Starting Now (Blossom Street #9)(8)

“Am so. Look.” She bolted to her feet and exposed her unfastened waistband. “I’m up ten pounds. Nothing fits.”

“You are not fat,” Robin insisted. “If anyone is out of shape, it’s me. I’ve gained fifteen pounds in the last six years and can’t seem to get rid of it.”

Libby’s eyes widened and she waved her hands excitedly as she finished chewing a bite of her sandwich and swallowed. “Come to the gym with me. We’ll sweat off these excess pounds together.”

Automatically, Robin shook her head. “Like I have time to work out.”

“You need to make time.”

Robin hesitated and then shook her head again. “If you saw my caseload, you’d understand.”

“There will always be cases that need your attention. It’s time to take care of yourself. I walked to work every morning and thought I was in shape. All it took was a mile and a half on the treadmill to prove how wrong I was. Exercise is important for both your physical and your mental health. If you don’t take care of yourself no one else will.” Libby repeated the words of the sales pitch she’d gotten from Gina. It’d worked on her. Maybe it would with Robin, too.

Her friend frowned and set her soupspoon down on the table as though giving the idea serious consideration.

Libby was prepared to argue the benefits of exercise. She needed a gym buddy. Miss Universe had urged her to bring a friend, telling her it would help with motivation.

“If you’d told me six months ago I’d be spouting off the advantages of an exercise routine I would have taken your temperature,” Libby added. “But working out will do us both good, and I’ve already lost three pounds.” Libby didn’t expect Robin to take her up on her offer, but she felt she had to try.

Robin lowered her drink to the table. “You’ve lost weight? Already?”

Libby nodded. So she’d exaggerated a little, but she was down a couple of pounds. It wasn’t enough to make a difference in how her clothes fit, but every little bit helped. What she didn’t mention was that it felt like she’d chiseled off those miserable pounds one ounce at a time. They hadn’t come off easily.

“How often do you go?” Robin asked, slowly taking another bite of her turkey sandwich.

“Me? Right now, every day.” She had the time, so why not? It’d actually helped her mental outlook, and while she hadn’t made any friends, she saw a number of the same people every day. They nodded at one another as they traded off machines.

“I can’t do every day.”

“I’ll meet you on the days you do go,” Libby promised.

“I’d have to be out of there by seven-thirty.”

Libby would need to change her time. No problem. She still knew how to set her alarm. “Great.” She hadn’t expected it to be this easy to recruit Robin, but she knew it would do her friend good.

Then, as if she suddenly remembered she had limited time, Robin glanced at her watch. “I’ve got an errand to run before I head back to court,” she said, pushing her plate aside. “My mom’s living in Florida now and she asked me to pick up a skein of yarn for her.”

“There’s a yarn store close by?” Libby asked, looking around.

Robin motioned her head across the street. A shop called A Good Yarn was directly opposite The French Cafe. When Libby was a young girl, her mother had taught her how to knit. She’d enjoyed it until her mom had died, and then there hadn’t been anyone to help her fix her mistakes or explain how to read the patterns. In all the years since, Libby hadn’t picked up her knitting needles.

“I’ll come with you.”

Chapter 3

A cat snoozed in the window of the yarn store, next to a wire mannequin wearing a knitted sleeveless top. A neatly lettered sign indicated that it was crafted in Morning Glory, a cotton-blend yarn. The ribbing was done in cable. Libby recognized the cable stitch from when she was a kid. The project she’d been knitting when her mother died had a cable in it. Libby had never completed the sweater, and she didn’t know what had happened to it. No doubt her father or stepmother had gotten rid of it long ago.

A bell rang above the door when Robin entered the store. Libby felt drawn inside. Two steps into the shop and she paused as a warm sensation settled over her, a welcome. She could still remember the last time she’d been inside a yarn store. She’d been with her mother. Wool was displayed against the wall in bright white bins. Everything was organized by color, creating a fascinating mosaic. Just seeing the red, green, yellow, and blue tones and textures mesmerized her.

Instantly, Libby was brought back to her early teen years, sitting with her mother, doing her best to learn as much from her as she could. Her mother had been so ill and so brave. In the last weeks of her life, her mom had spent every available minute with Libby, until her strength gave out.

While Libby had refused to believe her mother wouldn’t survive, Molly had known the truth. She had done her best to impart a lifetime of wisdom to her only daughter. Libby had listened intently, remembering everything she could, even writing some things down so she wouldn’t forget. Her mother’s final instructions had become Libby’s mantra.

Take charge of your life.

Don’t be afraid to pursue your dreams.

Work hard and don’t listen to anyone who says you can’t, because you can and you will.