Knitting 06 - Fleece Navidad

by Maggie Sefton

“Nice to meet you, Claudia. I’m Kelly and this is Megan,” she said, gesturing. “And you definitely came to the right place if you want to find beautiful yarns and meet new friends.”

  “Kelly came only a year ago last April for her dear aunt’s funeral, but she’s here to stay now.” Lizzie beamed.

  “Well, thank you, ladies, for your warm welcome. I appreciate it,” Claudia said as she removed a deep violet and magenta shawl from her knitting bag. “You say you taught school here for thirty years? Goodness, that’s quite a spell. I taught school years ago when I was just a green little thing. Barely knew what I was doing. But that’s where I met my first husband, Frank. He was the principal.”

  Kelly noticed Lizzie’s bright gaze fix on Claudia, like a robin eyeing a worm. Anything that verged on male-female relationships stimulated Lizzie’s considerable curiosity. Kelly took a drink of coffee, waiting for Lizzie’s interrogation to begin, glad that her attention had been diverted from “poor Juliet” stories.

  “Your first husband?” Lizzie probed in a sweet voice. “I take it you’ve remarried since then.”

  Claudia gave a wave of her hand before returning to the shawl in her lap, needles moving swiftly and surely. “Oh, heavens, yes. That was years ago. I was still young when poor Frank crashed into a tree and died. And wrecked our brand-new Cadillac convertible, I might add.” She tsked loudly. “It never ran the same after it was repaired. I had to trade it in. Such a shame, too. It was a jewel of a car.”

  Kelly had to smile watching the von Steuben sisters’ reactions to Claudia’s nonchalant description of her husband’s demise—as well as the car’s. Hilda stared at Claudia as if she’d sprouted another head. Lizzie, however, leaned over her knitting, clearly eager to hear more. Kelly exchanged an amused glance with Megan.

  “And Frank? Was he a jewel?”

  Again, the airy wave of her hand. “Oh, he was all right. Kind of dull and plodding, but a good provider for our daughter and me. Certainly not very exciting in the bedroom, if you know what I mean,” Claudia said with a small smile.

  Lizzie’s eyes lit up, and a flush colored her round, dimpled cheeks. “Actually, I don’t. Neither Hilda nor I have ever been married.”

  Claudia gazed at Lizzie with astonishment. “Don’t tell me two fine, handsome women like yourselves have never married! I don’t believe it. What is the matter with the men around here? Are they too busy with their ranches and such?” She shook her head in disapproval. “I married a rancher once. Fred, my second husband. I swear he spent more time with the cattle than he did with me. It was almost a blessing when he fell out of the barn and broke his neck.”

  Kelly nearly choked on her coffee. Megan ducked her head and stared at the yarn in her lap, knitting even faster.

  “Where was that?” Kelly asked when she could speak.

  “In Texas. I’d moved there from Missouri after I lost Frank. To tell the truth, after Fred died, I was happy to leave Texas. Too many bugs. Scorpions in your shoes, centipedes three inches long crawling on your sofa.” She gave a little shiver. “My daughter, Krista, was leaving for college, so I moved to Florida. That’s where I met Nathan.” Needles busily worked the varicolored yarn. “Of course, Florida is filled with bugs, too. Horrible flying things.”

  “Nathan is your third husband, I take it,” Lizzie probed, clearly enraptured by Claudia’s soap opera life.

  “Was,” Claudia said in that matter-of-fact, pass-the-butter tone. “He died in the bathtub when the radio fell into the water. I told Nathan he shouldn’t have that radio so close to the tub, but would he listen? Noooo.”

  Hilda stared at Claudia. “Good Lord, woman! How many husbands have you had?”

  Kelly had to hide her laughter behind her mug and noticed Megan’s shoulders shake as she bent over her knitting. Lizzie, however, seemed spellbound by Claudia’s tales.

  Claudia glanced up from her knitting, clearly oblivious to Hilda’s concern. “Three. I guess I’ve just had bad luck with husbands. In fact, that’s why I’m here. I’m on the lookout for husband number four. Fort Connor is rated as one of the best places to retire in the whole United States, so I figured there ought to be a fair share of eligible men in town.”

  Hilda did not deign to reply, sending Claudia a disapproving stare before returning to her pink wool charity hat. Lizzie, however, fairly wiggled with delight at this outspoken woman’s stories.

