The Sweetgum Ladies Knit for Love

by Beth Pattillo

  “I won’t stay up much longer,” Hannah replied.

  “All right then. Good night.” Eugenie wondered if she should pat the child or show some sort of affection, but she’d never been particularly demonstrative. She settled for smiling at her. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Eugenie left the kitchen and headed for her bedroom. Perhaps she wasn’t the most natural parent God had ever made, but surely she was an improvement over Hannah’s mother, whose neglect would have an impact on the girl for years to come.

  “Finally,” Paul mumbled when Eugenie slipped into bed beside him. He drew her close to his side, and with a snort, settled back into slumber. Eugenie put her head on his shoulder, rested her hand on his chest, and exhaled pure happiness.

  Given time, Hannah would find her way. Given time, anything was possible, even winning over the Hazel Emersons of the world. She knew it as surely as she could feel Paul’s arms around her.

  Maria reached for the vase on the mantelpiece and carried it to Daphne, who sat on the sofa, carefully wrapping breakables in newspaper before placing them in the box at her feet. Their mother had retreated to her bedroom to sob in private, and the house had regained its Sunday afternoon peace. Fall sunshine streamed through the living room windows as Maria and Daphne continued to cull through, pack, and grieve the family keepsakes.

  “Couldn’t we rent even a small storage space?” Daphne asked, her voice low.

  Maria shook her head. Her resolve had to be firm or else she would crumble entirely. “We can’t afford it.”

  “It can’t be more than a hundred dollars a month,” Daphne said, but her feeble protest wasn’t meant to sway Maria so much as express her grief.

  “I’m sorry—”

  “It’s not your fault.” Daphne sighed and let the vase rest in her lap. “Why didn’t Daddy tell us the truth?”

  Maria shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  She’d broken the news of the farm’s sale at dinner the night before. Daphne had sat quietly tears sliding down her cheeks. Daphne had managed the farm all these years under their father’s direction. Their mother shrieked in hysterics until they convinced her to take a Xanax. Stephanie wanted to know if it meant she would have to share a room with one of her sisters when they moved to the small living quarters above the five-and-dime. Maria had soothed, reassured, and gritted her teeth. And then she’d told them that packing would begin the next morning. They had less than a week to vacate the house and turn over the keys.

  The sound of tires crunching on the gravel drive outside caught both sisters’ attention.

  “Who is it?” Daphne asked. She was hemmed in on the couch by piles of books, pictures, and their mother’s bric-a-brac.

  Maria crossed to the window and peeked out. An unfamiliar black Mercedes had pulled up in front of the house. “I have no idea.” Two men emerged from the car, and Maria’s stomach knotted. “It’s them.”

  “Who them?” Daphne moved objects aside so she could escape the couch and join her sister at the window.

  “James Delevan and Evan Baxter.”

  “The men from the potluck?”

  Maria turned to look at Daphne. “The new owner. And his henchman.”

  “Which is which?” Despite her distress, Daphne managed a small teasing smile.

  “James is the henchman. Or lawyer, whichever you prefer.”

  Daphne reached out and rubbed her sisters shoulder. “You can’t hold it against them, you know. It’s business.”

  Maria twisted her mouth in a way that resembled a smile without actually being one. “You’re entirely too nice.”

  “Well, one of us has to be.” Daphne’s teasing laugh soothed Maria’s irritation.

  “Then you should answer the door,” Maria said. “See what they want. They can’t chuck us out until the end of the week.”

  “Maria—” The firm knock on the door interrupted whatever Daphne was about to say. “Never mind. I’ll get it.”

  Maria looked around for something to be doing when the men entered the room. She grabbed a feather duster and applied it vigorously to the empty built-in shelves on one side of the fireplace. That was certainly something she knew how to do after all those years trapped in the five-and-dime.

  Male voices rumbled in the foyer, and then Daphne entered the room with James and Evan in tow.

