The Silence of the Llamas (2 page)

Ellie was a skilled knitter, but spinning was her true passion. She had also begun to give spinning and weaving lessons in a little extra building near the barn that she’d set up as a studio and shop. Yarns spun from exotic fibers were a booming market, sought after by discerning knitting shops and knitters. Maggie already featured Laughing Llama yarns at her shop.

Starting a llama farm had to sound like an odd choice to some people. But to dedicated knitters, like Lucy and her friends, it seemed an enviable lifestyle—being your own boss, living in such beautiful surroundings, and following your fiber bliss.

“There’s a sign for the festival: ‘Follow the Laughing Llama for a day of country fun.’ ” Lucy read aloud.

“Very cute. Ellie has a knack for marketing,” Suzanne observed.

Ellie was definitely a good businesswoman, very creative and resourceful, Lucy thought. Lucy had visited a few fiber fairs since taking up knitting. Most were pleasant but low-key affairs, though this one promised to be a very lively afternoon.

Dana turned to face Suzanne. “Ellie’s PR firm used to handle some big clients. Advertising the farm is a no-brainer for her. She took a full page in the
Plum Harbor Times
.” Dana took a page of newspaper out from her pocket and read aloud. “ ‘Laughing Llama Farm—Grand Opening Fiber Festival. Come out to the country for a day of family fun. Llamas, alpaca, and angora
rabbits on display. Watch sheepherding, shearing, and spinning. Handmade yarns and rovings for sale in our old-fashioned Country Store. Activities for children, and much more.’ ” Dana finished reading and turned to Lucy. “I bet there’s a crowd. Ellie rarely does things halfway. She’s always been like that.”

“She’s got a lot going on. Do they keep all those animals?” Lucy asked.

Dana folded the newspaper and put it aside. “Only the llamas. The others are borrowed for the day.”

“Phoebe must be in her glory. She might decide to leave the shop and ask Ellie for a job,” Suzanne said.

Maggie’s assistant, Phoebe Meyers, did love animals. But Lucy couldn’t imagine her leaving the knitting shop, even for a herd of llamas. A part-time college student, Phoebe lived above the store and worked odd hours as Maggie’s assistant between classes . . . and between chasing her boyfriend Josh’s band around in her second, unofficial job as their road manager.

“I think she enjoys petting them but wouldn’t be wild about mucking out barns,” Dana replied. “She’s probably just relieved that Maggie didn’t ask her stay in town and keep the shop open on her own.”

Lucy laughed at that scenario. “Maggie is too nice a boss to ever do that . . . and we all know Phoebe would have pouted for a month.” A knot of cars up ahead suddenly slowed, and Lucy hit the brakes. “I think we made it. This looks like the line to get in.”

As the Jeep crawled along, Lucy relaxed and stared out at the dark brown plowed fields, rolling meadows, and patches of woods in between. The trees were just starting to show color
and shed a few leaves. Low walls built of flat gray stones bordered the road and separated properties, a typical sight in this part of New England.

The Kruegers’ farm came up on the right side of the road. Lucy saw a wide, rolling meadow covered by high brown grass. A large circle of white corral fencing, several feet high, enclosed a group of camel-like creatures. Some stood grazing, while others stared blankly at the parade of passing vehicles. A shed made of wooden boards, open in front, stood behind them. One or two animals stood under the peaked roof—seeking a cool shady spot, Lucy guessed. A short distance from the corral she saw a large barn—the classic combination, bright red with white trim, like something from a picture book.

“Look . . . the llamas.” Suzanne sat up in her seat. “Wow, there’s a gang of them. I didn’t realize the Kruegers owned so many.”

The correct term was probably “herd,” Lucy thought. But Lucy shared Suzanne’s surprise. There were a lot of llamas out there. It probably took a lot of exotic fur to spin any profit from this enterprise. The Kruegers had made a big investment. A risky one, too, she thought, when you considered that they had come out here without any experience in country living, to hear Dana tell it.

“Ellie told me they own ten or twelve. They bought the whole herd from a couple in upstate New York who were retiring and selling their own farm,” Dana explained. “How many llamas do you need to start a business selling yarn? Is a dozen enough?” Lucy asked curiously.