  “How do you intend to meet your next, uh . . .”

  “Victim,” Hilda muttered.

  “Don’t mind her, Claudia. She’s only teasing.” Lizzie waved at her elder sister. “It sounds like you’ve never had trouble meeting men before.”

  “Lord, no. I’m not shy, as you can see. So I don’t wait for men to come and find me. I go out and find them.”

  Hilda gave a loud sniff, but said nothing this time. Kelly decided to get in on the conversation, curious as to Claudia’s strategies. “Sounds like you could teach a class.”

  “Ohhhh, you bet I could. You have to have a plan. When I arrived in town, I joined the senior center, the newcomers’ club, travel club, three book groups, a fit-for-fifty exercise class, and a financial discussion group. And most important of all, the senior singles’ group at the center. That is one of the most active seniors’ groups I’ve ever seen.”

  “Really? I’ve only gone to the center for bridge club and sewing circles, but I’ve heard friends talk about going to other events.” Lizzie’s expression turned wistful. “I confess, I’ve been curious. It always sounded so . . . so interesting.”

  Claudia sent her a sly smile. “Why don’t you come with me to the senior center tomorrow? You’ll enjoy it, and”—she paused dramatically—“you’ll meet some eligible men.”

  Lizzie blushed, her face coloring all the way down to her dimples and beyond. “Oh, my . . . I don’t know if I should.”

  Kelly watched Lizzie glance to her elder sister and saw Hilda’s disapproving scowl.

  Claudia didn’t seem to notice. “Why shouldn’t you? You’re an adult. And a resident of Fort Connor for what sounds like forever. Why don’t you come over and see your city’s tax dollars at work? You helped pay for the senior center, so you should use it.”

  That argument seemed to capture the former math teacher’s attention, Kelly noticed. Megan must have thought so, too, because she spoke up. “She makes a good point, Lizzie. You may like it. Why don’t you give it a try?”

  Lizzie’s bright blue eyes lit up. “Well, I suppose I could—”

  “Ah-hem,” Hilda’s loud voice interrupted.

  Lizzie’s smile disappeared as she glanced warily at her sister. Stern and disapproving didn’t begin to describe Hilda’s expression. Kelly sensed Hilda had spent a lifetime reining Lizzie in. After witnessing Lizzie’s excessive curiosity first-hand, Kelly understood why. But there couldn’t be any harm in letting Lizzie check out the senior center. She couldn’t get into any trouble with all those people around. Lizzie had friends all over town. Surely, she wouldn’t do anything embarrassing.

  The little voice in the back of Kelly’s head whispered, You want to bet? Kelly ignored it and offered her encouragement anyway. “Go ahead, Lizzie. If you don’t enjoy it, then stop going. Simple as that.”

  Lizzie glanced from Kelly to Megan to Claudia, her smile returning. “Well, I suppose I could. . . .”

  “Absolutely. I won’t take no for an answer,” Claudia said. “You deserve to step out a little, Lizzie. And who knows? You may meet a wonderful gentleman like I did.”

  Lizzie’s eyes began to dance. “Oh, goodness, I don’t know. . . .”

  “You wouldn’t mind a fine, upstanding gentleman caller, now would you?” Claudia tempted.

  Lizzie clearly wouldn’t, Kelly could tell from the excited look of anticipation on the spinster schoolteacher’s face.

  “Well . . .” Lizzie demurred, glancing at her knitting.

  Hilda simply rolled her eyes and didn’t say a word. Letting Lizzie off the leash at last, Kel
ly figured.

  “You’ll have a wonderful time,” Claudia said. “And I promise you’ll meet lots of eligible men. I mean, that’s how I met the fine gentleman who’s courting me now. He’s a widower and an excellent catch. A retired university professor. Very quiet and reserved. But I’m loosening him up.” Claudia smiled complacently. “We’ve been seeing each other for over a month now, ever since he came to the book group to discuss the Spanish Civil War. Apparently that’s his research hobby. Anyway, I was so taken with him, I went up to him after club and invited him to lunch.”

  Kelly had to smile. “You certainly don’t waste time, Claudia.”

