Arthur wagged his head slightly. “Poor boy.”
Kelly smiled at another of her mentors. Housemann was also a father figure to Kelly and had many of her late father’s mannerisms and ways of speaking. That was another reason Kelly enjoyed visiting the first of her two exclusive clients. It was like visiting and talking with her father again. Arthur always gave good advice. In addition, Kelly enjoyed learning more about her successful real estate investor and developer client’s strategies. Arthur Housemann had weathered all the real estate booms and busts of the last thirty years. In a volatile business like real estate, that record was phenomenal.
“Well, Greg is healthier than most people and is . . . uh, was in great physical shape, so I expect his rehabilitation to be quicker than most.”
Arthur smiled for the first time. “From what you’ve told me over the years, Greg is a real outdoors guy, always biking and rock climbing. So I imagine Greg will take it as a personal challenge to regain his ‘fighting shape.’”
“Oh, yes. And he’s lucky that Lisa is a physical therapist. She’ll probably have Greg working extra,” Kelly added, laughing softly.
Arthur laughed along with her. “I think that’s a good bet, if ever there was one. In fact, if I was a betting man, I’d put cash money on Greg.”
Kelly eyed her successful client. “What do you mean, you’re ‘not a betting man’? You’ve taken risks on developing homes in entirely new areas of Fort Connor for years. And you’ve succeeded greatly. And financially, I might add.”
Arthur chuckled. “Thank you, Kelly. Coming from you that is a high compliment, indeed. As you know, I never enter into an investment without doing the proper research. Area demography, location of retail and shopping in vicinity. All that.”
Kelly grinned. “You’re thorough, that’s for sure, Arthur. That’s why it’s a piece of cake doing your financial statements.”
This time, Arthur Housemann threw back his head and laughed out loud. Kelly joined in, celebrating her client’s success.
• • •
“Hey, Lisa, how’s Greg doing?” Kelly asked over the phone as she opened her car door and stepped outside into the Lambspun parking area.
“He’s still groggy. Anesthesia is slowly wearing off.”
Kelly could hear hospital noise in the background. “I wanted to check another news site before giving you a call. But I finally saw an online site that mentioned the name of the victim of that Old Town hit-and-run.”
“Oh, thanks, Kelly. Who was it?”
“Apparently the victim was identified as a graduate student at the university. Neil Smith.” Kelly waited for Lisa’s reaction.
“What? That’s Nancy’s boyfriend!”
“I thought the name sounded vaguely familiar when I read it. Of course, Smith is a common name, but the fact that he’s a graduate student at the university also narrows it down.”
“Good Lord! Have you seen Nancy? I wonder how she’s taking it?”
“I haven’t been in the shop yet today, I’ve been with a client. But you’re right. This is bound to be a shock to her. Even though this Neil sounded like a prime bastard for turning his back on Nancy. And her baby. His baby, too.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Lisa said. “Listen, I see one of the nurses turning into Greg’s room. I’ll talk to you later.” Her phone clicked off quickly.
Kelly dropped her cell phone into her shoulder bag, locked her car, and headed toward the Lambspun front entry. As Kelly walked into the shop, she nearly ran into Cassie, who was on her way out the door. “Whoa! Sorry. I didn’t know a tornado was coming through the door.” Kelly stepped aside.
Cassie giggled as she held open the door. Halfway in, halfway out. “Didn’t mean to run you over, Kelly. But Jen is waiting for me outside in the car. She’s finished with her real estate work early and wants to take me school shopping.”
“Ooooo, school shopping. New clothes. That’s always fun. Have a great time and buy some cute stuff. Oh, and say ‘hi’ to Jen. Remind her we’re getting together tonight after Steve and Marty’s game.”
“Will do,” Cassie said, releasing the door. “See you later.” The heavy wooden entry door closed slowly.
Kelly continued into the central yarn room, where another woman was browsing the bins of colorful yarns. Kelly paused by the round table in the middle of the room. It was stacked with short stubby skeins of multicolored wools. All the skeins looked to be in the same spectrum of colors. Blues and greens with some touches of brown. Forest green joined with bright turquoise blue and a muted sable brown.
