A text message appeared on the phone attached to the dashboard. “The basketball hoop is schedule to be delivered tomorrow afternoon.”
Harper’s hazel eyes were shimmering with excitement. “Can I call Jabari and tell him to come over tomorrow?”
“Not yet,” Sutton cautioned. “I want to see your skills before we invite someone else to join us.”
“No problem, Mr. Reed.” Harper opened his door. “I’ll see you later.”
Sutton watched Harper walk in the direction of his house. The first day of his alternating walking and jogging around the track at the high school, Harper was barely able to clock two miles, and Sutton reassured him that after a while he would build up enough stamina to increase the distance. And he reminded him if he wanted to make the basketball team, then not only would he have to run the length of the court while dribbling, but also accurately shoot while in motion to make the basket.
He exited the Jeep and went into the rental, removed the pedometer strapped to his upper arm and headed for the bathroom. The hoop was scheduled to arrive the next day, which meant he had to buy a pump and several basketballs.
* * *
Zoey left a sticky note on the kitchen countertop telling Harper she would be out of the house for a while before carrying the last of four boxes filled with clothes Harper and Kyle no longer wore or fit to the minivan to transport them to the local church. Harper was at least two inches taller than his older brother, and still growing, which meant he couldn’t wear Kyle’s hand-me-downs. She’d washed, dried and placed them in labeled boxes with their contents for the church’s outreach program. Volunteers had advertised they needed gently used tees, jeans, sweaters, jackets, coats and hoodies that would be distributed to needy families before the onset of the new school year.
Her plan included dropping off the boxes, stopping by A Stitch at a Time to talk to Georgina about her knitting project, and then going to Powell’s to pick up her online order. She’d managed to get Harper to sit with her as they researched the department store’s website to select what he wanted to wear. In the past she would take her brothers to the store and spend what had felt like hours going through racks of shirts, pants and jackets and then sitting outside the fitting rooms while they tried them on.
Powell’s, like many brick-and-mortar stores, had a website for consumers to order online for shipping or a local pickup. Harper had selected jeans, hoodies and short-and long-sleeved tees. The store also had a special section dedicated to the local school’s sports paraphernalia.
It had only been days, but Zoey had noticed a marked change in Harper’s personality since he’d begun running with Sutton. He came home in time to eat dinner with her and didn’t ask to go out again. She didn’t have to remind him to pick up his clothes or not eat in his bedroom, and she knew his interacting with Sutton was responsible for the overt change in her brother’s behavior. Harper had to have realized he’d been given a pass once Sutton let him off for attempting to steal his vehicle and sought to make amends by adhering to the conditions Sutton had imposed.
She thought of Sutton’s moving in next door as a blessing and a curse. A blessing because of his impact with the changes in her brother and a curse because of the increase in activity along their street. And most of the motorists were women hoping to catch a glimpse of Sutton going into or leaving his house. A few of the bolder ones sat in their vehicles with their engines idling until someone called the sheriff’s department to complain about suspicious people lurking on their block. A deputy did follow up on the complaint and cautioned those who did not live on Marshall Street not to loiter there.
Zoey would watch Sutton’s reaction to women screaming they want to marry him, but at no time did he appear affected by the attention. He would smile and wave, and if approached by a child he would autograph a shirt or scrap of paper. He had been touted as one of baseball’s nice guys and it was apparent he hadn’t changed even after he’d retired from the game.
She started up the minivan, backed out of the driveway and groaned inwardly when she heard a rattling coming from under the hood. She made a mental note to call Austen & Sons Auto for an appointment to check out the vehicle while she was still on vacation.
Zoey had made it a practice to save a portion of her salary to add to her nursing school tuition and what she called her rainy day fund, and it appeared as if she would have to dip into it to make repairs on the minivan or use it as a down payment for a low-mileage used car. Over the years she’d become astute in budgeting her income.
She’d used the death benefits from her father’s and Charmaine’s life insurance to pay off the mortgage on the house, and subsequently sold her father’s tractor trailer and deposited the money into the account for her nursing school tuition. She no longer received survivor’s benefits for Kyle, and once Harper turned eighteen his benefits would also end.
However, thanks to the generosity of the residents of Wickham Falls and some from Mineral Springs, Harper would not have to apply for financial aid to attend college. Kyle’s decision to forfeit his half of the college fund because he would use the military’s education benefit afforded Harper more options when it came to choosing an institution of higher learning. Zoey was slightly surprised once her youngest brother announced that he did not want to attend an out-of-state school, but commute to and from classes. She had come to believe the older Harper became the more he reminded her of Charmaine. Not only had he inherited his late mother’s complexion, curly hair and eye color, but he was also a homebody. When he wasn’t hanging out with Jabari, he could always be found at home. The exception had been when he’d gone to Mineral Springs to drink beer, and she hoped that was behind him.
