by Nancy Warren
There wasn’t a single little old lady to be seen. A woman named Enid looked to be the oldest at around fifty. She was blond and very attractive. She lived in Stow-on-the-Wold, a Cotswold village about an hour’s drive outside of Oxford. She was listed as a homemaker. There was a guy named Ryan who looked to be about thirty years old. His bio said he lived in Reading and worked in IT. Gunnar was a rugged-looking man originally from Norway, with close-cropped gray hair and a weather-beaten face. He’d been an engineer working on an oil rig in the North Sea. No wonder he looked so weather-beaten. He now lived in London.
Also from London was a very elegant young black woman named Annabel. She was a bond trader who knitted to relax from her high-stress job. Finally, there was Vinod, who was somewhere in his forties. He’d been born in India but had lived in Birmingham for most of his life. He was a radiologist by profession.
“Interesting bunch,” a low male voice said, and I turned to find Rafe standing behind me and reading over my shoulder. I should have been used to it by now, but he still managed to surprise me, the way he could creep up so silently. He was wearing his usual outfit of dark trousers, though in deference to the summer, he wore a white linen shirt. He looked more than usually pale, since I was accustomed to seeing summer tans on most people in Oxford.
“Yes. They’ve obviously chosen these knitting students to prove that all kinds of people from all walks of life enjoy knitting.”
He twinkled at me disturbingly. “Even the undead.”
And speaking of the basement dwellers, I reminded him again of how absolutely important it was that none of the vampires come up through the trapdoor and into my back room during the filming or for a lot of hours before and after filming. There would be equipment and extra staff from the production company in there, and I didn’t want to be responsible for either the heart attacks or the explanations when some poor, unsuspecting lighting technician found him- or herself face to face with a vampire.
“Don’t worry. Everyone’s been well warned. There are lots of other ways in and out of those tunnels, you know. We use this path most frequently, as we like to check on you.”
That sounded kind and protective, and they were, but they were also bored and nosy and liked to know what was going on in the shop. Especially my undead grandmother, who used to own Cardinal Woolsey’s and still liked to keep her hand in, cold as it was.
Nyx must have heard Rafe’s voice, for she came over and twirled herself around his ankles, meowing piteously until he picked her up. She had a worse crush on him than I did. He lifted her up and hung her over his shoulder, one of her favorite places to rest, with her front paws hanging down his back and her head on his shoulder. As soon as she was settled, she began to purr loudly.
“She has you wrapped around her little paw,” I said.
Rafe looked at me. “All the women in your family do.”
Chapter 2
Honestly, having a bunch of vampires living below me was like having too many older, wiser relatives living in the basement suite. They were a bunch of know-it-alls, and even though I never thought any of them would revert to savagery and drain me of blood, I was always aware that they could. Frankly, I thought they used that knowledge against me.
However, they meant well, and they had been around a long time. Sylvia, Gran and Theodore all came up after Violet and I closed the shop. It was Thursday, and some of the film crew were coming the next day to prepare the shop for filming Saturday. I was hauling out the vacuum cleaner, worried about dust bunnies, but Sylvia and her cohort had decided some redecorating was in order.
“But Sylvia,” I argued, “the producer said they chose Cardinal Woolsey’s because it’s so cute. Plus, there’s an adorable cat in the window.”
She shook her head, and her silver-white hair caught the light. “We have a rule in film. Never use livestock. They don’t behave and cost a fortune in lost film time.”
I immediately jumped to Nyx’s defense. “Not my cat. She’s special.”
She made a noise not unlike something Nyx does when she’s disgusted. Then she stood back and made her two hands into a frame, thumbs joined along the bottom and her fingers held together pointing up. She panned around the room, and we all watched her.
She stopped and said, “No. That poster has to go.”
I’d become so used to that picture I’d stopped seeing it, but she was right. It was kind of faded and showed a field of sheep, with a hearty-looking couple in the foreground wearing identical highland sweaters. It was the antithesis of everything Teddy Lamont taught.
