Easy to make
1 skein Lion Brand Homespun Thick & Quick, Super Bulky #6, 88% acrylic 12% polyester (160 yd/146 m/8oz/227g)
Size 13 (9.00) circular knitting needles
Tapestry needle
Gauge is not important for this project.
Dimensions: approximately 52" × 18".
Note: Shawlette is worked from the bottom up.
Cast on 20 stitches.
Row 1: Knit into the front and back of the first stitch (1 increase made), knit across.
Rows 2–33: Repeat row 1 until there are 53 stitches on the needle.
Row 34: Knit into the front and back of the first stitch (1 increase made), knit across until the last stitch, knit into the front and back of the last stitch (1 increase made).
Repeat Row 34 until the shawlette measures 18" from the middle of the top to the bottom.
Bind off and weave in the ends with the tapestry needle.
Recipes
Ebony and Ivory Muffins
EBONY
7⁄8 cup unbleached all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup organic sugar
1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1 teaspoon double-acting baking powder
1 large egg
1⁄3 cup plus 3 tablespoons milk
2 tablespoons butter, melted
Combine flour, salt, sugar, cocoa powder and baking powder; sift.
In a separate bowl beat egg. Combine milk and melted butter. Add to egg and mix.
Add dry ingredients to egg, milk and butter mixture. Stir until just blended. There will be lumps.
IVORY
7⁄8 cup unbleached all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup organic sugar
1 teaspoon double-acting baking powder
1 large egg
1⁄3 cup plus 3 tablespoons milk
2 tablespoons butter, melted
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Combine flour, salt, sugar and baking powder; sift.
In a separate bowl beat egg. Combine milk, melted butter and vanilla. Add to egg and mix.
Add dry ingredients to egg, milk, butter and vanilla mixture. Stir until just blended. There will be lumps.
Line muffin tin with paper inserts and preheat oven to 400 degrees.
Fill inserts 1⁄3 full with Ivory mixture, then another 1⁄3 full with Ebony mixture.
Bake for 15–20 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean. Cool. Makes 12 3" muffins.
Moment's Notice Butter Cookies
1 cup butter, room temperature
2⁄3 cup sugar
1 large egg
2 teaspoons vanilla
21/2 cups sifted unbleached all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
Cream butter and sugar. Add egg and vanilla and mix. Combine salt with flour and gradually add to the butter, sugar, egg and vanilla mixture, mixing until blended. Form into logs about 2" in diameter, wrap in wax paper and chill for at least 4 hours. Can be kept in refrigerator for about a week. When ready to bake, preheat oven to 350 degrees. Slice and arrange on a cookie sheet. Bake for 8–10 minutes, or until slightly colored. Cool on rack.
Cookies can be garnished before baking with things like colored sugar, almond slices, chocolate chips, or dried fruit.
Makes about sixty 2" cookies.
Turn the page for a preview of Betty Hechtman’s next Crochet Mystery . . .
KNOT GUILTY
Available in hardcover from Berkley Prime Crime!
You know that saying about being careful what you wish for . . . ? My name is Molly Pink and I can tell you it is one hundred percent true. Ever since my husband Charlie died, I’ve been saying that I wanted to try flying solo. To live without having to answer to anyone. You know, I could wear sweat pants with a hole in them and eat ice cream for dinner. I could be the captain of my own ship.
I thought I was heading that way. I’d worked through my grief and had started a new chapter in my life by getting the job at Shedd & Royal Books and More as the event coordinator/community relations person. But then I met Barry Greenberg and we had a relationship. Okay, maybe he was my boyfriend. It’s hard for me to even say that word. It just sounds so ridiculous, since Barry is a homicide detective and in his fifties.
You might notice I said had a relationship. Really it was off and on again, and off again and on again. You get the picture. But now it was finally off forever.