  “Hello, Maria,” Evan said in his usual good-natured manner. “I was apologizing to your sister for the intrusion.” If he’d had a hat with him, it would have been in his hands. His gentle smile and self-deprecating manner were meant to ease the awkwardness of the situation. “James and I need to walk the property again, if it wouldn’t be a problem.”

  Maria knew the real estate agent had shown them around more than once, along with a bevy of surveyors, but she hadn’t been there to see them striding over every inch of her beloved farm, plotting to put up high-end lake cottages and a new marina and retail space. She’d made certain her mother and sister had been away from home during those times too. Now, though, there was no more need for secrecy. The deed was done.

  Of course. “We’re just packing,” she added inanely, but it was all James Delevan’s fault. Much as she tried to hide it, his presence discomposed her.

  “Are you still staying at Sugar Hill?” Daphne asked with more politeness than Maria could muster.

  “Off and on,” Evan answered with a smile. “We’re back and forth between here and Memphis.”

  James glanced at his watch. “We won’t keep you—”

  “Maria! Daphne! You didn’t tell me we had guests.”

  Althea Munden swept into the room on a cloud of White Linen, and Maria suppressed a groan. “I thought you were resting, Mom.”

  “Not any longer.” She smiled, but her fading southern charm, like her lipstick, was fuzzy around the edges. “Maria, aren’t you going to introduce me?”

  “Of course.” She took a deep breath. “Mom, this is James Delevan and Evan Baxter. Evan is the new owner of the farm.” Per her promise, she hadn’t told her mother and sisters about the plans for development. The loss of their home was enough grief to deal with right now As was the sudden darkening of her mother’s face.

  “Are you here to throw us out?” she snapped at the unsuspecting Evan. “Maria told me we had until the end of the week to pack.”

  Evan’s expression clouded. “No ma’am. I mean, yes, you have until the end of the week, of course, and we would never dream of hurrying you.”

  Maria winced. That was exactly the wrong thing to say to her mother. She would wrangle every extra moment she could before surrendering possession of the house.

  “They need to look the land over again,” Maria said to cut the conversation short. She turned back to the men. “We won’t keep you, of course.”

  But even as she said the words, she saw how Evan was looking at Daphne, as if he’d just hit the state lottery jackpot and been presented with a platter of prime rib. Maria hesitated, which turned out to be a mistake. Her mother had seen the expression on Evan’s face as clearly as Maria had.

  “Daphne? Why don’t you show Evan whatever he needs to see?” Her mother turned to James. “And I’m sure Maria would be happy to escort you around. Have you seen her greenhouse? It’s her pride and joy.”

  Maria couldn’t fight the flush that rose in her cheeks. “Mom—”

  “That would be great,” Evan said before Maria could finish her protest. He turned to Daphne. “Do you have time?”

  One look at her sister, her face shining as brightly as Evan’s, and Maria knew she would have to tough it out and endure a half hour of James Delevan’s company.

  “Maria?” Daphne asked, looking to her for agreement.

  “Yes, we have time.” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from sighing in resignation before she turned to James. “If you want to follow me—”

  She couldn’t even finish the sentence, instead moving past him to the front door. She half expected him to refuse
to go with her, but he surprised her by following close on her heels.

  Although it was only mid-October, the leaves had already turned to brilliant orange and yellow. A bright blue sky, dotted with puffy white clouds, completed the perfect autumn picture. Maria almost resented the beautiful weather, its contrast to her turmoil was so great. Thunderstorms and lightning would have suited her mood much better.

  She led James around the side of the house and past the kitchen garden to the greenhouse, happy for Daphne to bask in the glow of Evan’s admiration but frustrated at being forced into James’s company. And seriously put out about having to show him something as precious to her as the greenhouse.

  “The agent didn’t have the key when we were here before,” James said as they approached the low-slung glass building.

  “I must have forgotten to give it to her,” Maria said, although that wasn’t exactly the truth. The agent hadn’t asked for it, and Maria hadn’t reminded her.

