Dyer Consequences (3 page)

“See? There’s another reason to play,” Megan said, her blue eyes bright with enthusiasm. “You
both
work too much. Tennis will help you relax.”

“I know something that would relax them even more,” Jennifer offered, not looking up from her needles.

Kelly studiously ignored her. “You and Marty still wiping up the tennis courts with your opponents?” she asked Megan.

“We try our best.”

Kelly marveled again at how the supershy Megan had “backed into” dating without even knowing it. Clever Marty had slowly escalated from tennis matches to tennis-plus -dinner or tennis-plus-a-movie. Kelly wondered if Megan even realized she was dating Marty. She was clearly enjoying their time together.

“How’s Marty doing? I haven’t seen him for a while.”

“We haven’t seen him because we haven’t had a potluck since the holidays. Bring out the food, and I guarantee, old Marty will show up,” Jennifer said.

Megan laughed. “You’re right about that. He really puts it away. I swear, he eats way more than I do, and you guys know my appetite.”

“Unfortunately I do,” Jennifer said with a sigh. “Why is it that skinny people can eat like it’s their last meal and not get fat? Me . . . all it takes are a couple of doughnuts, and I see it on my hips the next day.” She shook her head.

“If you’d run a little, you wouldn’t gain weight,” Kelly teased good-naturedly. “Just think how many doughnuts you could eat then.”

“Or you could learn to play tennis at our club,” Megan offered.

Jennifer sent Megan a jaundiced look. “I told you two, I prefer indoor sports.”

“Tennis is indoors,” Kelly said.

“It would be good for
both
of you,” Megan continued, a righteous fire of conviction shining forth. “Jennifer needs the exercise, and Kelly needs to relax from work.”

“Maybe in the summer, Megan. I’ll have to wait and see how my schedule is by June. After I’ve paid off that loan for the property, maybe I can cut back on my workload then.”

“The girls are right, Kelly. You
do
work too much,” another voice chimed in. Kelly turned to see the motherly shop owner, Mimi Shafer, smiling at them while she arranged knitting books on the surrounding shelves.

The warm, welcoming knitting room was lined on two sides with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves crammed with books on knitting, crocheting, spinning, weaving, dyeing, felting, and garment patterns. If it had to do with fiber, there was a book on it. The sheer enormity of the topics always amazed Kelly. She was still stumbling through her stitches. Well, maybe not stumbling, but certainly not “tripping lightly” through them. Knitting still required her concentration.

Kelly returned Mimi’s smile. “I can’t help it, Mimi. I’ve gotta earn lots of money to fix up that ranch. This morning, Jayleen confirmed what I suspected. In addition to the ranch house, both the barn and stable have to go. Steve and I will be going up tomorrow to decide where to build.”

“Well, now, that’s exciting,” Mimi said. “Aren’t you lucky to have Steve design your house. I’m sure he’ll put his heart and soul into those plans.”

“Steve could put his heart and soul into a whole lot more if she’d let him,” Jennifer teased.

“I’m sure he could,” Mimi said, clearly trying to contain her laughter as she headed toward the classroom doorway.

Kelly gave in to the inevitable. Once Jennifer started teasing, there was no stopping her.

“How’s Carl liking all the snow?” Megan asked Kelly, changing the subject. “I don’t see him outside in the yard chasing squirrels.”

“Believe me, Carl doesn’t spend more time outside in the cold than he has to. Even the squirrels don’t tempt him. He watches them from his doggie bed inside. I think we’re both adjusting to Colorado winters.”

“Is Carl doing his Rottweiler duty at night to scare away those creeps who’ve been causing trouble?” Jennifer asked. “I haven’t heard anything new, and I figure the Lambspun network would be the first to know.”

Kelly held up crossed fingers as she spied Lambspun regular Burt Parker enter the room, carrying a large fleece-filled plastic bag. “So far, so good. Those new outside lights must have done the job because nothing else has happened.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Kelly,” Burt said as he pulled out a spinning wheel from the corner and sat down. “You be sure to let me know if you see or hear anything suspicious, okay?”

Kelly watched Burt, a retired cop turned spinner, place a hunk of creamy white wool fleece in his lap and start pulling the fibers apart gently, creating batten. “Count on it, Burt. Have you heard anything from your old partner?”