Then there was my friendship with Mason Fields. Friendship was all it ever was, though he really wanted it be more. When things ended with Barry for the last time, they did with Mason as well. It hadn’t been deliberate on my part. I had gotten so involved with work. I guess there were missed phone calls and messages I didn’t answer, and then just silence. My social life had gone dark.
Assorted people had stayed with me for various reasons, but that had all ended as well.
The final step came when my son Samuel moved out—well, in with his girlfriend. Though he didn’t take his cats.
And suddenly there I was alone. At least almost alone. I had the two cats and my two dogs—my terrier mix Blondie, and Cosmo. The little black dog was supposed to be Barry and his son’s dog, but that’s another story. So here at last was my chance to soar on my own wings. Do whatever I wanted. Answer to no one (except my four-legged friends).
At first I was so busy with the holidays and everything at the bookstore, I didn’t think much about being on my own. But it was January now and as I looked around my cavernous living room, it all began to sink in. I walked into the kitchen. It was just as I’d left it when I went to bed. No dishes in the sink, no ravaged refrigerator. No one had come knocking at my door in the middle of the night looking for comfort after a bad shift with suspects. No one had called and suggested a fun outing. All the bedrooms but mine were uninhabited.
I made coffee for myself quickly. Did I want to sit around and revel in all this quiet and independence. No. I couldn’t wait to get to work with the problems, the confusion, and most of all the people. I’d heard the statement that silence was deafening and now I understood. I needed some noise. I needed some upheaval in my life. Yes, I had learned my lesson about being careful for what I wished for. I’d gotten it in spades and absolutely hated it. I knew what I had to do to stir up the pot of my life.
I didn’t even drink the coffee in my kitchen. I filled a commuter cup, made sure the dry cat food bowl was full and located where the dogs couldn’t help themselves. And I left.
It took a bit of doing to zip up my jacket while holding the coffee mug as I crossed the backyard. Even here in Southern California, January days are short and chilly. I probably seemed like a wimp for bringing it up when it was icy and snowy back east, but the dew had frozen on the grass.
The sun had already melted the thin layer of frost on the Greenmobile, as I called my vintage blue-green Mercedes. Vintage sounded so much better than old. I ran the windshield wipers for a moment and they got rid of the residue of moisture. One negative about my car. No drink holder, which meant I had to hold the commuter mug between my legs. I looked down at my usual khaki slacks and hoped I’d make it to work without any coffee stains.
A few minutes later, I pulled the car into the parking lot behind Shedd & Royal Books and More. Once I was inside, I took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar fragrance of the paper in thousands of books, mixed with the scent of freshly brewed coffee drifting in from the café. Then I nodded a greeting at Rayaad, our chief cashier.
The last of the holiday merchandise was gathered on a front table with a sale sign. Even after all these years it still seemed odd how the same merchandise looked so exciting before the holiday and irrelevant after. I mean, a chocolate Santa was still at its heart chocolate.
An
y day we’d start putting up Valentine’s Day decorations and sell the same chocolate the Santa was made out of shaped like hearts wrapped in red foil.
As I made my way through the store, I saw the playwright’s group gathered in a tight circle around their facilitator. The yarn department was in the back corner of the store, and along with handling events and community relations, it was my baby. I always liked walking in and seeing the feast of color from the cubbies of yarn. Ever since we’d put up a permanent work table in the middle of the area, it was never empty.
I recognized a few faces of my fellow hookers. That’s hookers as in crochet. The Tarzana Hookers had been meeting at the bookstore since even before the yarn department had been added.
We exchanged a flurry of greetings just as Dinah Lyons caught up with me. She’s my best friend, a fellow hooker and an English instructor at the local community college. She slipped off her loden green boiled wool jacket and dropped it on a chair.
“I need to talk to you,” I said as we hugged each other. “I’ve decided to change my life.” Dinah’s eyes snapped to attention as she got ready to listen. Then my voice dropped. “It’ll have to wait. Mrs. Shedd has just joined us.” She was the Shedd in Shedd & Royal and my boss. This wasn’t a usual gathering of the crochet group to work on projects. This was a meeting.
