Till Death Do Us Purl (6 page)

Dana reached into her knitting bag and pulled out her shrug, which was coming along with enviable progress, Lucy noticed. Dana was definitely teacher’s pet today, wasn’t she? “Dana . . . don’t you have a life?”

“Two patients canceled on me this morning. I tried to use the time productively. Besides, it’s not a race, Lucy,” she reminded her gently.

“Don’t worry. You’ll catch up,” Maggie cut in, sounding very much like it was a race. “You have all weekend.”

“That I do,” Lucy replied glumly. “See you.”

As usual, Tink was inappropriately happy to see her and eagerly licked Lucy’s hands and face as she undid the leash from the post on the porch. “Thanks a bunch. I love you, too.”

Tink answered with a wolfish smile and yanked Lucy down the steps to the street.

Just me and my dog, Lucy realized. Which was sometimes a great relief.

Lucy had the best intentions to focus on the shrug all weekend. But life and the usual chores—cleaning, grocery shopping, bringing Tink to get groomed—got in the way. She did make headway Saturday night, while watching a foreign film. But she realized too late that subtitles and knitting were not a recipe for speedy work. Sunday morning she took out the shrug before she’d even finished her coffee. But the newspaper and phone calls from her mother and sister were major speed bumps. After the gym, it was time
to get ready to see Matt and she was not much further along with the shrug Sunday night than she had been on Friday.

On Monday morning, she found Maggie’s gentle but nudging reminder in her e-mail box.

I trust that you’re all making great progress. No one has called with any problems, so the pattern must be even easier than we thought. Rebecca and I are zooming along with the gown. Wait until you see it. She’s coming to the shop tomorrow night for a final fitting, so please bring the shrugs over and we’ll have a little “block party.”
:)

XO, Maggie

Block party? Lucy wasn’t even half done. She swallowed a lump of panic and quickly scanned the other e-mails.

There was one or two about work. A message asking for some minor revisions in the brochure she’d sent on Friday. She dashed off a quick note, making some wild promise to return it by Tuesday night.

Then she ran to her knitting bag and pulled out the shrug.

Yes, paying the rent and keeping the lights on were important. But until she finished most of this stupid shrug, she wouldn’t be able to focus on work anyway. There was clearly no choice but to settle down for some serious knitting.

Not in Maggie’s shop, either, where she would usually take shelter at such trying times. She didn’t want anyone to know she’d been such a slacker. Or perhaps in this case, a better term was a shrugger?

Lucy guessed that Suzanne, who
was the slowest, most scattered knitter in their group, was in the same boat. In the late afternoon, Lucy checked in with a text and Suzanne’s reply confirmed it. She was even further behind with the assignment. Lucy commiserated and invited her over for a secret knitting session.

“I feel a little guilty meeting like this,” Suzanne admitted as she came in.

“I do, too.” Lucy poured Suzanne a glass of wine and pulled out her shrug. “But misery loves company. We’ll tell them tomorrow night. When we’re done.”

“If we’re done.” She took a sip of wine and looked down at her shrug. “Where’s Matt tonight?”

“He wanted to come over but he heard that certain note of panic in my voice when we were on the phone today. He knows when to stay clear of the line of fire by now.”

“You’ve trained him well. I think he’s almost housebroken. I just say ‘I have to go out after dinner tonight’ in a certain way and Kevin knows better by now not to ask any questions. I tossed a few boxes of pizza in their direction and let them fend for themselves. Homework projects, last-minute laundry requests . . . lunches for tomorrow.”

With three children, a full-time job, and a big house to take care of, Suzanne’s to-do list was endless. Lucy had sympathy for her. If and when she ever had children, Lucy wondered if she’d be as skilled at all the juggling.

They eventually switched from wine, fruit, and cheese to tea and cookies, managing to knit steadily until midnight.

“Well, I’m not done, but I’ve made a good effort, don’t you think?” Suzanne held up the nearly completed sweater.

“Absolutely. Don’t worry about
the rest. Dana or Maggie will love swooping in and coming to the rescue.”

Lucy thought she would work a little more tonight and actually be finished by the meeting tomorrow. But she didn’t want to tell Suzanne and make her feel bad.

When Tuesday night arrived, Lucy walked up the path to Maggie’s shop, her fingers suffering a bit of knitting burnout as they gripped the handles of her tote bag. But her shrug was ready for blocking and a march down the aisle.