  “Indeed I don’t, Kelly. I know exactly what I’m looking for, and Jeremy fits the bill to a tee. An attractive widower who’s financially well-off. My mama always said, ‘You can love a rich man as easy as a poor one.’ I’ve taken those words to heart, ladies.” Claudia nodded in emphasis.

  Kelly barely heard Claudia’s mother’s advice. The name “Jeremy” had captured her whole attention. She glanced around the table and saw her own thoughts reflected. Lizzie stared at Claudia with a stunned expression. Hilda looked appalled.

  Jeremy. Juliet’s Jeremy. It had to be. An eligible widower, retired professor, who loved research. The Jeremy who no longer had time for the “little brown wren,” because he was seeing another woman.

  Claudia had to be the Other Woman. Kelly noticed Hilda’s scowl had frozen on her face, while Lizzie stared at her knitting.

  “Jeremy’s getting serious about our relationship, too. I can always tell. He’s got that look,” Claudia continued to gush. “In fact, I’m expecting a little surprise by Christmas.”

  Despite her reluctance, Kelly couldn’t stop herself from asking. “You mean a present?”

  Claudia cast a beaming smile toward Kelly which showed off her pretty face. She looked much younger. “Not just any present. A small, square-box type of present.”

  Kelly forced a polite smile in return. Poor Juliet.

  Four

  “Out you go, Carl,” Kelly said, holding the patio door open for her dog. “It’s warm outside. Go take a nap in the sun.”

  Carl obligingly raced onto the patio, then surveyed the scene for a second until he spotted what he was looking for. A lone squirrel was perched atop the chain-link fence, paws holding something.

  “Go for it, Carl. He’s having lunch. Maybe you can outrun him this time.”

  Carl didn’t need encouragement. He was already across the cottage backyard, barking ferociously as if a mountain lion had invaded their yard instead of Saucy Squirrel.

  Kelly grabbed her knitting bag and empty coffee mug and headed for the cottage front door. After spending all morning categorizing alpaca revenues and expenses, she needed a coffee and knitting break. Sometimes the repetition of her rancher clients’ work began to wear on her. Part of her still missed the challenge of corporate accounting. But then she’d look at the Rockies in the distance, and she’d reconsider.

  Afternoon sun reflected off the snow-glazed peaks as she crossed the driveway and wound through the café’s outside patio. It was so warm, the tables were still filled with people lingering over lunch. Temperatures had been in the sixties or seventies for a week. After last year’s brutal cold and blizzards, this extended fall was a welcome change. Winter was still waiting in the wings.

  She scampered up the steps into the café and held out her mug to one of the waitresses. “Hey, Julie, can you fill ’er up, please?”

  “Sure, Kelly. Your timing is great. Jennifer is over in the shop now, celebrating a real estate sale.”

  “Wow, good for her.” The aroma of Eduardo’s heady brew drifted to Kelly’s nose as a black stream filled her cup. Caffeine. Dark and rich. “I was hoping those Nebraska clients would decide to buy,” she said before heading down the hallway that led to the shop.

  Rounding a corner, Kelly carefully wove her way through the crowded rooms. Holiday fiber fever was in high gear. Customers were everywhere, pawing through yarn bins, poring over patterns, studying yarns, examining labels. It was still early December, but the holiday clock was ticking. There were presents to be made. Handmade presents took time.

  “Congratulations, Jen,” she said as she entered the main room, noticing all her friends were already around the table. “You nailed that deal. That’s a big load off your shoulders.”

  “You bet. I was sweating bullets, because they were agonizing up to the last moment. I was so afraid they’d throw in the towel and wait until spring,” Jennifer said, as she tapped knuckles with Kelly.

  “Do we still get pot holders for Christmas?” Lisa asked, smiling over the navy blue gloves she was knitting.

  “I’m afraid so. There’ll be no money till the closing in January, so it’s still pot holders. Or washcloths. I can afford some of that French chenille,” Jennifer said, returning to the purple mittens dangling from her needles.

  “You’d better give Kelly her pot holder early,” Megan said, glancing up from the red gloves she was creating. “She’s going to need them. I want everyone to bake cookies for that holiday bazaar booth. Mimi begged me to find bakers.”

  “Boy, you have to be desperate to ask me, Megan. You know I don’t cook, let alone bake.”

  “You can slice, can’t you?” Lisa teased when the laughter died down. “You can buy a roll of cookie dough in the store.”

