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“A Good Yarn,” I said, scooping up the receiver, hoping to sound upbeat and eager to be of service.
“It’s me,” my sister returned in a crisp business tone. With a voice like that, she should be working for the Internal Revenue Service. “I thought we should discuss Mother’s Day.”
She was right. Opening the store had so completely consumed me that I hadn’t remembered. “Of course, we need to do something special for Mom.” It would be our first Mother’s Day without Dad and I realized it was going to be difficult for all of us, but especially for Mom. Despite our differences, Margaret and I did something together every year to honor our mother.
“The girls suggested we take her to lunch on Saturday. We’re seeing Matt’s mother on Sunday.”
“Excellent idea, but my shop is open on Saturdays.” I knew Saturday was a prime business day and I couldn’t afford not to be open; I closed the shop on Mondays instead.
My sister hesitated and when she spoke again, she seemed almost gleeful. It didn’t take me long to discover why.
“Since you can’t get away, the girls and I will see Mom on Saturday and you can have your own time with her on Sunday.” This meant Margaret wouldn’t have to share our mother with me. Mom’s attention would be on my sister, which was clearly why Margaret had arranged things this way. I didn’t understand why everything had to be a competition for her.
“Oh.” I’d hoped we’d all be together.
“You’re not working on Sunday, are you?”
My shoulders sagged. “No, but … well, if that’s what you want.”
“I don’t have any choice, do I?” Margaret said in the surly, aggressive tone I have long detested. “You’re the one who can’t make lunch on Saturday. I suppose you want me to adjust my schedule to yours, but I won’t.”
“I didn’t ask you to change anything.”
“Not in so many words, but I could read between the lines. I do have a husband, you know, and he has a mother, too. For once we wanted to spend Mother’s Day with her.”
Rather than get into an argument, I kept my voice as unemotional as possible. “Perhaps we could compromise.”
“How do you mean?”
“I know Mom would love to have lunch on the waterfront. I could meet you there and close the shop for a couple of hours. That way we could all be together and then I’d join her on Sunday, as well.”
I could tell from the lengthy pause that Margaret wasn’t happy with that idea. “You expect me to pick up Mom and drive into Seattle on a Saturday afternoon—because it’s more convenient for you? We both know how dreadful the traffic is.”
“It’s only a suggestion.”
“I’d rather we celebrated Mother’s Day separately this year.”
“Fine. Perhaps we should.” I left it at that and made a mental note to call Mom to explain.
“Good. We’ve got that settled.” I noticed that Margaret didn’t ask about my first two weeks of business. Nor did she make any other inquiries or give me an opportunity to ask what was going on in her life.
“I have to go,” Margaret said. “Julia’s dancing class starts in fifteen minutes.”
“Give her my love,” I said. My two nieces were a joy to me. I loved them deeply and felt close to both Julia and Hailey. Sensing my feelings, Margaret did her best to keep the girls away from me. But now that they were preteens, they had minds of their own. We often chatted and I suspected they didn’t let their mother know.
My sister hung up without so much as a goodbye. That was typical behavior for Margaret.
I walked over to the front door and turned over the sign to read Closed. As I did, I saw Brad Goetz coming out of the apartment building where Alix lived. He was in a hurry, half-jogging to his truck. I couldn’t see where he’d parked, but I thought I knew the reason for his rush. He was handsome and eligible, and there was every likelihood he had a Friday-night date.
I could’ve been the one joining him for dinner—only I wasn’t. That had been my own choice, a choice I was beginning to regret….
10
CHAPTER
JACQUELINE DONOVAN
In an attempt to hide her nervousness, Jacqueline poured herself a second glass of chardonnay. After the first sip she stepped into the kitchen and brought out the hors d’oeuvre platter for their guests. Martha had put together crackers artfully swirled with herb-mixed cream cheese and decorated with tiny shrimp. Paul had phoned earlier in the week to ask if he and Tammie Lee could stop by the house on Wednesday evening.
They’d spent the Mother’s Day weekend in Louisiana with Tammie Lee’s mother, who apparently wasn’t feeling well. Jacqueline had made a conscious decision not to take offense.
This was the first time Paul had ever asked permission to visit the family home, and Jacqueline’s nerves had been badly frayed ever since his phone call.
“Relax,” Reese said, following her into the kitchen.
“I don’t have a good feeling about this,” Jacqueline murmured. She glanced at the clock on the microwave and realized it was a full ten minutes before her son and daughter-in-law were due to arrive. She cringed at the prospect of making small talk with Tammie Lee, and feared that Paul was about to announce he’d accepted a transfer to the New Orleans branch so Tammie Lee could be close to her family.
“Setting up an appointment to come over here isn’t like Paul.”
“He was just being thoughtful.” Reese walked around the counter and sat on a stool. “Isn’t knitting supposed to soothe your nerves?”
“That’s another thing,” Jacqueline snapped. “I’m dropping out of that ridiculous class.”
His head flew back at the vehemence of her declaration. “What’s gotten into you?”