Her friends were in the back of the shop as usual, everyone showing off her handiwork. They had all finished on time, including Suzanne.

“You never fail to surprise me,” Lucy whispered to Suzanne privately. “Did the fiber fairies take pity on you last night?”

“Not quite . . . I called in sick at the office this morning,” she whispered back. “I needed a mental health day, anyway. It was the perfect excuse.”

“The sweaters look wonderful.” Nora walked around the table, admiring everyone’s work. “The flower girl’s is adorable . . . Did you add this trim?” she asked Phoebe, eyeing some tiny white daisies that were carefully sewn on along the collar.

“Yeah, well, I knew I was knitting outside the lines a little. But I thought it would be a nice touch. You know, flowers . . . flower girl?” Phoebe said.

“It’s really lovely. I’m sure Rebecca will love it,” her mother replied.

“Where is Rebecca? Is she here yet?” Lucy asked Nora.

“Oh, she’s been here a while. She’s in the storeroom with Maggie, getting ready to give us a
sneak preview of the gown. I can hardly wait. Feel my hands, they’re like ice,” Nora confessed, reaching out to Lucy.

Lucy touched Nora’s fingers. They were frigid, practically bloodless. Nora smiled nervously and Lucy forced herself to smile back. An odd feeling swept through her—a feeling totally out of synch with the bright, prenuptial mood.

Then they heard Maggie call out from the storeroom, “Here comes the bride, everyone.”

Lucy heard Suzanne gasp. “Oh, my God! She looks gorgeous. . . .”

They all turned at once to watch Rebecca emerge with Maggie following close behind, holding up the hem of Rebecca’s gown. Rebecca’s handmaiden and personal fashion designer was beaming almost as much as the bride. And with good reason. The gown was really beautiful. Extraordinary. Lucy had no idea it would come out so well when she’d seen the scattered pieces pinned to the dressmaker’s form last week. Or even when she looked at the pattern and photograph.

“Sweetheart, you look spectacular.” Nora trotted toward her daughter. “I know I’ve been a pain about you making the dress yourself. But I understand now. I honestly do. It’s just perfect for you.”

“It is perfect, Rebecca,” Lucy agreed. “You look incredible. Absolutely beautiful.”

“You should be very proud,” Dana added. “What a masterpiece. What an accomplishment.”

“Thanks but I couldn’t have done it without Maggie . . . and my mom,” Rebecca said modestly.

But she did look proud, Lucy noticed,
as she should be. And greatly relieved. And a bit self-conscious as the center of so much attention. Good practice for her wedding day, which was coming up so quickly.

All eyes were on Rebecca as she reached the center of the room and stood up on a little step stool. The style complemented her figure perfectly, with a low, rounded neckline, form-fitting bodice, and nipped-in waistline, the finely knit ecru lace draping elegantly in the gored skirt.

The pieces were not completely sewn together yet, only basted, and she had to move carefully. Maggie and Nora helped her up on the stool and to balance on her brand-new silk high heels.

She was posed on the stool, her hand on Nora’s shoulder, while Maggie checked the hemline, when Lucy heard the front door of the shop open and someone walk in.

“Jeremy . . . what are you doing here?” Rebecca gripped her mother’s shoulder.

“You said to meet you here, remember?”

Rebecca’s fiancé was handsome, Lucy thought, in a Clark Kent way, with short, thick brown hair, a strong jaw, and black glasses that framed his bright blue eyes. He wore a blue down parka with a thick, colorful striped scarf looped around his neck. It definitely looked hand knit and Lucy guessed it was one of Rebecca’s creations.

Jeremy appeared to be in his midthirties, a few years older than Rebecca. But his nervous smile and intellectual air made him seem younger. He stared at them and waved awkwardly.

“Hello, ladies. I’m just the groom.
Don’t mind me.”

The women laughed. All but Nora, who was trying to shield Rebecca from view. A fairly impossible feat, all things considered.

“Oh, dear . . . Jeremy. You shouldn’t see the bride in her gown before the wedding. It’s bad luck.”

The groom laughed. “Sorry, Nora. I forgot.”

Lucy sensed that even if he had remembered the traditional caution, like most scientists, he didn’t put much stock in superstitions.

He walked toward her smiling, but Rebecca didn’t smile back. “Jeremy . . . I said when we were done, after nine. It’s not even half past eight.”

He shrugged. “I actually forgot the time. I should have written it down.”