“Give me an update,” Mrs. Shedd said quickly. She never seemed to change. Her blond hair didn’t have a hint of gray even though she was well into her sixties. She’d been wearing it for so long in the soft page boy style, I bet her hair naturally fell into it when she washed it.
She didn’t sit and seemed a little nervous, but that seemed to be her default emotion lately. Keeping a bookstore afloat these days wasn’t easy. We were surviving, but only by broadening our horizons. Thanks to my efforts, the bookstore had become almost a community center. Besides the playwrights’ group, I’d added other writing and book groups. We’d recently taken on hosting crochet-themed parties, which was turning into a nice success. And of course, we had author events.
But what we were attempting this time was really a stretch and required an outlay of cash. “Tell me again why we’re doing this,” my boss said, looking for reassurance.
Adele Abrams joined us as Mrs. Shedd was speaking. Adele was still dressed in her outfit from story time. I’m just guessing, but I bet she’d read Good Morning, June. It was a children’s classic written in a different time, when girls wore pinafores like the pink one Adele wore over a puffy sleeved dress. She’d completed the look by forcing her brown hair into tiny little braids. Adele would have stood out even without the outfit. She was tallish and amply built and her voice naturally went toward loud.
Before I could say anything, Adele began. “This is the chance of a lifetime. We are carrying the torch of crochet into the world of knitters.” Mrs. Shedd didn’t look impressed. Who could blame her? She wasn’t interested in us being pioneers as much as doing something that would make a profit and help the bookstore. I was relieved when CeeCee Collins slipped into the chair at the head of the table and took the floor away from Adele.
“I feel responsible for encouraging you to have the booth at the yarn show. But I’m sure it’s going to be a big success,” CeeCee said to my boss.
CeeCee was the real head of our crochet group, though Adele never quite accepted it. She was also a well-known actor who, after a long history of TV and film appearances, had started a whole new chapter in her career when she began hosting a reality show. Then she’d nabbed the part of Ophelia in the movie based on the super hit series of books about a vampire who crocheted. There was Oscar buzz about her performance since the movie had come out, but now we’d see if there was any truth behind the buzz because the actual Oscar nominations were going to be announced in the next couple of weeks. Needless to say, CeeCee was a little edgy.
As always, CeeCee was dressed to be photographed. She said she’d seen enough celebrities snapped in jeans and T-shirts with their hair sticking up to learn her lesson. But she claimed it was a fine art, not to look too done. Kind of like her reality show. It was supposed to look real, but a lot of editing and planning went into what the audience ended up seeing.
CeeCee noticed the two women at the other end of the table who were not part of the group. They appeared to have no idea what was going on. CeeCee, in her typical gracious manner, explained that we were talking about the bookstore’s upcoming booth at the Southern California Knit Style Show.
“This is a very big deal because it is the first year they’re including crochet in the show. Before, everything was about knitting. You know, knitting classes, fashion shows of knitted garments, design competitions for knitted pieces. There probably wasn’t even a lonely crochet hook for sale in any of the vendors’ booths in the marketplace.”
CeeCee made a slight bow with her head. “I’d like to think I had something to do with K.D.’s change of heart.” She explained to the women that K. D. Kirby put on the show along with being the publisher of a number of knitting magazines. “I was the only crocheter included in an article in Knit Style magazine about celebrity yarn crafters. I think hearing about how popular the craft is and seeing what wonderful things you can make made her realize what a mistake it was not to bring crochet into the show.”
The women nodded their heads in unison to show they were listening, though I noticed knitting needles sticking out of their tote bags. “So, this year there is going to be a crochet category in the design competition with yours truly as the judge.” CeeCee did another little nodding bow before adding that she was also going to be acting as the celebrity face of the show.
