Yarn to Go (4 page)

4

BARELY AN HOUR LATER, I WAS BACK AT VISTA DEL MAR
waiting in a small building called Cypress. It consisted of a big room that could be divided, but we had the whole thing and it was to be our meeting room for the weekend. I was early and gazed out the windows toward the dunes that ran along the edge of the Vista Del Mar grounds. The area was in the process of being reclaimed, and the sandy area was off-limits to people. But it was okay for the two deer I saw wandering among the Menzies’ Wallflowers with their bright yellow petals, the Beach Sagewort and the Mock Heather before disappearing in a stand of tall bushes.

You couldn’t tell that it was afternoon by the color of the sky. It had been white since dawn. It was hard to tell it was spring, too. Year-round it was always like this, chilly and damp. I was grateful for the inviting fire crackling in the comfortable room’s fireplace. A long table was set up with chairs around it. In the corner there was a sink and a counter. A coffee and tea service had been brought in. I added a plate of fresh butter cookies I’d baked while I stopped home.

Kris and Edie arrived together. Kris did a little shiver as she walked in and pulled the cream-colored shawl around her more closely. Edie trailed her talking a mile a minute. I envied Edie’s cappuccino-colored sweater. It looked cuddly and warm.

“At least you two showed up,” I said. “I’m not so sure about the others.”

Kris nodded with a knowing smile. “This group seems a little more difficult than the ones we’ve had in the past,” Kris said. Something in her manner made me feel that even though this group was a problem, she’d be able to handle it. I supposed it came from being a teacher and getting used to being in charge. I had never gotten the hang of that position when I was a substitute teacher, which was probably why I left that job.

“Yes, but Joan would have known what to do with them,” Edie added.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m doing the best I can.” I didn’t want it to happen, but my voice sounded a little warbly and I had the desire to leave—well, run away. It had only been a few hours and it was clear I was already a flop. I literally had to hold on to the seat of the chair to keep from bolting.

Kris threw Edie a dirty look and turned to me. “I’m sure Edie didn’t mean that the way it sounded. You’re doing great. Giving out the muffins was a wonderful idea.” She glanced toward the counter and saw the plate of cookies. “And you brought more sweets. It’s a nice touch.”

“Thanks for the pep talk. But Edie’s right. My aunt would have handled things better,” I said. My comment caused Edie to gush about how sorry she was and how thoughtless her comment was as she rushed over and hugged me.

“Don’t worry about this group,” Kris said. “I’ve worked a lot of retreats both big and small and everyone comes around. Besides, I have something up my sleeve.”

I felt relieved at Kris’s confidence and wished I had even half of it. But then she was an expert at knitting. Realizing she was only a few years older than me, I asked her how she’d earned the title of master teacher. She seemed flattered at my interest, and while we waited for the others to show up, she told me her background. She practically had to put her hand over Edie’s mouth to keep her from chiming in.

“I learned to knit when I was in high school,” Kris began. “Then I needed a job with flexible hours when my kids were small, so I got a job in the local yarn store. I seemed to have a knack for helping the customers with their projects. By chance I heard the instructor had bowed out of teaching an advanced knitting class in the extension program of the local community college. Sometimes you just have to seize the moment,” Kris said, explaining that even though she wasn’t exactly a master teacher then, she talked her way into getting the class. “I kept learning more, and pretty soon I was teaching classes around the Monterey Bay area. I began to sell some patterns to yarn companies, and suddenly I had a career. I’m afraid master teacher sounds better than it pays, though. Doing the retreats really helps out. When I met your aunt, she had been using Gwen Selwyn from Cadbury Yarn to do knitting classes for her retreats.” It seemed like she was going to end there, but then she continued. “Let’s just say I made the classes more contemporary. Joan particularly liked putting on these Petit Retreats because she got to be one of the participants.”

So, now I had the answer to Kevin St. John’s earlier question about why my aunt had opted for these less-profitable events. I didn’t want to say anything, but if he took over, it was very likely that this was the last of the small gatherings.

“She’s just being modest,” Edie said. “She’s also won all kinds of awards and ribbons. She’s like a superstar of knitters.” Kris flushed at the description but seemed to like it.

Lucinda came in and looked at the empty room.

“I was beginning to wonder if you’d given in and gone back to the restaurant,” I said to my friend as she pulled up a chair.

“No way.” She glanced at the other two and cringed. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I love Tag and the restaurant, but even fairy-tale couples need some time apart.” She looked at the empty table. “Where is everybody else?”

“The others didn’t exactly seem happy to be here,” I said. “What am I going to do if they all suddenly want a refund because Joan isn’t here?”

“Don’t worry, they’ll come,” Kris said in her perky cheerleader voice. “And if the past is any example, you’ll see—I’ll win them over.”

Bree arrived next. She sat down and laid her cell phone on the table. She took off the hooded gray sweatshirt with the school name on it. Underneath she had a navy blue long-sleeved T-shirt, a hot pink shirt that peeked below the hem and jeans. Olivia marched in and sat down with a thud. It was as if she wanted everyone to know she was there under protest. Melissa and Sissy were fussing as they arrived. Melissa was concerned that her daughter wasn’t warm enough in her rolled-up jeans and short-sleeved T-shirt. Sissy kept insisting she was fine even though I caught her shivering.

Scott came in last, hung by the door and kept his eye on the window. What was he so afraid of? Or maybe the question was who?

Kris welcomed the group again. Scott finally sat down, but at the far end away from all of us. Bree’s cell phone began to beep loudly, and she held her hand up apologetically.

“My boys got some app on their game gadgets that turns them into walkie-talkies. I have to take this. It’ll just be a moment.” She headed outside and started pacing up and down in front of the window while she talked. Judging from her body language there was trouble at home. Maybe now the kids were claiming their father wanted to feed them kibble for dinner?

