The Sweetgum Ladies Knit for Love (3 page)

“Thank you.” Maria smiled at him and then stepped behind the counter to ring up the sale on the ancient register. She’d pushed her father for years to computerize their sales—not to mention the inventory—but he’d been perfectly happy with his tried-and-true methods. Unfortunately, while he’d been able to keep track of sales and stock in his head, Maria wasn’t quite so gifted.

The tall man appeared on the other side of the register.
“Three dollars and thirty-two cents,” she said, not looking him in the eye.

He reached for his wallet and pulled out a hundred dollar bill. Maria refused to show her frustration. Great. Now he would wipe out all her change, and she’d have to figure out a way to run over to the bank without anyone to watch the store. She completed the transaction and slid the package of pens into a paper bag with the Munden’s logo emblazoned on it.

“Hey can you recommend a place for lunch?” the blond man asked. He glanced at his watch. “We need a place to eat between meetings.”

“Tallulah’s Café down the block,” Maria said. Even the tall, arrogant stranger wouldn’t be able to find fault with Tallulah’s home cooking. People drove from miles around for her fried chicken, beef stew, and thick, juicy pork chops. “But you might want to go soon. The café gets busy at lunch.”

“Thanks.” His smile could only be described as sunny, and it made Maria feel better. She smiled in response.

“You’re welcome.”

The tall man watched the exchange impassively. Maria hoped he’d be gone from Sweetgum before the sun went down. Big-city folks who came into town dispensing condescension were one of her biggest pet peeves.

“C’mon, James,” the blond man said. “I have a lot of papers to go over.” He nodded toward his friend. “James here thinks I’m crazy to buy so much land in the middle of nowhere.”

Maria froze. It couldn’t be.

“Oh.” She couldn’t think what else to say.

“We’d better go,” the tall man said, glancing at his watch. “Thank you.” He nodded curtly at Maria, letting her know she’d been dismissed as the inferior creature that she was.

“But I thought you wanted—” Before she could remind him about his request for directions, the two men disappeared out the door, and Maria’s suspicions—not to mention her fears-flooded through her.

She should have put two and two together the moment the first man had walked into the store. A stranger in an expensive suit. In town for a meeting. Looking for a fountain pen to sign things. Normally Maria was good at figuring things out. Like where her father had put the quarterly tax forms and how she and Stephanie could manage the store with just the two of them for employees.

What she hadn’t figured out, though, were the more complex questions. Like how she had come to be a small-town spinster when she hadn’t been aware of time passing. Or how she was going to keep the five-and-dime afloat even as the town’s economy continued to wither on the vine. And she certainly had no idea how she was going to tell her mother and sisters that she, as executrix of her father’s will, was about to sell their farm, and the only home they’d ever known, right out from under them.

“Welcome to Sweetgum,” she said to the empty aisles around her, and then she picked up the feather duster once more.

Outside Maxine’s Dress Shop on the north side of the square, the clock in the courthouse tower chimed the noon hour. Camille St. Clair paused to listen, then returned to hanging blouses on a rack marked fifty percent off. Normally she didn’t put things on sale in September, but she’d made an error when she ordered the geometric prints. The local ladies weren’t quite ready for clothes that would look more at home on Fifth Avenue than on Main Street. Camille was ready, though, for something different. Ready for anything that made her feel that, at twenty-four, she wasn’t trapped in her hometown for the rest of her life.

Camille gave the blouses a final tweak just as the bell above the door jangled. She looked over her shoulder to see Merry McGavin entering the shop. Thirtysomething Merry was a fellow member of the Knit Lit Society, mother of four, and the peacemaker of the group.

“Good morning, Merry.” Camille appreciated her coming into the shop. She would be among the first to appear and buy something, knowing that Camille’s livelihood depended on the stores continued profitability. Camille had closed the dress shop for three days after her mother’s death. One day so she could plan the funeral, one day so she could attend the funeral, and one day so that the other residents of Sweetgum wouldn’t be shocked at how quickly she reopened the store.

“Hello, Camille.” Merry hurried toward her, and Camille had no choice but to submit to the motherly hug Merry was determined to bestow. Still, Camille kept her defenses up and refused to give in to the weakness that threatened her knees.

“Thanks for stopping in.” Camille forced a smile.

Merry laughed ruefully, her eyes filled with concern. “I know you’re probably sick to death of people asking how you are, so I thought I’d just give you a hug instead.”

“Thanks.” Camille appreciated Merry’s honesty as much as her presence. “I’m just ready for things to get back to normal”—her throat tightened—“if I can figure out what normal is anymore.”

“Give yourself time.” Merry patted Camille’s shoulder, which again threatened her composure. At least there weren’t any other customers in the shop. She jinxed herself with that thought, though, because the bell rang again. Camille stiffened as she recognized the young woman coming through the door. Natalie Grant. Rival, nemesis, and one of the biggest gossips in Sweetgum.
At the same moment, Merry’s cell phone rang from the depths of her purse. She murmured an apology and disappeared toward the back of the store as she answered it, leaving Camille to deal with Natalie.

“Camille! Did you hear about Coach Stults?” Natalie was out of breath, as if she’d sprinted across the town square to deliver her news. Her sleek brunette hair hung in chic layers and emphasized her high cheekbones and catlike green eyes.

Camille frowned, not bothering with a greeting since Natalie hadn’t either. She’d learned long ago to be wary when Natalie appeared with one of her bombshells.

