Yarn to Go

by Betty Hechtman

  “Oh my gosh. I’m sorry.” The young mother blushed with embarrassment. “I see bread and go on automatic pilot. My kids hate crust and I make what I call a puzzle.” She demonstrated by moving around the triangles. “They love to put the pieces back together before they eat them.”

  “You need this weekend,” our leader said with a smile, and I suggested everyone get their food. It might have been a little heartier fare than the Blue Door served, but it smelled delicious.

  I was glad for the dinner. When it came to muffins or cookies or pie, I was your girl. But regular food? I was embarrassed to admit that I lived on frozen entrées.

  Dinner was a success. The only problem wasn’t even really a problem. Olivia thought someone had taken her purse, but it was located under the table. She seemed to be looking for things to be upset about. As we got up to go, Kris made an announcement.

  “I thought it would be nice if we all met at the fire circle and had a toast to Joan’s memory. I’ve ordered some wine.” Edie offered to tell Scott, and we agreed to meet in half an our.

  “Do you think I should have done the wine thing?” I said to Lucinda when we got outside. “Maybe I should offer to pay for half of it.” Lucinda suggested I let it be.

  It was inky dark outside, with only low-watt lights dotting the road that wound through the grounds. The waves sounded loud now that the tide had come in, and the air smelled of wood smoke. I followed Lucinda to her room so she could pick up a jacket.

  “Wow,” I said when she’d opened the door. I hadn’t seen the accommodations before. Her room was on the first floor of a building called Sand and Sea. I understood Bree’s comment now. The room had none of the usual amenities of a hotel. There were two narrow single beds, a dresser and a radio. The bathroom was the size of a closet, with only a stall shower.

  “The point is the rooms are really just for sleeping,” Lucinda said. We’d passed a living room area as we came in. A cozy fire was going in the fireplace, and there was plenty of comfortable seating.

  When I’d come back for dinner, I’d left the Armani jacket and gone with my usual green fleece zip up. As Lucinda and I found our way through the grounds, I was glad I’d made the change.

  The fire circle was located just before the dirt morphed into sand. A glass barrier stopped the wind, and a number of benches were arranged around a crackling fire going in a pit in the center. The only other light came from a lone floodlight.

  “This is just like camp,” Lucinda said as we joined the group. Her comment seemed rather funny, considering her designer outfit. As if anyone would wear that Eileen Fisher outfit to camp. Lucinda and I were trying to decide whether to sit or stand when Kevin St. John stepped out of the darkness. It must have been the firelight making weird shadows on the manager’s face, but he looked kind of sinister. He was carrying a tray of glasses. I guessed it was red wine, but in this light it looked almost black.

  He set it down, and everyone went to help themselves. Lucinda and I got glasses and found seats close to the fire. I was surprised to see that Kevin St. John had stayed and was joining the toast. The breeze made the flames dance as Kris held up her wine.

  “Thank you, Joan, for starting this great tradition of yarn get-togethers in this beautiful place. You will be missed.” Kris nodded, and everyone began clinking glasses before taking the first sip.

  “Don’t you think you should mention Amanda?” Edie said as she glanced in the direction of the water. The small woman shuddered, and I didn’t think it was from the chill air.

  Kris seemed at a loss, but Kevin didn’t. “That’s not the same. Joan put on the retreats. Amanda What’s-her-name was just a participant,” Kevin said.

  Edie didn’t give up and mentioned that Amanda had been to every retreat Joan had put on. Kris agreed that Edie had a point and raised her glass again. “Also, a toast to our fallen retreat member, Amanda Proctor.”

  With the toasts done, the group spread out and someone knocked over their glass. Kevin appeared with another bottle of wine and began refilling glasses. When he got to me, he stopped.

  “I saw that you went home for a while. Did you have a chance to look for your aunt’s papers?” His voice was friendly but persistent. I had no doubt that he remembered that I had said I didn’t want to deal with it now. I just said no.

  “Oh no, the boys’ story,” Bree said, holding her refilled glass. With her sweatshirt and frizzle of blond hair arranged by the ever-present breeze, she looked like she could be at camp. “I can’t read it after a glass of wine. If I slur a word, they’ll think their mother is a lush.”