Edie got up and went to stand at the head of the table with Kris. “You guys are going to be so happy with this workshop.” The repeat retreater pulled out her smartphone and flipped through a bunch of photos and then held it up. “This was the last retreat.” She walked around the room and showed each of us a number of photos. “Don’t they look like they’re having a good time?” she said, flipping through them again herself. “Oops, I didn’t mean to show these,” she said, gazing down. I strained to see what she was looking at. Even though it was an odd angle, the first photo was of a man in a baseball cap with the sunset behind him, and the next one was of Kevin St. John talking to Gwen Selwyn, the yarn store owner. Edie moved to the head of the table. “I’ve got to get some shots of this group.” She got us all to gather around the retreat leader and snapped several pictures.

When Edie sat back down, she flipped through the photos on her phone again. She seemed to stop on one and stared at it for a long time. She looked up at Kris and started to say something but stopped herself, which I found amazing after her verbal Olympics.

“Thanks for sharing the pictures,” Kris said, and Edie almost bowed. “I know if Joan were here, she’d tell us to get started.”

Scott stood up. “Is anybody going to tell me what happened to Joan Stone? She’s the reason I’m here.” He pointed at Edie. “You sold me on this retreat. You said that Joan put on these amazing weekends.”

Kris’s expression became somber. “I’m sorry. I thought Casey had told everyone. Joan was killed in a hit-and-run accident a few months ago.”

My automatic response was to say that I didn’t buy that it was an accident and give the reasons. But I kept it to myself this time. It wasn’t their problem; it was mine.

Bree returned appearing drained, her blond hair even frizzier from the dampness in the air. “You don’t really think my husband gave them beer and said they could stay up until midnight, do you? How am I going to get through this weekend?” she said, slumping into one of the chairs.

“You could start by turning off your cell phone—and your mommy brain,” Edie said.

Olivia seemed oblivious to all the fussing and was staring off in space.

“One of the great things about a retreat is leaving everything behind,” Kris said in a pointed manner. “Let’s all put away our cell phones.” She demonstrated by picking up Edie’s and making the screen go dark. “I want you all to just focus on being here and immerse yourself in the wonderful weekend we have planned.” She nodded toward me to indicate I was part of the
we
.

“Let’s get started,” she said.

“But we don’t have anything to work with,” Lucinda said. “The instructions said we didn’t need to bring anything.”

“Well, I have something,” Bree said, dropping a blue tote bag that said
Serrania Elementary School
on the table. She began to pull out some yellow yarn and a couple of needles so long they looked like fencing foils.

Olivia began to fumble through her purse. “I have something, too. I always carry a little project just in case.” As she pulled out a plastic bag with multicolored yarn and the same kind of silvery double-ended needles I’d seen at my aunt’s, a pill bottle came with it and rolled across the table. The ever-eager Edie grabbed it before it went off the table. She read the label.

“Sleeping pills? You won’t need those here. The sound of the waves will lull you to sleep. Just open your window and—”

“My sleeping issues are none of your business,” Olivia said, snatching the bottle back and putting it in her bag.

I watched all this thinking I should do something. Joan would have stepped in and said something funny to break the tension. All I could do was glance at the door and think about making a hasty exit. But Kris had made me promise to stay through this first session.

“I said not to bring anything, because I have everything you need,” Kris said, opening the plastic bin Gwen Selwyn had dropped off. She took out a tomato red tote with
Petit Retreat Three
on it in yellow letters. I was relieved that she’d found them. In all the fussing, I’d forgotten to point them out.

Edie’s eyes lit up. “This is it, you guys. Wait until you see what Kris has for you. She’s a genius at this.” Edie started to ramble on about some kind of special yarn and circular needles, whatever they were, and the first Petit Retreat. Kris put her fingers to her lips in the universal shush gesture.

“Edie, you’re absolutely my best cheerleader, but you’re going to ruin the surprise,” Kris said in a friendly voice. “First, let me explain my philosophy of a retreat. I believe it’s the time to push the envelope, broaden your horizons and overcome obstacles.” She picked up a tote bag and handed it to Bree. “You all filled out questionnaires when you signed up for the weekend. They were passed on to me. That’s how I know that Bree is most comfortable being part of a group.” Kris urged her to look inside her tote bag.

Bree began to unload the contents onto the table. She stopped when she got to two balls of yarn. I had never seen anything like them. Each was multicolored and not the usual fuzzy texture that I thought of as yarn.

“They’re made from recycled saris,” Kris said. “No two skeins are the same. The scarf you make is going to be unique. No one in the world will have another exactly like it.”

Bree didn’t seem pleased with the prospect. “Then we’re all going to be making scarves out of this, this sari stuff?”

“No,” Kris said. “Only you.”

“But the Ewes always make the same project together. How will I know if I’m doing it the right way?” Bree sounded a little frantic.

“Don’t you see that’s exactly why Kris gave you the yarn she did?” Edie said. “You need to break out of the conformist box you’re in.”

Kris threw Edie a pointed look. “I wouldn’t have said it quite that way. Bree needs to experience her individuality.” She picked up another of the tote bags and handed it to Olivia.

“I didn’t fill out any questionnaire,” Olivia said, checking the contents. She extracted an orb of fuzzy purple yarn with bits of jewel-toned metallic highlights that blended nicely with her pink velour pants and matching zippered jacket. When she looked at the label, her face clouded. “Cashmere?”

“You might not have filled out a questionnaire, but somebody did for you. It was clear from it that you’d always only used inexpensive yarn and right now you needed something luxurious and special.”

Olivia felt around the bag. “There are so many skeins.”