Next to those skeins sat skeins of burnt sienna mixed with a festive pumpkin orange and a cinnamon brown. Kelly squeezed both fat little skeins. The gauge of the wool was exactly like the one Kelly used for her first knitting project years ago. A sturdy wool that could be transformed into a scarf or a placemat. Versatile.
Kelly walked over to the bins that lined three walls. They were stacked with different-sized skeins and balls of bamboo and silk, wool and mohair, and a wondrous variety of alpaca. Kelly reached out and stroked a large fat skein of creamy white baby alpaca. Soft, unbelievably soft. She’d finished knitting the scarf for Mimi’s charity project. Did she need another scarf for next winter? Probably not. She’d made several scarves of wool, mohair, alpaca, and silk, even ribbons over the years since she first came to Lambspun and learned to knit while she sat around the library table. Just like countless other beginning knitters.
Her fingers toyed with a skein of soft gray baby alpaca. How about mittens? Did she need more mittens for the upcoming winter? she wondered. Hmmmmmmm. Decisions, decisions. Just then, Mimi’s voice cut into her quandary.
“Isn’t that a luscious wool, Kelly?” Mimi said as she walked into the central yarn room. “It would make a wonderful winter sweater.”
A little bell in the back of Kelly’s mind went off. A sweater. Of course. “You’re right, Mimi. This would be perfect for a winter sweater. And it’s so soft.” Kelly stroked the fat gray alpaca again.
“And gray is so versatile, too. You could wear it anywhere next winter,” Mimi said with a smile. “Around the shop. Skiing, whatever.”
Kelly picked up one of the fat skeins and looked at the label. “Size eight needles. Three stitches to an inch. That will look nice.”
“If you started now, you’d be finished in time for winter weather,” Mimi tempted her.
Kelly laughed softly. “You’re incorrigible, Mimi. You’re the very best encourager of knitting projects I’ve ever met.” She held out the skein. “How many of these would I need to make a winter sweater? A rough guess.”
“Well, a winter sweater would need long sleeves—”
“Oooops. I’ve never made long sleeves,” Kelly demurred.
Mimi gave one of her dismissive little waves of her hand. “It’s only a few inches more than you’ve done before for a short-sleeve sweater. It’ll be a piece of cake.”
“If you say so.” Kelly smiled. “Well, it’s time I learned how to do a long-sleeved one anyway. Might as well do it now.”
“I agree. You’d probably need five skeins of that wool. Why don’t we pick out a pattern?” Mimi walked toward the hallway and beckoned Kelly to follow her.
Skein in hand, Kelly dutifully traipsed after Mimi, down the hallway heading toward the workroom and the office beyond.
There sat the two gray metal file cabinets stuffed full of patterns—knitting, crocheting, weaving, and more.
Mimi pulled out the middle drawer of one of the file cabinets and began to finger through the header index tabs of the folders. She removed five different file folders. “Here are five really nice winter sweater patterns I think you’ll like, Kelly. Why don’t you take these to the table and go over them. See which one you like the best.” She held out the folders.
“Which ones are the easiest?” Kelly said
as she accepted them.
“They are all easy, Kelly,” Mimi said.
Kelly smiled. “That’s what you always says, Mimi. Remember, what’s easy for you is usually harder for me.”
Mimi made a little tsking sound with her tongue. “Nonsense, Kelly. You’re a good knitter now.”
“Maybe so, but I still get confused, especially when reading instructions.” Kelly stared at the five folders. “Okay, I’ll go see which one survives the cut.” She walked to the doorway.
“There you go,” Mimi encouraged her. “Pick the best one.”
Kelly waved the folders overhead as she headed toward the main knitting room again. “The easiest is the winner.”
• • •
Kelly read over the instructions for the long-sleeved sweater and stared at the drawing at the top of the pattern. It was very pretty. And the instructions sounded a bit easier than the other two sweaters. She’d definitely found the winner.
Nancy Marsted walked into the main room and glanced around. “Hi, Kelly.”