“Oh no, not nearly,” Dana replied. “Ellie told me that it takes about three to six ounces of fiber to spin an average skein of yarn. Each llama only yields five to ten pounds of fleece when they’re sheared. Which can be once a year. Or sometimes, every other. So Ellie needs to buy fiber from other sources. Other farms, and even silk and bamboo. She said she’d need a herd of two or three hundred to keep the business going otherwise. But she and Ben like having their own herd to make the place feel like a real farm. She says it’s a good group, too. The llamas are well trained and very people friendly.”

“And Matt says they’re all healthy,” Lucy added, mentioning her boyfriend, who was a veterinarian and had become another knitting circle referral for the Kruegers.

“You can train a llama? What, to do tricks?” Suzanne asked.

Lucy laughed at the idea, but Suzanne was serious.

Dana glanced at her. “I’m not sure about tricks. But they are very smart. They can come when you call their name. Or pull a cart. Or guard flocks of other animals, like sheep.”

“A guard llama? Never heard of that,” Lucy said.

“Ellie says some are even used for animal therapy,” Dana continued.

Suzanne laughed. “You’re kidding . . . right?”

“Not at all. Llamas are very calm, gentle animals. People feel peaceful and secure in their company. Though I doubt Ellie will train any in her herd for special jobs. She and Ben don’t have the time right now, for one thing. But llamas do bond well with people, and Ellie seems to think of them as pets. That could also be because she and Ben aren’t, well, real farmers
yet,” Dana admitted with a smile. “They do tend to anthropomorphize.”

“I love you, Dana. But can you please speak English? Some of us in the backseat are little slow,” Suzanne said politely.

“You are anything but, pal,” Dana replied with a laugh. “I meant that they treat the llamas as if they were people, attributing human characteristics to their behavior. The llamas even have cute human names.”

“The way Lucy acts about her dogs, you mean.”

“Yes, that’s it exactly.” Dana nodded and glanced at Lucy.

“As if I’m the only person in this car who does that,” Lucy countered. She gave Dana a look. She didn’t reply but had the good grace to blush a little and stare out the window.

Everyone knew Dana had no perspective at all about her pedigreed Maine coon cat, Arabelle, that Lucy considered totally insane.

“Here we are, just in time,” Lucy announced. In time to avoid an argument about the superiority of dogs over cats.

The farm’s open gates came into view, decorated with blue and yellow helium balloons and a wide banner that read “Laughing Llama Farm ~ Grand Opening Fiber Festival.”

They turned onto the property and followed a dirt road. A large old farmhouse appeared on the right, and Lucy slowed the car so they could get a good look at it.

“What a beauty. Looks like it was built back in the eighteen hundreds,” Suzanne guessed.

Lucy had to agree. She loved old houses, and this one was a classic, a two-story eyebrow colonial with a long front
porch and a row of small square windows below the roofline. It looked newly painted, the clapboard a buttery yellow color with white trim, dark green shutters, and a red door. A planter made from an old milk can stood near the front steps, displaying pink geraniums and trailing vinca vines.

Even though it was late September, some hardy perennials still bloomed in the large garden in front—black-eyed Susans, pink coneflowers, and shrub roses. The weather in Plum Harbor was mild for this time of year and the killing frost had not yet crept in, though Lucy knew that soon the cooler nights would wilt any surviving flowers and the ground would freeze hard as a rock until spring.

“Wow, the place looks great. I haven’t been out here in a while. It needed a ton of work when they moved in,” Dana told her friends.

“We call that ‘potential’ in the biz. Or ‘in need of tender loving care,’ ” Suzanne translated. “This place did need loads of TLC, as I recall from the listing. But it has a lot of extras, too. There’s an orchard back past the barn, and a sweet little cottage back there. See it?”

Now that Suzanne pointed it out, Lucy did see the cottage, painted the same color as the farmhouse. The edges of lace curtains showed in the windows, and potted plants led up the steps to the front door.

“Nothing wrong with having another stream of income while you’re getting a business started,” Suzanne said approvingly. “I can’t wait until the kids go to college so we can rent out some of our place.”

Suzanne owned a large, rambling old house in a perpetual state of renovation, and Lucy could easily see it turned into a B-and-B . . . though she knew Suzanne was only joking.

“They found the perfect tenant, too,” Dana continued. “Her name is Dot. She’s from Vermont and has lived on farms most of her life. They’ve hired her to take care of the orchard and help with the animals. Even though she’s a little older, Ellie says she’s a hard worker and an angel with the llamas. She helps on the farm part-time and has another job somewhere. As a home health aide, I think. They give her a break on the rent along with her pay, so it all works out.”

