Knit to Be Tied (8 page)

“Whenever a young person dies in an accident, it's always traumatic. And tragic for their loved ones,” Burt said as he placed his hand over Mimi's in a comforting way.

“I've heard of the Halftime Bar,” Kelly said, trying to gently turn the subject away from the sad memories this incident had brought back from the past. “Apparently it's a pickup bar. Lots of college students there, from what I've heard.”

“That's for sure,” Burt agreed. “The Lager House has a more diverse or mixed crowd. But none of that matters if the customers don't exercise some good judgment and watch how much they're drinking.”

Kelly had to smile. “Boy, Burt. You are an optimist. Even after all these years of being in a university town. Good judgment is not usually associated with college student behavior, especially freshmen students.”

Burt chuckled. “You're right, Kelly. I remain an optimist, even after all these years.”

“That's one of the things I love about him,” Mimi said with a smile and leaned over to kiss Burt's cheek.

•   •   •

Kelly
stroked Carl's silky black ears as she finished her morning coffee. Carl crooned his contentment with the ecstatic ear rub even if it was one-handed. The sound of Kelly's cell phone ringing interrupted Carl's doggie song. “Okay, Carl. Time for me to return some business calls before the day is over. You return to doggie patrol.”

Kelly had noticed that Brazen Squirrel had used Carl's pleasure break for a fast scamper across the chain-link fence. Carl, however, was oblivious. Kelly decided she wouldn't squeal on the little creature. There would be countless more encounters between these two adversaries.

Carl bounded out into the afternoon sunshine as Kelly slid open the cottage screen door and retrieved her ringing phone. Lisa's name flashed on the screen. “Hey there,” Kelly greeted her friend. “How's Greg doing?”

“He's slowly getting more awake. Meanwhile, I'm trying to catch up on some reading. One of my friends e-mailed me the class assignments. Lord knows when I'll return to class.”

“Don't even worry about it, Lisa,” Kelly counseled. “You're doing great in your classes. And you're doing the right thing by staying there with Greg. That way when he wakes up, he'll see you there.”

“I actually hope the poor guy stays asleep for a while longer. He's bound to be in a lot of pain when he does wake up. Hey, before I forget, another friend e-mailed me that there was a fatal hit-and-run in Old Town that same night. She saw it on an online website that has local Colorado news. Did you hear anything about that?”

Kelly leaned against the kitchen counter. “As a matter of fact, I heard about it from Burt yesterday afternoon. Apparently some guy who was turning the corner onto the street where Greg was hit called 911. And Burt said the ambulance crew found the second guy lying dead on the street as they drove to treat Greg.”

“Good Lord! Two hit-and-runs in one night? I can't believe it.”

“In the same area, too. And one of them fatal. Burt said the fatality was a young guy about twenty-five. He was hit farther down that street closer to the brewpubs. So he was probably walking back to his car after being out with friends or something.”

“People park all around there for the Old Town cafés. Boy, I hope the newspaper and TV stations put that message out there. Be sober when you're walking and driving at night. Do you think there's a chance the two accidents are connected somehow?”

“Burt seems to think they are, and I agree. Who knows? Maybe someone hit the young guy first, and then drove off in a panic. And didn't even notice Greg at the corner.”

“Well, the police will find out. Oh, I think I see Greg's orthopedist in the hallway. Talk to you later.” Her phone clicked off.

Kelly ran water into a pitcher and refilled Carl's large water dishes on the outside patio. Carl was busy snuffling and sniffing squirrel feet in the bushes. Brazen was safe on a cottonwood limb high above. All was right with the world . . . at least the small part comprising Kelly's cottage and doggie and squirrel soap
operas.

“That
is awful news, Kelly,” her client Arthur Housemann said. “And who could imagine a double hit-and-run. How could anyone do such a thing?” He gazed out the window of his top-floor office, which looked out over the city of Fort Connor to the east.

