Sins and Needles (2 page)

B
ETSY
said she was not angry, and she wasn't. But she
was
aggravated.

“It's your own fault,” said Godwin. “If you had told me about her, I wouldn't've told her about the class. But I needed one more person, and she's a knitter, and I didn't know.

“Anyhow, what harm can it do?” he continued, his stronger tone indicating a frailer argument. “She's interested in meeting her twin. I'd be, too, if someone told me there was this person who looked just like me.” He drew himself up and turned sideways. “As if!” he added, sure there was not a handsomer profile anywhere.

As usual, Betsy was amused at his vanity, which got her past her annoyance. “Oh, you're probably right. And it wasn't as if she seemed angry or confrontational. She's just curious. Anyway, she's only here on vacation, so even if she turns out to be a nuisance, pretty soon she'll go home, and it'll all be over.”

But her own rationalizations didn't entirely ease Betsy's mind, so she decided to sit in on the first class to see how Lucille behaved toward Jan Henderson—and how Jan took it.

The class was scheduled to begin at six thirty. Godwin stood in the back, tugging at his light blue polo shirt, clearing his throat, smoothing his hair, buffing his shoes on the back of his khaki Dockers, preparing to make an entrance.

It was Betsy's role to unlock the front door—the shop had closed at five—and let the students in.

First to arrive, at six fifteen, was Doris Valentine. She had the least distance to travel, as she lived in an apartment on the second floor of the building that housed the shop.

But she was followed in short order by Katie Frazier, a redhead with hazel green eyes in a sleeveless maternity blouse, and then by Jan, Katie's aunt. After Jan came Phil Galvin, a senior citizen in jeans and a chambray shirt, the pocket of which held his four double-pointed bamboo knitting needles. In one gnarled hand he held a big ball of green lightweight yarn. “Good evening!” he said, in a loud, hoarse voice.

Last came Lucille, entering shyly, unsure of her welcome. Her bright hair was pulled back with a scrunchie. She wore a dark blue T-shirt with a loon painted on it, and she carried a lavender Crewel World plastic bag. Her blue eyes flashed to the table, then fastened on Jan.

Jan was talking to Doris, so it was Phil who first noticed her. His eyes opened wide. He looked across at Jan, then back at Lucille. He leaned a little sideways and poked Doris on the arm and said in what he probably thought was a murmur, “Lookit over there!”

Doris looked at Lucille and, with eyebrows raised, smiled in pleased surprise. “Now that is
amazing
!” she said to Phil.

Jan also looked at Lucille. “Hello,” she said, frowning a little at her.

Lucille stood captured in shyness, her fair complexion pinking under the stares of the others. Betsy took pity on her and said warmly, “Lucille, welcome! Come on over, there's plenty of room!”

Lucille smiled gratefully at Betsy and came to the table. She took a seat across from Jan, next to Kate.

Phil said, “Say, Lucille—is that your name?”

“Yes, sir,” said Lucille in her western drawl, pulling out a chair. “Lucille Jones.”

“Jones—does that mean you aren't related to Jan here?”

“I don't think so.” Lucille studied Jan for a few moments. “But we do look alike, don't we?”

“You sure do!” said Doris.

“Yes, I suppose so,” said Jan.

“Suppose so?” said Katie. “Aunt Jan, what's the matter with you? Can't you see it's like you're twins?”

“Do you really think so?” Jan, like most people, couldn't see the resemblance between herself and this other person.

“Oh, not twins,” said Lucille quickly. “But—well, sisters, maybe?”

Jan smiled. “A secret sister—there's a concept you don't hear much about.”

Lucille chuckled. “Actually, I don't think I've ever heard of it. Unless you're adopted, too?”

“Nope. I'm my own mother's daughter, and I think she would've told me if she gave one of her other children away. I mean, what a great threat: ‘I gave your sister away, and if you don't straighten up, I'll give you away, too!'”

“Almost as good as, ‘I brought you into the world and I can take you out of it.' Ah, for the happy days of having little ones in the house,” Lucille said.

Kate was scandalized by Lucille's comment. “You never in your life said that to a child of yours!” she said.

“No. But I came close a couple of times.”

“Me, too,” said Jan. “I still might use it. My younger one is only sixteen.”

Phil, who'd been listening to all of this, spoke up. “You're not from around here, are you?” he asked Lucille. “The way you talk and all.”

“No, I'm from Texas. But you know something?” She looked around the table. “Actually, I think I look more like people up here than back home. I mean, I never saw so many natural blondes in my life before!”

A chorus of soft laughter swept the table. Kate was a natural redhead, but Jan's streaky blond hair, without the aid of her hairdresser, was mostly gray. Doris's elaborate blond hairdo was probably a wig. Phil's hair was silver, but his dark eyes suggested that he had been a brunet when he was young. Betsy went to the same hairdresser Jan did.

Godwin chose that moment to make his entrance.

The renewed grins and chuckles that greeted his entrance surprised him—he, too, was a chemically enhanced blond. But he took his place at the head of the table as if he had no idea what they were so amused by. “Good evening, good evening,” he said. “It looks like we're all here. Has everyone got at least one skein of lightweight yarn and a set of number three double-pointed knitting needles?”

Everyone had.

“Good. Now, before we begin, how about we go around the table and introduce ourselves? I'm Godwin DuLac, your instructor. I'm also Vice President in Charge of Operations of Crewel World, Incorporated, and Editor in Chief of
Hasta la Stitches
, its newsletter. Your turn, Phil.”

