But who says working on cars is a man’s job?”

  Momma rolled her eyes. “Okay. I was wrong. And I’m sorry.”

  “Good. I’ll accept your apology.”

  Molly turned on her heel, still feeling a little angry, but her forgiveness was genuine.

  “Darlin’, there’s one other thing.”

  “What?” Molly turned around.

  “You and Simon Wolfe.”

  Crap. Momma would come home and immediately start prodding around the most sensitive issues. “What about us?”

  “He’s in love with you.”

  Those words zinged right into her middle like some kind of poisoned dart or something. She started feeling short of breath almost instantly. “He is not in love with me.”

  “All right, then he’s infatuated with you. The way older men sometimes fall for younger women.”

  “Don’t you think I know that? I’m not a fool.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. Your daddy says he thinks you have a crush on him. He says Simon has been taking advantage of you. He says you and Les have had a falling-out and he’s pretty sure it’s because of Simon. I’m really unhappy to hear this.”

  “Momma, there is nothing going on between Simon and me. And before you meddle in my life any more than you already have, maybe you and Coach should concentrate on working out your own problems. And by the way, there are a lot of good reasons why Les and I have had a falling-out, starting with the fact that he stole my job.”

  She turned, took a couple of steps, and stopped. “Oh, there’s something else,” she said, looking over her shoulder.

  “I’m afraid to ask,” Momma said looking almost contrite.

  “There have been some changes at the Knit & Stitch.”

  “Changes?”

  “Yeah, I hired Ricki Wilson. And even after LeRoy fired me, I decided to keep her on. I figured I was getting free rent for the Shelby and free rent with you and Coach. So it was the right thing to do. She’s turned out to be a great employee. If you sweep back into town and let her go, I will be so disappointed in you.”

  CHAPTER

  22

  Simon didn’t see Molly or her family over the next several days, but he knew what was going on with them and everyone else in Last Chance. Angel kept tabs on all the local news: Beau Canaday was out of immediate danger, Molly and her mother were having a few disagreements over the Knit & Stitch, and Les and Ricki were having dog problems.

  If Molly was working on the Shelby, she was doing it late at night. And he was following his early-morning schedule. So they passed like ships in the night. From his end of things, it wasn’t entirely by accident. He was consciously avoiding Molly.

  That moment in the hospital when she’d thrown her arms around him had deeply disturbed him. He still wasn’t entirely sure why he’d thrown himself into her family’s business, except that he wanted to help her. He wanted her to be happy. To be successful. To be everything she could be.

  And he wanted to stop the Canadays from making a big mistake.

  He also yearned for something else—something he’d never really wanted in his life until right this minute. But this longing in his heart was foolish.

  So he’d pulled himself back and tried to be sensible. He was too old for Molly—too old and too screwed up and too scared.

  Besides, the legal work on Daddy’s will was complete. The details of Dash Randall’s purchase of the dealership were being hammered out. The house was listed, and Arlo already had some interested potential buyers. Momma was all set with a place to live in California. And he and Angel were sorting through Momma’s things and starting to pack the ones that weren’t going to the Salvation Army or the auction house.

  There wasn’t any reason to stay. In fact, he’d been dragging his feet for at least five days. He needed to go back to Paradise. Maybe he’d find his focus there. Because he’d sure lost it here.

  So he’d set his departure date for Wednesday—two days from now. He planned to spend most of the afternoon packing, but he’d come to the studio this morning to work on something he’d started a couple of days ago. It was crazy to start something new before finishing the Harrison commission. But he hadn’t been able to stop himself.

  And the painting was going well.

  He was deep into his work when he realized that he wasn’t alone. He looked up to find Coach standing just inside the doorway to the loading dock, right smack dab in the place where Molly usually stood when she’d decided to come in and heckle him.

  It had been almost a week since she’d done that. He missed her.

  He had a feeling Coach intended to do more than heckle.

  Simon put down his palette and wiped his paint-spattered hands on his old shirt. Then he draped the painting with a sheet. He wasn’t ready to show anyone his new work, especially Coach.

  “Can I get you a cup of coffee? It’s pretty lousy, but it’s loaded with caffeine,” he said.

  Coach shook his head and folded his big arms across his chest. “I’ll be brief. I’m mad as hell at the fact that you slept with my daughter. I told you not to mess with her, and you gave me your word that you wouldn’t. The only reason I haven’t broken your head is because you found Pat and convinced her to come home. I appreciate that, but it doesn’t change how I feel about you and Molly.�
��

  Simon said nothing. Being stared down by an angry father was a new experience for him. Probably because he only got involved with independent, urban women who were older than thirty and didn’t have churchgoing, clean-living, football coach fathers.

