A bell chimed as Zoey opened the door to A Stitch at a Time and she stopped short to stare at an entire wall of yarn and threads of every conceivable color ranging from snow white to jet-black stored in plexiglass compartments. She smiled when she saw a table with knitted and crocheted monkeys, rabbits, chicks and ducks. There was also a display with babies’ and older children’s hats, sweaters, blankets and booties in soft pastels. Two women, sitting on matching armchairs, barely glanced up from their knitting when she walked in. There were three more chatting quietly as they sat around a glass-topped table.
Georgina, who’d been helping a woman piecing a quilt, held up a finger, signaling she needed a moment, giving Zoey time to further examine the space with cushioned chairs, love seats, area rugs and framed prints that invited one to come and sit for hours. When asked if she knitted, Zoey had been truthful when she’d admitted just a little. However, her curiosity was piqued when Georgina mentioned cancer patients.
She moved closer to examine several quilts on stands with Please Do Not Touch placards on a table fronting what appeared to be antiques. Some of the threads were missing and the colors on many of the squares had faded.
“Those were made by my great-great-great-grandmothers, some dating back to before the Civil War.”
Zoey turned and smiled at Georgina. She was dressed in black and white: black smock with white lettering of the shop’s name across the back, white jeans and black-and-white vintage saddle shoes. She had secured her curly hair in a ponytail.
“They should be hanging in a museum.”
“I’m seriously thinking about it,” Georgina replied. “They were packed away in airtight containers for years and I just took them out to put them on display for those who quilt or want to learn the art of hand quilting. A few of them need repairing, which I plan to get to sometime later in the year.” She paused. “I’ve been running off at the mouth when I need to let you know why I’d asked if you can knit.”
“As I said before, only a little. I know how to knit and purl.”
“That’s all you need to know. Have you heard about the new wing that’s being built at the county hospital that’s dedicated for cancer patients?”
“Yes.” Zoey was aware of the fundraiser to build the wing so cancer patients could remain close to home while receiving care.
“There’s going to be a ribbon-cutting ceremony early next year and I asked Sutton whether he would represent Wickham Falls when we donate chemo caps and scarves for the patients. And meanwhile, I’m asking all my customers that knit or crochet if they would also get involved. I’d like to sign up as many people that I can and hopefully donate dozens of caps and scarves. The patterns are for beginners, so realistically you should be able to finish at least one set. I’m selling all of the yarn at fifty percent off the adult kits, and eighty percent off for children. I know you work, so I don’t expect you to complete more than one kit.”
Zoey felt a surge of excitement at the prospect of making something essential for patients undergoing chemotherapy. “Sign me up.” Georgina flashed a smile. It had taken her a while to get used to not seeing the gap between Georgina’s teeth.
“Do you know how to cast on?”
“No,” Zoey answered. Charmaine used to cast on for her.
“I’ll show you. After you cast on and join the stitches, you’re going to be knitting in the round, which means you’ll only have to use the knit stitch for the cap. You’ll knit one row, purl one row for the scarves. We will only use acrylic yarn for the adults and baby yarn for the children.”
Zoey could not realistically predict how many caps and scarves she would make in four months, but instead of reading she would knit. “I can’t promise how many kits I can finish before the ribbon-cutting, but I’ll do my best,” she said, saying her thoughts aloud.
“Thank you so much, Zoey.”
“How many have signed on?”
“Right now, fourteen have committed. Once the teachers return from the summer recess I’m going to hit them up, too.”
“I have a few more days of vacation left before I go back to work, so when do you want me to come in and begin?” She’d called the agency to find out if they were ready to assign her another client and the scheduler said she would call a day in advance if a case came up. And that meant her two-week vacation would be extended. She’d accrued enough hours to take two weeks off, but anything beyond that would be without pay.
“I’m booked up with lessons for the rest of the week. I close Sundays and Mondays, but if you want to come in either of those two days I’ll make myself available for you.”
“I’m good for Monday morning.”
Georgina smiled again. “I was hoping you would say that. What time do you want to come in?”
“The earlier the better.” She was an early riser and tended to get her chores out of the way so she could have the rest of the day to do whatever she wanted.
“Nine.”
“Perfect. I’m going to give you one of my business cards and I’ll jot down the number to my cell. You can send me a message when you get here. I always keep the blinds drawn when I’m closed.” She removed a card from the pocket of her smock and scrawled a number on the back.
“Okay. Georgi?”
“Yes?”
“You’re doing a good thing.”
Georgina’s eyelids fluttered at the same time she bit down on her lip. “I knew I had to do something to give back because when I opened the doors to A Stitch at a Time I had no idea if folks would support me.”
Zoey realized Sutton’s cousin was becoming emotional. “Isn’t that what we do in Wickham Falls? We look out and support one another.” She thought about how everyone had come together to make certain she and her brothers would be taken care of so that the family would be able to stay together.
“You’re right about that, Zoey.”
“I’ll be here Monday morning.”
