Lucy
Her secret was out at work, and Lucy knew just who to blame. Shortly after she arrived, Leah called her into her office.
“Why don’t you shut the door, honey.” As soon as she saw the look on Leah’s face, Lucy understood. It was the look people had given her all summer: in the market, on her neighborhood street, whenever some well-meaning person who knew about Ella bumped into her. She hated that look.
“Lucy, some information just came to my attention. I feel terrible that I didn’t say this to you sooner, but I’m really sorry to hear what happened to your sister.” Leah gestured to the green velvet couch, but Lucy shook her head, no. No, she did not want to sit. She did not want to be here listening to whatever incoming tide of sympathy she was about to drown in.
She beat Leah to the punch. At this point in the summer, Lucy had it down like lines memorized for a school theater production: “Thank you. That’s kind of you to say.” She waited, as she always had to, to see if this was satisfactory enough to shutthe person up. The way Leah was looking at her, it was not. So she went on with the next set of lines. “My family appreciates the support, but we’re doing fine. Ella is getting better each day.”
“Well, I’m very glad to hear that,” Leah said, leaning back in her chair. “I can’t imagine what you’ve all gone through.” She leaned forward, hands clasped solemnly on the desk. “But it’s you I’m wondering about.”
Here it comes, Lucy thought.
“Is there anything you need? Time off? Shorter shifts? Because I’m happy to give it to you.” Her expression was so sincere, her words so kind, and yet all Lucy could think of was punching her boss. Right after she punched Eudora. “Whatever you need, you’ve got my support.”
Lucy felt the muscles in her jaw trigger, felt the familiar grind of molar on molar. This shop was her one safe place. Now everyone knew and it was over. “Is it okay if I get back to work, now?”
For a moment Leah didn’t say anything. “Sure, of course.” Lucy was halfway out the door as Leah went on. “I appreciate what a great job you’re doing…”
Eudora was setting up for her knitting group in the studio as Lucy blazed through.
“Oh, hi, Lucy! I brought you something.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a brand-new ball of yarn. As she stormed by, Lucy caught the exquisite amethyst color out of the corner of her eye. “It’s that special yarn you liked so much.”
She left Eudora standing with her hand out, the stupid lovely yarn just sitting there like a bird in her palm. It hurt Lucy’s heart. And that made her even madder.
“Are you able to join us today?” Eudora called after her.
“No thanks,” Lucy said, over her shoulder. She hated herself for doing it. Eudora was one of the nicest people she’d ever met. This never would have happened if Eudora had kept her big mouth shut.
All morning she avoided the studio. When the knitters, and the old man with the vegetables who kept showing up to join them, wrapped up their gabfest, Lucy kept her head down, organizing books in the children’s section. When Eudora emerged, later, with her little dog and looked in her direction, Lucy ignored her and made haste to the nearest customer. She could tell Eudora was waiting; she probably wanted to show her that yarn again. She would ask how the knitting was going.
That was another thing. It turned out Lucy didn’t mind knitting. It was actually kind of relaxing, even though it wasn’t easy. It took her mind off the really hard stuff. She’d taken to practicing her seed stitches before bed each night, head bowed, eyes on her needlework in the dim lighting of her room. Without realizing it, it became a soothing part of her evening routine. But she wouldn’t be doing that anymore. Not when it came with the hassle of a pity party.
It seemed Eudora had finally given up by the time Lucy checked out the customer she’d been helping. The woman bought a copy of Steven Rowley’s latest for herself, and after consulting with Lucy, two Tracy Deonn titles for her teenage daughter. Afterward, Lucy ducked around the register and into the back to grab her lunch. Somehow Eudora and Alfred had snuck past her.
“We missed you today,” Eudora said, looking up from the project table. Lucy groaned inwardly and went around to the butler’s pantry where Leah kept a mini fridge for their lunches. The studio was adjacent, and so Eudora kept talking. “I know it’s hard to join the group while you’re on duty, but I was hoping to give you that yarn before I left.”
Still bent in the fridge, Lucy cursed quietly under her breath. Could the woman be any nicer? Now she’d have to talk to her. She emerged with her lunch. Sure enough Eudora had set the ball of yarn on the table between them.
“You didn’t have to do that for me.”
“I wanted to. How’s your needle work coming?”
Lucy shrugged. “It’s coming.” The ball of yarn was sitting there, yearning to be touched. Lucy could tell how soft it would feel against her skin. But she was still mad.
Eudora must have read her mind. “This wool was dyed with the petals of Iris blooms. I get it from a farm who raises their own alpacas. Isn’t it lovely?”
She could feel Eudora studying her as she stared at the wool. There was no way she could not accept it. Sure enough, the wool was supple and soft in her hand when she picked it up. She felt her mood become a little more supple, too. “Thank you.”
“You are welcome, Lucy Hart.” Eudora looked at her hard. “I realize now that your sister is Ella Hart. I hope she’s doing alright.”
Lucy squeezed the yarn in her hand. “I figured as much.”
“I hope it’s okay that I shared that with Leah. It’s important the people you work with understand.”
Lucy didn’t need any more understanding. What she needed was space. And for people to stop asking her about her family. She almost set the yarn back down.
“I can tell I’ve upset you,” Eudora said, suddenly. “I’m sorry. I have a bad habit of sticking my nose in, my husband, Milton, used to tell me all the time.”