Kelly followed his lead and looked out Housemann's large office window at how far the city of Fort Connor had spread since she first returned to her childhood home several years ago. When she was a child in elementary school, the population of Fort Connor was less than eighty thousand people. In the thirty years since, the city had spread beyond its original boundaries and the population had nearly doubled. The latest census numbers showed Fort Connor to be close to one hundred and fifty thousand people. And that did not count the college students who attended the state
university. Since the Front Range of the Rocky Mountains bordered the city on the west, and the small town of Wellesley was to the north, Fort Connor's growth spilled to the east and the south. Kelly was always surprised at the new housing developments that kept appearing.

“Some of us think the driver either was drunk or scared. Maybe he accidentally hit the first guy and then panicked and ran into Greg at the corner,” Kelly said.

“I still find it hard to believe. He must have been driving fast because of Greg's injuries. A broken leg and a broken shoulder, too?”

“A broken arm. Broken left leg and broken left arm. Plus sprained all over. Lisa says Greg's black and blue everywhere.” Kelly made a face.

Arthur wagged his head slightly. “Poor boy.”

Kelly smiled at another of her mentors. Housemann was also a father figure to Kelly and had many of her late father's mannerisms and ways of speaking. That was another reason Kelly enjoyed visiting the first of her two exclusive clients. It was like visiting and talking with her father again. Arthur always gave good advice. In addition, Kelly enjoyed learning more about her successful real estate investor and developer client's strategies. Arthur Housemann had weathered all the real estate booms and busts of the last thirty years. In a volatile business like real estate, that record was phenomenal.

“Well, Greg is healthier than most people and is . . . uh, was in great physical shape, so I expect his rehabilitation to be quicker than most.”

Arthur smiled for the first time. “From what you've told
me over the years, Greg is a real outdoors guy, always biking and rock climbing. So I imagine Greg will take it as a personal challenge to regain his ‘fighting shape.'”

“Oh, yes. And he's lucky that Lisa is a physical therapist. She'll probably have Greg working extra,” Kelly added, laughing softly.

Arthur laughed along with her. “I think that's a good bet, if ever there was one. In fact, if I was a betting man, I'd put cash money on Greg.”

Kelly eyed her successful client. “What do you mean, you're ‘not a betting man'? You've taken risks on developing homes in entirely new areas of Fort Connor for years. And you've succeeded greatly. And financially, I might add.”

Arthur chuckled. “Thank you, Kelly. Coming from you that is a high compliment, indeed. As you know, I never enter into an investment without doing the proper research. Area demography, location of retail and shopping in vicinity. All that.”

Kelly grinned. “You're thorough, that's for sure, Arthur. That's why it's a piece of cake doing your financial statements.”

This time, Arthur Housemann threw back his head and laughed out loud. Kelly joined in, celebrating her client's success.

•   •   •

“Hey,
Lisa, how's Greg doing?” Kelly asked over the phone as she opened her car door and stepped outside into the Lambspun parking area.

“He's still groggy. Anesthesia is slowly wearing off.”

Kelly could hear hospital noise in the background. “I wanted to check another news site before giving you a call. But I finally saw an online site that mentioned the name of the victim of that Old Town hit-and-run.”

“Oh, thanks, Kelly. Who was it?”

“Apparently the victim was identified as a graduate student at the university. Neil Smith.” Kelly waited for Lisa's reaction.

“What? That's Nancy's boyfriend!”

“I thought the name sounded vaguely familiar when I read it. Of course, Smith is a common name, but the fact that he's a graduate student at the university also narrows it down.”

“Good Lord! Have you seen Nancy? I wonder how she's taking it?”

“I haven't been in the shop yet today, I've been with a client. But you're right. This is bound to be a shock to her. Even though this Neil sounded like a prime bastard for turning his back on Nancy.
And
her baby. His baby, too.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Lisa said. “Listen, I see one of the nurses turning into Greg's room. I'll talk to you later.” Her phone clicked off quickly.

Kelly dropped her cell phone into her shoulder bag, locked her car, and headed toward the Lambspun front entry. As Kelly walked into the shop, she nearly ran into Cassie, who was on her way out the door. “Whoa! Sorry. I didn't know a tornado was coming through the door.” Kelly stepped aside.