She made it to the church and rang the bell to the outreach office. One of the workers answered the door and unloaded the boxes from the van’s cargo area, thanking her profusely for the donation. Her next stop was the needlecraft shop before she went to Powell’s to pick up her online purchase.
Chapter Seven
A bell chimed as Zoey opened the door to A Stitch at a Time and she stopped short to stare at an entire wall of yarn and threads of every conceivable color ranging from snow white to jet-black stored in plexiglass compartments. She smiled when she saw a table with knitted and crocheted monkeys, rabbits, chicks and ducks. There was also a display with babies’ and older children’s hats, sweaters, blankets and booties in soft pastels. Two women, sitting on matching armchairs, barely glanced up from their knitting when she walked in. There were three more chatting quietly as they sat around a glass-topped table.
Georgina, who’d been helping a woman piecing a quilt, held up a finger, signaling she needed a moment, giving Zoey time to further examine the space with cushioned chairs, love seats, area rugs and framed prints that invited one to come and sit for hours. When asked if she knitted, Zoey had been truthful when she’d admitted just a little. However, her curiosity was piqued when Georgina mentioned cancer patients.
She moved closer to examine several quilts on stands with Please Do Not Touch placards on a table fronting what appeared to be antiques. Some of the threads were missing and the colors on many of the squares had faded.
“Those were made by my great-great-great-grandmothers, some dating back to before the Civil War.”
Zoey turned and smiled at Georgina. She was dressed in black and white: black smock with white lettering of the shop’s name across the back, white jeans and black-and-white vintage saddle shoes. She had secured her curly hair in a ponytail.
“They should be hanging in a museum.”
“I’m seriously thinking about it,” Georgina replied. “They were packed away in airtight containers for years and I just took them out to put them on display for those who quilt or want to learn the art of hand quilting. A few of them need repairing, which I plan to get to sometime later in the year.” She paused. “I’ve been running off at the mouth when I need to let you k
now why I’d asked if you can knit.”
“As I said before, only a little. I know how to knit and purl.”
“That’s all you need to know. Have you heard about the new wing that’s being built at the county hospital that’s dedicated for cancer patients?”
“Yes.” Zoey was aware of the fundraiser to build the wing so cancer patients could remain close to home while receiving care.
“There’s going to be a ribbon-cutting ceremony early next year and I asked Sutton whether he would represent Wickham Falls when we donate chemo caps and scarves for the patients. And meanwhile, I’m asking all my customers that knit or crochet if they would also get involved. I’d like to sign up as many people that I can and hopefully donate dozens of caps and scarves. The patterns are for beginners, so realistically you should be able to finish at least one set. I’m selling all of the yarn at fifty percent off the adult kits, and eighty percent off for children. I know you work, so I don’t expect you to complete more than one kit.”
Zoey felt a surge of excitement at the prospect of making something essential for patients undergoing chemotherapy. “Sign me up.” Georgina flashed a smile. It had taken her a while to get used to not seeing the gap between Georgina’s teeth.
“Do you know how to cast on?”
“No,” Zoey answered. Charmaine used to cast on for her.
“I’ll show you. After you cast on and join the stitches, you’re going to be knitting in the round, which means you’ll only have to use the knit stitch for the cap. You’ll knit one row, purl one row for the scarves. We will only use acrylic yarn for the adults and baby yarn for the children.”
Zoey could not realistically predict how many caps and scarves she would make in four months, but instead of reading she would knit. “I can’t promise how many kits I can finish before the ribbon-cutting, but I’ll do my best,” she said, saying her thoughts aloud.
“Thank you so much, Zoey.”
“How many have signed on?”
“Right now, fourteen have committed. Once the teachers return from the summer recess I’m going to hit them up, too.”
“I have a few more days of vacation left before I go back to work, so when do you want me to come in and begin?” She’d called the agency to find out if they were ready to assign her another client and the scheduler said she would call a day in advance if a case came up. And that meant her two-week vacation would be extended. She’d accrued enough hours to take two weeks off, but anything beyond that would be without pay.
“I’m booked up with lessons for the rest of the week. I close Sundays and Mondays, but if you want to come in either of those two days I’ll make myself available for you.”
“I’m good for Monday morning.”
Georgina smiled again. “I was hoping you would say that. What time do you want to come in?”
“The earlier the better.” She was an early riser and tended to get her chores out of the way so she could have the rest of the day to do whatever she wanted.
“Nine.”
“Perfect. I’m going to give you one of my business cards and I’ll jot down the number to my cell. You can send me a message when you get here. I always keep the blinds drawn when I’m closed.” She removed a card from the pocket of her smock and scrawled a number on the back.
“Okay. Georgi?”
“Yes?”
“You’re doing a good thing.”
Georgina’s eyelids fluttered at the same time she bit down on her lip. “I knew I had to do something to give back because when I opened the doors to A Stitch at a Time I had no idea if folks would support me.”
