Angry now, she whirled on him. “I beg to differ. After five years of working side by side, you know next to nothing about me.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really,” she flared.
“On the contrary, I know you very well, Colette Blake.” The innuendo was so sharp, it felt like a carefully aimed needle pricking her vulnerable skin—and her pride.
“See what I mean?” she said as calmly as her hammering pulse would allow. “You just made my case. What happened…happened, and there’s no going back. I suggest you hire a permanent replacement, Mr. Dempsey, because I can assure you I have no intention of working for you again…ever.”
Conscious of the need to retain her dignity, Colette marched off, leaving him standing in the middle of the sidewalk.
CHAPTER 6
“The simple meditative act of knitting may not bring about world peace, but it certainly has made my world more peaceful.”
Ann Budd, Book Editor, Interweave Press. Author of numerous knitting books, including Lace Style, coauthored with Pam Allen (Spring 2007) and Getting Started Knitting Socks, Fall 2007, Interweave Press
Lydia Goetz
If today wasn’t the first knitting class for the prayer shawl, I would’ve closed the shop in order to be with Margaret and Julia. My niece was in bad shape. The hospital had kept her for two days after setting the pin in her arm, which was badly broken. Her face was swollen and bruised. I could barely look at her and not cry. It was beyond my imagination that anyone would do something like this to my beautiful Julia. More damaging than the physical injuries was what this carjacking had done to her emotionally.
To her and to my sister! I’d never seen Margaret angrier. At the hospital she paced the waiting room snarling like a wounded beast, snapping at the staff, demanding answers and generally making a nuisance of herself. I couldn’t even talk to her. I don’t know what would’ve happened if not for Matt. My brother-in-law handled the situation so tactfully. Again and again, he reminded Margaret that Julia was alive. The loss of the car was of no consequence as long as their daughter had survived the attack. Insurance would replace the vehicle but nothing could ever replace their child.
The door opened on this bleak Wednesday afternoon, and Alix walked into the shop. I was pleased that she’d decided to sign up for another class, although she didn’t really need one, since she’s turned into an accomplished knitter. Because Colette and Susannah were beginners, I’d offered to teach two patterns, one a simple prayer shawl, and the other, for Alix, a more elaborate, complicated lace pattern. She required a challenge, otherwise she’d quickly grow bored. She also needed distraction, and I figured this lace pattern would do the trick.
I was so grateful to see her I almost broke into tears. I’d been so distraught by the assault on Julia that my emotions were completely off-kilter.
“Did you hear?” I asked, struggling to keep my voice from shaking.
Alix nodded. “How’s Julia doing?”
“She came home after a couple of days in the hospital but she refuses to see anyone other than family.” With her face swollen and discolored, Julia was afraid of what her friends would say. She’d immediately gone into her bedroom and hadn’t come out. I understood better than anyone might have guessed. After my first brain surgery, my head swathed in bandages, I’d been terribly self-conscious. Little did I realize this was just the beginning of my ordeal. I wouldn’t allow my friends to see me, either, and later, when I was lonely and depressed, there were only a few who’d hung on. In retrospect, I knew I was responsible for sending them away; I hoped Julia didn’t repeat my mistake.
All I could do was pray for my niece and give her my love and support. Her arm would mend and the bruises fade, but I doubted she’d ever be the same lighthearted girl she’d been a week ago.
The car thief had stolen more than their vehicle that day. He’d also taken Julia’s innocent trust that the world was decent and safe. He’d blindsided my sister and Matt, too. Whoever he was, this man had a great deal to answer for.
“Did the boys in blue find the guy who did it?” Alix asked as she sauntered up to the table in the back room of the shop. That was where I held my classes. She set down her backpack and took out the yarn and needles she’d purchased earlier in the week.
“No word yet.” Frankly, I didn’t have much hope. The officer who’d talked to Margaret explained that the car was probably on a container ship in the Port of Seattle within a day of the attack. Apparently the new car my sister had chosen was one of the most desirable vehicles on the black market. The whole family had been so proud of their first brand-new car, and this only added to the burden of Margaret’s guilt.
“If I were you, I wouldn’t hold my breath,” Alix muttered.
I knew Alix distrusted the police. I should’ve said something positive to counter her cynicism, but I didn’t feel like arguing. Besides, it wasn’t getting the car back that was important to my sister. It was justice she wanted. Justice she demanded. Margaret wasn’t one to easily forgive and forget, and she was fiercely protective of her family, especially her daughters Julia and eleven-year-old Hailey.
The bell chimed a second time and in strolled Susannah and Colette. All three women had already bought the necessary needles and yarn and I’d supplied the pattern as part of the class fee. Because Colette and Susannah were new knitters, most of my time would be spent helping them.
“Susannah, Colette, this is my friend Alix,” I said. “She works at the French Café, so you’ve probably seen her around the neighborhood.”
Alix shrugged her shoulder in an unfriendly manner. Her attitude reminded me of the way she’d acted during my first knitting class, when she’d sat across from Jacqueline Donovan. I hadn’t seen this side of Alix in a long while and knew something must be troubling her. Once more I bit my tongue.