  “If you were younger, I’d have brought my shotgun and insisted that you marry her. But Molly can do better than you. She needs a young man.”

  “I’m not that old. But I get your point.”

  “Shut up. I’m talking now.”

  Simon shut up. It was always a bad idea to interrupt Coach when he was on a roll.

  “You’re too old for her, you understand me? I don’t like the idea that when she’s in her thirties you’ll be in your fifties. And when she’s in her forties, you’ll be an old man. That’s not fair to her. How the heck would you have any energy for children? You’d be terrible father material.”

  Simon nodded. “Sir, may I speak?”

  “By all means.” A muscle ticked in Coach’s jaw.

  “I agree with you. I am too old for her. But I can assure you that I didn’t come close to breaking Molly’s heart or her spirit or anything else. She’s not all that into me, if you really must know the truth. She told me so herself. I think she sees me as the older man every young woman should experience—once. She’s already over me.” Whether he would ever get over Molly was a different question altogether.

  Coach’s face went from red to indigo. He took three giant steps into the room and stopped right in front of Simon. He was much taller and much bigger. He poked his index finger into Simon’s sternum.

  “My daughter does not sleep around, is that clear? She is not the kind of girl who goes looking for experience from older men.”

  “Yes, sir.” Simon realized that he should never have said anything about Molly looking for experience. But the embarrassing fact was that Molly had come looking for fun. And she’d been happy with just one night. And that stung Simon’s pride, somehow. Being pushed away by a woman before he was ready to move on was an entirely new experience for him.

  “And,” Coach continued, prodding Simon’s chest, “my daughter belongs to Les Hayes, not you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And God only knows what Miriam Randall and the rest of the gals are going to have to do to fix this mess you’ve made. Do you know that Les is sleeping with Ricki? Ricki, a woman who’s way past her prime, if you ask me.”

  Simon was not stupid enough to try to explain to Coach that Molly was not interested in Les. He’d already said too much.

  Coach pushed his finger into Simon’s chest again. “I want you out of this town as soon as possible. You hear me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And don’t you ever come back.”

  Well, that was nothing new. Hadn’t Daddy said the same thing to him once? Hadn’t Daddy even poked his finger into his chest just like Coach was doing now? And hadn’t Momma told him he was dead to her?

  There was no one in Last Chance who wanted him to stay. And for some inexplicable reason that ripped him apart. But he’d be damned if he let Coach know it. So he shut his feelings down deep and locked them in that place where he’d kept the memories of Luke and Gabe and every other hurt that had ever assailed him.

  “I’m leaving on Wednesday. I won’t be back.”

  Zeph took a break from refinishing the woodwork in the lobby of The Kismet movie theater. The restoration was nearly complete. Only the old candy counter remained to be finished.

  Pride expanded in his chest. He knew it was a danger to feel this way, but a man couldn’t help it sometimes. A man knew when he’d done his finest work. And it was a comfort to Zeph that folks would be coming from all over to see how he’d brought the lobby back to life.

  He grabbed his lunch box and a bottle of orange Nehi from his cooler and headed down the street to the little park in front of City Hall. The day was already getting hot and humid, but there were some big shade trees there, and the ghost liked to sit and watch folks as they went about their business.

  It wasn’t all that long before Les Hayes came by with Muffin on a leash. The man and the dog were alternately dragging each other in opposite directions. The man had a book in his hand and was trying simultaneously to manage the dog, book, and leash.

  The scenario riled up the ghost something fierce.

  Muffin took one look at Zeph and started dragging Les in Zeph’s direction. Les finally gave up trying to exert any control over the dog and allowed the little critter to walk him right up to the park bench where Zeph was sitting.

  “Hey, Zeph,” Les said as he collapsed on the bench beside him. His face was red, and sweat trickled down his neck.

  Meanwhile, Muffin sat down at Zeph’s feet like the obedient dog she usually was.

  “So what are you reading?” Zeph asked.

  Les showed him the book. “Short Guide to a Happy Dog.”

  “Ah.” Zeph refrained from pointing out that Muffin didn’t look all that happy.

  “How do you get Muffin to sit down and behave like that?” Les asked. “I mean, I used to get Rex to behave, but Muffin won’t do squat for me. I need help.”