Cassie giggled as she held open the door. Halfway in,
halfway out. “Didn't mean to run you over, Kelly. But Jen is waiting for me outside in the car. She's finished with her real estate work early and wants to take me school shopping.”

“Ooooo, school shopping. New clothes. That's always fun. Have a great time and buy some cute stuff. Oh, and say ‘hi' to Jen. Remind her we're getting together tonight after Steve and Marty's game.”

“Will do,” Cassie said, releasing the door. “See you later.” The heavy wooden entry door closed slowly.

Kelly continued into the central yarn room, where another woman was browsing the bins of colorful yarns. Kelly paused by the round table in the middle of the room. It was stacked with short stubby skeins of multicolored wools. All the skeins looked to be in the same spectrum of colors. Blues and greens with some touches of brown. Forest green joined with bright turquoise blue and a muted sable brown.

Next to those skeins sat skeins of burnt sienna mixed with a festive pumpkin orange and a cinnamon brown. Kelly squeezed both fat little skeins. The gauge of the wool was exactly like the one Kelly used for her first knitting project years ago. A sturdy wool that could be transformed into a scarf or a placemat. Versatile.

Kelly walked over to the bins that lined three walls. They were stacked with different-sized skeins and balls of bamboo and silk, wool and mohair, and a wondrous variety of alpaca. Kelly reached out and stroked a large fat skein of creamy white baby alpaca. Soft, unbelievably soft. She'd finished knitting the scarf for Mimi's charity project. Did she need another scarf for next winter? Probably not. She'd
made several scarves of wool, mohair, alpaca, and silk, even ribbons over the years since she first came to Lambspun and learned to knit while she sat around the library table. Just like countless other beginning knitters.

Her fingers toyed with a skein of soft gray baby alpaca.
How about mittens?
Did she need more mittens for the upcoming winter? she wondered.
Hmmmmmmm.
Decisions, decisions
. Just then, Mimi's voice cut into her quandary.

“Isn't that a luscious wool, Kelly?” Mimi said as she walked into the central yarn room. “It would make a wonderful winter sweater.”

A little bell in the back of Kelly's mind went off.
A sweater. Of course.
“You're right, Mimi. This would be perfect for a winter sweater. And it's so soft.” Kelly stroked the fat gray alpaca again.

“And gray is so versatile, too. You could wear it anywhere next winter,” Mimi said with a smile. “Around the shop. Skiing, whatever.”

Kelly picked up one of the fat skeins and looked at the label. “Size eight needles. Three stitches to an inch. That will look nice.”

“If you started now, you'd be finished in time for winter weather,” Mimi tempted her.

Kelly laughed softly. “You're incorrigible, Mimi. You're the very best encourager of knitting projects I've ever met.” She held out the skein. “How many of these would I need to make a winter sweater? A rough guess.”

“Well, a winter sweater would need long sleeves—”

“Oooops. I've never made long sleeves,” Kelly demurred.

Mimi gave one of her dismissive little waves of her hand.
“It's only a few inches more than you've done before for a short-sleeve sweater. It'll be a piece of cake.”

“If you say so.” Kelly smiled. “Well, it's time I learned how to do a long-sleeved one anyway. Might as well do it now.”

“I agree. You'd probably need five skeins of that wool. Why don't we pick out a pattern?” Mimi walked toward the hallway and beckoned Kelly to follow her.

Skein in hand, Kelly dutifully traipsed after Mimi, down the hallway heading toward the workroom and the office beyond.

There sat the two gray metal file cabinets stuffed full of patterns—knitting, crocheting, weaving, and more.

Mimi pulled out the middle drawer of one of the file cabinets and began to finger through the header index tabs of the folders. She removed five different file folders. “Here are five really nice winter sweater patterns I think you'll like, Kelly. Why don't you take these to the table and go over them. See which one you like the best.” She held out the folders.

“Which ones are the easiest?” Kelly said as she accepted them.

“They are all easy, Kelly,” Mimi said.

Kelly smiled. “That's what you always says, Mimi. Remember, what's easy for you is usually harder for me.”

