Riley pressed her hand against her chest, feeling her heart rate speeding up. “Why? Are you sick? Are you in the hospital?”
“No, I’m not sick... or in the hospital. At least not anymore.”
Riley sat up. “You were in the hospital and you didn’t tell me?”
“There wasn’t time. I broke my leg—”
“You broke your leg?” Her voice choked in her throat, and Melody rushed to sit down next to her. “When? How?”
“If I can get a word in edgewise, I’ll tell you.”
Mimi’s quiet, composed tone immediately calmed Riley, as it had for so many years. After an unstable childhood, she’d moved in with her grandmother when she was thirteen. Mimi had been her rock ever since. “I’m listening.”
“Put her on speaker,” Melody said.
Riley tapped the screen. “You’re on speaker now. Melody wants to know what’s going on too.”
“Oh, hello again, sugar. As I was saying, I broke my leg when I slid into third base last Sunday.”
Riley and Melody stared at each other.
“What?” Riley finally said.
“You see, the young man playing third was blocking the base, so I had to slide. Myrtle hit a lousy outside pitch straight to the first baseman, who clearly should have been riding the bench instead of playing the infield. He flubbed the ball, and I thought I’d made it to third, until everyone started yelling at me to go back to second. I was already committed, so down I went. I was safe, by the way.”
“Is she serious?” Melody whispered.
Rolling her eyes, Riley nodded. Softball was one of her grandmother’s favorite sports, and she had dragged Riley to many a community game until Riley was seventeen. Then the community games had stopped.
“Mimi, you shouldn’t have been playing softball in the first place.”
“I don’t need a lecture from you, young lady,” Mimi grumbled. “I need you to come home and take over Knots and Tangles while I convalesce.”
“Oh no,” Riley said, getting up from the couch. She shook her head. “I’m not falling for this again.”
“Falling for what?”
Her grandmother sounded so innocent Riley almost believed her. “Like I’ve said a million times before, I’m not moving back to Maple Falls, and I’m definitely not taking over the yarn shop for you.” She walked over to the painting and scowled at the hole in the canvas. “I am impressed, though. You spun a good yarn, pun intended.”
“I’m not spinnin’ anything.” Mimi’s tone was sharp. “It’s the truth. Myrtle and I joined the new church softball team a few weeks ago, and we just had our second game. Now I’m out for the season, so stop what you’re doing and get back here. Pronto.”
Riley spun around and met Melody’s stunned gaze. Her grandmother rarely used a commanding tone with her, and not once since Riley moved away had she been insistent about her returning to Maple Falls. Until now. While she had asked Riley to visit around the holidays, she never pressured her and even visited New York a few times. She understood how important Riley’s career was to her and had always supported it 100 percent. Riley was banking that she still did.
“Mimi, I’m sorry you broke your leg—”
“Thank you. Now, about your return—”
“And I would love to come help you.” Which she would, if it didn’t mean going back to Arkansas. “But I can’t exactly drop everything here at the last minute. I have a jo—” She hadn’t told Mimi she was working part-time for a food delivery service. She had to pay her bills somehow, since her art wasn’t making any money. “I, um, have a show coming up.” At least that part was true.Mostly.
“Oh?” Excitement entered her voice. “I didn’t know that. Where is it so I can tell everyone about my famous granddaughter?”
She wouldn’t exactly be bragging about her one and only granddaughter, the supposed artistic rage of New York City, if she knew her art show was at the local flea market. It wasn’t even a show, really. Just a place to sell some of her work so she could make her part of the rent. Telling herself it was an art show made it easier to swallow.
“The details aren’t worked out yet.”
“So it’s something you can postpone? Sugar, you know I wouldn’t ask you to come if I wasn’t desperate. Myrtle’s going on a three-week cruise again, so I can’t count on her.”
Guilt hammered Riley, but she stood fast. “What about one of the other Bosom Buddies?” she asked, referring to the small group of ladies that met weekly at the yarn shop for coffee, knitting or crocheting, and copious amounts of gossip.
