Skein of the Crime (3 page)

Rounding the corner into the main knitting room, Kelly spied Mimi Shafer, owner of Lambspun, standing beside the long library table where knitters and fiber artists regularly gathered.

Mimi looked up at Kelly’s approach. “Thanks so much for riding to the rescue again, Kelly. I’ve been amazed at the response we’ve had to these new fall classes. I never thought we’d need to teach two levels of beginners.”

“I’m glad I can help, Mimi.” She noticed several patterns spread out on the table. “Are you picking out a project for this new class?”

“These patterns are for an advanced class. I’ll start off my beginning students with a simple scarf. That’s how you started, remember?”

“Wow, that was over three years ago, Mimi. It seems like such a long time.” Kelly glanced into the adjoining yarn room and noticed a familiar young woman examining the yarn bins. “Is Holly taking another one of your classes?” she asked, pointing.

A warm smile spread across Mimi’s kind face. “Yes, she is. You remember when she started her first class with me last month? Well, she enjoyed it so much she wants to take it again and knit another scarf. She’ll certainly be all set for chilly weather later this fall.”

Kelly observed the slender blonde dressed in cropped pants and a summery shirt. There was barely any resemblance to the waiflike, drugged-out, barefoot girl who had shown up on Kelly’s patio only a month ago.

“What a difference a month makes. Maybe that experience of wandering down the river trail and into my yard was Holly’s wake-up call.”

Mimi nodded. “Holly has really turned herself around. Now she reminds me of the bright-eyed young girl I remember. She was always tagging along after Barbara’s son, Tommy. It broke my heart and Barbara’s to see her slip into that college drug scene a few years ago when they both went to college.”

“You deserve a lot of the credit for helping Holly make that turnaround, Mimi. You took her under your wing. Brought her here to Lambspun every day after she left the hospital. Watched over her.”

“Well, Holly’s never really had much mothering since her mom passed away years ago and her dad moved out of town. So I just filled in the gap, I guess.” A cloud passed over Mimi’s face. “I didn’t want to watch another young person be destroyed by drugs.”

Kelly remembered that Mimi’s only child, her son, had died years ago after taking some unknown drugs at a college party. Now “Mother Mimi,” as Kelly and her friends called her, watched over all of them with a maternal eye. Kelly was about to change the subject when she noticed Holly approaching.

“Hey, Holly. How’s that class you signed up for at the university going?” Kelly asked.

“It’s going good, Kelly,” Holly said, a bright smile lighting up her pretty face. She reached over and gave Mimi a big hug. “Hey, Mimi.”

Mimi returned her hug and added a parting squeeze. “Is that the yarn you picked out for the class? It’s beautiful.”

Holly fondled the blue-and-green variegated wool. “Can I still use my size eight needles?”

“Absolutely,” Mimi reassured her, giving Holly a pat on the arm.

“I hear you’re taking another of Mimi’s classes. You’ll be passing me before you know it,” Kelly teased.

“Are you kidding?” Holly retorted. “I’m just hoping I don’t screw up as badly as I did on the first scarf.”

“Don’t worry. It’ll turn out wonderfully,” Mimi said, giving Holly another squeeze. “Come on, let’s head to class.”

“Oops, thanks for reminding me. I’ve got to get coffee before my class starts. Barbara will think I bailed on her.” Kelly gave a wave, then raced down the hallway to the café at the rear of the shop.

 

 

 

“Okay, your head measures twenty-one inches,” Kelly said, examining the tape measure. “So look at the pattern and tell me which size hat you’d be knitting. Do you know how to figure out how many stitches to cast on?”

The young woman stared at the pattern and replied, “That would be medium-sized, so I’d cast on sixty-three stitches. Three times the measurement.”

“That’s right. Now get your circular needles and settle back and start casting on. There are some stitch markers on the table. I’d advise putting one every twenty stitches as a guide. It’ll help later when you’re finishing the hat.”

The young woman, who appeared to be in her early thirties, like Kelly, peered at the metal needles attached to each other by a round piece of plastic approximately the same size as the needles. “I’m trying to remember how I cast on for the scarf. That was several weeks ago.”

