Starting Now (Blossom Street #9)(10)

“Would you like to knit one?” Casey asked.

The question took Libby by surprise. “I … I don’t know. It’s been a long time since I last knitted.”

“It won’t take you long to relearn.”

Libby was amused by the girl’s enthusiasm.

“You should do it,” Casey said and then returned to her friend.

“Maybe I will.”

Libby made her way up to the front of the store, where the owner was busy helping another customer. She walked over to the display window and gently pet the cat, who purred and then stretched his front legs out in front of him, yawning. Giving the shop one last look, Libby reached the door and stepped outside. It was warm and getting warmer.

Then, thinking Robin might back out of joining the gym, she grabbed her phone to send her friend a text. Only she’d need to be subtle. Grinning, Libby typed out FAT and pushed the “send” button.

Not a minute later Robin returned her text with FAT. FAT. FAT.

Libby laughed and sent her fingers flying. FATTER.

Seconds later Robin returned with FATTEST.

It wasn’t until Libby looked up that she noticed the flower shop next door to the yarn store. It was called Susannah’s Garden. Buckets of freshly cut flowers lined the sidewalk. On impulse Libby bought a mixed bouquet of white and yellow daisies and laughed for no reason other than that the silly exchange with Robin had greatly lifted her mood. She carried the daisies back to her condo and to her dismay realized she didn’t own a vase.

After cutting the stems, she placed the flowers in two tall water glasses. She set one on her desk next to the plant she was nursing back to health and the other in the middle of her kitchen table. It surprised her how much the afternoon out had lightened her mood.

Until recently her home had been little more than an office away from her office. The sofa could use some throw pillows, and most of her walls remained bare. How sterile the condo looked. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to brighten the place up a bit. She could buy a painting or two. That was a start. Looking through magazines for ideas might help, too.

She stopped in the middle of her living room and her pulse accelerated. This was the first time that she’d returned home without immediately rushing to check her messages. When she saw the red light flashing, her heart started to pound hard and fast. It could be a request for a job interview.

Pushing the button, she discovered it was Robin. “All right, all right. I got your message. I’ll be there Monday at six-fifteen. Seeing as how you’re the one who talked me into this, I expect you to be there, too. And,” she added, “I am fatter than you and that’s the end of it.”

Libby grinned. Well, at least now she’d have a friend to work out with.

Libby slept better that night than she had in weeks. She wasn’t sure why, other than the lunch with Robin and the visit to the yarn store.

The yarn store … something about the place had deeply affected her. Libby realized what it was. She had felt closer to her mother while in the store. As soon as she’d entered the shop she’d experienced a sense of comfort. The ugly negative voices she struggled to keep at bay had faded to a mere whisper.

Friday morning, after her visit to the gym, she followed her usual routine, surfing the Internet seeking job information. Then she called Sarah to check in. The firm had laid off five more staff and Sarah felt fortunate to still have a job. When Libby inquired about the others, she learned that two of her colleagues had been picked up by other firms. Her self-esteem took an immediate nosedive into a deep, dark pit of doubt.

Frankly she couldn’t understand why the others had gotten jobs and she hadn’t. No one worked harder or longer hours than Libby. No one. She was an asset. Okay, fine, she hadn’t brought in any major clients. That wasn’t her gift; she was still a hard worker—her billable hours proved as much.

At ten, Libby showered and dressed. She planned to return to the yarn store and purchase yarn if Lydia had time to reacquaint her with the basics. It wouldn’t take long. She figured she’d pick up on the knit and purl stitches without much effort; it was casting on and off that she’d forgotten. Having a goal, a purpose to help fill the time between interviews and job searches, appealed to her. She could knit.

When Libby arrived at A Good Yarn, the cat was warming himself in the window. Apparently he was something of a fixture in the store. She walked in and was surprised to find that Lydia wasn’t there.

“Can I help you?” The woman who greeted her looked busy and wasn’t nearly as welcoming or as friendly as Lydia.

“I was here yesterday,” Libby explained. “I met Lydia and Casey and another girl. I think her name was Ava.”

The other woman stared at her and didn’t offer a return comment.

“Lydia offered to help me relearn knitting.”

“My sister is a good teacher.”

“Lydia’s your sister?” Although both had the same dark brown hair and eyes, they were about as different as any two women could be. In addition to the obvious differences in personality, Lydia was tiny and delicate and her sister was large and big boned.

“I’m Margaret, and I get that quite a bit.”

“Get what?”

“That look of surprise when people find out Lydia and I are related. She had cancer as a kid and I think it stunted her growth.”