I didn’t have time to go find another picture to put in its place. Gran pointed this fact out, but Theodore, who was very artistic and a set painter when he wasn’t busy as a private investigator, said, “I could do something with these.” He was inspecting a selection of antique knitting implements my grandmother had been collecting for years. They were in a display case against the back wall.
We all crowded around, and he said he’d paint a background and arrange and mount the whole display for me. I had to admit it would look a lot better than an old poster, and I knew he’d do a great job.
There was a short history of knitting and crochet in this cabinet and items of sentimental value, too. I’d bought Gran some of the antique pieces from the States as birthday and Christmas gifts. There was a Boye Needle Company crochet hook from the early 1900s, a nice pair of number seven steel double-pointed knitting needles, a sterling silver needle case and so on.
They directed me and Violet to move things around until they were satisfied, then they left us to do the boring cleaning.
Friday afternoon, I began moving things into the back room. I said to Violet, “Let’s put everything that’s really heavy on top of the trap door so there are no surprises during filming.” Naturally, the vampires would have no trouble moving anything heavy, but I thought the slight resistance might remind them that my shop was a Keep Out zone until filming was over.
Molly and Becks arrived, and within minutes I felt like I was on the set of a knitting shop rather than standing in an actual shop that sold wool. They hadn’t been there very long, dropping terms like gimbal and data wrangler, when Becks grabbed Molly’s arm. “Look, isn’t that Teddy?”
We all turned as a small, wiry man came in the front door, setting the bells tinkling.
Teddy Lamont looked like a magical creature, and I knew magical creatures. He had twinkling blue eyes, an elfin face and the most incredibly restless energy. He seemed to prance from one spot to another as though he and gravity weren’t on the best of terms. He had homes in San Francisco and in London, and his accent reflected that. He was enthusiastic about my shop and thought it was darling. I liked him immediately.
His life partner and manager, Douglas Tremaine, came with him, I thought partly to balance him. If Teddy was air and fire, then Douglas was earth and water. He was the knotted string that kept the helium balloon from flying off into space. Douglas was big and bearded with thick glasses and had somehow managed to pick up not a smidgen of a British accent. He sounded as though he’d just got off the plane from New Jersey, not that he’d been in London part-time for twenty years.
After Teddy had finished enthusing about the way I used baskets to display some of the woolens, which wasn’t even my idea, Douglas said, “Don’t worry, Lucy. He’ll calm down.” He gazed at Teddy with affection. “Eventually.”
“Oh, don’t mind him,” Teddy said, waving his hand at the big man as though he were a bad smell. “He wishes he had my eye for color.”
“And you wish you had my eye for detail.”
Teddy shook his head, as mischievous as an imp. “I’m just glad I have you for details. It allows me to be creative. Which is what I do best.”
Molly and Becks were also wandering around my store. Molly looked up and said, “This is new.” She pointed to the display of antique knitting and crochet implements that Theodore had hung up in the spot Sylvia directed him to. He’d painted a wooden
board a muted gray-blue and attached all of the pieces with sticky backing in case I ever wanted to clean them or move them around. She walked closer. “What are all these things?”
I pointed out various knitting needles from different eras. She asked me a couple of questions, more I thought to keep me talking than that she was really interested. When I was finished, she turned to Becks. “Let’s make sure and get a little snippet of Lucy talking about these antique knitting tools. We can use it as filler if we need to.”
I wasn’t thrilled at the idea of being singled out, but Gran would be pleased. Anything that highlighted me and the shop would be good for Cardinal Woolsey’s reputation and business.
Naturally, we had all of Teddy Lamont’s books, recent issues of his magazines and the pattern kits that Larch put together under his name. Even though I’d created a whole display, with some help from the neighbors downstairs, he wanted me to rearrange it all in a certain way. As he reminded me, he had an eye for color. I had no pretensions to being any kind of designer, so I was only too happy to rearrange the books until he was satisfied. I could tell from the way Molly and Becks treated him that they really wanted him happy. So did I. He was a rock star in the knitting world, and it was a great honor to have him here. I hoped, if this worked out, that he might consider doing another class in the future or another book signing.
