Suddenly, a dark shape caught her eye. There was Carl, racing from the trees behind the cottage and onto the course. “What the . . . ?” Kelly stared and broke into a run.
Carl stopped briefly, nosed something on the ground, and headed back to the tree-lined yard. Kelly ran up behind just in time to see her dog climb over the three-foot chain-link fence and into the cottage backyard once more.
“Ah, ha! Gotcha!” Kelly shouted, finger pointing. “I saw that, Carl! No, no, no! Do not go over that fence! We’ll get in big trouble if they—” She stopped mid-sentence.
A contrite Carl was lying down on the grass, head between his paws, staring at her with his I-know-I-did-something-wrong-but-I-couldn’t-stop-myself expression. Right beside him was a cluster of five golf balls.
Kelly sucked in her breath. “Carl! You did steal those golf balls!”
Carl glanced toward his little stash of stolen treasure.
Kelly swung her legs over the fence in a swift motion—one of the benefits of being tall—and scooped up the balls. Carl jumped to his feet as if to protest ownership, then obviously thought better of it. He lay down again and stared at the flowerpots.
“You go ahead and sulk all you want. You cannot steal golf balls. Those golfers will complain about us, and we’ll get in trouble,” she scolded as she climbed over the fence again. “I’m going to take these balls back to the course, and don’t you even think about getting them again, do you hear?”
Carl ignored her. Kelly raced to the edge of the course and threw each ball back onto the greens. She also threw a stern look toward Carl as she headed to the cottage. “I’m jumping into the shower, then talking to my boss. Don’t even think about climbing over that fence,” she warned, shaking her finger at her petulant Rottweiler. “I’ve got my eye on you, naughty boy.”
Running up the back steps and into the cottage, Kelly tore off her T-shirt on the way to the shower. She’d get coffee later. Between the run and her confrontation with Carl, she had all the adrenaline she needed to plead her case to her boss.
Pete poured steaming coffee into the extra-large mug in Kelly’s outstretched hand. The rich aroma of the dark brew tickled her nostrils. “Thanks, Pete. Can I run a tab? I might be here for a while.”
“Works for me,” Pete said, his round face crinkling into a grin. “And if you need anything to eat, let us know. We’ll bring it to you right in the shop.”
“Really? That’s accommodating.”
“It’s good business.” Pete winked.
Kelly took a long sip, feeling the familiar harsh-but-oh-so-good attack of a rich, strong coffee on her taste buds. Now she could handle anything—Carl and his golf ball habit, the cottage problem, whatever. She had her coffee and her boss’s permission to work away from the office for “a couple of months or so.” She didn’t know why she’d added the “or so,” but he agreed.
As she turned a corner into the shop, she spied Mimi straightening shelves. Fat spools of embroidery thread lined the shelves of two walls, floor to ceiling, in a rainbow of colors. More than a rainbow, every color imaginable, she guessed. “Wow. Look at the size of those spools,” she said.
“Actually, they’re called ‘cones,’ ” Mimi said with a cheerful smile. “By the way, how’d you sleep last night? Were you comfortable at the cottage?”
“Actually, I slept surprisingly well. I forgot to set my alarm and slept longer than I have since I’ve been here.”
“That’s a good sign. Means you’re settling in.” She set the last cone of scarlet thread onto its shelf and gave it a pat. “How’d your phone call go with your boss? Were you able to convince him to let you stay for a while?”
“Yes, I was. Part of me was surprised, but I’m thankful he went along with it. I promised him I’d be able to keep up my account analysis. They can send me all the files I had on my desk, and I can download everything else I need from our secure corporate website.” She took another long sip. “It’s definitely doable.”
“That’s great. If you need to use a computer, you can use ours. It’ll be busy during the day, but at night it’s free,” Mimi offered.
Kelly was touched. “Thanks, Mimi, that’s sweet, but I brought my laptop, so I’ll probably be working over at the cottage.”
“Well, if you get lonely, you just bring it over here and work with us around the table, okay?”
For some reason that idea didn’t sound as strange as it should to Kelly, and she didn’t know why. She was about to make a joke when Steve Townsend suddenly appeared in the doorway. All trace of Kelly’s smile disappeared.