She left the shop and walked down Sheridan Street and around the corner. It was late morning and Main Street was crowded with shoppers and browsers. Families were filing into Ruthie’s, the family-style all-you-can-eat buffet restaurant, for lunch.
Zoey became one of those window-shopping as she peered into the shoe store that was doing a brisk business days before the start of school. Someone bumped her and she glanced up and recognized the boy she’d slept with in high school. He was with his wife and a toddler son, and he lowered his eyes when she stared at him. They rarely ran into each other, and when they did they acknowledged the other with a nod. After they broke up, he dated a girl from Mineral Springs and married her.
She walked down the block to Powell’s, and into the department store and over to the area for customer service/merchandise pickup. Reaching into her handbag, she took out her receipt and handed it to the young man behind the counter.
“I got an email that my order is ready for pickup.”
He studied her receipt. “I’ll check in the back for you, Miss Allen.”
“What are you doing here?” asked a familiar voice.
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Sutton smiling down at her. He was dressed entirely in black: long-sleeve tee, jeans, baseball cap and low-heeled boots. Whenever he smiled, her pulse would race a little faster, and with her limited experience with the opposite sex she hoped he did not compare her with some of the worldly, sophisticated women he’d met and known, because she could not pretend to be other than what she was: a small-town girl.
“Are you working or shopping?” He’d come to her house two days ago and they’d shared the last of the cake with coffee while sitting on her porch. She’d teased him relentlessly whenever a car came down the street, slowing noticeably in front of his rental with the hope of catching a glimpse of him.
“Shopping. Why are you here?”
“I’m picking up some things I ordered online.”
“The hoop was delivered a couple of days ago, so I’m here picking up a pump that was on back order and a few balls.”
“Do you really believe Harper will be able to make the team?”
“I won’t know, Zoey, until I see him play. He claims he can beat his friend Jabari with three-pointers. The kid may turn out to be the next coming of Steph Curry.”
“We will see, Sutton.”
He lifted his eyebrows as he gave her a skeptical look. “You doubt his skills?”
“No, because I’ve never seen him play. He and Jabari go over to the high school several days a week to shoot hoops, but if he makes the team I definitely will attend his games. After all, I have to support my brother.”
Sutton smiled. “As long as you don’t become one of those family members that act up so badly that they’re banned from future games.”
Zoey made a sucking sound with her tongue and teeth. “There’s no way I would embarrass Harper like that.” She’d seen footage of parents leaving the stands and confronting referees because they felt their child has been slighted.
“We will see, Zoey,” Sutton said, repeating what she’d said.
“Miss Allen, are you going to need help carrying this to your vehicle?”
Zoey glanced at the large box on the counter. “How heavy is it?”
“It has some weight to it.”
Sutton reached around her and scooped the box off the counter. “It’s okay, Danny. I’ll take it out to her vehicle.”
“I’m parked on Sheridan,” Zoey told Sutton as she followed him out of the store.
He hoisted the box onto one shoulder. “You never would’ve been able to carry this that far.”
She gave him a sidelong glance. Zoey wanted to tell Sutton that she was a lot stronger than she looked. “That’s sexist, Sutton.”
“Not only is this box heavy, but it’s also bulky.”
“FYI, I wouldn’t have carried it around the corner, but driven my car around to the front of the store.”
“Well, you don’t have to do that because I’m playing delivery boy for you.”
“And I thank you,” she countered, not wanting to appear ungrateful for his assistance. She opened the rear of the minivan and stood aside as Sutton stored the carton in the cargo area behind the rear seats. The tinted rear and back windows concealed the vehicle’s contents.
“Where are you off to now?” Sutton asked.
“Home.”
“Have you had lunch?”
“No.”
“Neither have I. Would you mind eating lunch with me?”
“My place or yours?”
“Neither,” he said. “I was thinking more along the lines of a picnic lunch. I can call the Wolf Den for a take-out order and then we can go over to The Clearing to eat.”
Going to what locals called The Clearing was like going back in time for Zoey. A forested area overlooking the falls that had given the town its name had been cleared of trees, the trunks fashioned into picnic tables and benches, as a campsite for family gatherings. There were grills for outdoor cooking and designated receptacles for discarded food and charcoal.
It was where kids from the high school hung out during the summer months, after classes and on weekends, and because the town did not have a fast-food restaurant, they’d ordered food from the Wolf Den for their impromptu picnics. The owners of the restaurant/sports bar had a special half-price menu for students with accompanying ID. The Clearing was also closely and regularly monitored by the sheriff’s office to make certain there was no evidence of underage drinking and drug use.
A smile parted her lips. “I can’t remember the last time I’d hung out at The Clearing.”
Sutton’s smile matched hers as he reached for her hand. “It’s been even longer for me. We’ll leave your vehicle here and take mine. Let me know what you want from the Den before I call in our order.”
“Everything they make is delicious, so order whatever you like.” She stared at him when he took out his phone and tapped an app. “I can’t believe you’ve downloaded the Den on your cell.”
He winked at her. “Anything to save time.” He tapped the screen again. “Done. I paid so it will be ready by the time we get there.”