  “Slicing, I can manage,” Kelly said, settling into the chair beside Jennifer.

  “Well, if you get adventurous, why don’t you check in your garage? I packed up a box of Helen’s cookbooks and recipes when you moved into the cottage last year. She used to make scrumptious gingersnap cookies every holiday.”

  “Oh, yeah, I remember those,” Jennifer said, closing her eyes and emitting a loud sound of enjoyment. “Boy, were they delicious.”

  “Well, if I find the recipe, maybe one of you guys can make them,” Kelly suggested, pulling out the nearly finished charity hat. “Meanwhile, someone has to help me finish off this hat. I haven’t worked on these double-point needles since last winter when I made my own hat.”

  “Sure, let’s get you started,” Jennifer said, the purple wool dropping to her lap. “You remember how to switch from the circular to the double points?”

  “Uhhhh . . . I have to count stitches then divide into four sections and transfer them onto four shorter double points, right?”

  “That’s right. Have you got the double points you used last time?”

  Kelly dug into her bag and produced the packet of five wooden needles. Approximately eight inches long, the needles were the same size in diameter as the circular needle she was using. However, these needles were tapered on both ends. “Here they are.”

  “Okay, so start counting and divide by four. Next, you’ll hold your circular needle with your left hand, then use one of the double points to knit with. Once you have the amount you need for one section knitted onto that needle, then take another double point and start knitting with that one. Make sure you keep your yarn snug and connected to the stitches on the first needle. Then, you just repeat the process. Knit the next amount onto the second needle, then the third, then the fourth. Once all the stitches are transferred onto the four needles, then you’ll use the fifth double point to knit with. That’s when you’ll start decreasing.”

  “It’s beginning to come back now,” Kelly said, staring at the needles.

  “Okay, then get busy. I’ll be right here if you get stuck.” Jennifer returned to her purple yarn.

  Kelly examined the edge of the blue-green hat and started counting. Sixty-six stitches. Okay, that’s sixteen stitches on three needles and eighteen on the last needle. A faint memory surfaced from the back of her mind. You’ve done this before.

  “Okaaaay . . . wish me luck,” Kelly said, picking up one of the shorter needles. Hopefully knitting memory would kick in.

  “You’ll do fine.”

  Jennifer was right. After knitting only five or so stitch
es from the circular to the shorter needle, Kelly remembered the process. Within a few minutes of quiet knitting, she’d completely transferred the hat to four double-point needles. Ready to shape the crown.

  “Good job. Now you’re ready to decrease the rows. Here’s a stitch marker, so you can mark the end of the row. You’ll use the fifth needle to knit.” Jennifer dropped a small plastic circlet on the table.

  “Refresh my memory. What’s the pattern again?”

  “For the first row, you knit one, then knit two together, and repeat that pattern until the end of the row. Then you knit three rows regularly. Then after that, you really start to decrease. You knit two together for one row, then knit regularly for the next row. Then knit two together for one row, then knit regularly another row. All the way until you only have about six stitches on your needle. Then you’ll use your tapestry needle and pull those stitches together and weave them inside the hat. Ta-da.”

  “Got it,” Kelly said, feeling confident at last. She’d done this before. She could do it again. “Okay, here goes,” she said, taking the fifth needle and beginning the process. Knit one stitch, knit two together . . . knit one stitch, knit two together. . . .

  “You know, Kelly, I bet you could make Helen’s cookie recipe. If you can follow a knitting pattern, you can surely follow a recipe. It’s just another form of pattern.”

  Knit one, knit two together. “I don’t know, Megan. You know how many mistakes I make with knitting. Can you imagine what I could do to Helen’s recipe?”

  Lisa chuckled. “You can do it, Kelly.”

  Arguing voices sounded in the classroom doorway. Politely arguing voices.

  “You are being much too harsh, Hilda,” Lizzie said as she flounced into the room, her sister right behind. “Claudia’s not a loose woman. She’s simply lively, that’s all.”

  “She’s a common gold digger,” Hilda decreed in her deep contralto, dumping her tapestry knitting bag at the head of the table for emphasis. “I’ve seen scores of women like that, and they’re consummate actresses. They’re all smiles and wiles on the outside, while inside they’re scheming to trap a rich husband.”