  Olivia set down her untouched glass and put her hand on Bree’s arm. “Will you stop, already? They’ll live without the story. Or your husband can read to them.”

  Even in the dim light I could see that the young mother’s face was still tense. “But I have to tell Daniel,” she said, pulling out her cell phone. After the call, she let out a big sigh and picked up her refilled wineglass.

  Scott moved in from the edge of the group, and Bree made room for him. “It’s so dark, no one can see you’re with us,” she said. It was true; just a row back from the fire everyone was shrouded in shadow. Lucinda and I moved closer to the warmth and light. Just when I was enjoying the moment, Kevin St. John stopped next to me. “One of your charges is drunk. You better handle it.”

  When I turned, I saw that Edie was almost next to us, struggling to stay standing. “This wine really got to me,” she said, falling against Lucinda. “I think I’ll go to my room,” she slurred. There was some discussion about letting her go on her own. Olivia had gathered her things and was starting to leave when Edie fell against her. I started to ask Olivia for her help, but she took Edie’s arm on her own.

  “I’ll take her,” Olivia said. “I’m ready to call it a night anyway.”

  The rest of the group hung around and finished their wine and then scattered, leaving Lucinda and me alone by the fire.

  “Well,” she said, setting down her empty glass. “You made it through the first day.”

  “Something has been bothering me since the toasts,” I said. “Somehow it didn’t register until then.” I mentioned how two people connected to the retreats had died. “Isn’t there something about things coming in threes?” I said to Lucinda with an uneasy smile.

  6

  MY ALARM WENT OFF EARLY FRIDAY MORNING. I started to shut it off and go back to sleep, thinking it was a regular day and I didn’t have to be anywhere until my night baking time. Then I remembered the retreat and threw back the covers.

  I dressed quickly and went across the street. The clouds were particularly heavy, and the grounds seemed even more untamed than usual. The damp, chilly air made me want to curl up in front of a fireplace and drink hot chocolate.

  I heard the clang of dishes and a low hum of conversation as I approached the dining hall. When I opened the door, I was greeted by the comforting scent of breakfast food—something cooked in butter, a touch of a maple syrup, a hint of the sage in sausage links, along with an overtone of freshly brewed coffee.

  My stomach gurgled in response. How nice to have another hot meal.

  Lucinda waved me over to the same table from the night before. Most of the group had beaten me there.

  How did my friend always manage to look so put together? I’d hastily pulled on a pair of my better jeans and a turtleneck, and topped it with a black fleece jacket. My hair had gotten smushed overnight, so there’d been no choice but to neatly twist it up with a scrunchy.

  We all exchanged greetings as I sat down. Lucinda pointed to the lidded cup at my place. “It’s a cappuccino. I can’t seem to stop with the restaurant stuff,” she said with a smile. “I figured you’d need a little jolt to start the day.” Bree had a plate of untouched food. She looked drawn and tired as she clutched her cell phone to her ear. Not that it made any difference in their ability to fuss,
but Melissa and Sissy were on either side of her. Sissy seemed unhappy with her mother’s food choices. Lucinda explained that Kris was off getting her food.

  Scott was sitting at another table talking to the person next to him. At least he was dressed more casually than the business wear he’d had on the day before. Lucinda leaned in close to me. “I think Kris has her work cut out for her. It’s pretty obvious those projects she handed out are supposed to evoke a change in the person who works on them.” Lucinda chuckled. “Except for me. I’ve just avoided purling because it feels awkward.”

  “Good luck with me, then,” I said, rolling my eyes. I’d be the first to admit that I had a problem sticking with things. My job history was proof of that. Did she really think that doing a little work with a pair of needles and some yarn was going to change that?

  Kris set her plate down across the table. “Where are the others?” she said, noting the empty seats.

  “Here’s Olivia,” Lucinda said, pulling out the chair on the other side of her for the new arrival.