Not far from the cottage, rows of leafy apple trees were also visible. Lucy wasn’t sure how far the orchard stretched back but guessed it to be a few acres. Before she could ask Suzanne, a parking attendant caught her attention, waving her toward a field filled with cars.

Lucy turned, and they bumped along over the rutted ground until another attendant directed her into a space.

Suzanne emerged slowly from the backseat, working her way through the piles of farm stand purchases. Dana and Lucy waited for her, eager to get into the festival. They could already hear music—old-time bluegrass banjo and fiddle tunes—as appetizing aromas beckoned them forward.

They came out of the lot and stepped into the flow of fair-goers. There was a big turnout, Lucy thought, especially for this type of event, which tended to be much quieter and not quite as . . . splashy.

“It must have cost a fortune to put this together. Look at
those tents.” Suzanne gazed around. “Top dollar at the rent-all places.”

The tents were very pretty, Lucy thought. Peaked on top, with bright blue and yellow stripes. They reminded Lucy of fairy tale illustrations, or movies about medieval knights jousting in tournaments.

Beneath the striped covering, they stopped to visit with a cluster of fluffy-headed alpaca and, in the next pen, a group of llamas that were a bit larger and more camel-like in looks.

Another tent held cages of huge angora rabbits. “Look at that guy,” Suzanne said. “He’s as big as a pillow.”

“He is. Couldn’t you just imagine cuddling up with him?” It was the biggest rabbit Lucy had ever seen, its furry coat prized for softness.

Just beyond the animals, there were several rows of smaller white tents—the many vendors who had come to sell their wares and publicize their shops and businesses, all related somehow to spinning, knitting, and other handcrafts.

“I guess we should look for Maggie’s booth,” Dana said, looking around.

“Right . . . before I lose control and start shopping again,” Suzanne warned them.

Lucy found a map in the pile of flyers the parking attendant had handed them. While she stood puzzling over it, Phoebe suddenly appeared. She was dressed for the country outing in a green cargo jacket, skinny jeans, and black high-tops. The purple T-shirt under Phoebe’s jacket read, “Keep staring. I may do a trick.”

Phoebe was just returning from a food run and her cardboard tray was heaped with items—a paper bowl of curly fries and a soft drink on one side and a yogurt, a green apple, and tea on the other. Her idea of a balanced diet—juggling her junk food with Maggie’s healthy choices.

“Hey, guys. What took you so long? Did you get lost or something?”

“We made a few stops. The farm stands were hard to resist . . . for some of us.” Dana glanced at Suzanne. “I hope we didn’t miss Maggie’s demonstration?”

“She doesn’t go on for at least half an hour. We’ve already set up the wheel. The booth is right over here,” Phoebe added, leading the way.

“I’d follow the smell of those curly fries anywhere,” Suzanne murmured. “Where’s the snack stand? I could go for a bite.”

Lucy was tempted to remind Suzanne of the apple cider doughnuts gobbled down at the last farm stand, but she restrained herself.

“Keep it moving. We’ll find some food later.” Lucy gently prodded Suzanne to keep her on track, though her friend kept slowing down as the colorful displays in different booths caught her eye. It all looked very tempting, Lucy thought. Suzanne wasn’t the only one eager to shop. There were handmade purses and pillows, woven rugs and fiber art, other booths with dresses and shawls, sweet-smelling soaps and lotions. Many booths offered knitting tools, unique yarns, and spinning supplies. Lucy kept reminding herself they would come back later and browse. Besides, there was only one booth where she would ever buy knitting supplies and it soon came into view.

A large oval sign with the Black Sheep Knitting Shop logo marked Maggie’s spot, and Lucy pushed Suzanne a few more yards to their goal.

Maggie’s booth was practically a mini version of her shop, with everything set up in an eye-catching way.

Handmade sweaters and scarves stood on stands or hung from the tent’s ceiling. There were tables inside and out displaying large baskets of yarn, needles, and various knitting tools. Flyers about classes and special coupons filled other baskets near the flow of passing traffic.

Lucy also noticed Maggie’s spinning wheel—a small one she used at home, not the large one she had in the shop—set up to one side of the booth, ready and waiting for its owner to make the magic happen.