“I should have . . . and taped it to your nose.” But her scolding was delivered in a loving tone, Lucy had to say.

Nora still seemed upset about Jeremy seeing the gown and hovered around Rebecca. “Oh, don’t worry about it, Mom. That’s just an old wives’ tale.”

“Yes, of course,” Nora said finally and made way for her future son-in-law.

“I’m glad I got to see you in the dress. A guy needs a little warning. You look so gorgeous. I would have fainted at the altar watching you walk down the aisle.”

Rebecca shook her head, totally charmed out of any annoyance, Lucy was sure. Jeremy put his hands on Rebecca’s waist and she leaned over to give him a kiss.

Everyone looked away, giving the couple some privacy. Lucy thought she heard Suzanne
sigh again. Dana caught Lucy’s gaze and rolled her eyes.

It was Maggie’s voice that pulled them all back to the business at hand. “You’re a lucky man, Jeremy,” she said to him. “If you could just step back a moment, we’ll finish pinning this hem and you can have her all to yourself again.”

Jeremy did as he was told, his gaze finally drifting from Rebecca’s as she was forced to turn, and then turn again.

He looked over at the knitting group and his future mother-in-law, as if noticing them all for the first time. Lucy got the impression that he was a super nice guy, but very awkward socially. She tried to think of some easy conversation starter, but Phoebe beat her to it.

“Cool scarf. Did Rebecca make that for you?”

Jeremy looked down at his scarf with pride. “Yes, she did. She does wonderful work. Fast, too.”

“Wow, that is some wild self-striping yarn. I’ve never seen so many colors in one skein.” Phoebe examined the stitch work closely. “This stuff would make awesome socks.”

“Oh, it’s not self-striping. I only wish it were.” Rebecca looked over her shoulder as Maggie and Nora worked on the hem.

“Eyes front, Rebecca. You don’t want this hem to be crooked do you?” Maggie used her firm, schoolteacher voice. Even Lucy looked forward suddenly.

Rebecca turned to face forward but kept talking. “He’s very particular about his scarves and the colors he likes and the order of the stripes. He picks out the yarn himself and writes me long, detailed descriptions.”

Jeremy looked embarrassed.
He blushed like a teenager. “Oh, come on. I’m not that bad. You always tell me to choose. I just like certain colors. It’s cheerful. It makes me happy when I wear it.” He playfully flipped the end of his scarf over his shoulder. “We science geeks are all a little obsessive. You always knew that about me.”

“Yes, I did.” Rebecca smiled, risking Maggie’s wrath as she turned her head for a second to meet his gaze. “And I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

Jeremy laughed. “Lucky me.”

“So, Jeremy, the big day is almost here. The bride seems pretty calm. How do you feel?” Dana asked.

“I’m great,” he replied with a quick nod. “I’m glad we moved the date up. I know it was annoying,” he acknowledged, glancing at Nora. “But if Rebecca and I are married even sooner, all the better.”

“How did you two meet? Rebecca didn’t tell us.” Suzanne’s voice had that dreamy tone. She couldn’t get enough of this romantic wedding stuff, could she? Little pink cupids were practically bobbing around her head.

“We met at the school where Rebecca teaches. Rebecca runs the after-school program and I came there last September as a volunteer to start a science club. I took one look and I knew she was the one.”

“Chemistry, right?” Suzanne quipped, thrilled with the love-at-first-sight tale.

“What a sweet story,” Dana agreed. “It’s so nice that you met volunteering.”

“Rebecca’s students don’t have many advantages,” her mother said. “She gives a lot of extra time
to help them. She may not be able to once she’s married and has a family.”

“Oh, Mom, please stop.” Rebecca had come full circle on the stool and now looked down from her exalted height. “Let’s just get through the wedding before you start worrying about grandchildren.”

Nora laughed, taking no offense. “Fair enough,” she conceded.

“And where are you going on your honeymoon?” Suzanne asked as if she had a checklist stashed someplace, Lucy thought—the top-ten questions to ask engaged couples. She’ll be covering china patterns next.

Jeremy hesitated, as if he couldn’t remember or perhaps wanted to keep the location a secret. “Thailand,” he finally answered.

“Wow, that’s exotic.” Suzanne was definitely impressed.

Jeremy smiled at her but didn’t reply. He suddenly seemed uncomfortable with all the attention.

Maggie stood upright and took a straight pin out of her mouth. “Hem’s done. I can stitch it if you like.”