from her?”
Cade tapped the bottom of the rusty filing cabinet with his boot. “I was in here until midnight last night, going over and over it. With what the land is worth now, I couldn’t ever afford to make an offer. Not that she’d accept it anyway.”
He sucked back the rest of the bitter coffee and took his hat off the rack. “Aren’t we going up to work on the north fence today?”
“If you say so, boss.”
“I hate it when you call me that.”
“That’s why I do it,” said Tom.
Chapter Nine
When the sleeve measures the right length, put it aside and cast on immediately for the second. Don’t move from that spot; don’t even get another glass of wine before you do. Trust me on this one.
— E.C.
A n hour later—three other wheels set up on the porch, fiber all around her—Abigail heard her cell phone ring. She reached in her pocket.
“Hello?”
“Are you here?”
“I am.”
“ Finally . I can’t believe you moved fifteen miles away from me. Meet me for lunch.” Her best friend and ex-boss, Janet, never wasted time.
“I don’t know, I’m kind of in the middle of something.”
“No, you’re not. Nothing that can’t wait a bit longer. Twenty minutes, drive into town, left on Main, Bramblewood Cafe will be on the right.”
Thirty minutes later, still picking bits of fluff out of her hair, Abigail walked into the restaurant.
“Darling! You’re here! I can’t believe it. Sit here, I’ve already ordered for both of us.”
Janet always ordered for both of them. Abigail had long since stopped minding, since Janet always ordered her something good, often something she wouldn’t have ordered otherwise.
“No, Abigail, I really mean it. I can’t believe you actually moved here, to my neck of the woods. God knows I’m only an hour and a half away from San Francisco, but still. No one ever comes to see me, let alone moves to be near me.”
“Did it all for you.”
“You lie. But you’re sweet. And it’s going to be so easy to boss you around now.”
Abigail laughed. “I don’t think you’ve ever really had any problem doing that, have you? Besides, now that I don’t work for you, you can’t.”
“I will, too! And you should still write a little pattern up for me when you can. My customers would love it…And you know I’m good at bossing everyone. Ask that terrified waiter over by the door. I only wanted more lemon but I think he thought I was going to eat him.”
Janet was extremely tall and even more striking. She had jet-black hair with one carefully styled white stripe, and she favored clothing with jet buttons and long tassels. She still wore hats in a 1940s way to match her purse and shoes. While her style was dated, she made it work in a way that the twenty-somethings scouring the vintage stores couldn’t. She was near fifty, but no one knew how near. She was loud and sometimes merciless and, underneath it all, very kind. Abigail adored her in a way she didn’t adore her friends closer to her own age. They were compatriots, whereas Janet was more than that; she had already walked through the fire and now laughed at the heat.
“When I met you, I thought you were going to eat me .”
“Darling, I would have. I just wanted to gobble you up. You, knitting so seriously, before anyone else was. At least you knew good cashmere.” Janet trailed a gloved hand in the air as she laughed.
“That’s because you imported the best.”
“But I only imported clothing until you asked me for yarn. I thought you were insane, to pay that much for clothing that didn’t even exist! That you had to make yourself!”
“It was worth it though. You’ve made a fortune, selling my patterns and the yarns to the knitters.”
“Yes, of course, but I didn’t know that was coming. You were ahead of your time, designing those cute clothes, the sweaters that people actually wanted to wear, sexy little knitted camisoles and sassy hats, things that people wouldn’t hide in the
Cade tapped the bottom of the rusty filing cabinet with his boot. “I was in here until midnight last night, going over and over it. With what the land is worth now, I couldn’t ever afford to make an offer. Not that she’d accept it anyway.”
He sucked back the rest of the bitter coffee and took his hat off the rack. “Aren’t we going up to work on the north fence today?”
“If you say so, boss.”
“I hate it when you call me that.”
“That’s why I do it,” said Tom.
Chapter Nine
When the sleeve measures the right length, put it aside and cast on immediately for the second. Don’t move from that spot; don’t even get another glass of wine before you do. Trust me on this one.
— E.C.
A n hour later—three other wheels set up on the porch, fiber all around her—Abigail heard her cell phone ring. She reached in her pocket.
“Hello?”
“Are you here?”
“I am.”
“ Finally . I can’t believe you moved fifteen miles away from me. Meet me for lunch.” Her best friend and ex-boss, Janet, never wasted time.
“I don’t know, I’m kind of in the middle of something.”
“No, you’re not. Nothing that can’t wait a bit longer. Twenty minutes, drive into town, left on Main, Bramblewood Cafe will be on the right.”
Thirty minutes later, still picking bits of fluff out of her hair, Abigail walked into the restaurant.
“Darling! You’re here! I can’t believe it. Sit here, I’ve already ordered for both of us.”
Janet always ordered for both of them. Abigail had long since stopped minding, since Janet always ordered her something good, often something she wouldn’t have ordered otherwise.
“No, Abigail, I really mean it. I can’t believe you actually moved here, to my neck of the woods. God knows I’m only an hour and a half away from San Francisco, but still. No one ever comes to see me, let alone moves to be near me.”
“Did it all for you.”
“You lie. But you’re sweet. And it’s going to be so easy to boss you around now.”
Abigail laughed. “I don’t think you’ve ever really had any problem doing that, have you? Besides, now that I don’t work for you, you can’t.”
“I will, too! And you should still write a little pattern up for me when you can. My customers would love it…And you know I’m good at bossing everyone. Ask that terrified waiter over by the door. I only wanted more lemon but I think he thought I was going to eat him.”
Janet was extremely tall and even more striking. She had jet-black hair with one carefully styled white stripe, and she favored clothing with jet buttons and long tassels. She still wore hats in a 1940s way to match her purse and shoes. While her style was dated, she made it work in a way that the twenty-somethings scouring the vintage stores couldn’t. She was near fifty, but no one knew how near. She was loud and sometimes merciless and, underneath it all, very kind. Abigail adored her in a way she didn’t adore her friends closer to her own age. They were compatriots, whereas Janet was more than that; she had already walked through the fire and now laughed at the heat.
“When I met you, I thought you were going to eat me .”
“Darling, I would have. I just wanted to gobble you up. You, knitting so seriously, before anyone else was. At least you knew good cashmere.” Janet trailed a gloved hand in the air as she laughed.
“That’s because you imported the best.”
“But I only imported clothing until you asked me for yarn. I thought you were insane, to pay that much for clothing that didn’t even exist! That you had to make yourself!”
“It was worth it though. You’ve made a fortune, selling my patterns and the yarns to the knitters.”
“Yes, of course, but I didn’t know that was coming. You were ahead of your time, designing those cute clothes, the sweaters that people actually wanted to wear, sexy little knitted camisoles and sassy hats, things that people wouldn’t hide in the
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