“Hey, Nancy. How’re you doing?” Kelly dropped her pen on the notepad. She wondered how best to approach the subject of Neil Smith.
“I’m okay, I guess.” She glanced behind her toward the central yarn room. “Is Lisa here?”
“No, Lisa is at Poudre Valley Hospital,” Kelly said, noticing Nancy’s anxious expression and deciding that Nancy clearly thought of Lisa as her personal counselor. That was understandable, especially when Nancy was going through a stressful period. Unfortunately, Lisa had enough stress of her own to handle right now, and her concentration was entirely focused on Greg.
Nancy hurried over to the chair beside Kelly at the table, her eyes wide as saucers. Two women were browsing the instruction books at the other end of the table and commenting to themselves. “Is Lisa all right? Did she get sick? Or have an accident?”
“No, no,” Kelly reassured with a smile. “Lisa’s fine. She went to the hospital to see her boyfriend, Greg.”
“Ohhh, I’m glad to hear that,” Nancy said, visibly relaxing. Then she gave a little wave of her hand. “I don’t mean I’m glad her boyfriend is in the hospital.”
“I know what you meant.” Kelly smiled at Nancy’s anxious behavior. Eager to please, not wanting to offend.
“Is he sick? Lisa’s boyfriend, I mean.”
Kelly settled back into the chair and took a drink of still-warm coffee from her travel mug. “No, Greg’s not sick. He’s been injured. He’s got a broken leg and a broken arm. And he’s a mass of bruises all over.”
“Oh, no. What happened to him?”
Kelly leaned closer to Nancy and lowered her voice. “He was hit by a car Friday night over in Old Town.”
Nancy’s eyes went wide again. “Really?”
Kelly nodded. “Yeah. He was riding his bike home when he was hit by a car. A hit-and-run.”
Nancy continued to stare at Kelly. “Oh, no!” she whispered.
“Oh, yes,” Kelly whispered back. “Whoever did it was probably drinking at one of the bars. If they were drunk, they may not have even noticed him.”
“That’s . . . that’s awful,” Nancy said, leaning closer to Kelly. “Is there anything I can do to help? I mean . . . is there anything Lisa needs?”
“I don’t think so. We’re all checking in with her over at the hospital by phone. No one but family members are allowed up there with surgery patients.”
Nancy’s eyes went wide again. “He had surgery?”
“Oh, yeah.” Kelly nodded again. “The doctors had to carefully set that broken leg and make sure everything was all right. And they took care of his broken arm, too. He’s got pulled muscles, tendons, and ligaments all over his shoulders and back. He’s going to need physical therapy for weeks and weeks. Months probably.”
“That’s so . . . so awful,” Nancy said sorrowfully.
“I know. At least Lisa is a PT. So he’ll have an ‘in-house’ therapist, which is good.” Kelly gave a wry smile.
Mimi walked into the main room and glanced over at Kelly and Nancy. “Hello, Nancy. It’s good to see you. Kelly, how’s that pattern search coming?”
“I narrowed it down to three, Mimi. And I’ve finally eliminated two of them.” She looked over at Mimi. “I chickened out as usual and want to try the easiest one.”
Mimi laughed her little musical laugh. “You’re so funny, Kelly.” Then she walked toward the two women at the other end of the table. “Can I help you ladies with anything? Are you trying to decide on which knitting instruction book is better?”
The younger woman spoke up. “Yes, as a matter of fact, you can. You’re the owner of the shop, right?”
“Yes, I am,” Mimi said with her bright smile. “How can I help?”
“Well, I’m trying to choose a basic beginner’s knitting instruction book for my mom,” the younger woman said, pointing to the woman beside her. “I’ve shown her the beginning stitches but she wants to have a book with pictures of the stitches because it helps her to learn them better.”
“Oh, it certainly does,” Mimi agreed with a nod, addressing the older woman. “I used an excellent instruction book with pictures when I first started out years and years ago.” Mimi walked over to the bookshelves. “Now, let’s see, we should have a copy of it here. I always try to keep a copy in stock,” she said, her finger trailing over the spines of the books on the shelves. “Ah, yes! Here it is.” She removed the book from between the others and spread it open on the table between the two women.