  Olivia still had the distracted stare. The soft gray warm-up suit went better with her mood than the happy shade of pink had. She did give Lucinda a small forced smile as she accepted the seat. “I need coffee,” she said, reaching for the carafe on the lazy Susan in the middle of the table and pouring herself a cup.

  I asked how she’d slept and Olivia shook her head. “The good thing about sleeping pills is that they knock you out. The bad thing is you feel out of it in the morning.” She picked up the coffee and began to drink it as her eyes half closed.

  “Everyone is here but Edie,” I said. “Well, Scott’s here, but not exactly here,” I said, giving him a wave when he looked up.

  “Maybe she decided to sleep in,” Bree said. She’d finally gotten off the phone and had begun to eat her breakfast. At first it was stop and start while she kept asking if anybody needed anything, then finally she settled in to eating. “This feels strange,” she said. “At home, it seems like I’m always jumping up to get something or wipe up something that got spilled.”

  Kris smiled. “Enjoy, Bree. No guilt, either. I’m sure your boys are fine.” Kris turned to me. “We didn’t get a chance to talk yesterday. What do you think of knitting now that you’ve had a little time for it to sink in? When I handed you the bag you had that deer in the headlights look.”

  “I wasn’t expecting to be a participant,” I said. Kris’s smile broadened.

  “That was obvious.”

  “It would be great if I could make something like that,” I said, touching the kimono-style knitted sweater she was wearing. It was a tweedy-looking brown and flattered the blond highlights in her wavy hair.

  Kris laughed. “Don’t defeat yourself by taking on more than you can handle. For now just stick to practicing knitting and then work on the scarf. There’s nothing like finishing your first project to give you confidence.” She turned her attention to the rest of the table. “Joan always said these small retreats were life changing because you were pushed out of your comfort zone.” Kris glanced toward Scott at the next table. “With some people it’s harder than with others.”

  I finally went to get my food, but the entire time I ate my pancakes, I kept looking toward the door expecting Edie to come in and make a stir.

  “I’ll just call her and ask if she wants me to make up a plate for her,” I said, taking out my cell phone and the list of numbers. There might not be phones in the rooms, but these days, you could reach people anyway. I was disappointed when her phone went right to voice mail.

  “I wonder what’s up with Edie,” I said.

  “That wine really went to her head,” Melissa said, sounding judgmental. “She’s probably hungover and shut off her phone.”

  “I hope she gets up in time for our morning session,” Kris said, setting down her coffee cup.

  “Is there a problem?” Kevin St. John seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. As usual, the manager of Vista De Mar was dressed in a dark suit, crisp white shirt and conservative tie. His short dark hair didn’t have a single strand out of place. His formal dress clearly set him apart from the guests and the rest of the staff. I thought that was his plan.

  Kris twisted in her seat and acted as spokesperson. “One of our retreaters is a sleepyhead,” she said with a smile. “No problem.”

  Kevin eyed me. “I was thinking, if you’d rather turn things over to me now, I could step in and handle the rest of the weekend,” he said in a tone that was supposed to sound helpful, like he was throwing me a life preserver, but to me felt like it was just one more nudge from him to get hold of my aunt’s business. I smiled, thanked him and declined, all the while acting as if I thought he was doing a kindness. Not a surprise, he wasn’t happy with my answer.

  He addressed the group. “I want you all to feel welcome and cared for here. We want repeat guests,” he said, taking out a handful of papers. “If you wouldn’t mind filling out some questionnaires about what you’d like to see in future retreats?”

  His smarmy smile was annoying and, I knew, fake, because it didn’t show in his eyes. He was going ahead as if I’d already turned over my aunt’s files. I didn’t like his manner, and maybe there was something else. When somebody else wants something you have, you tend to hold on tighter. I surprised myself by putting up my hand to stop him from handing out the papers.

  “Why don’t you wait until the end of the weekend,” I said. “I want my people to focus on the here and now.”

  Kevin’s face clouded. “Well, of course, you’re right,” he said. He slipped the papers out of sight and with a nod wished us a good morning and moved toward the exit.

  Had I really stepped up to the plate and said my people? I watched Kevin go. I was sure he’d only appeared to give up.

