But first, she called the shop’s office supply vendor to order more paper.
“Are you sure you need that many reams?” their rep, Gordon Richards, said. “I’m pretty sure that’s more than you’ve ever ordered since Mary Beth opened the store.”
Kate sighed, knowing she’d have to once again explain the club project.
She could hear him rustling papers around. “It’s OK if you do,” he said, “but it’s my job to make sure our customers get what they need and that we don’t have to deal with restocking unneeded product.”
Kate sighed again and then said, “I appreciate that, Gordon. And yes, we need it. And yes, we don’t typically use this much paper in a year.” She proceeded to explain the project to him, ending with, “and we probably need more toner too.”
“I’ll bet you do,” he chuckled. “Tell you what. Let me check with my boss and see if there’s anything on special we can get you. Like I said, sometimes we have to restock unneeded product, and he might be able to make you a deal.”
“That would be great,” she said. “As long as it isn’t a hideous color or something.”
Gordon laughed. “I promise. No hideous colors. Give me a couple hours, and I’ll call you back.”
Kate conveyed her appreciation and hung up.
She then called several other suppliers to order more yarn and patterns. They all assured her she could expect delivery by the end of the following week. Thankfully, none of them asked why she needed so much, so she didn’t have to explain the project yet again.
She saved her favorite sales rep, Jenn Gracie, for last.
“Hi, Jenn, it’s Kate Stevens,” she said.
“Kate! How are you?” Jenn said. “What can I help you with?”
“Well,” Kate began, and she proceeded to explain the project, actually happy this time to do so. She wished Jenn lived closer; they had immediately hit it off and had such fun during the few times Jenn had visited to show them new products.
“Wow, Kate, that’s awesome! I know I’ve said this before, but you totally are my favorite customer.”
“Aw shucks,” Kate said. “And you totally are my favorite sales rep.”
“Oh, stop,” Jenn replied, laughing. “I mean, do go on!” Kate imagined Jenn’s long red hair tied up in a disheveled bun as she walked around her messy office to pull out catalogs. She’d never actually seen Jenn’s office, but she had seen Jenn and her mussed-up hair and her messy car, so she figured her office looked similar. By the end of the conversation, the order had been placed, and Kate felt like singing.
She’d just hung up the phone when it rang.
“A Stitch in Time, this is Kate, how can I help you?”
“Kate, it’s Gordon.”
“That was quick! Thanks for calling me back.”
“No problem,” he replied. “Listen, I told my boss about your project, and apparently we’ve got ten cases of colored paper—none of them hideous—that we can give you.”
“Give—” Kate started to say, but he kept talking.
“You don’t happen to have nonprofit status, do you?” he asked. “It’s no big deal if you don’t, but it sure would help us out if you do, since this will be a pretty substantial donation.”
“Uh, well, no, the store isn’t nonprofit, but the Stony Point Community Church is, and we’re working with the church on this project. You could donate the paper to the church and get the tax write-off that way. I’m sure Reverend Wallace would be thrilled!”
“Wonderful. Be on the lookout; we’ll ship them out as soon as we can, along with some toner. Have a great day.”
Kate sat there, stunned, as Mary Beth came in.
“You will never believe this,” Kate said, “but Gordon Richards’s company is going to donate ten cases of paper to us to help promote Blanket Haiti.”
Mary Beth’s eyes got big. “Really? Ten cases! That’s what—a hundred reams of paper? Wow! Where will we put it all?”
“Well, technically they’re going to donate it to the church for the tax write-off, so we’ll just use what we need to print the flyers, and the church will take the rest. But still …!”
The two couldn’t help it; they jumped up and down and squealed like teenagers.
****
“Mom? Mom?!” Vanessa called as she ran into A Stitch in Time that day after school. The bell almost fell off with the force of her shove, and it continued to ding frantically for a few seconds after the door had closed.
“Mother! Where are you? Mom!” she hollered again.