Kelly decided to use the busy conversation at the other end of the table as background noise, and she leaned forward toward Nancy. “Nancy, I read on a local online news site about the fatal hit-and-run in Old Town the same night Greg was hit. And the news site today had the name of the victim. Neil Smith. That sounded familiar. Was that your boyfriend, Nancy?”
Nancy lowered her head, her eyes seeking her lap where her hands were clasped. “Yes . . . yes, that was him. My Neil,” she said in a soft voice.
“I’m so very sorry to hear that, Nancy. I know you still cared for him.” Kelly paused. She hated to speak ill of the dead, even though she wanted to. So she changed the subject. “Tell me, have you checked into doctors yet? I think I mentioned our friend Megan Harrington. She did a thorough search on all the obstetricians in the city when she was pregnant. So let me give you her phone number. She’ll be happy to tell you about her top five list.” Kelly deliberately gave Nancy a smile. She needed to focus on the future.
“Thank you, Kelly.” Nancy looked up, gratitude in her eyes. “I really appreciate that. I was hoping Lisa would be able to give me recommendations.”
Kelly decided to steer Nancy away from her dependence on Lisa, and this was a good time to start. “Lisa’s got her hands full with her boyfriend Greg’s recovery and his eventual rehabilitation. Since she’s a physical therapist, she’ll be heavily involved in his rehab. Plus she’s still working.”
“Oh, I was hoping she could talk, even on the phone,” Nancy said, clearly disappointed.
Kelly gave a dismissive wave. “She’s not even taking our calls right now, Nancy,” Kelly deliberately fudged. “Besides, Lisa has never had a baby. She doesn’t know about obstetricians. Megan’s your girl. Believe me, Megan is thorough to a fault. Plus, she can give you advice about prenatal care. In fact, you should call her today and find out about obstetricians. You’ll need to make an appointment. Here’s Megan’s phone number.” She scrolled down her directory then scribbled the number on a notepad at the table.
“I guess,” Nancy said, looking unsure.
“Oh, definitely,” Kelly said, resorting to an imitation of Megan in full advice-giving form. Then she relaxed into the chair and proceeded to repeat everything she remembered Megan saying about prenatal health. In detail.
Nine
Kelly pulled out a wrou
ght iron chair in the café’s garden patio. A beautiful August morning that was more balmy than hot simply begged to be enjoyed. What better place to sort through complex client accounts? Her cell phone started to ring as she was about to settle into the chair.
Lisa’s name flashed on her phone screen. Kelly quickly clicked on. “Hey there. Are you at the hospital? How’s Greg doing today?”
“Yeah, I’m here. And Greg’s fully awake now. All effects of anesthesia and the first heavy-duty painkillers have worn off. He’s still getting some painkillers, but now he can really feel the extent of his injuries. Poor thing,” she added in a sad voice.
“Oh, brother. I hope they give Greg some of the same goofy drugs they gave me when my ankle was broken. I was loopy for a while.”
Lisa gave a little laugh. “Yeah, you sure were. I’m sure they’ll be using some different painkillers for Greg. I noticed he would grimace when the nurses and orderlies came to put him on the gurney. They’re transferring him to the rehab center this morning.”
“Oh, that’s great! Now we can visit him, right? Or should we wait a little?”
“I’ll check with his doctor when he comes in this morning. He should be here pretty soon. Dr. Madan always makes morning rounds for his hospital patients. He may limit Greg’s visitors until he’s comfortably settled in at the rehab center.”
“That makes sense.” Kelly waved at waitress Julie as she approached and handed over her empty coffee mug. Julie smiled and snagged the mug from Kelly’s outstretched fingers then sped off to check on the other breakfast customers who were enjoying the beautiful summer morning. “Does Greg even feel like talking?”
“Not really. He mumbles a few words to me and his voice is scratchy and hard to hear. So I have to lean close to him to make sure I hear everything he’s saying.”
“Oh, boy. It sounds like none of us should be visiting Greg anytime soon. We wouldn’t want to put any stress on him when he’s trying to heal from those injuries. It’s too soon.”
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