Back on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #4)(11)
Her house sold right away and she’d obtained the job in the flower shop the next week. Fortunately, real estate in her part of Seattle moved quickly. When she heard about the apartment above the yarn store, it had seemed perfect. She was hiding from Christian, praying he wouldn’t ever look for her. What she earned at the flower shop covered her meager expenses. The insurance money she’d collected after Derek’s accident, plus the proceeds from the house, had paid off her car and given her enough to make a few sizable investments. She was financially comfortable.
Too nauseous to eat, she swallowed the rest of her tea, washed her cup and dressed for the day. Colette had a new life now, a brand-new beginning. She was doing her best to prepare for her baby, trying to eat properly and taking prenatal vitamins. She’d bought a copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting from the bookstore down the street, wishing she could have shared this whole experience with her husband. No one knew about the pregnancy yet, not even her parents. Until the authorities arrested Christian, she’d keep it to herself.
When she got to work, Susannah Nelson was already there, cataloging a shipment of fresh flowers. The scent of roses filled the shop.
“Good morning.” Susannah greeted her absently, intent on her task.
“Morning. Those smell gorgeous.”
“They do, don’t they?” Susannah looked up with a smile.
With Valentine’s Day the following week, they’d received a huge shipment of roses, in addition to the flowers that arrived every other day. Colette’s favorites were the antique roses with their intense fragrance, although they tended to be smaller and less colorful than the hybrids.
“I expect we’ll be extra busy today,” Susannah said. This was her first full year of owning Susannah’s Garden and she was learning as she went. “Oh, before I forget, there was a phone call yesterday afternoon, just after you left.”
A chill went up Colette’s spine. She’d told only a few people where she’d gone. “Who was it?”
Susannah frowned. “I don’t remember the name, but I wrote it down.” Leaving the counter where she’d been working, she walked over to the phone and sorted through a stack of pink message slips until she found the one she wanted.
“The call was from a Christian Dempsey. He said it was personal.”
Colette’s hand felt numb as she accepted the slip. She glanced at the phone number, one she knew so well, and with her heart pounding, crumpled the note and tossed it in the garbage.
CHAPTER 4
“When individual fibers are knitted together with a thread of emotion, they become an original, personal design. This creative process is my joyful obsession.”
Emily Myles, Fiber Artist. www.emyles.com
Lydia Goetz
One of the joys of owning my yarn store is the pleasure I derive from teaching people how to knit. I wish I could explain how much delight it gives me to share my love of knitting with others. I know machines can create sweaters and mittens and other things cheaper, faster and far more efficiently. That’s not the point. The projects I knit are an extension of me, an expression of my love for the person I’m knitting for. And—something else I love about knitting—when I’m working with my needles and yarn, I link myself with hundreds of thousands of women through the centuries.
I was on my lunch break, sipping a mug of soup in my office as I reviewed the names on my latest class list.
I think if I’d had a normal adolescence, I might have decided on teaching as a profession. Don’t get me wrong, owning A Good Yarn is a dream come true for me. It’s part of the woman I am now, the woman I’ve become not because of the cancer, but in spite of it. I’m proud of that.
What I especially love about my classes is getting to know my customers, some of whom are among my dearest friends. For example, in the very first beginning knitters’ class I formed three years ago, I met Jacqueline Donovan, Carol Girard and Alix Townsend. We still see each other often, and they’re as close to me as my own family. Over the last three years, I’ve taught dozens of classes, but that first one will always hold a special place in my heart.
Certain of the other classes are also special to me. Like the sock-knitting class two years ago. That’s where I met Bethanne Hamlin, Elise Beaumont and Courtney Pulanski. Bethanne is so busy with her party business these days I rarely see her, but Annie, her daughter, often stops by while she’s running errands for her mother. Her friend, Amanda Jennings, another cancer survivor, comes with her whenever she can. Bethanne and I don’t communicate regularly, but I consider her a good friend. Elise, too, although most of her time these days is spent nursing her husband, Maverick, whose cancer has taken a turn for the worse. Her tender patience brings tears to my eyes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a couple more in love. Foolishly, I assumed that kind of love was reserved for the young, but Elise and Maverick have shown me otherwise. The way they love each other is what I pray for in my marriage with Brad.
Courtney Pulanski is at college in Chicago and teaching everyone in her dorm the benefits of knitting. She keeps in touch; I also hear how she’s doing from Vera, her grandmother. After her mother’s death, Courtney’s dad took a job in South America, and Courtney went to live with her grandmother in Seattle for her senior year of high school. It wasn’t an easy transition. I’m proud of Courtney, who’s become a lovely and well-liked young woman with a strong sense of her own potential, although I have little claim to her success.