“No, I haven’t heard anything. What about the coach? Is he okay?” Edward Stults had been the varsity football coach at Sweetgum High School for more than thirty years. He also taught senior year world history, so almost every adult in town had been a student in his class—including Camille.

“He’s retiring to Florida. Mrs. Stults finally convinced him it was time.”

“That’s nice.” Camille smothered a sigh of relief, glad that the news was good for once. She knew the town would miss the couple, but it hardly seemed the kind of topic to put Natalie in such a frenzy.

“Yes, but I haven’t told you the most interesting part.” Natalie’s attention was caught by Merry’s voice from the back of the store. “Hey, Merry,” she called before turning back to Camille.

Camille was instantly wary. “What could be so interesting about Coach Stults retiring?” She couldn’t imagine why Natalie would think the news worthy of bolting to the dress shop.

“The interesting part is who they’re going to name as his replacement.” Natalie looked like the cat that had gotten into the cream.

“And that would be…?” Camille prodded, hoping to bring the conversation to a swift conclusion. She still had to pull together the information for the shop’s weekly advertisement in the
Sweetgum Reporter
, and a shipment of winter separates waited in the back to be unpacked.

“The new coach is someone we know. Someone we went to school with.”

Even though Camille was only twenty-four, her high school days seemed a lifetime ago. So much had happened since the beginning of her senior year—her father’s desertion, her mother’s long illness and recent death, the burial of Camille’s own precious dreams of a glamorous life beyond Sweetgum.

“I can’t imagine anyone our age being hired as head football coach,” Camille answered. “Did I mention the new shipment I just got in?” she asked, hoping to distract Natalie. “There’s a suede jacket I think you might—”

“Dante Brown.” Natalie’s sharp features lit with a mixture of spite and glee.

Camille’s jaw dropped for a moment before she remembered to close her mouth and maintain her composure. Merry
reappeared from the back of the store and saved Camille from having to reply.

“Are you sure about Dante?” Merry asked. She’d obviously overheard Natalie’s announcement. “I thought he was playing professionally somewhere.”

“He got sliced or whatever you call it by the Dallas Cowboys during training camp. His knee never was the same after that hit he took in the Alabama game.”

Camille knew exactly which hit Natalie meant. It had been shown over and over on sports news channels. A chop block, the announcers had called it, with one man tackling Dante around the shoulders while another took him out from behind at the knees. The first time she’d seen the replay, Camille had rushed to the bathroom and thrown up.

Dante Brown. Beads of sweat broke out along her forehead. Dante. Back in Sweetgum.

“He’s taking over the team starting tomorrow,” Natalie said. “Cody says they’re a shoo-in to win the state championship now.” Cody Grant, Natalie’s husband, had been the quarterback to Dante’s running back. The two had been an unstoppable team.

A hard knot formed in Camille’s stomach. Dante had made it out, escaped Sweetgum, left small-town life behind. And now he was coming back. Had evidently chosen to return of his own free will.

Well, he always had been a little crazy. About football. About his future.

About Camille.

She had refused to give him so much as the time of day in school. Not because he was black and she was white, as many people had whispered. She’d avoided him because of the way he made her feel just by passing her in the hall and saying hello. She’d switched lockers with her friend Jackie her junior year so she wouldn’t have to see him any more than she could help.

And then her senior year, Camille had learned how fickle life—and men—could be when her father walked out, which only reinforced her decision to avoid Dante Brown. The intervening six years had done nothing to dim the truth of the lesson her father had taught her.

“Dante always did have a thing for you,” Natalie said with a smile both teasing and malicious.

“Did he?” Camille’s tone could have frosted ice. “I don’t really remember.” But she did remember. All too well. How she had cheered as hard as anyone when he scored the winning touchdown at the state football championships. How she’d turned down his invitation to the prom with a sniff and a lift of her chin.

“So, he’s back in town already?” She couldn’t stop herself from asking.

Natalie smiled in triumph at Camille’s interest. “He was at Tallulah’s awhile ago, eating chicken-fried steak. Or should I say a couple of chicken-fried steaks.”

Camille remembered that too. Dante, a mountain of a fullback even in high school, could put away more food than a family
of four. She resisted the urge to move closer to the shop windows and peek out at the square. Although the large Victorian county courthouse blocked her view of Tallulah’s Café, people often parked wherever they could find a place on the busy square. Perhaps even now, at this moment, Dante Brown was passing outside of Maxine’s Dress Shop.

Camille refused to let Natalie see the effect of the news on her. “I just got in some designer jeans, too, but I haven’t put them out yet. If you’re thinking of something for the homecoming game—”

“Oh, I don’t need to buy anything today,” Natalie said. “I just wanted to tell you the news.”

Camille kept the smile pasted on her face, aware of Merry’s knowing gaze. Of course her old rival wasn’t there to shop. She was there to throw Dante Brown in Camille’s face and see what kind of response she got. Natalie would never forgive Camille for being both homecoming and prom queen their senior year.

“You’re taking the news very well,” Natalie said with a teasing smile rimmed with malice.

“Well, I’m happy for the football team,” Camille said. “I’m sure everyone will be. Dante has a lot of professional experience to draw on.” Camille had followed his career as avidly as anyone in town, although she’d been careful to appear casual whenever anyone mentioned his name. But some people like Natalie knew enough—or could at least guess—about what had passed between them in high school.