Loves Me, Loves Me Knot (33 page)

Just call her Match-Makin’ Mama, she thought with a silent giggle.

She’d dyed more of her babies’ soft, beautiful fiber a bright, bold pink, and then used her family’s secret, enchanted spinning wheel to weave a wonderful skein of yarn just for Grace.

Which was why she couldn’t possibly have left the house this evening without it.

But she’d found it, thank goodness. Right where she’d left it, too—in a wicker basket beside the sofa in her living room, along with several other homemade balls of yarn.

Now she simply had to find a way to slip it to Grace some time during their Knit Wits meeting and ensure that she put it to good use. Otherwise, the magic that the spinning wheel infused into the yarn would never get a chance to create a true love match.

And it
would
work. Of that, Charlotte had no doubt. The wheel’s yarn had worked twice before, and she was certain it would work again for Grace. After all, the third time was, as they said, the charm.

Around her, the gals chitted and chatted, discussing their weeks and their latest knitting projects, and men. Men always seemed to be a popular topic of conversation, whether the group was admiring a specific physique or bemoaning their fickle, infuriating hides.

Being the eldest member of the group—and, sadly, the one most removed from a romantic relationship of any kind, unless she counted her enormous love for her alpaca babies and barn cats—Charlotte tended to sit back and enjoy the animated conversations rather than offer her own opinions about the opposite sex.

Girls these days . . . Charlotte was far from being a prude, but some of the stories her knitting buddies told could strip the Garnier Summer Wildfire #968 right off her hair and send it blooming in her cheeks. Not that she would ever let them know their banter teetered on the far side of her moral alphabet. (As in Triple X-Y-Z.)

In her day, young women didn’t make time with as many young men as they apparently did today. They also didn’t share the intimate details of their relationships with anyone who would listen.

But Charlotte considered herself a modern, sophisticated woman, so she took it all in, and even made a few mental notes for herself. Not many—she was too afraid her eyes would go blind and her fingers would burn down to the bone if she tried to write them out. And granted, she hadn’t had the opportunity to put her womanly wiles to the test in quite a long time, but one never knew when Prince Charming might come galloping—or in her case, shuffling—into one’s life.

Luckily, not everybody was as miserable in her love life as Grace and Charlotte.

A few were married and raising families, including Melanie, who tried her best to get away from her two small children long enough to attend the weekly knitting meetings.

A few were college-age girls who were enjoying their youth too much to tie themselves to any one boy yet.

Then there was Jenna, who was jump-out-of-her-skin, the-hills-are-alive-with-the-sound-of-music in love with her ex- and soon to be re-husband, Gage. Always had been, and the whole world knew it. It had just taken a few years of misery, a premature divorce decree,
a couple pints of tequila, and some magic yarn to get them both back on the same page.

And Ronnie was right there twirling around on the hillside with Jenna, glowing so brightly over her happiness with Dylan Stone that she practically burst into flame every time someone mentioned his name.

Charlotte’s gaze slid to Grace. Ronnie was telling them about the past weekend, when she’d gone away with Dylan to a remote mountain cabin. Apparently the temperature had been too low and there had been too much snow on the ground to do much more than stay inside in front of a blazing fire. Charlotte rather suspected that had been the point to begin with. Why else would anyone leave the frosty temperatures of Cleveland in the middle of winter to vacation in an even more glacial location?

Charlotte also suspected she was the only one who noticed how uncomfortable Ronnie’s story was making Grace. Though a smile was firmly painted on her lips, it was strained and the attempt at outward amusement didn’t reach her eyes.

If Ronnie knew that her animated account was causing her friend even a modicum of discomfort, she would have clammed up in a nanosecond, but Grace was so good at hiding her emotions and playing the part of a perfectly coiffed, perfectly content public figure that she had everyone around her fooled. Even her best friends.

They didn’t call her “Amazing Grace” for nothing, after all.

But Charlotte saw. And she knew that no matter how hard Grace pretended to be over the devastation of her broken engagement, in reality it was still tearing her up inside.

Not for long, though. God and true-love magic willing, Grace’s shattered heart would soon be mended.

Almost before she knew it, the hour had drawn to a close and everyone started tightening stitches and rolling up loose yarn, putting away their works in progress. Butterflies fluttered in Charlotte’s stomach as she saw her opportunity.

Jumping to her feet, she hurried to shrug into her coat and sidle up to Grace before anyone else could join them.

“I have a surprise for you, dear,” she said quietly, reaching into her bag for the carefully woven skein of silky-soft pink yarn.

Grace’s gaze lowered as she reached to accept Charlotte’s gift, and Charlotte noticed that the polish on Grace’s perfectly manicured nails perfectly matched the tint of the yarn.

Oooh, this was wonderful! It had to be a sign. A sign that this particular skein of magic yarn was, indeed, meant for Grace.

“That’s so sweet. Thank you, Charlotte.”

The words were sincere enough, but they didn’t carry Grace’s usual flare of enthusiasm. Everything about her these days was muted, as though a bubble of unhappi-ness surrounded her.

“Make yourself something special with it,” Charlotte suggested, wanting to press and make sure Grace started using the yarn as soon as possible. “Maybe after you finish that pretty sweater you’re working on now.” Which only had one more sleeve and some trim work to go.

Lips curving in a half-hearted smile, Grace leaned down to buss Charlotte’s cheek. “I will. Thank you again.”

Well, it wasn’t exactly a blood oath to begin knitting with the new yarn before the clock struck midnight, Charlotte thought with a mental sigh, but it would have to do. Now all she could do was cross her fingers and her toes and hope to heaven the enchantment of the ancient spinning wheel held true and worked its wonderful magic once again.