Kate emerged from the back room, wiping her hands on a paper towel. She was surprised when her daughter barreled into her and gave her a big hug, coat, backpack, and all.
“Guess what?” Before Kate could even say “wha—,” her daughter stepped back and continued, the words spilling over each other in a frantic effort to get out. “Mackenzie and I got an A on our project! And Mrs. Petersen had everyone get up in front of the class and explain their project, and then everyone in class voted on the best idea. And ours got the most votes! And a bunch of the girls—you remember Taylor and Lily, right? Well, they want to help, and so do Holly and Hannah and Avalee and Danielle, oh, and Tessa! Anyway, we all want to have our own teen Hook and Needle Club, but meet after school, of course, and all make at least one blanket, and I told them you and Miss Brock would be more than happy to let us meet here and that you would teach crochet or knitting. And then I realized that maybe I shouldn’t have said that, like maybe it wouldn’t be OK, so I ran over right after school to ask. But if it’s OK, I’m supposed to find out what day we could have our meetings. We think Tuesdays, ’cause most of us have clubs and band practice and stuff that meet on the other days. And you guys have your regular Hook and Needle Club meeting that day too. But if it won’t work, that would be cool too. You just have to tell me so I can let all the girls know.”
When Vanessa finally stopped talking, Kate was surprised her daughter didn’t have to bend over and grasp her knees to catch her breath, like runners do at the end of a race. She felt unsure how to respond—so much information had been thrown at her, and she couldn’t quite remember the question. Plus, it would be her boss’s decision, not hers. Just then Mary Beth came in the front door.
“Hey Kate! Oh, hi Vanessa,” she said, unwinding her extra-long multicolored scarf from her neck, removing her matching hat, and pulling off her gloves. She then took off her favorite winter coat—a raggedy old peacoat that had belonged to her grandfather, complete with navy insignia and a patch with his last name—and hung it on the rack. “What’s going on?”
“You just missed a speech of epic proportions from Vanessa—”
“Mom!” her daughter interjected.
Ignoring that, Kate continued, “—which I can summarize in about two seconds. I gather that a bunch of girls in her class want to launch a teen chapter of the Hook and Needle Club to help with Blanket Haiti, and they would like to meet here on Tuesday afternoons after school and get our help with crocheting and knitting. If it’s all right with you.”
Vanessa stood beside her mom, her face aglow with excitement.
She’s so much like her mother, Mary Beth thought. Same enthusiasm, same brightness of spirit.
She pulled Vanessa into a hug and then walked over to the small display of Monster brand crochet hooks and knitting needles from indie crafter Yarn Rescue. Vanessa had been eyeing one particular hook ever since it had arrived. Mary Beth had discovered the artist online and loved her hand-spun yarns and whimsical one-of-a-kind needles with cute faces made out of hand-sculpted polymer clay. Yarn Rescue was a one-woman operation, and she didn’t make the Monsters very often, so each item in stock was extra-special.
Mary Beth picked up a hook with a pink head, spiky purple hair, and one big blue eye—she was glad that no one had purchased it—and walked back over to Vanessa.
“I dub thee ‘Queen Boss’ of the Teen Chapter of the Hook and Needle Club,” Mary Beth said solemnly, touching the
girl’s shoulders with the hook like the old kings would do when knighting someone. Of course, she didn’t plan on conducting all the rituals and vigils involved in a true knighting ceremony, and her black leggings and pink sweater hardly counted as special vestures, but her intent was the same. Mary Beth placed the hook in both of Vanessa’s hands and bowed to her.
The girl bowed back, clutching the hook, and said, “Thank you.” She looked at the two of them and then said, “So, does that mean yes? We can meet here on Tuesdays after school?”
“Of course, sweetie,” Mary Beth said.
Vanessa squealed, jumped up and hugged Kate, and then pulled out her cellphone to call Mackenzie.
****
On the way home after the shop closed, Kate stopped at Sal’s and picked up baked ziti and meatballs and an order of his divine garlic cheese bread.