“Hi, Mimi,” Steve said, his friendly smile in place. “I had a little time this morning, so I thought I’d come over and talk about those cabinets you want.” He glanced to Kelly. “Hey, Kelly, how’s it going? I heard you’re moving into the cottage. You settling in?”
“For a while,” Kelly allowed, still finding it hard to return his smile. Did everyone know her business around here? This shop had a heckuva grapevine.
“I guess since you two have already met, I don’t have to introduce you,” Mimi said as she scurried down the hallway. “Let me get my notebook, Steve, so we can talk.”
“What’s Carl up to?” Steve asked with a grin.
“Actually, he’s been up to no good,” Kelly admitted. “If he had a doghouse, he’d definitely be in it.”
Steve laughed. “Let me guess. Golf balls?”
“Yep. I caught him in the act. Jumping over the fence and snatching balls from the course then climbing back into the yard.” A smile finally won out as she shook her head, remembering. “If it wasn’t so serious, I’d laugh, but I don’t want anyone lodging a complaint about us.”
“Don’t worry about that. You just make sure and tell me if some loud-mouthed golfer says anything to you or gives you a hard time, okay?”
Kelly eyed him. What was with this guy? Did he have some Sir Lancelot complex or something? “That’s okay, but I don’t think I’ll need help. I’ve been handling guys like that for a long time.”
Steve’s grin spread. “Yeah, I can tell, and you’re really good at it, too.”
“Damn right.”
“What’d you do with the balls?”
“Threw ’em back on the course. Then I gave Carl a stern lecture.”
“Oh, that’ll work.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of,” Kelly admitted. “I’d hate to have to put him on a leash, but I may have no choice.”
“Well, before you do that, let me try something,” Steve suggested. “I’ve got some old golf balls. Let me bring them over and give ’em to Carl. That might keep him happy.”
Kelly stared at him. What a great idea. She wished she’d thought of it. “You know, that’s a good idea. But do you still use them? I mean, I could buy new ones.”
“Heck, no. They’ve lost their zing. I’ll be glad to contribute them to the cause.”
Mimi bustled into the room at that moment, open notebook in hand. Kelly took that as her cue. “Well, you folks get to work. I’ll go enjoy my coffee in the main room.” She raised her mug to Mimi and Steve.
“Do that, Kelly,” Mimi called to her. “I think Lisa may be there.”
Kelly made her way around the mid-morning customers browsing through the rooms. Lisa was the only one settled at the library table so far, but there were the distinct sounds of a class being taught in an adjoining room. She dropped her briefcase and sat down.
“Hey, good to see you,” Lisa said with a smile that said she meant it. “Did your boss okay your staying here with us?”
Kelly noticed the “with us” felt good. “Yes, bless him. So, I’ve got some time to sort out how I’m going to manage this two-house situation.” She drank deep from her mug.
“I’m so glad, Kelly. It’s going to be great having you here longer,” she said, concentrating on her knitting.
Kelly eyed the luscious coral sweater that was taking shape in Lisa’s lap. It was the color of spring az
aleas back in Washington, she thought, remembering the dark green bushes that lined so many walkways in the capital city and sprang forth with vibrant corals and pinks each April.
“That sweater you’re knitting is gorgeous,” she said enviously. “I saw a luscious raspberry one exactly like it hanging in the other room. I’m going to buy it.”
“It’s gone already. I saw a woman grab it yesterday.”
Kelly’s heart sank. “Darn it! I wanted that sweater. I’ve been thinking about it ever since I saw it.”
Lisa caught her eye and smiled. “You can make one yourself. We’ll teach you.”
The idea tickled inside Kelly’s brain, but old habits—and beliefs—die hard. “Oh, no way could I do that. I can’t knit a lick. Helen tried teaching me several times over the years. Couldn’t do it.”
“Couldn’t or wouldn’t?” Lisa challenged.