I turned and out of the corner of my eye saw a woman with silver-blond hair sweep into the front entrance like a movie star stepping onto the stage. My heart sank down to the soles of my black sandals. I was convinced it was Sylvia, who missed the limelight as much as a 1920s movie star could whose face never showed up on film. I turned to make shooing motions at her when I realized it wasn’t Sylvia.
The woman didn’t even look like her. It was the way she carried herself and a certain theatricality in her movements that had made me think the person coming in the front door was one of my favorite vampires. I knew I’d never seen her before, but something about her was familiar. “Can I help you?”
She fluttered her hands around her face, and her gaze honed in on Teddy Lamont, too busy rearranging his books to notice. “Oh my goodness, no. I just wanted to get an idea of the lay of the land. I’m Enid Selfe, you know.”
The name Enid was also vaguely familiar, and then the penny dropped. “Oh, you’re one of the knitters who’s coming for the class tomorrow. I’m Lucy.”
“I was in the neighborhood. I couldn’t pass your darling little shop without coming in to have a peek.” She wore an elegant midnight-blue linen sheath, high heels, and a lot of jewelry that looked to my inexpert eye to be very expensive. Nobody got that dressed up to shop on Harrington Street.
She walked right past me and up to Teddy. “I can’t believe my good fortune. You’re Teddy Lamont.”
“I am, dear lady.” He took one of her hands between both of his. “And we’re going to have the most wonderful time. Have you ever made lace before?”
She tittered. “Oh, not for years. I’m very rusty. And excited to learn from the best.”
He was not immune to flattery. “You’ve come to the right place.” And then he winked so we could all think he wasn’t that full of himself if we wanted to. “I hope you aren’t one of those anal people who have to have everything perfect, though. The joy of my lace is that we make extra holes and boo-boos part of the beauty of the piece.”
Overhearing those words, I swear I nearly wept. Here was a man who understood my kind of knitting. Since all the vampires had been knitting so long, they were perfect knitters without even trying. I felt as though new vistas were opening before my eyes. Vistas where I could knit for fun without always feeling like I wasn’t good enough, my tension wasn’t even enough, where it wouldn’t matter if I didn’t quite have as many stitches on my needle at the end of one row as I’d had before. When strange and wonderful designs took shape that bore no resemblance to the pattern I was supposed to be following. Were there others like me?
I’d liked Teddy immediately when I met him. Now I looked at him with new and probably worshipful eyes.
I would have tried to prevent Enid Selfe from monopolizing Teddy Lamont’s attention, but just then, another woman came in. I was going to have to lock the door and put the closed sign up. The students could wait until tonight’s book signing with a special reception to follow so they could all meet. But I realized that I did recognize this woman. She was one of my regular customers. Her name was Margot Dodeson. She was always meek and apologetic as though her coming into my store and giving me business was somehow an inconvenience to me. I had no idea of her age. She was somewhere between mid-forties and fifties. I thought she had once been pretty, but now she wore a disappointed expression. She looked like the kind of person who would rather fade into the background than ever be noticed.
“I hope I’m not interrupting?” she asked, hesitating with one foot in my shop and one foot still out on the sidewalk. I smiled at her reassuringly and went forward, holding the door so she could come all the way in.
“No, of course not. We’re setting things up for tomorrow. You read my newsletter, I hope? Cardinal Woolsey’s has been chosen to host Teddy Lamont for a knitting class. It’s very exciting, though it does mean I’ll be closed for a couple of extra days.”