“I have my reasons.” She didn’t like the look on Reese’s face—as if he was disappointed in her. But he wasn’t the one confronting that ill-mannered punk rocker or whatever those people called themselves these days. Alix, spelled A-L-I-X, resembled a gang member; the girl frightened her. “Why should you care what I do?” Jacqueline leaned against the counter across from her husband.
“You seemed excited about it last week,” he said blandly. It was obviously of no consequence to him. “I thought it was a conciliatory gesture on your part. I assumed you signed up for the classes to show Paul you’re planning to be a good grandmother.”
“I am determined to be a wonderful grandmother. For heaven’s sake, what chance does a child of Tammie Lee’s have? She’ll grow up learning how to pickle pigs’ feet.” She shivered at the very idea.
“Now, Jacqueline …”
“Actually, I blame you for this.”
“Me?” Reese straightened and for a moment he seemed about to laugh outright. “You blame me for what?”
“For the fact that I’m in this … this awful knitting class.”
He frowned. “You’d better tell me what’s going on.”
“There’s a young woman in the class. I can’t imagine why she’d ever want to learn to knit, but it’s not important. She’s vile, Reese. That’s the only word I can think of to describe her. Her hair is the most ludicrous shade of purple and she took an instant dislike to me when she learned that you’re responsible for what’s happening in the Blossom Street neighborhood.”
Reese reached for his wine. “Most people there welcome the renovation.”
“Alix lives in the apartment building at the end of the street.” As far as Jacqueline could see, it was a rat-infested dump. If it was slated for demolition, all the better. Alix and her kind would need to look elsewhere for low-rent housing. Girls like that weren’t wanted in an upscale neighborhood, which Blossom Street would soon become.
“Ah,” Reese murmured and sipped his wine. “Now I understand.”
“What’s planned for the building?” Jacqueline asked.
“That hasn’t been decided.” Reese gently swirled his wine against the sides of the goblet. “The city is talking to the owner. My idea was to completely remodel the place into condos, but it seems some advocates for low-income housing now have the mayor’s ear.”
“That’s unfortunate. Those low-rent people will ruin the neighborhood. You might as well kiss all your hard work goodbye.” She hated to sound like a pessimist, but if Alix was any indication of the quality of person living in that building, then the entire street was at risk.
“Maybe you should give the knitting class another try,” Reese suggested, ignoring her outburst.
The truth of it was that Jacqueline wanted to continue. She hadn’t found the class “awful” at all; that was an exaggeration for Reese’s benefit. Other than the confrontation with Alix, she’d enjoyed the lesson. At one point, Lydia had told them to walk around the shop and choose three balls of yarn in their favorite colors. At the time it’d seemed like a useless exercise. Jacqueline had chosen a silver gloss, a deep purple and a vibrant red. Lydia’s next instruction had been to choose wool in the color she disliked most. Jacqueline had gone immediately to a skein of bright yellow, which was the color that appealed to her least. Lydia had talked about contrasting colors and showed how they often complement each other. In fact, the yellow had looked completely different against the purple, and just as Lydia had said, the contrast was surprisingly effective.
She’d discovered that so much of knitting was about choosing the textures and colors, which was something she hadn’t considered before. Jacqueline had walked out of the class with the realization that she’d learn far more than the basic knitting stitches. That, however, did little to quell her uneasiness concerning Alix.
“I might decide to attend the second beginners’ session later in the summer,” Jacqueline muttered, still unsure of what to do. She’d paid for the entire six-week course and detested the thought of some hoodlum driving her away with intimidation and ill-manners.
The doorbell rang and Jacqueline felt the tension crawl up her spine. While Reese answered the door, she forced a smile and moved into the formal living room, hands clasped in front of her. She waited for Reese to greet Paul and Tammie Lee in the foyer.
“How wonderful to see you both,” Jacqueline purred, extending her arms to Tammie Lee and her son as they entered the room. She briefly hugged her daughter-in-law and grazed Paul’s cheek with her lips. Now that she knew Tammie Lee was pregnant, she wondered how she hadn’t guessed earlier. Her daughter-in-law was definitely showing—enough to be wearing a maternity top.
Paul and Tammie Lee sat on the sofa, so close their shoulders touched. They held hands, as if to proclaim that nothing would tear them apart.
While Reese poured a glass of wine for Paul, Jacqueline carried in the platter of hors d’oeuvres. Tammie Lee smiled up at Jacqueline.
“I just love shrimp and ever since I’ve been pregnant I’ve had the worst craving for them,” she said in a soft twang. “Just ask Paul. I think he must be thoroughly sick of shrimp, but he never complains.” She gazed lovingly toward her husband as she accepted a small napkin and two crackers.
Paul cast his wife a look of love and pride, and it was all Jacqueline could do to maintain her composure. For the life of her, she couldn’t understand what her son saw in this girl.
“What can I get you to drink?” Reese asked Tammie Lee when he brought Paul his wineglass.
“It’s so nice of you to ask, but I’m just fine, thank you.”