  She produced a set of keys from her pocket, opened the door, and gestured for James to precede her. “Be my guest.”

  He quirked an eyebrow and then did as she indicated. Maria hesitated in the doorway. She didn’t want to watch his reaction. Or, more honestly, she didn’t want to be disappointed in his response to what he saw. After a deep breath, she followed him inside. He stood halfway down one of the two narrow aisles, carefully studying the rows and rows of herbs and aromatic plants.

  “Who helps you with this?” he said, turning his head to look at her.

  “Daphne, when she can.”

  He gave a long, low whistle. “Impressive. Not what I was expecting.”

  His response wasn’t what she had been expecting either. She’d thought he would murmur a few platitudes and then dismiss her work as almost everyone else had done.

  “Do you sell these to local nurseries?” he asked, his brown eyes serious. He wasn’t simply humoring her but showing actual interest.

  She shook her head. “I have a workroom in the barn for drying and mixing.”

  He reached for a roll of labels she’d left sitting on an open space between the rows of lavender and lemon verbena. “Three Sisters Botanicals?” he asked. “You make your own soaps and sell them?”

  Maria flushed. “I ordered those on a whim. I’m not really in business or anything.” She had asked her father several years ago if he would consider stocking her soaps, scrubs, and lotions in the five-and-dime. He’d all but patted her head and assured her that while her products were a nice hobby, good for Christmas presents and family use, she shouldn’t consider it a serious endeavor. Better to learn the business and follow in his footsteps at the five-and-dime.

  “What will you do with all of this when you move?” James asked. Concern showed in the lines around his eyes, and Maria turned away. The last thing she wanted—or could handle—was pity from James Delevan.

  “I’m not doing anything with it. I guess it will be carted off like everything else before the development starts.”

  An uncomfortable silence hung in the air between them. She wished she hadn’t shown him her grief, and he looked as uneasy as she felt. What was done was done, and for the right reason. No sense looking back or regretting.

  “Where will you live?” he asked, not quite meeting her gaze.

  “Above the five-and-dime.”

  “There’s enough room?”

  “Not really.” She didn’t say anything more.

  “Can I see your workroom?”

  She looked at him, surprised. “Yes.” Not what she’d been expecting at all. “It’s this way.”

  He followed her from the greenhouse, and she could feel his gaze boring into the back of her head. Well, at least she’d thrown him a curve ball. It felt good to return the favor.

  He caught up to her as they walked toward the barn, his long stride outpacing her shorter one. He held the door for her as they entered the ramshackle building. She nodded her thanks and reached for the light switch.

  “It’s through here. Watch your step.”

  The room was just inside, to the right. A corner of the barn had been partitioned off to provide her with a work area. Long planks propped on sawhorses served as workbenches. The shelves above were lined with the product of her labor, an endless stream of soap wrapped in paper, scrubs in their small jars, and pump dispensers filled with lotion.

  “You’ve got enough stock here to open your own store.”

  That had been the idea, of course, but she refused to tell James about it. “Maybe.”

  “You’ve never thought of selling these at the five-and-dime?”

  “No.” No need to elaborate. Just lie.

  “What about here at the lake? In the retail space we’re developing? Resort clientele would be ideal—”

  He was trying to be nice, but he might as well have driven a stake through her heart.

  “It will be all I can do to keep the five-and-dime afloat,” she said and then wished she hadn’t.

  He shrugged. “Just a suggestion.”

  Maria bit her lip. She didn’t need to explain herself to him, of all people, but she felt a strange compulsion to tell him the truth. That her life had never been her own and it never would be. That along with the farm, his friend Evan was buying what hope she’d had left in her dreams.

  “What did you really want to see?” she asked. Her question sounded harsher than she’d intended, but she didn’t try to soften it.

  James gave her a long look. “The shoreline, if you don’t mind walking down there with me.”

  Maria nodded. “No problem.”