Mimi made a little tsking sound with her tongue. “Nonsense, Kelly. You're a good knitter now.”

“Maybe so, but I still get confused, especially when reading instructions.” Kelly stared at the five folders. “Okay, I'll go see which one survives the cut.” She walked to the doorway.

“There you go,” Mimi encouraged her. “Pick the best one.”

Kelly waved the folders overhead as she headed toward the main knitting room again. “The easiest is the winner.”

•   •   •

Kelly
read over the instructions for the long-sleeved sweater and stared at the drawing at the top of the pattern. It was very pretty. And the instructions sounded a bit easier than the other two sweaters. She'd definitely found the winner.

Nancy Marsted walked into the main room and glanced around. “Hi, Kelly.”

“Hey, Nancy. How're you doing?” Kelly dropped her pen on the notepad. She wondered how best to approach the subject of Neil Smith.

“I'm okay, I guess.” She glanced behind her toward the central yarn room. “Is Lisa here?”

“No, Lisa is at Poudre Valley Hospital,” Kelly said, noticing Nancy's anxious expression and deciding that Nancy clearly thought of Lisa as her personal counselor. That was understandable, especially when Nancy was going through a stressful period. Unfortunately, Lisa had enough stress of her own to handle right now, and her concentration was entirely focused on Greg.

Nancy hurried over to the chair beside Kelly at the table, her eyes wide as saucers. Two women were browsing the instruction books at the other end of the table and commenting to themselves. “Is Lisa all right? Did she get sick? Or have an accident?”

“No, no,” Kelly reassured with a smile. “Lisa's fine. She went to the hospital to see her boyfriend, Greg.”

“Ohhh, I'm glad to hear that,” Nancy said, visibly relaxing. Then she gave a little wave of her hand. “I don't mean I'm glad her boyfriend is in the hospital.”

“I know what you meant.” Kelly smiled at Nancy's anxious behavior. Eager to please, not wanting to offend.

“Is he sick? Lisa's boyfriend, I mean.”

Kelly settled back into the chair and took a drink of still-warm coffee from her travel mug. “No, Greg's not sick. He's been injured. He's got a broken leg and a broken arm. And he's a mass of bruises all over.”

“Oh, no. What happened to him?”

Kelly leaned closer to Nancy and lowered her voice. “He was hit by a car Friday night over in Old Town.”

Nancy's eyes went wide again. “Really?”

Kelly nodded. “Yeah. He was riding his bike home when he was hit by a car. A hit-and-run.”

Nancy continued to stare at Kelly. “Oh, no!” she whispered.

“Oh, yes,” Kelly whispered back. “Whoever did it was probably drinking at one of the bars. If they were drunk, they may not have even noticed him.”

“That's . . . that's awful,” Nancy said, leaning closer to Kelly. “Is there anything I can do to help? I mean . . . is there anything Lisa needs?”

“I don't think so. We're all checking in with her over at the hospital by phone. No one but family members are allowed up there with surgery patients.”

Nancy's eyes went wide again. “He had surgery?”

“Oh, yeah.” Kelly nodded again. “The doctors had to carefully set that broken leg and make sure everything was
all right. And they took care of his broken arm, too. He's got pulled muscles, tendons, and ligaments all over his shoulders and back. He's going to need physical therapy for weeks and weeks. Months probably.”

“That's so . . . so awful,” Nancy said sorrowfully.

“I know. At least Lisa is a PT. So he'll have an ‘in-house' therapist, which is good.” Kelly gave a wry smile.

Mimi walked into the main room and glanced over at Kelly and Nancy. “Hello, Nancy. It's good to see you. Kelly, how's that pattern search coming?”

“I narrowed it down to three, Mimi. And I've finally eliminated two of them.” She looked over at Mimi. “I chickened out as usual and want to try the easiest one.”

Mimi laughed her little musical laugh. “You're so funny, Kelly.” Then she walked toward the two women at the other end of the table. “Can I help you ladies with anything? Are you trying to decide on which knitting instruction book is better?”