A Good Yarn (Blossom Street #2)(99)

She didn’t think she’d ever been happier in her life.

CHAPTER 44

“When in doubt, grab a ball of yarn and Get Creative!”

—Sasha Kagan, Sasha Kagan Knitwear.

LYDIA HOFFMAN

It was more than a week since I’d seen Brad. My anger had cooled and I wished I could take back some of what I’d said. I hoped he felt the same way. Tuesday morning when I removed the Closed sign from my door, I took the opportunity to glance up and down the street. It was too early to see Brad’s UPS truck, but I was hopeful nonetheless. I hadn’t figured out what I’d say, but I knew I’d be far less emotional than last week at Green Lake.

It had been an incredible few days. Friday afternoon, Courtney came by to introduce me to her older sister. They had a fantastic story about a fairy godfather who’d stepped in to ensure that her date for Homecoming would be as perfect as it could possibly be. I couldn’t imagine who’d do anything like that. I think Courtney somehow expected me to know, but I didn’t.

On Saturday it was Bethanne who arrived with an equally fantastic story of a mysterious benefactor who’d given her the money she needed, no strings attached. A gift, not a loan. The only stipulation was that she help someone else if she was ever in a position to do so.

Exuberant, she dashed across the street with a business idea that involved Alix—a contract to provide birthday cakes and other desserts for the various events Bethanne arranged.

I was thrilled for both Bethanne and Courtney. If this fairy godfather had any extra fairy dust available, I could use some myself—not that I expected any magic in my life.

The bell chimed, and Margaret walked in promptly at ten. “Good morning,” she said cheerfully.

“Morning,” I responded. I thought of asking her about her good mood but hesitated, wondering if she’d volunteer the information herself. Often it’s still difficult to know how best to approach my sister.

“It looks like you had a good weekend,” I finally ventured, somewhat cautiously.

“We sure did.” She was practically skipping as she entered the store. I trailed behind her to the office.

“Did you do anything fun?” I asked. I was thinking maybe dinner out or a movie.

“Better than anything you can imagine!” She gave me a huge smile. Not a typical Margaret smile, either, which often seemed more of a grimace, but a wide, unstinting smile that changed her whole face.

“Oh?” I said, dying of curiosity.

She opened her purse and removed an envelope, which she handed me with a dramatic flourish.

“What’s this?”

“Open it and see.”

I’ll admit I was eager enough to tear it open. Inside was a card and a check. I noticed the amount and gasped—it was for the entire bank loan of ten thousand dollars. The card was a thank-you note written to me by my brother-in-law and signed by both Margaret and Matt.

“What…how—” I stammered, hardly able to form a question.

“Matt has a wonderful new job.”

My guess was that this new job had nothing to do with painting houses. “The money…”

“A signing bonus.”

“But…”

“We talked it over, Matt and I, when you first gave us the money. Matt was so touched that you’d do this for us. I can’t even begin to tell you what a difference it made to be able to keep the house. We—we’ve never gotten this far behind, and it was a blow to both of us. We’re terribly grateful for what you did, but we always felt the money had to be a loan.”

“But…” I couldn’t seem to get out more than one word at a time—and it takes a lot to leave me speechless.

“The truly astounding part is that Matt hadn’t even applied with this particular engineering firm. Their Human Resources department contacted him on Thursday and asked him to submit an application immediately, which he did. They didn’t have it longer than a day before he heard back and the negotiations began.”

“That’s marvelous!”

“It is—more than you know. I’ve hardly ever seen Matt so excited. He was like a little kid when he got the news. He started work yesterday. I wanted to say something on Friday, but we decided to wait until everything was in place—and we could give you this.” She pointed to the check.

“Margaret,” I said, hugging my sister. “Are you sure? I mean, there must be a hundred things you need. Keep the money, repay me when you can.”

“No,” she returned sternly. “This is yours, and neither Matt nor I will hear of anything else.”

“Wow,” I whispered, “the fairy dust is flying all over the place.” I don’t think my sister realized what a turning point that loan was for me, in more ways than one. Perhaps for the first time since I became an adult, I’d truly stepped outside myself. I know that sounds odd, but it has to do with the rather insular life I’d lived for so many years. What I mean is, when I was a teenager and in my twenties, my whole life revolved around my sickness and consequently around me. Not until I opened the shop on Blossom Street did I begin to understand how self-absorbed I’d become.

This had been an especially difficult summer for me as I learned to consider needs and concerns other than my own. It was a financial stretch to help Margaret and Matt, but I badly wanted to give back to my sister and her family for all the sacrifices they’d made on my behalf.