Instead of jumping in right away and casting on for the woman, Kelly held back. She remembered how well-meaning friends often “helped” her out when she was starting by casting on stitches for her. But that actually slowed down her learning. Sometimes it was better to struggle along for a bit and see if the stitch “memory” came back. If not, she’d gladly show the woman how to cast on again.

“Well, take a few minutes and see if it comes back. If not, just give a yell.”

Kelly glanced over at the other five students seated around the table, all in various early stages. One older woman was slowly casting on with methodical, neat stitches. Another younger woman, college-aged, sat on the other side of Kelly. She’d cast on her first row and was busily knitting away on the next row. There was always a “star” in every class, Kelly noted. The other three were middle-aged and were still casting on their first row of stitches. Barbara was helping the last woman learn how to cast on.

Kelly noticed that each one used a different method. She’d been told early that there were scores of ways to cast on stitches, and whatever worked for an individual knitter was fine. As long as the stitches got onto the needle and stayed, you were good to go.

She glanced back to the young woman she’d been helping and saw several stitches appear on her needle.
Success.
“Hey, you remembered. Good job,” Kelly praised as she pulled up a chair beside the girl.

“Patty reminded me how to wrap the yarn around my fingers,” she said with a nod to the college-aged girl on the other side of Kelly. “So, I kept fiddling with it until it came back.” Her fingers slowly formed the twisting motion, needle going over and under to form a stitch.

“Thanks for stepping in, Patty,” Kelly said to the other girl.

“No problem,” Patty replied, her needles forming more stitches.

Kelly watched the first girl cast on several more stitches, then leaned back and took a big drink of the dark, rich coffee. Having a café at the rear of the knitting shop was too convenient. Plus the grill cook, Eduardo, made his coffee as black and strong as Kelly liked it. She couldn’t do better herself. Consequently, Kelly had a running tab at Pete’s Porch Café.

Kelly took another sip, then spoke. “I saw Holly a few minutes ago. She’s taking Mimi’s beginner class again. I’m amazed at the way Holly has turned herself around, Barbara. She’s even taking a class at the university.”

Barbara looked up with a worried expression. “Frankly, I’m amazed, too. I just hope it lasts. I’ve watched Holly try to change her dangerous habits before. Unfortunately, she always falls back into those old ways after a while.”

That wasn’t the response Kelly had expected. “Well, let’s hope this last experience scared her enough into changing for good. She’s such a nice kid.”

Barbara wagged her head. “That’s the problem. She’s still a ‘kid.’ Holly’s never really grown up, despite all our help. She still expects other people to solve her problems.”

One of the knitters looked up from her needles. “Who’s Holly?”

“Someone Kelly and I tried to help,” Barbara replied in a clipped tone. “Now, let’s get back to these hats. Who hasn’t finished casting on yet? I can help you if you need it.”

The older woman held up her hand. “I’ve been going slowly. I didn’t want to make a mistake.”

“We all make mistakes, so don’t worry about it,” Barbara reassured. “Here, let me see what you’ve got so far.” She picked up the woman’s needles and examined the stitches.

Patty leaned over to Kelly and whispered, “Barbara has known Holly for a long time. We all kind of grew up together and went to the same school. Plus, her son has been dating Holly ever since college. Believe me, Barbara isn’t happy that Tommy is still together with Holly.”

Kelly glanced up at Barbara, who was immersed in instructing the older woman how to cast on in a more efficient manner. Every family had a drama, Kelly thought to herself. If you look beneath the surface, you’ll find it.

“Oops, something’s wrong,” the girl on the other side of Kelly said, staring balefully at her needles. “There’s a stitch missing. Right there. See, it’s just a loop. How’d I do that?”

Kelly leaned next to the girl, examining the stitches. “It’s easy. You simply dropped a stitch, that’s all. I can still do it if I’m not careful. Don’t worry.” She repeated Barbara’s advice. “Let me show you how to pick up the stitch.”

 

 

 

“Hey, I’m glad to see you,” Jennifer said as she walked into the main knitting room. She dropped her large knitting bag onto the table beside Kelly. “How’d the class go this morning?”

“Very well, actually,” Kelly said, continuing the hat she was knitting. “Barbara has them all knitting hats so I was in my element.”

“All right,” Jennifer said as she settled into the chair beside Kelly. “Who’s this hat for?”