  But it was a problem. Any time spent in the company of James Delevan was excruciating. Like this tour of the greenhouse and the workroom, he made her long for what she could never have.

  “This way,” she said and hurried out of the room.

  Merry arrived at the October meeting of the Sweetgum Knit Lit Society encumbered only by her purse and her knitting book. Jeff had offered to keep Hunter at home. Out of guilt, Merry suspected. She’d left a casserole in the oven and Courtney in charge of getting dinner on the table. With any luck, Jeff would have the younger ones in bed by the time she got home.

  Eugenie, as always, was already in the classroom when Merry arrived.

  “Good evening, Eugenie. How are you?”

  “Well, thank you.” Eugenie looked past Merry, as if expecting someone to appear in the doorway behind her. “Where’s the baby?”

  “Jeff’s giving me the night off”

  “That’s nice of him.”

  Merry half smiled, half grimaced. “It’s the least he can do right now.”

  “Everything all right?” Genuine concern showed in Eugenie’s eyes. Merry had confided a little about their financial straits to Eugenie without going into too much detail.

  “Jeff wants me to work full time at the law office.”

  “I thought you were already helping out.”

  “Just mornings.”

  “What will you do with Hunter?”

  Merry felt tears spring to her eyes.

  Eugenie frowned in sympathy. “I see. Big changes, hmm?”

  “I wish I could do both. Help Jeff out as much as he needs and be with Hunter.”

  “You couldn’t take the baby with you to Jeff’s office all day?”

  Merry shook her head. “Not for much longer. He’ll start crawling soon. That wouldn’t be fair to Jeff or Hunter.”

  “Or you,” Eugenie observed.

  Merry let out a small laugh. “I’m not sure I even factor into this equation.”

  Eugenie shook her head. “But you do. You’re the equal sign, trying to make both sides of the equation balance.”

  Now Merry laughed for real. “That’s exactly how I feel. As if I have to somehow find the perfect formula to make it all work.”

  More members of the Knit Lit Society appeared in the doorway, interrupting the conversation.

  “Good evening, Maria. Camille.” Merry greeted the others. Es
ther followed close behind them.

  “We’re just waiting on Hannah,” Eugenie said. She glanced at her watch.

  Merry hid a smile. Poor Eugenie, who’d never had children, taking on a teenager out of the blue. It had to be a shock to the system.

  “She’s probably with Josh Hargrove,” Camille said, her face alight with mischief. “They’ve been hanging out a lot lately. Dante says Josh has the potential to play professional ball.”

  “He’s a good kid,” Merry assured Eugenie, even as she hid her curiosity about Camille and the new football coach. The word around town was that they’d had dinner at Tallulah’s after the football game two weeks ago, but she hadn’t heard much since.

  As if on cue, Hannah came running into the room. “Sorry,” she said to Eugenie, gasping for breath as she collapsed into her chair. Eugenie looked as if she might scold her but then thought better of it.

  “Perhaps we should get started,” Eugenie said. “I know you all have a lot to say about Romeo and Juliet.”

  Merry thought the librarian was being pretty optimistic. Rather than read the play, she’d rented a performance on DVD. Shakespeare’s language never made sense to her on the page, but when an actor spoke the lines, giving them the proper inflection, she could almost get the gist of it.

  “So,” Eugenie said. “What struck you most about the play?”

  Everyone was quiet, intently focused as they unpacked their needles and yarn and began to knit.

  “Did you all read it?” Eugenie asked with quiet patience and only the slightest hint of exasperation.

  “Of course,” Esther said, “but I have to be honest, Eugenie. I’ve always thought this Romeo and Juliet business was a bunch of nonsense. Star-crossed love is a sentimental indulgence.” Esther’s face had a pinched look to it, which was hardly unexpected under the circumstances. Merry had heard through the grapevine that Frank Jackson had not left his widow in good financial shape. People in Sweetgum were polite enough not to mention it to Esther’s face but not good enough to refrain from gossiping about it.