Burt’s fingers worked the batten as his feet worked the treadle, yarn feeding onto the wheel. “He said there were reports of one bunch that tore up someone’s garage north of town a couple of weeks ago. Stole some electronic equipment then painted their slogan in red on the side of the garage.”

Kelly sat up at that. “Whoa! Red paint? That may be them! Any leads on that one?”

The soft hum of the wheel continued as yarn slowly filled the spindle. “Not yet. Unfortunately vandalism has gotten much more common over the years as more people have moved to Fort Connor. Problem is, there’s only so much manpower to go around, and other crimes have increased, too. Like burglaries and assaults. Those take a lot of time to investigate.”

“That could be the same bunch, Burt,” Kelly offered, pulse racing despite the meditative hum of the wheel.

Most of the time Kelly found it soothing to sit beside Burt or the other spinners. She liked to let the hum of the wheel and the peacefulness of knitting quiet her mind, arrange her thoughts, and bring new ideas. But not this time. Right now, all peaceful sensations of knitting were wiped away by ugly memories.

“Maybe so, Kelly. Meanwhile, Dan’s keeping an eye out and checking all reports of vandalism that come in. We’ll find them eventually.”

Kelly released a frustrated sigh, feeling the tension in her shoulders relax. “I know, I know. Everyone says that, Burt, and I know you’re all right. It’s the eventually part that bothers me.”

“Thanks for the refill, Sarah,” Kelly called to the waitress as she left the café located at the rear of the knitting shop. Balancing her coffee mug and knitting bag, Kelly headed down the hallway. She had worked all afternoon and now she needed a break badly. This particular client’s accounts were testing her patience. Despite her instructions, this guy refused to enter all his expenses and sales receipts. Kelly was about to send him to someone with more patience—a lot more patience.

She started to rush around a corner, but this time she stopped and paused. Good thing, too, because Jennifer was standing on the other side checking the cones of novelty yarns stacked on the wall.

“Hey, Jen, you have time for coffee? The café is hosting a banquet, so they’re still open. I’m taking a break from a nightmare client.” Kelly headed through the arched doorway to the main room.

“Don’t mention nightmare clients,” Jennifer replied, following after. “That’s why I left the office early. Both of my young client couples left me voice mails saying they plan to buy new homes
and
they’ve already signed with builder sales reps.” She dumped her large knitting bag on the library table. “I swear I’ve been taking them around for over a month now.
I
could have taken them to the building sites, but they didn’t even ask. It’s
so
frustrating when this happens.”

Kelly plopped her things on the table and pulled out a chair. “It’ll get better, Jennifer. It always does. I’ve watched you sell real estate for nearly a year now, and it seems to come and go.”

“Feast or famine.” Jennifer nodded resignedly. “But tell that to my landlord.”

“Hey, you can always bunk in with me if times get really tough,” Kelly said, bringing out the variegated pink and red yarn. Chunky wool, too, like her very first winter scarf. Kelly wanted to play with the huge needles again. “The sofa’s comfortable. Carl sneaks up there all the time.”

“Thanks, but I wouldn’t think of it. I wouldn’t want to cramp Steve’s style. Just in case you have one martini too many some night and your defenses are down.” Jennifer smiled as she withdrew the sweater she was knitting. “But then, Steve is such a gentleman, he would never take advantage like that.”

“It’s a good thing, too,” Kelly said, playing along this time.
If you can’t lick ’em, join ’em.
“If Steve tried anything, Carl would probably bite him in the butt.”

Jennifer laughed out loud. “You’re right, he probably would. . . . Hey, look who’s here.
Tracy!
It’s about time you showed up,” she called into the next yarn room. “I’ve been telling you about this shop for weeks now.”

Kelly glanced up and spotted a slender blonde, who looked to be in her early twenties, standing in the midst of the yarns with that glazed expression she witnessed on most newcomers’ faces. Kelly remembered the first time she entered the Lambspun shop . . . and promptly fell down the rabbit hole. She hadn’t come out since. “Friend of yours?” she asked.

“Yeah, she’s a student at the university who also works part-time in our real estate office.” Jennifer beckoned Tracy over. “Come meet my friend Kelly. You’ve heard me talk about everyone here in the shop.”

Tracy slowly approached the table, her eyes scanning the walls in obvious wonder. “Wow, you didn’t exaggerate, Jennifer. This place is fabulous. All these yarns . . . wow . . .” Her voice trailed off as she gazed.