  • • •

  “THE FIRE FEELS GOOD,” KRIS SAID AS THE GROUP reconvened in the Cypress meeting room. It was just as we’d left it the previous day. Someone had gotten a cheery fire going in the fireplace and brought in a fresh coffee and tea setup. I was surprised to see a black cat looking in the window. It was uncanny how its yellow eyes seemed to lock onto my gaze. A moment later it was gone. Scott came in last, looking around as he did. His eyes darted over the group as he edged toward his seat. Something like a sigh came out of his mouth as he picked up the huge red knitting needles and began to work them. Then he looked up to see if we were watching him. His eyes narrowed when he saw Kris approaching.

  She gave him a supportive pat on the shoulder, and he let out his breath. “Sorry. I’m just so nervous about doing this in front of anyone,” he said, continuing his knitting frenzy as he talked. “If Edie hadn’t found me hiding out in the yarn department of the craft store . . .” He lowered his head, seeming to feel guilty. “I told my wife I was buying some art supplies for my daughter. Do you have any idea what it’s like to keep your yarn stash in your car?” He began to unload and explained that he only knitted in his car or when he was on the road. It was difficult when he flew because he was always afraid the security people would take his needles out of his carry-on and make a spectacle. “It really helped when Edie let me come over to her place and knit. I told my wife I was taking a class to relieve my stress, which was sort of true. It only lasted for a few afternoons. Something about her husband not being happy with her having a man over.”

  Olivia stared at her knitting as if she was seeing something else. The conversation was flying past her unnoticed. Lucinda had picked up the work she’d started. She seemed nervous as she began to move her needles slowly and deliberately.

  Melissa’s eyes flew skyward as her daughter began to work on her scarf. She seemed about to grab it out of her hand, but Kris stepped in and stopped her. Bree had her phone on the table. I could see a picture of her children, and every time the screen went dark, she did something to make the picture return. I supposed I should be glad she’d settled for just loo
king at a photo instead of talking to them. Her eyes widened as she looked at the balls of sari yarn. She picked up the little work she’d done. She looked at the work of the people on either side of her and seemed dismayed, remembering their knitting project was nothing like hers.

  “How am I supposed to know if it looks right? I have nothing to compare it with,” she said.

  While Kris reassured her, I kept looking toward the door, expecting Edie to come rushing in, talking a mile a minute about why she was delayed. I had to admit I missed her exuberance. Scott glanced toward her tote bag and the pair of circular needles. “Where’s Edie?”

  I tried to call her again and got her voice mail. “Maybe I should go to her room,” Kris said, getting up.

  “No, it’s my job,” I said. It was an automatic response, and once again I surprised myself.

  Lucinda set down her work and pulled her Burberry jacket on. “I’ll come. I need to get something from my room anyway.”

  Kris, Lucinda and I headed up the path to the weathered-looking building called Sand and Sea. A fire glowed in the fireplace of the living room area, but the overstuffed chairs were all empty. We went down the hallway to where all the rooms but Kris’s were located. A housekeeper’s cart was in the middle of the dark wood hall, and the door to one of the rooms was open. Lucinda directed us to Edie’s room at the end of the hall.

  I walked ahead and knocked loudly on her door, but there was no response. I tried again with the same result. Lucinda caught my hand before I went to knock again. “Maybe they can help,” she said, gesturing toward the two women in gray uniforms pushing the cart in our direction.

  I explained the situation, and one of them walked up to the door and rapped loudly. “Housekeeping,” she said. When there was no answer, she pulled out a key and stuck it in the lock. When the door swung open we all looked in. What we saw made us gasp.

  7

  THE CLUSTER OF COP CARS AND AN AMBULANCE seemed out of place in the rustic setting of the conference center when I went outside. My legs still felt rubbery as I went down the few steps of the stoop at Sand and Sea’s back entrance. The gloominess of the day seemed the perfect backdrop for the gloominess I felt. What was I supposed to do now? I know what I wanted to do. I wanted to go up to Kevin St. John and hand over my aunt’s retreat file and say, “It’s all yours.” Then I could flee across the street to the guesthouse and pretend none of this happened.