One of the women finally spoke. “So you mean you can do more with crochet than just make edging on something or use up scraps of yarn to make one of those afghans full of squares?”
Adele was squirming in her seat at the words. All of the Hookers thought that crochet was the more interesting yarn craft, but Adele took it even further. She thought crochet was superior to knitting, and she wasn’t afraid to say it.
CeeCee put her hand on Adele’s shoulder. It looked like it was just for reassurance, but I knew it was to hold her in her seat. “Why yes, crochet has become quite a fashion statement. Designers have taken intricate lace patterns that had been used to make doilies and are blowing them out into shrugs.” CeeCee had taken her hand off of Adele’s shoulder and my bookstore coworker took the opportunity to pop out of her chair and start talking.
“I’m going to be teaching one of the crochet classes,” Adele said, doing an imitation of CeeCee’s bow. “A stash buster wrap.” The women didn’t seem to know what to make of Adele’s statement and looked back to CeeCee for some kind of reassurance.
CeeCee dropped her voice and spoke directly to Adele. “We need to talk about that.”
Since the booth was sort of my baby, I jumped in and told Mrs. Shedd how we’d come up with a plan to bring shoppers to our booth. “We’re going to teach people how to make a little granny square pin with some beads for decoration.” I was glad I had brought a sample and showed it to my boss and the women.
“That’s wonderful,” one of them said. “I bet a lot of people will want to make one of those.”
It was like music to Mrs. Shedd’s ears, and she looked a little less tense. “Bob wants to have us offer some of his treats,” I added. Bob was the barista at the bookstore café. He also made fresh baked goods. “The wonderful smell alone will act like a magnet.”
Mr. Royal arrived carrying a piece of posterboard with a miniature version of the booth he’d constructed. He laid it on the table in front of us all, as more of our group arrived. We all leaned over and admired it. The two newcomers got up and walked to the head of the table to get a better view.
“It’s wonderful,” I said. It looked like a little store. There was even a sign across the front announcing the name of the bookstore in big letters.
“There’s
just one thing missing,” Adele said as she scribbled something on a piece of paper and tore off a strip. She attached it to the bookstore sign. It said: Crochet Spoken Here.
Mrs. Shedd seemed a little less worried when she saw the name of the bookstore prominently displayed. “A lot of the people coming to this show are local. We want to make them aware of us. Perhaps you can add something that mentions all the groups we have meeting here.”
I reassured Mrs. Shedd that with the hookers helping, we’d make sure the bookstore was well presented.
“I’m depending on you two,” Mrs. Shedd said, referring to me and Adele but looking squarely at me. We were the bookstore employees, and no matter what help the others offered, the buck stopped with us, or actually, me.
I’d been hired as the event coordinator and community relations person and Adele had been given the kids’ department as sort of a consolation prize, since she thought the job should have been hers. But somehow, with one thing and another, we’d ended up working as sort of a team, putting on the crochet parties and now this booth. Adele balked at being left out of running the yarn department, but she’d cooked her own goose with her feelings about knitters. She didn’t even think we should have knitted swatches of the yarn we sold.
Yes, I knew how to knit. The basics, anyway. All those knitted swatches had been done by me. There was no way we could have a yarn department and shut out knitters, even if some yarn stores weren’t so happy with crocheters.
“No problem,” I said with a smile. We’ve got it covered. Mrs. Shedd muttered something about hoping so, because if this booth turned out to be a disaster, she wasn’t sure what she would do. Then my boss left the area, saying there were things she had to take care of.
“I didn’t get a chance to tell her about the kits I’m going to sell,” Elise Belmont said. She’d extracted one from her bag and put it on the table. “If she’d seen these, she wouldn’t have been so worried. We’re going a sell a million of them,” then Elise caught herself. “Or at least the whole stock. Do you want to see all the different kinds?” she asked.
Silence of the Lamb's Wool (A Yarn Retreat Mystery) Page 26