“Steve. I thought I’d knit him one to go with that scarf I made for him a couple of years ago.” She fingered the soft gray tweed yarn. “I hope he likes it.”

“I’m sure he will,” Jennifer said, pulling out a scarlet red sweater. Nearly finished already, Kelly noticed.

“He’s not out on the building sites anymore, but I figured he could wear it skiing,” Kelly added. “If he can find time to ski this winter.”

“Oooo, don’t talk about winter when it’s so pretty outside,” Megan scolded as she walked into the room. “I’m hoping for a long fall like last year.”

“You know Colorado,” Jennifer said, looking up from her sweater. “There’s no guarantee from one year to the next what the weather will be. It’s always a gamble.”

“Don’t I know it,” Megan said, plopping her bag on the table. Settling into a chair across the table from Kelly and Jennifer, she withdrew a shamrock green wool.

“Your color, Megan,” Kelly observed. “No one can wear that green as well as you can with your fair skin and dark hair. Are you doing a sweater?”

“Yeah, but it’s for Marty, not me this time,” Megan said, picking up the stitches she’d begun. Only five rows appeared on her needles. “So, I hope this green looks just as good with bright red hair. It’s against knitting rules to mess up your boyfriend’s sweater.”

“Not to worry. I saw Marty wear a bright green scarf once last winter and it looked great,” Jennifer said.

Megan glanced over to Kelly. “Another hat? Don’t you have enough hats, Kelly? I swear, you’ve gone overboard in the hat department.”

“This one is for Steve. I’m hoping he can wear it skiing this winter. Assuming he has time to ski.” Her voice couldn’t conceal her concern.

Time was something Steve didn’t have enough of. Ever since he’d started working with the architectural firm in Denver in July, spare time had evaporated. Kelly had envisioned summer would be a repeat of the year before—hiking and camping in the mountains, sleeping under the stars with Carl by their sides. Plenty of baseball and softball games, plus summer nights in Old Town with friends Megan and Marty, Lisa and Greg, and Jennifer and café owner Pete.

But it didn’t happen. Steve had thrown himself into his new job in Denver, hoping to make enough money to keep his business going. Kelly got to play ball and go out with her friends, but Steve was rarely there. When he did get home, they’d grab a pizza on the way to a game. Kelly would stay, and Steve would go to his Old Town office instead, trying to keep his own construction business afloat. By the time he returned to the cottage, he’d fall asleep beside Kelly, exhausted.

Megan glanced over at Kelly. “Maybe the housing market will get better this winter. What do you think, Jen?”

Jennifer gave a deep sigh before answering. “I wish I could say that will happen, but I really don’t think so. There are still too many houses for sale now, and buyers are looking for bargains. That’s why they’re scooping up those foreclosure homes.”

“Let me guess what you guys are talking about,” Lisa said as she strode into the room. She pulled out a chair beside Megan. Long blonde tendrils had escaped the scrunchy hair band holding back Lisa’s hair. She pulled out a multicolored shawl and picked up her stitches. “How’s Steve holding up?”

“As well as you can expect, considering Steve,” Kelly observed wryly. “He can’t control any of this, and it’s driving him crazy. He’s holding on, but if Jennifer’s right, I don’t know what will happen. If he loses Baker Street Lofts . . .” Kelly’s voice trailed off.

Baker Street was the project nearest Steve’s heart. The one he’d dreamed of doing ever since he was in college. Remodeling an old warehouse in Old Town into a distinctively designed building with offices below and trendy loft apartments above. With their great view of the Cache La Poudre River meandering nearby, the lofts had sold out quickly as had the retail space. But now . . . the constantly deteriorating real estate market was causing chaos all over northern Colorado, including Steve’s last building site in Wellesley.

Lisa’s pretty face puckered into a worried frown. “Darn it, I hadn’t planned to mention this, but I guess I have to.” She looked over at Kelly with concern. “Another foreclosure sign appeared at Steve’s Wellesley site. I saw it this morning when I drove into work. I’m sorry, Kelly.”

Kelly winced. “Damn,” she said softly, so as not to disturb customers who were browsing the yarn bins lining two walls of the knitting room. Bookshelves stuffed with books and magazines on every fiber subject imaginable lined the other two walls. “I can’t tell him, I just can’t.”