“Lambspun has that effect on people,” Kelly said, offering her hand. “I’m Kelly Flynn, Tracy. Glad you dropped in.”

Tracy seemed to snap out of the yarn trance long enough to shake Kelly’s hand. “Hi, Kelly. I’m Tracy Putnam. Jennifer’s been tempting me with descriptions of the yarn at Lambspun ever since I told her I was a knitter.”

“Now you know why I did,” Jennifer said. “Knitters who haven’t been here are seriously deprived. Did you leave the office early today?”

Tracy reached into a nearby bin filled with tidy coils of variegated yarns—brown merging from chocolate into mahogany and russet, then burnt umber into pumpkin orange. “Susan sent me on an errand and said I didn’t need to return if I finished early.”

“Susan’s one of our superstars,” Jennifer explained. “You know, the ones with such huge client lists they never have to bunk in with their friends and wind up sleeping on the sofa with a Rottweiler.”

Kelly laughed softly, as did Tracy. “Well, I’m glad you decided to drop by for a visit. Jennifer says you’re taking classes at the university. What are you studying?”

“Chemistry. I’m one of those science geeks, I guess. I can only afford two courses a semester, so it’s taking forever. But I’m finally into my major courses now.”

“Good for you. It’s worth it, Tracy. Hang in there,” Kelly advised. “It sounds like you need knitting to relax like the rest of us do. I’m a CPA, and I escape over here regularly. Whenever the numbers start crossing in front of my eyes.”

Mimi bustled into the room then, her arms filled with fluffy billowing bunches of yarns. Fuschia, cherry red, and bubblegum pink. “Hello, girls,” she greeted. “Don’t forget the class tomorrow night.”

Kelly reached out and sank her hand into a frothy pink billow.
Soft, soft.
“Are you kidding, Mimi? This is the reason I’m taking the class. I want to see how you create such gorgeous colors.”

“Mimi, meet Tracy. She’s a knitter from my office, and I’ve been telling her about the shop for weeks,” Jennifer said, gesturing to her friend. “Tracy . . . uh, Tracy? . . . Uh-oh. I think we’ve lost her. Fiber trance.”

Kelly chuckled, watching Tracy stare wide-eyed at the seductive billows of froth in Mimi’s arms. “Mimi, this is Tracy, and she’s under the spell.”

“Welcome, Tracy, I’m so glad you came to see us,” Mimi said, holding the froth closer. “Go ahead and touch if you want.”

Tracy sank both hands deep into the billows, delight registering on her face. “Wow . . . this is so . . . so gorgeous. Do you make this yourself?”

“Well, we buy the fleeces and often spin them ourselves, but yes, we do a lot of the dyeing. That’s how we get such yummy colors.” Mimi beamed with pride. “I think I’ll call this one ‘Christmas Candy.’ What do you think, girls?”

“Please don’t remind me of the holidays. I’m still losing weight from that party,” Jennifer complained, fingering the fibers.

“You dyed this?” Tracy peered into Mimi’s face. “How? I mean, what chemicals do you use?”

Mimi laughed lightly. “Oh, we use lots of chemicals, trust me. That’s what I’m teaching in that class tomorrow night.”

“Hey, Tracy, you should join us,” Kelly suggested. “I mean, you’re a chemistry major, after all. This stuff will be right up your alley.”

Tracy stared into the billowing fibers as her hands caressed the froth. “Boy, I wish I could.”

"C’mon, join us,” Jennifer said.

“It would be wonderful to have a real chemist in the class,” Mimi added. “You could teach us a lot, I’m sure.”

Tracy looked up with a shy smile. “I’m far from a chemist, believe me. You’d be teaching
me.
” She stroked the candy colors again. “I sure wish I could.”

Kelly noticed a wistful expression crossing Tracy’s face and sensed that her hesitation stemmed from a common condition of college students—lack of funds. An inspired suggestion came to mind, and Kelly spoke without thinking.

“Tracy, I can tell you’d like to take the class, and you’d enjoy it even more than we would. If it’s money that’s holding you back, don’t worry about it. The shop has scholarships for special cases. Right, Mimi?” Kelly deliberately caught Mimi’s gaze.

Mimi quickly followed her lead. “That’s right, Tracy. And you’re definitely a special person, what with your chemistry background and all. Why, you would bring a lot to our class. Please come.”