“I'm Phil Galvin, retired railroad engineer. I do counted cross-stitch, but I had to wait until I retired to admit it in public. Then last year my mother died, and as I was closing her house, I came across a knit scarf. It was wrapped around a letter my dad had written from a hospital in England. He'd been shot in the leg and both shoulders during the Battle of the Bulge, and the nurses had set him to knitting as…whaddayeh call it?…physical therapy. He'd knit that scarf as a present to my mother, and she'd kept it all those years. I was gonna try a scarf, but then I heard about this sock class and thought I'd rather have a pair of socks.”

“Gosh!” said Godwin, impressed. “Okay, next!”

The young pregnant woman said, “I'm Katie—well, Mary Katherine O'Neil Frazier, really, and Jan is my aunt, and she persuaded me to take this class. I already knit a little, and I do counted cross-stitch and needle lace, and now I'm hoping to knit socks, too.” She smiled at Jan, who smiled back.

“I'm Doris Valentine,” said Doris in her deep, breathy voice. “I'm new to needlework, but I really like it. I especially love counted cross-stitch, and I wish I could afford some of those wonderful needlepoint canvases. All kinds of needlework are domestic, but knitting a sock is like the most domestic thing you can do, next to baking bread. I did factory work all my life, and I never married, but now I'm retired and have the time to do some traditional women's work, and I'm really grateful.” She blushed at being so open about her feelings and hurriedly began to pry open the clear plastic envelope of her double-ended needles with her bright red fingernails.

“That's really nice. I'm glad for you,” said Lucille, smiling. “I'm Lucille Jones, visiting from Texas, but you already know that. I'm here because Mr. DuLac said someone who looked a lot like me signed up for it, and I was curious about her. I can knit and purl, but I've never made anything before except scarves and booties.”

Godwin said, “Does everyone know how to cast on? Good. Cast on sixty-four stitches—except you, Phil. With your big feet, you cast on seventy-two. Then divide them onto four of your five needles, sixteen—Phil, eighteen—apiece.

Doris started the slow, beginner's way of casting on until Godwin said, “Here, let me show you a faster way.” It involved taking a length of yarn and pulling it into a V between her left thumb and forefinger, then lifting first one side then the other into a simple knot on the needle. “Now, pull it tight and do another—no, not that tight.”

Phil said, “You didn't say what you do back home, Lucille.”

“I'm a lab tech. How about you, Jan?”

“I'm a registered nurse.”

“Why, my husband's an RN, too,” said Lucille, surprised and pleased. “He's a surgical nurse at Methodist Hospital in Houston. They do a lot of heart surgery there, and the doctors just love him. They ask for him when it's going to be tricky in the OR.”

“I thought about being a surgical nurse, but it's very stressful work.”

“Yes, it gets to Bobby Lee sometimes, too, but he says he loves it too much to try something else.” Lucille knit a few more stitches then turned in her chair to smile at Betsy. “Aren't you going to introduce yourself?”

Betsy said, obediently, “My name is Betsy Devonshire. I own Crewel World, and I already know how to knit a sock.”

Godwin said, “After you've cast on, start doing knit one, purl one, using the fifth needle. This will make the cuff. Begin at the place that will join the ends together.”

Lucille had already cast on. She began dividing the knitting evenly onto the four needles, struggling a bit with so many needles all apparently wanting to help. That done, she started to knit.

“This is harder than I thought it would be,” she grumbled after a few minutes of knit and purl, winding her yarn carefully through the forest of needles. “I don't see how you do it so slick,” she added, watching Godwin's nimble fingers build his cuff with amazing speed.

“Experience,” said Godwin. “It's hard for beginners, but once you get even just half an inch done, things settle down. You'll find you can concentrate on just the two needles you're using, and the other needles won't get in your way so much.”

Lucille frowned doubtfully.

“You're right that it's hard, Lucille,” Jan said. “But Goddy's right, too. This is my second try at learning to knit a sock, and I can tell you that that once you get past that first inch, it seems to get a lot easier.”

“Well, if it gets easier, why are you having to come back for a second try?”

Jan laughed. “I got the cuff all right, but I couldn't get the part about turning the heel. I mean, I did it the first time, when my teacher was right there to talk me through it, but when I tried to do the second sock, it just wouldn't work. So here I am again, with a different teacher, to see if I can cross reference the instructions and internalize them.”

Lucille leaned sideways for a closer look at Jan's work. “What you've got so far looks pretty good from here.”

“Yours looks good, too,” Jan said. “I like the color of the yarn—did you buy that here at Crewel World?”

“Yes, I found it in the sale basket. Fortunately, there were two skeins, so I can make a pair.” Lucille had selected a lightweight wool-blend yarn in graduated shades of dark and light blue. She knit another couple of needles' worth, then asked Godwin, “How many inches long is the cuff?”

“It's up to you,” he replied. “I like just the top inch and a half most of the time, but sometimes I get crazy and do the whole first part as cuff, right down to where I start turning the heel.”

“Well, I don't like baggy socks, so I guess I'll do the top all cuff.”

“That's a good idea,” said Jan. “I'll do it that way, too.”

“I can knit, knit, knit faster than I can knit, purl, knit, purl,” said Katie, “so I'm going to make a cuff just at the top.” She set off, her fingers moving her pink yarn with slow deliberation, lips just noticeably pursed.

“At that rate, you'll have one sock finished by the time the snow flies,” drawled Lucille, then smiled at her.

Jan giggled, and Katie smiled, first at Lucille, then at Jan. “You're probably right.”

“So long as you're sitting here with us,” Godwin said to Betsy, “why don't you join us?”

“No, thanks. I've knit a few pairs of socks, but they take too much time—especially when you can buy them so cheap.”

“If you can knit socks, why aren't you teaching this class?” asked Phil.

“Because while I can follow a pattern to knit a sock, I'm not good enough at it to teach. I know a little bit about a lot of needlework, usually just enough to know what my customers need.”

“I think it must be just the greatest thing in the world to own your own business,” sighed Doris.