Starting Now (5 page)

Libby knew it well. “It looks like you’re doing a great job.”

“Not me,” Ava said, her head lowered. “Mine looks like crap.”

Libby knew exactly how she felt. Her own first attempts had been pretty bad. “I learned to knit when I was your age and my first pieces looked horrible. You know what my mother said? She told me I had to knit all the ugly ones before I learned how to make them pretty.” Several times Libby had wanted to quit and throw her scarf away, but her mother’s simple words had helped her stick to it. She’d been right, too. By the time she’d finished her third or fourth project, Libby had noticed a difference in her stitches and the tension. When she’d first started knitting the stitches were so tight she could barely get the yarn to move on the needles. Gradually she’d relaxed. By then she’d knit a scarf, a dishcloth, another scarf, and had started on a vest. The vest hadn’t turned out half bad and she’d worn it with pride.

“My mother died last year,” Ava whispered. She looked up then with eyes that were rimmed with sadness.

Libby’s throat thickened. She wanted to tell the girl she’d lost her mother at the same age, but she rarely spoke of her mother. And yet the words tumbled from her lips. “I’m sorry; I know what it’s like to lose your mother,” she whispered. “Mine died when I was about your age, too.”

“Ava hangs with me,” Casey said, covering the awkward silence that followed. “Otherwise Ava’s stuck with her older brother and he can be a real …”

“Casey,” Lydia called out to the girl. “Why don’t you show Libby the hat tree?”

“Okay, it’s over here.” Casey set her work down on the tabletop and led Libby to the opposite side of the store. What looked to be a tall coatrack with a number of short, stubby hooks was nearly completely covered in impossibly small knit and crocheted caps. “These are all for the preemies,” the teenager explained.

Libby removed one of the hats and examined it.

“Would you like to knit one?” Casey asked.

The question took Libby by surprise. “I … I don’t know. It’s been a long time since I last knitted.”

“It won’t take you long to relearn.”

Libby was amused by the girl’s enthusiasm.

“You should do it,” Casey said and then returned to her friend.

“Maybe I will.”

Libby made her way up to the front of the store, where the owner was busy helping another customer. She walked over to the display window and gently pet the cat, who purred and then stretched his front legs out in front of him, yawning. Giving the shop one last look, Libby reached the door and stepped outside. It was warm and getting warmer.

Then, thinking Robin might back out of joining the gym, she grabbed her phone to send her friend a text. Only she’d need to be subtle. Grinning, Libby typed out FAT and pushed the “send” button.

Not a minute later Robin returned her text with FAT. FAT. FAT.

Libby laughed and sent her fingers flying. FATTER.

Seconds later Robin returned with FATTEST.

It wasn’t until Libby looked up that she noticed the flower shop next door to the yarn store. It was called Susannah’s Garden. Buckets of freshly cut flowers lined the sidewalk. On impulse Libby bought a mixed bouquet of white and yellow daisies and laughed for no reason other than that the silly exchange with Robin had greatly lifted her mood. She carried the daisies back to her condo and to her dismay realized she didn’t own a vase.

After cutting the stems, she placed the flowers in two tall water glasses. She set one on her desk next to the plant she was nursing back to health and the other in the middle of her kitchen table. It surprised her how much the afternoon out had lightened her mood.

Until recently her home had been little more than an office away from her office. The sofa could use some throw pillows, and most of her walls remained bare. How sterile the condo looked. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to brighten the place up a bit. She could buy a painting or two. That was a start. Looking through magazines for ideas might help, too.

She stopped in the middle of her living room and her pulse accelerated. This was the first time that she’d returned home without immediately rushing to check her messages. When she saw the red light flashing, her heart started to pound hard and fast. It could be a request for a job interview.

Pushing the button, she discovered it was Robin. “All right, all right. I got your message. I’ll be there Monday at six-fifteen. Seeing as how you’re the one who talked me into this, I expect you to be there, too. And,” she added, “I am fatter than you and that’s the end of it.”

Libby grinned. Well, at least now she’d have a friend to work out with.

Libby slept better that night than she had in weeks. She wasn’t sure why, other than the lunch with Robin and the visit to the yarn store.

The yarn store … something about the place had deeply affected her. Libby realized what it was. She had felt closer to her mother while in the store. As soon as she’d entered the shop she’d experienced a sense of comfort. The ugly negative voices she struggled to keep at bay had faded to a mere whisper.

Friday morning, after her visit to the gym, she followed her usual routine, surfing the Internet seeking job information. Then she called Sarah to check in. The firm had laid off five more staff and Sarah felt fortunate to still have a job. When Libby inquired about the others, she learned that two of her colleagues had been picked up by other firms. Her self-esteem took an immediate nosedive into a deep, dark pit of doubt.

Frankly she couldn’t understand why the others had gotten jobs and she hadn’t. No one worked harder or longer hours than Libby. No one. She was an asset. Okay, fine, she hadn’t brought in any major clients. That wasn’t her gift; she was still a hard worker—her billable hours proved as much.

At ten, Libby showered and dressed. She planned to return to the yarn store and purchase yarn if Lydia had time to reacquaint her with
the basics. It wouldn’t take long. She figured she’d pick up on the knit and purl stitches without much effort; it was casting on and off that she’d forgotten. Having a goal, a purpose to help fill the time between interviews and job searches, appealed to her. She could knit.

When Libby arrived at A Good Yarn, the cat was warming himself in the window. Apparently he was something of a fixture in the store. She walked in and was surprised to find that Lydia wasn’t there.

“Can I help you?” The woman who greeted her looked busy and wasn’t nearly as welcoming or as friendly as Lydia.