Behind me, I heard Enid Selfe still monopolizing Teddy Lamont. “Of course I’m coming to your book signing. Make sure you save a copy for me. I’m sure all the ladies will be lined up hoping for their special, personalized copy.” She said the words with a kind of arch flattery as though she was flirting with him. Teddy Lamont couldn’t be more gay if he turned up wearing rainbows and carrying a pride flag. I turned, wondering whether Enid Selfe was really that clueless. Or was she one of those people who just flirted with everybody?
Margot Dodeson followed my gaze. When she caught sight of Teddy, she put a hand to her chest and stepped back. “Oh my goodness.” I thought she was going to turn and bolt out of the store.
I said, “Don’t worry. Teddy Lamont is really very nice for a celebrity.”
She shook her head. “If only I’d known, I’d have—”
I was desperate to put this poor woman at her ease. “I hope you’re coming to his book signing tonight. He’s giving a talk, and he’s very entertaining.”
Her color fluctuated between beet and snow. “A book signing. Oh, my. I hadn’t thought—”
Behind me, Enid was telling Teddy how she’d taken his pattern for a Fair Isle sweater and made a few adjustments to the design. She sounded like one of those home cooks who review a recipe online and then describe how they’ve substituted every ingredient in the recipe for something else and how wonderfully it turned out, as though implying their cooking is better than the chef who put the recipe in the magazine in the first place.
Then she said, “We must swap phone numbers so you can text me if there are any changes to the schedule.” She batted her lashes at him. “Or if you need anything.”
She had her phone out and was looking at him expectantly. I saw him hesitate but his phone was sticking out of his pocket. Maybe he didn’t want to alienate such an eager student before class even started. With some reluctance, he got out his phone and Enid texted him her number, then waited until he replied. She beamed. “That’s lovely. And remember, you can call me anytime. Day or night.”
Teddy must’ve made some sort of signal to Douglas, for suddenly the large man appeared at his side, and very deftly, as though transferring a knitting project from one hand to the other, Teddy passed Enid Selfe over to his friend and manager. I heard Douglas’s deep booming voice ask Mrs. Selfe how she had come to be chosen as one of Teddy’s students. She glanced wistfully after Teddy as he scampered away, rather like a rabbit escaping from a hunter. However, she seemed quite happy to talk about herself.
Teddy, meanwhile, made his way right over to us. He held out his hands to Margot and gave her his charming smile. “Are you another one of my students?”
She blushed back to bee
t. “Oh no. I only came because I ran out of wool for a sweater I’m knitting, and I knew that Lucy’s shop would close for a few days.”
He was still holding her hands. Now he brought them to his chest, against his heart. “My fault. Completely my fault. Now what can I do to make it up to you, since your favorite store is closed and all because of me?”
She blushed again and giggled. “No. It’s not your fault. We’re all very excited that Lucy’s shop was chosen for the show.”
“I tell you what. You come to the book signing tonight. I’ll have something special for you. I can’t tell you what it is. It’s a surprise. Especially for you. What’s your name?”
She told him, in a voice barely above a whisper, as though even to say her name aloud was being pushy.
Still holding her hand to his heart, he said, “Now, don’t let me down. Promise? I’ll be watching for you. And I will have a special surprise.”
She nodded, and it was a little like a music fan finding out their favorite rock star had promised to write them a song. With a quick glance at Enid, who was still monopolizing his partner, Teddy whispered to me that he’d meet Douglas back at the hotel and quietly left the shop.
Enid was now saying, “I really needed this class. I’ve been so down. I’m getting divorced, you know.”
“I’m very sorry,” Douglas muttered politely.
Enid Selfe sighed, a loud, pathetic sound. “You’d think I’d learn, but I’m too trusting, you see. Men take advantage and then leave me brokenhearted and alone, after I’ve given them everything.” She put a hand to his wrist and said, “And I do mean everything.”
“This isn’t your first divorce, then?” he asked, very much a man from California.
“Sadly, no. This will be my third.”
He made a noncommittal sound and began to look longingly toward the door where Teddy had disappeared.