Zoey realized Sutton’s cousin was becoming emotional. “Isn’t that what we do in Wickham Falls? We look out and support one another.” She thought about how everyone had come together to make certain she and her brothers would be taken care of so that the family would be able to stay together.
“You’re right about that, Zoey.”
“I’ll be here Monday morning.”
She left the shop and walked down Sheridan Street and around the corner. It was late morning and Main Street was crowded with shoppers and browsers. Families were filing into Ruthie’s, the family-style all-you-can-eat buffet restaurant, for lunch.
Zoey became one of those window-shopping as she peered into the shoe store that was doing a brisk business days before the start of school. Someone bumped her and she glanced up and recognized the boy she’d slept with in high school. He was with his wife and a toddler son, and he lowered his eyes when she stared at him. They rarely ran into each other, and when they did they acknowledged the other with a nod. After they broke up, he dated a girl from Mineral Springs and married her.
She walked down the block to Powell’s, and into the department store and over to the area for customer service/merchandise pickup. Reaching into her handbag, she took out her receipt and handed it to the young man behind the counter.
“I got an email that my order is ready for pickup.”
He studied her receipt. “I’ll check in the back for you, Miss Allen.”
“What are you doing here?” asked a familiar voice.
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Sutton smiling down at her. He was dressed entirely in black: long-sleeve tee, jeans, baseball cap and low-heeled boots. Whenever he smiled, her pulse would race a little faster, and with her limited experience with the opposite sex she hoped he did not compare her with some of the worldly, sophisticated women he’d met and known, because she could not pretend to be other than what she was: a small-town girl.
“Are you working or shopping?” He’d come to her house two days ago and they’d shared the last of the cake with coffee while sitting on her porch. She’d teased him relentlessly whenever a car came down the street, slowing noticeably in front of his rental with the hope of catching a glimpse of him.
“Shopping. Why are you here?”
“I’m picking up some things I ordered online.”
“The hoop was delivered a couple of days ago, so I’m here picking up a pump that was on back order and a few balls.”
“Do you really believe Harper will be able to make the team?”
“I won’t know, Zoey, until I see him play. He claims he can beat his friend Jabari with three-pointers. The kid may turn out to be the next coming of Steph Curry.”
“We will see, Sutton.”
He lifted his eyebrows as he gave her a skeptical look. “You doubt his skills?”
“No, because I’ve never seen him play. He and Jabari go over to the high school several days a week to shoot hoops, but if he makes the team I definitely will attend his games. After all, I have to support my brother.”
Sutton smiled. “As long as you don’t become one of those family members that act up so badly that they’re banned from future games.”
Zoey made a sucking sound with her tongue and teeth. “There’s no way I would embarrass Harper like that.” She’d seen footage of parents leaving the stands and confronting referees because they felt their child has been slighted.
“We will see, Zoey,” Sutton said, repeating what she’d said.
“Miss Allen, are you going to need help carrying this to your vehicle?”
Zoey glanced at the large box on the counter. “How heavy is it?”
“It has some weight to it.”
Sutton reached around her and scooped the box off the counter. “It’s okay, Danny. I’ll take it out to her vehicle.”
“I’m parked on Sheridan,” Zoey told Sutton as she followed him out of the store.
He hoisted the box onto one shoulder. “You never would’ve been able to carry this that far.”
She gave him a sidelong glance. Zoey wanted to tell Sutton that she was a lot stronger than she looked. “That’s sexist, Sutton.”
“Not only is this box heavy, but it’s also bulk
y.”
“FYI, I wouldn’t have carried it around the corner, but driven my car around to the front of the store.”
“Well, you don’t have to do that because I’m playing delivery boy for you.”
“And I thank you,” she countered, not wanting to appear ungrateful for his assistance. She opened the rear of the minivan and stood aside as Sutton stored the carton in the cargo area behind the rear seats. The tinted rear and back windows concealed the vehicle’s contents.
“Where are you off to now?” Sutton asked.
“Home.”
“Have you had lunch?”
“No.”
“Neither have I. Would you mind eating lunch with me?”
“My place or yours?”
“Neither,” he said. “I was thinking more along the lines of a picnic lunch. I can call the Wolf Den for a take-out order and then we can go over to The Clearing to eat.”
Going to what locals called The Clearing was like going back in time for Zoey. A forested area overlooking the falls that had given the town its name had been cleared of trees, the trunks fashioned into picnic tables and benches, as a campsite for family gatherings. There were grills for outdoor cooking and designated receptacles for discarded food and charcoal.
It was where kids from the high school hung out during the summer months, after classes and on weekends, and because the town did not have a fast-food restaurant, they’d ordered food from the Wolf Den for their impromptu picnics. The owners of the restaurant/sports bar had a special half-price menu for students with accompanying ID. The Clearing was also closely and regularly monitored by the sheriff’s office to make certain there was no evidence of underage drinking and drug use.
A smile parted her lips. “I can’t remember the last time I’d hung out at The Clearing.”
A Winning Season Page 9