“I was here yesterday,” Libby explained. “I met Lydia and Casey and another girl. I think her name was Ava.”

The other woman stared at her and didn’t offer a return comment.

“Lydia offered to help me relearn knitting.”

“My sister is a good teacher.”

“Lydia’s your sister?” Although both had the same dark brown hair and eyes, they were about as different as any two women could be. In addition to the obvious differences in personality, Lydia was tiny and delicate and her sister was large and big boned.

“I’m Margaret, and I get that quite a bit.”

“Get what?”

“That look of surprise when people find out Lydia and I are related. She had cancer as a kid and I think it stunted her growth.”

“Oh.”

“She took our mom to a doctor’s appointment this morning. We take turns helping Mom.”

Libby walked over to the display for the preemie hats. “I was thinking I could probably knit one of these, but I’d need a bit of guidance getting started.”

“I can help you with that.” Margaret came out from behind the counter. “Sorry if I seemed brusque, Lydia’s much more of a people person than I am. Do you have needles?”

“Ah … no. Actually I’ll need everything.”

“No problem.” Walking at a brisk pace, Margaret went from one end of the store to the other collecting items. “What color yarn do you want?”

“Ah …”

“Pink, blue, neutral?”

“Neutral, I guess.” Libby had trouble keeping up with the other woman. Margaret grabbed a peach-colored ball of yarn.

“The pattern Lydia prefers is for knitting in the round, but she has another for straight needles.” She paused and looked at Libby.

Libby blinked, unsure what the question was. “I don’t know that I’ve ever knit anything in the round.”

“Not a problem,” Margaret said, and grabbed a pair of straight needles off the case. “In addition to yarn and needles, you’ll need a measuring tape and scissors.”

This charity project was quickly adding up. “Exactly how much is this going to cost me?”

“Less than you’d think. Lydia gives a discount when knitters buy yarn for charity projects.”

“Okay.” While Margaret tallied everything up, Libby withdrew her debit card. “Will you be able to help me this morning?” Now that she had the yarn and needles, Libby was eager to get started.

“Sure thing.”

Someone else stepped into the store and Margaret greeted her by name. Libby settled down at the back table where she’d met Casey and Ava the day before and waited for Margaret to join her. It didn’t take long. The customer knew exactly what she wanted, made her purchase, and was gone.

Margaret joined Libby. “I usually crochet,” she explained, “but I knit, too. It’d probably be best to do a knitted cast-on.” She handed Libby the pattern, which was on a single sheet of paper. The picture of the hat had faded from repeated copying, but Libby didn’t think that would matter.

“Ah … sure … whichever cast-on you think would be best.”

“You might want to read the instructions all the way through first,” she suggested.

“Okay.” Libby reached for the sheet. They were actually pretty easy to understand.

“You finished?”

Libby nodded.

Margaret made a single loop and slipped it onto the needle. It only took watching Margaret cast on two stitches before Libby picked up on how it was done. Another customer dropped by and Margaret stepped away from the table. By the time she returned, Libby had the required number of stitches on the needle.

“I suggest you make a couple of the hats in stockinet stitch, which is knitting one row and purling the next. Once you’re comfortable with that, Lydia can show you how to knit in the round with either double-pointed needles or two circular needles.”

This sounded a bit like Greek to Libby, but she nodded as though she understood.

Libby had her first hat finished by the time Lydia returned. Casey was with her and the teenager broke into a huge grin as soon as she saw Libby. She hurried to the back table.

“You came back.”

Libby smiled at the girl’s enthusiasm. “You inspired me.”

“Ava’s coming by later. Can you stay?”

It wasn’t like Libby had anyplace else to rush off to. “Sure.”

“I’ll sit with you if you want.” Casey pulled out a chair and sat down next to Libby. She took her project from her backpack and started to work on it.

After a few minutes Lydia joined them.

“Libby, I’m glad you decided to come back. I see Margaret got you set up.”

She nodded. “The stitches aren’t that even …”

“Remember what you told Ava,” Casey reminded her. “It really helped. She was ready to quit and then you said she had to crochet all the ugly ones before she could do anything pretty. She’s still waiting for the pretty ones, but I told her they’re coming.”

“Apparently I have a few ugly ones left in me, too,” Libby said, and smiled. Casey smiled back.

Bright and early Monday morning, Libby waited in the gym lobby for Robin. They’d continued to text over the weekend, but her friend hadn’t mentioned the gym again.

“I wasn’t sure you’d show,” Libby admitted when Robin walked through the gym door.

Robin, who’d never been much of a morning person, growled back, “Me either, but I’m here.” She’d brought along a change of clothes, which told Libby her friend intended to head straight to the office after their workout. It was what Libby would have done if she were employed, not that she needed a reminder that she was without a job. By living frugally, her severance package and unemployment benefits had carried her financially up until now, but it wouldn’t be long before she had to dig into her savings. The thought of that terrified her.

“Let’s get started,” Libby said, eager to show Robin the ropes. They found lockers next to each other and headed onto the floor. At this time of the morning the gym was even busier than at Libby’s
usual time. They put their names on the waiting list for the treadmills and walked the track on the second-floor level until the machines were free. Runners raced past them as if Libby and Robin were standing still. Libby took delight in reminding Robin that the tortoises always beat the hares. Robin grumbled an incomprehensible reply.

“I’m tired already,” Robin complained as they reached the main floor for their turn on the treadmills.

Libby remembered how sore and out of shape she’d felt after her first week, but said nothing. No need to discourage Robin before she got started.

Libby stepped onto her machine, set the program, and started walking. Her pace the first few minutes was slow and easy, working up to a fast clip, gradually increasing the angle. The instructor set up Robin’s machine and left after a few encouraging words.