  The ghost was more than agitated, and Zeph wished there was a guide on how to make a ghost happy. Usually finding good homes for strays was all it took.

  “Well, you just love ’em and take care of ’em. That usually works,” Zeph said.

  “I’m trying. But the dog hates me. And it’s worse than that, really. My future happiness depends on me and Muffin making friends.”

  “Really?” This was news.

  “Yeah. Ricki has made it clear that it’s me or the dog.” He wiped sweat from his brow. “And Muffin is jealous. To be honest, I think that feeling goes both ways.” He gazed down at the dog with a sympathetic look. Muffin looked at Les and bared her sharp little fangs.

  Something was wrong. Usually when the ghost decided on where a stray should go, the fit was perfect—in every way. In fact, there were a lot of times when a new pet meant a new relationship.

  Take Annie and Matt Jasper. Or Dash and Savannah’s new family.

  No wonder the ghost was so upset.

  “I told Ricki I’d take Muffin for a walk every noontime,” Les said. “And I think she appreciates my offer, but I’m worried. What do I do if the dog never accepts me? I don’t want to lose Ricki over something stupid like a dog.”

  “I don’t blame you.” There wasn’t much Zeph could do about this situation. Maybe Les looked or smelled like the idiot who had abandoned Muffin in the swamp. Maybe she’d been abused by a big white man like Les. Who knew? But Zeph didn’t have a good feeling that Muffin would ever settle down and tolerate Les, even though Les was basically a good guy. Heck, he remembered how sad Les was when Rex finally died of old age. There had been a time when Rex and Les were inseparable. So it wasn’t that Les didn’t know about dogs.

  “Maybe I can find a better home for her,” Zeph said.

  “I suggested that maybe we should give her to Angel, Simon Wolfe’s assistant, but Ricki is determined to keep her. I don’t know why. Any fool can see that the dog is happier with Angel than anyone else.”

  The ghost made it clear that he agreed with Les. And that meant either Zeph or the ghost had made a huge mistake when they’d given that dog to Ricki.

  How on earth was he going to fix this mistake without telling Ricki or maybe the whole town about the ghost?

  If he did that, people would think he was crazy.

  Maybe he was. But he wasn’t the only crazy person in Last Chance.

  “Holy f—” Les pulled back his hand just as blood came oozing out of his index finger. He let go of a long and truly amazing string of profanity. And Muffin, the object and instigator of Les’s fury, started to shake. Then she squatted right there on the living room rug and started to pee.

  “Don’t do that!” he shouted at the dog and then nudged her with his foot. She clamped down on his pant leg and started growling.

 
He shook his foot, knocking Muffin around as the dog continued to worry the cuff of his jeans.

  “Stop it right this minute,” Ricki shouted from her place on the living room couch where she and Les had been cuddling and watching reruns of Dukes of Hazzard on the TV. “Les, I mean it, you’re going to hurt her.”

  “Hurt her? She just bit me,” he raged, finally extricating the dog from his jeans. He scooted into the kitchen like a coward and closed the door behind him. “I sure hope she’s current on her shots,” he yelled through the door.

  “Of course she is. Would you bring some paper towels out here so I can sop up the pee?”

  Muffin came over to stand in front of Ricki. She was trembling all over, and she had the most adorable waif-like expression on her face. Ricki knew she should probably punish her for making a puddle on the carpet, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do that. The dog was so obviously scared and upset.

  So she picked Muffin up and cuddled her. The dog settled into her arms like she belonged there. Ricki never failed to feel a big tug on her heart whenever the dog came into her arms. It was a lot like the tug she got when Les held her hand or kissed her senseless.

  Why couldn’t the two of them be friends?

  A moment later Les stormed out of the kitchen with one hand wrapped in bloody paper towels and the other carrying the rest of the roll. He tore off a bunch of sheets and dropped them to the damp spot on the carpet. He stepped on them to soak up the pee.

  He was so good about doing things like that. He was a real keeper.

  But so was Muffin.

  When he’d disposed of the paper towels and treated his finger with a Band-Aid, he returned to the living room and glared down at Muffin. He was angry.

  “You’re cuddling her?” Les said, his voice low and dangerous.

  “She’s scared. That’s all. She’s terrified of you. Have you hit her or yelled at her like that before? Are you mean to her when you walk her?”

  “She bit me. I yelled. And no, I’m not mean to her. I’ve been trying to discipline her.”