Vanessa didn’t even complain that she had to hold the boxes and bags on her lap as she sat in the front passenger seat of the car, or that it wasn’t a pizza.
“Mom, this smells soooo good,” she said, “and it feels great on my legs.”
“I thought we could use a little treat to celebrate your A and your new status of Queen Boss,” Kate responded with a little laugh. “Plus, there’s nothing like a whole lot of calories to make a girl feel really good about herself.”
“I know! And I can’t believe Mary Beth gave me this hook,” she said. She’d put the hook in her shirt pocket with just the head sticking out. “I love it, love it, love it!”
“That was sweet of her,” Kate responded, glancing over at her daughter. On days like today she could hardly believe that she had birthed the almost-woman sitting next to her. It made her heart clench a little, seeing a part of herself walk and talk and have opinions and do such good things in the world.
“Can we watch a movie while we eat? I wouldn’t mind seeing The Princess Bride again.”
Kate smiled. Normally the answer would be no. She didn’t allow eating in the living room, and she refused to have a TV in the kitchen; she wanted them to eat at the table like civilized people. But The Princess Bride was one of her favorite movies of all time. And they were celebrating.
“Just this once,” she answered. She pulled the car into the garage, and they got out and began ferrying the food and all their bags into the kitchen. The phone rang as Vanessa set the last item on the counter. Kate grabbed the handset and managed a nearly-out-of-breath “Hello?”
“Kate. You haven’t gotten back to me. So—can I have Scooter tomorrow or what?”
She stifled a groan. Harry. She had actually called him a few times during the week, but had deliberately done so when she felt pretty sure he wouldn’t be at home.
She took a deep breath and then said, “I actually tried to call you a few times, but I guess your answering machine isn’t working.”
“Oh, yeah. It isn’t. I need to replace that thing. But … whatever. Is Scooter available?”
“I just walked in the door. Can you give me a minute? I’ll call you right back.”
“Sure. But if you don’t, I’ll call you right back,” he said, hanging up the phone.
She put down the handset, gripped the side of the counter, and took another fortifying breath.
“Dad?” Vanessa asked.
“Yup.”
“Wanting to see me?”
“Yup.”
Vanessa sighed as loud as her mother had, her pretty face clouded.
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
Vanessa’s face brightened. “Oh well, I can’t go then. Mackenzie, Lily, and I are going to meet tomorrow at the store to prepare for our first Teen Hook and Needle Club meeting. You know, pick out a few patterns and the right hooks and stuff, so the girls can just get started without trying to figure all that out.”
Kate blinked, once again surprised by her daughter’s foresight.
“I didn’t know you three planned to do that!”
“Yup, we worked it out today after Mary Beth gave us permission. Didn’t you hear me talking on the phone?”
“Well, yeah, but I didn’t pay any attention,” Kate replied. “Plus, you girls talk so fast I probably would have only understood one word out of three.”
“Like Mackenzie says, you obviously understand more than you pretend you do. Anyway, call Dad back before he gets irritated and tell him I already have plans. You can tell him I’m free, oh, two weekends from now.” She grinned slyly and added, “And if he remembers, I’ll have something else planned then too.”
“You are a bad, bad girl, Vanessa Rebecca Stevens,” Kate said, picking up the phone and dialing. “But you’re a girl after my very own heart.”
****
Midnight. Kate knew she should be asleep, not reading a back issue of Entertainment Weekly. But for some reason she couldn’t settle. It probably had to do with her conversation with Harry, along with the thought of her daughter growing up. She was already a strong woman, certainly stronger and smarter than Kate had been at seventeen. Soon her baby girl—who not that long ago had depended on her for absolutely everything—would be finishing high school and going to college, where she’d have to find or fix her own food, wash her own clothes, and get herself to class on time.
I’m not ready for that, Kate thought. I want her to live with me forever and ever.
The call with Harry had gone better than she expected; instead of ranting and raving about “Scooter” not being available, he’d simply said, “Cool. See her in two weeks.”
