How to Knit a Love Song by Rachael Herron Page A

back of their closets. You came along and took the knitting world by storm.”
    “It’s a small world.”
    “Not anymore, it isn’t, and you’re the queen of them all.”
    “Eliza was the queen. I’m only a courtier still.”
    Janet’s face softened. “I’m so sorry. I barely got to see you at the funeral.”
    “It was a busy day.” Abigail traced the pattern on the handle of her knife with the tip of her finger.
    “And now you’re living in Eliza’s old home. How is it? Are you all right?”
    The waiter, looking rather cowed, set elaborate salads in front of them. Janet looked at them, opened her mouth as if to speak, then nodded. The waiter’s look of relief was obvious.
    “Blue cheese. Best dressing here.”
    “Fine.” Abigail took a bite.
    Janet had moved to the central coast after a nasty divorce that occurred in the higher echelons of the fashion industry. Her husband ended up getting the Rodeo Drive storefront she had sold many bolts of cloth and skeins of luxury fiber to buy, and the divorce had been difficult emotionally and financially. Janet moved and started her own online business, something that made her more money now than the store ever had. People whispered that she was a self-made millionaire, but Abigail loved best that the sadness had left Janet’s face.
    “You’ve been here for how long now?”
    Janet sighed. “Five years.”
    “That long! It feels like a minute ago.”
    “I know. And Bill still thinks I won’t make it. You know, he was begging to use my name in a new deal he was trying to set up. Obviously, I said no. He sent a note, saying he couldn’t believe I’d forget him like I apparently have.” She giggled. “I sent a card back asking him to clarify where I knew him from.”
    “I love it. And are you seeing anyone?”
    “Oh, sweetie. I see people all the time. No one special. There’s one man, Richard, but he’s too recently divorced to have sex without crying, and it’s getting tiresome. What about you, though? Whatever happened to that one? Teddy, was it?”
    Abigail laughed. “Teddy. He suited his name; he was a doll. But he was in love with me.”
    “Nothing wrong with that.”
    Abigail reached into her purse and pulled out her knitting.
    “What do you have? Anything good?” Janet peered greedily.
    “Just a sleeve.” Abigail waved the two circulars in the air. “And no, there wasn’t anything wrong with him being in love, if I’d been in love back. But I wasn’t. I really, really tried, though. He was perfect for me.” Abigail shrugged. “I don’t think I’m the falling-in-love type.”
    Janet reached out to feel the russet yarn. “Yum. Tell me?”
    “My own handspun merino.”
    “And it’s going to be…”
    “You never give up. It’s going to be a man’s sweater.”
    “For a new book? Or is this personal? Or better yet, for me?”
    “Come on. I don’t have a man to knit for. I’ll write the pattern up if I like it.”
    Janet pointed her salad fork at Abigail. “Good. Keep knitting. And don’t give me that crap. Of course you’re the falling-in-love type. Everyone is, when we get right down to it. What about Jim? Now, that was love.”
    “You’re right. That was. I was down for the count on that one. Only came up to find my bank account empty and my computer gone, with the only copy of my manuscript on it.”
    Janet groaned. “God, I’d forgotten. That was horrifying.”
    “It sure was stupid, huh? But you fixed it for me.”
    “I wish you could have seen the look on Jim’s face when he opened the door to find me and Mafia Tony on the doorstep.”
    “Your driver does look like a mob boss.”
    “He loves playing the part when I need him to. Jim positively gibbered as he ran to get the computer. Sobbed as he handed it over.”
    Abigail grimaced and checked to make sure her seed stitch was still lined up correctly. “Never saw so much porn in my life as when I opened it up. I put the book on a disc and then wiped the hard