Busted, Kelly thought to herself. “Okay, okay,” she confessed with a sheepish grin. “You got me. I purposely made mistakes so Helen would think I was totally incompetent. But it wasn’t hard. To make mistakes, I mean. Trying to hold those needles and the yarn at the same time,” she observed, shaking her head. “Boy, it was tricky, and I kept forgetting what to do with the needles. I kept dropping them.”
“Do you style your hair with the blow dryer in the morning?”
Kelly blinked. What did that have to do with knitting? “Uh, yeah, but what—”
“Brush and blow dryer, right?”
“Yeah, what does that have to—”
“Then you can knit.”
“Okay, you’re gonna have to explain that one. Somehow I missed the connection.”
“Simple. You hold the dryer with one hand and make one motion, while you hold the brush with the other and make another motion, right?” Lisa said. “Same as knitting. But knitting is easier.”
“Good point,” Kelly conceded, but unwilling to surrender yet. “It’s still large movements with the dryer, though, like in sports. I can do all those things really well. It’s just the fine motor activities I find hard.”
“Then I’m surprised you can put your lipstick on.”
Lisa was good, Kelly had to admit, and much more tenacious than Helen. She cast around for a new excuse, but didn’t get the chance.
“It only takes practice, like in sports,” Lisa pointed out. “You probably couldn’t throw a softball well the first time either, but you learned. You can learn knitting the same way. With practice. Now, you won’t start out with something like this sweater, but you can work up to it gradually. You can start with something simple, like a scarf.”
“You’re relentless.” Kelly shook her head in admiration.
“I prefer ‘determined,’ ” Lisa said with a grin. “Besides, I can see you really, really want to have that sweater. Face it, it’s the only way you’ll get it. We’re not knitting it for you. But we’ll teach you how.”
Kelly sank back in her chair and swirled her coffee. The caffeine high had kicked in and she felt like she could leap tall mountains, or at least a skein of wool. “You don’t know what you’re getting into,” she warned. “I can be real clumsy when I’m first learning how to do things. It even took me a while to learn to do my hair. Some girls are more, oh, I don’t know, dextrous, I guess.”
“Everyone feels clumsy when they first begin to knit. It feels strange, but that’s normal. All it takes is doing it for a while, and the motions become more comfortable. Plus, you get an immediate reward. You see yourself creating something with every row of stitches.”
That thought resonated somewhere inside Kelly. The idea was tempting. Lisa’s persuasion (and the caffeine) were wearing down the years of resistance. Almost. “Well, I confess I’d really like to make that sweater.”
“You can and will. Trust me.”
“I may be too old to wear it by the time I do.”
Lisa laughed, then added, “Do it for Helen.”
Kelly grimaced, as the last of her resistance crumbled. Lisa truly was relentless. “You are shameless as well as relentless,” she surrendered, hands in the air. “I give up. I’ll give it my best shot, I promise. Will you be my teacher?”
“We all will, but I’ll get you started. Right now, as a matter of fact.” Lisa set her knitting aside quickly and stood up. “Come over here and pick out a yarn you like. Something you’d wear in a woolen scarf.”
“Boy, I hope you really are patient, Lisa, because I get cranky when I can’t do something. Don’t take it—”
“Just come over here and pick out the yarn. Stop trying to weasel out of it.”
Lisa stood beside several wooden crates that were piled artistically atop a corner table. Fat bundles of multihued yarns spilled from every crate. Charcoal shifted to lavender then violet then purple to burgundy, then abruptly to turquoise to lime with a pause on emerald. The next crate held brighter, lighter springtime colors, all traveling from muted to vibrant hues.
Kelly stood and savored it all for a long moment, trying to picture a long woolen scarf of many colors. “Decisions, decisions,” she mused, reaching out to stroke the bundles. She fingered different strands of yarn until she found the colors and texture she wanted, while Lisa waited patiently.
Choosing the maroon, turquoise, and charcoal bundle, she held it out. “How about this? I like these colors.”
“That’ll make a beautiful scarf, and those yarns are good to work with,” Lisa said as she took the bundle and read the label. “Let me grab some number-eight needles, and we’ll get started.” She snatched a second matching skein from the bin and headed toward the front.
“You need my credit card?” Kelly called.
“I’ll tell them to put it on your tab,” Lisa called over her shoulder.