She had thoroughly enjoyed dinner with her daughter. They’d laughed and talked and recited lines along with the movie. Then together they had cleaned the dishes and put the leftovers away. It was the best night they’d had together in a while.
Even the snowstorm that had started while they’d been eating hadn’t dampened their spirits. As Kate flipped through the pages of her magazine, her eyes finally got heavy, so she set the magazine aside, sent up a prayer for the continued health and well-being of her only child, and then fell into dreamless sleep.
8
Annie could not stay still for anything on Saturday. She tried sitting in the library to work on her blanket squares—she only had four blue ones left to make, and then she needed to sew the whole thing together—but she kept worrying about what to wear on her date with Ian. Her current garb, a grubby pair of jeans and her “World’s Greatest Grandma” sweatshirt, was decidedly too casual.
The last time Ian had taken her to Sweet Nell’s she’d been severely overdressed—not that it had been her fault. Ian had hardly given her a clue about the place; he’d just told her the name. This time, she wanted to look perfect.
She also fretted about teaching him how to crochet. What size needle would be best for him to use? What color yarn would he like? What type of yarn? Maybe Ian had a wool allergy. Or an allergy to synthetic fibers. Or an allergy to the metal used to make crochet hooks. But that’s silly, she told herself. He already knows how to knit. Surely he’s not allergic to anything that has to do with yarn and crafting.
Then she wondered if she could she find a crochet pattern simple enough for him to learn. She kept jumping up, running upstairs and looking through her yarn stash, trying to pick out some for Ian to use. She worried: What if she was downright awful as a teacher? What if this was the worst idea ever?
When not looking at yarn, she’d put various combinations of outfits on her bed. Dark blue jeans and a cream sweater. Light gray slacks and the same cream sweater. How about a black turtleneck under the sweater? Or maybe the jeans and a red-and-green flannel shirt over a yellow turtleneck? What about light blue jeans and a heavy wool sweater in various shades of green? Or …?
She finally settled on a pair of jeans in a medium blue color and a green wool cardigan to wear over the red-and-green flannel shirt. She went back to her comfy chair in the library, pleased with her choice, and then she realized she hadn’t picked out shoes or jewelry.
“Drat it all!” she said aloud, setti
ng her yarn and hook back on the table once again. Boots managed the herculean effort of opening one eye, and then closed it and started snoring again. “Fine help you are, cat! I don’t know why I keep you around.”
As cats are wont to do, Boots didn’t even stir, much less respond.
The phone rang as Annie passed by the table in the hallway.
“Saved by the bell,” she muttered, picking it up and answering with a short “Hello?”
“Well, hello to you too,” Alice said. “Whatcha doing?”
“I’m trying to figure out what to wear tonight!” Annie couldn’t keep the exasperation out of her voice.
“Oh, right, your date with Ian,” Alice said. She paused and then asked. “When is he picking you up again?”
“Six.”
“Right. Six o’clock. So, if my math lessons from first grade still serve me, that means you have seven hours until he arrives. Stop fretting!”
Annie started laughing—Alice always knew how to knock her out of a sour mood. “You’re right. It’s just, I haven’t been on a date with Ian since ….”
“Since the last time?”
“Yes! Whenever that was. Seems like ages ago, even though I know it’s not. And not that I have any reason to be worried—we’re truly just friends.”
“Just friends,” Alice snorted. “You two are ‘just friends’ like Michelangelo is just a painter and Wally’s just a handyman.”
“Well—”
“Well, nothing,” Alice interrupted. “I humbly apologize for asking this when your schedule today is clearly so—what’s the word?—grueling, but would you mind coming over and helping me? I’m trying to go through some of the clothes I had in storage. I have no idea why I kept them, but since I did, I thought it would be fun to take you on a tour of ‘Alice’s date disasters’ via my clothes.”
“How can I resist such an offer? You are truly one of the world’s best friends,” Annie said. “Give me a half hour and I’ll be there.”
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