If there was anything for which to be grateful, Jacqueline mused, it was the fact that Tammie Lee seemed to be taking care of herself during the pregnancy. At least she had that much common sense.
Reese and Jacqueline sat across from them in leather chairs, with a polished mahogany end table between them. They so rarely used the formal living room that five years after she’d purchased the chairs they still smelled of new leather.
“I think we should tell them,” Tammie Lee whispered to Paul.
Paul nodded and squeezed her hand. “Tammie Lee had an ultrasound this afternoon and it seems we’re having a baby girl.” He smiled. “Sometimes they can’t be sure, but our technician was quite positive it’s a girl.”
“A girl,” Reese repeated and the happiness in his voice was unmistakable. He stood and clapped Paul on the back. “Did you hear that, Jacquie? We’re finally getting our baby girl!”
Jacqueline felt her hands go numb. “A granddaughter,” she repeated as the odd tingling sensation spread up her arms. Oh, how she’d once longed for a daughter.
“We haven’t chosen any names yet,” Tammie Lee rushed to add in that soft drawl of hers. It always made her sound as if she was talking underwater. “We only decided this afternoon that we wanted to know the sex of the baby. You’re the first people we’ve told.”
“Your mother and I had always hoped for a little girl,” Reese said, echoing Jacqueline’s thoughts.
“That’s … wonderful,” Jacqueline finally managed.
“We decided we should let you know, Mom,” Paul said, directing his attention to her for the first time, “so you’d know what color yarn to get for the baby blanket.”
“Mrs. Donovan, I declare, when Paul told me you were knitting a blanket for the baby, it just warmed my heart. Y’all have been so kind to me.” She planted both hands over her stomach and sighed.
That twang of Tammie Lee’s put Jacqueline’s teeth on edge. Some might find it pleasing, but to Jacqueline it sounded uneducated. Unrefined.
“There’s more news,” Paul said, moving toward the edge of the sofa cushion.
“More?” Reese said. “Don’t tell me you’re having twins.”
“Nothing like that.” Paul laughed shortly.
Tammie Lee grinned at her husband. “Twins! I’m so nervous about one baby, I can’t even imagine what would happen if we had two.”
Paul turned to share such a gentle look with his wife that Jacqueline glanced away. Any hope she had of her son regretting his marriage died a quick death.
“So what’s your other news?” Reese asked.
Paul’s face brightened. “I got word last week that Tammie Lee and I have been accepted into the Seattle Country Club.” The club, to which Jacqueline and Reese belonged, was the most prestigious in the area. New memberships were limited to only a few each year. It went without saying that only the right kind of people were accepted. One of Jacqueline’s first thoughts when she was introduced to Tammie Lee was that Paul had ruined his chances of ever joining the country club.
“I’m so pleased,” Jacqueline said, doing her best to smile. Apparently Tammie Lee’s lengthy and inappropriate discussions of southern cuisine hadn’t been as much of a detriment as she’d assumed.
“I’ve been asked to work on the cookbook committee,” Tammie Lee gushed as if this was the greatest compliment of her life. “I can’t tell you the number of times someone’s asked me to share my mama’s, Aunt Thelma’s and Aunt Frieda’s favorite recipes.”
“Recipes for what?” Jacqueline blurted out the question before she could stop herself.
“Mainly folks want to know about hush puppies. Four or five ladies have already asked me about those.”
“Hush puppies?”
“It’s like cornbread, Mother,” Paul supplied.
“I know what they are,” she said between clenched teeth.
“Paul loves my hush puppies,” Tammie Lee twanged in her eagerness to continue. “My mama told me they got their name from hunters who threw leftover ends of the cornbread to their dogs to keep ‘em quiet at night.”
“This is the recipe you’re submitting to the Seattle Country Club Cookbook?” Jacqueline was convinced she’d never be able to show her face in public again.
“Oh, and I asked Mama for Grandma’s recipe for Brunswick stew, which is my daddy’s all-time favorite. My grandma was raised in Georgia before she married my grandpa and moved to Tennessee. I was almost eighteen before we moved to Louisiana, so I really consider myself a bluegrass girl.”
“Brunswick stew,” Jacqueline said. That at least sounded presentable.
“It’s a southern version of chili. Mama always served it when we had a barbecue. Mama has Grandma’s original recipe and I’ll need to change it a bit. Everyone uses pork or chicken nowadays, instead of possum or squirrel.”
One more word from this woman and Jacqueline was afraid she’d keel over in a dead faint.
“I hope you give them your recipe for deep-fried okra,” Paul said as if he’d never tasted anything so good in his life. “You wouldn’t believe what Tammie Lee does with okra. I swear I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
Once and only once had Jacqueline sampled the slimy green vegetable. It’d been in some kind of soup dish. Never having seen it before, she’d lifted it from the bowl and been repulsed by the thick slime that had dripped from her spoon. She’d nearly gagged just looking at it and now her son was telling her he enjoyed this disgusting vegetable.
“I have a recipe for pecan pie that’s a family favorite and I’d be happy to share that, too.”