First she was running a tab for her coffee, now it was knitting supplies. Kelly couldn’t believe everyone was so accommodating here. Clearly, she’d been in the Big City Back East too long. She’d forgotten how to move at a slower pace. She could get used to this.
Kelly settled back into her chair and sipped her coffee as she looked through the window toward the cottage. The trees bordering the golf course blocked her vision of the greens, so Kelly couldn’t tell if Carl was behaving himself or not.
“Kelly, Lisa tells me you’re learning to knit. That’s wonderful,” Mimi said as she sped through the room, heading for the office. Steve followed in her wake and tossed Kelly a grin as he passed. She didn’t return it.
“Okay, here we go,” Lisa announced, pulling out the chair next to Kelly. She opened a fat bundle of yarn and shook it so that one dangling strand separated itself from the others. Lisa snapped the two long wooden needles from their plastic cover. “I bought you birch needles. I sensed you’d like wood. It’s warmer and natural. I’ll cast on some stitches and get you started.”
Kelly watched in fascination as Lisa pulled the dangling yarn free and draped it around the fingers of her left hand, then taking a knitting needle, Lisa began an intricate maneuver of yarn and needle that resulted in several loops suddenly appearing on the needle in her right hand.
“Now, see? That’s the sort of magic thing that knitters do that tells me I’ll never learn,” Kelly complained. “I don’t even understand what you just did.”
Lisa grinned. “It’s called ‘casting on,’ and there’s almost as many ways to do it as there are knitters. Don’t worry about it now. You’ll learn later. I just wanted to get you started with the basic, simple knit stitch. Now, watch what I do.” Lisa scooted her chair closer to Kelly.
Kelly obliged and leaned over, watching Lisa’s fingers intently as Lisa talked her way through the movements. “Right needle slides under the stitch on the left needle, wrap the yarn back to front, and slip the stitch from left needle to right. Under the needle, wrap the yarn, slip the stitch.” Over and over Kelly watched Lisa’s fingers do the maneuvers as she finished a row.
“Okay, now you try,” Lisa held out the needles to Kelly.
Kelly stared at
them suspiciously.
“Go on, take them. They won’t bite.”
“If you say so. Let’s see how patient you really are.”
“Quit stalling.”
Kelly took a deep breath and accepted the needles, trying to hold them the way Lisa did. “Okay, now you’re gonna have to talk me through this. Right needle goes here . . .” She tentatively aimed the needle’s tip toward a stitch.
“Under, under.”
“Under, like this?”
“Yes. Now, take the yarn and wrap it around the needles back to front.”
Kelly hesitantly did as she was told. “Now what?”
“You slip the stitch off the left needle and onto the right.”
Kelly stared at the stitch, then poked at it with the right needle. It didn’t move. “It won’t go.”
“Not by itself it won’t. You have to slip it off.”
“What if it doesn’t want to?”
Lisa snickered. “Trust me, it wants to. You just have to convince it.”
“You mean argue with it? I’ve never argued with wool before.”
Lisa laughed out loud this time. “No wonder Helen gave up on you. You’re so stubborn.”
“Hey, that’s one of my few virtues.”
“Yeah? Well, guess what? I’m the queen of stubborn. I’ll outlast you.”
Kelly gave in with a sigh. She believed her. Lisa gave new meaning to determined. “Okay, convince it to leave, convince it to leave.” She tentatively slipped the needle beneath the stitch and pushed. “You want to leave the left needle, yes, you want to leave . . .”
Lisa laughed as the stitch finally slipped off the left needle and onto the right. “Alright! See? That’s all there is to it.”
Kelly stared at her. “All? All? That was like the labors of Hercules, for pete’s sake. And that was just one stitch.” She held up the beginnings of the scarf—one row of stitches, all Lisa’s, and one stitch of hers. “Most scarves are four feet long. I can’t argue with yarn for that long. A couple of inches, maybe, but not four feet. I’m exhausted.”
“It gets easier with each row. Just sit here and relax and knit. In a couple of hours you’ll be surprised how much smoother the motion will be.”
Maggie Sefton Page 7