Zoey noticed furtive stares as she walked with Sutton and realized it was only a matter of time before word spread that Sutton Reed was seen holding hands with Zoey Allen. Not only was he a returning hometown hero, but she hadn’t been seen with a man since graduating high school.
Let them talk, she thought. It was the same thing her father said when he returned from a road trip with a new wife who was not only not much older than his daughter but also obviously pregnant. Zoey did not understand the whispers and sly glances whenever she and Charmaine went downtown to shop until Charmaine told her that some people needed to gossip about something to make themselves appear knowledgeable. And then warned her about repeating things she’d overheard because once the words came off her tongue she could not retrieve them.
Although she missed her father, she missed her stepmother more because Charmaine was there with her and her brothers every day. Zoey had looked forward to coming home after school to sit in the kitchen to do homework while Charmaine prepared dinner. What she enjoyed most were the stories about her stepmom’s coal-mining ancestors who had taken a leading role in union organizing and were active in strikes that battled scabs and hired private guards the owners brought in to intimidate the workers. And once Charmaine trusted her to use the stove and oven without burning down the house, her cooking lessons began, and by the time she was sixteen she was able to perfect meals for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
It had taken Zoey a long time, even years, to convince herself that her father was gone and not coming back because she’d gotten so used to his being away from home for work, and then coming back days and sometimes weeks later. The day she celebrated her twenty-first birthday she’d locked herself in her room for hours crying inconsolably, until Kyle and Harper knocked on the door and pleaded for her to come out. While experiencing her crying jag, it was as if she could see the events in her young life like frames of film, and they were littered with losses. She’d lost her mother, father and stepmother, and she prayed she would live long enough to raise her brothers to adulthood.
Zoe finally emerged, face puffy, eyes swollen, and lied that she hadn’t been feeling well. She managed to laugh when they offered to make toast and tea because they were aware of what she would eat whenever she was threatening a cold. She thanked them for their concern, and told them because it was a milestone birthday she was taking them to Ruthie’s to celebrate. Her brothers liked going to the restaurant because they could choose whatever they wanted to eat. Zoey always cautioned them not to eat too much or they would be too full and unable to eat dessert. The dessert selections were kids’ favorites with pies, tarts, cakes and soft-serve custard.
Her blue funk continued for more than a week, and she’d contemplating going back into therapy but feared the therapist would document that she was not emotionally stable enough to take care of her siblings. And for Zoey that was not an option, and she swore an oath that she would do whatever was humanly possible to keep her family together.
Sutton helped her up into the Jeep and waited for her to secure the seat belt before rounding the vehicle and slipping behind the wheel. She stared straight ahead rather than glance at his distinctive profile. After photo shoots where his face and body had appeared on the covers of so many magazines and countless interviews, she wondered if he did miss some of the attention.
“What did you order?”
“Stuff.”
Zoey turned to look at Sutton. He was smiling. “What kind of stuff?”
“Chicken, brisket, ribs and a number of side dishes.”
“No okra?” she teased.
“You got jokes?”
Her expression mirrored innocence. “No. I’ve heard that the Den offered fried okra, which isn’t prepared the same as the okra in succotash.”
“Fried or boiled, I just don’t like it.”
“What else don’t you like, so I can keep that in mind if or when I ever invite you over for Sunday dinner?”
Stopping at the four-way intersection, Sutton waited for traffic to clear to cross the road. “You’re going to cook for me?”
“Not for you personally, Sutton. I’m old-fashioned when it comes to having Sunday dinner, because it is a family tradition I try to keep.”
“So, now I’m family?”
“Not quite.”
“What do you mean by ‘not quite’? Either I am or I’m not.”
“You’re my friend and a neighbor, and I’ve always invited neighbors over in the past. Before she moved to Ohio, Miss Sharon would join us a couple of times a month.”
* * *
Sutton decided not to get into a back-and-forth with Zoey. Just the fact that she’d invited him to her home to eat something other than dessert should have ended the discussion, but he wanted to know if her inviting him for what she considered a family tradition had any bearing on how she felt about him.
And it was true that they were friends and neighbors, yet he wanted more. Sutton wanted to be able to call and invite her out to dinner or to a movie. In other words, he wanted to date her. He’d had one serious relationship following his divorce and in hindsight he should’ve ended it before it had begun. He did not blame the woman as much as he did himself because he’d realized too late that his reason for seeing her was loneliness. From the time he’d tried out and made the high school baseball team, he was a part of a group, a crew that depended on one another for success. His squad mentality continued throughout college and his baseball career. However, the exception was his marriage. Once he walked through the door of his house, all he wanted and needed was his wife. He was able to mentally shut out the roar of the crowd and his trash-talking teammates. What he hadn’t wanted to come home to was strangers milling inside and outside the home he considered his sanctuary and have them greet him as if he was just another one of Angell’s guests.
The woman he’d dated for more than a year was similar in appearance and temperament to his ex-wife. When he’d introduced her, some people had asked if she was a model. That’s when the lightbulb went off. He had a stereotype when it came to a woman: most were tall and slender model types. And Zoey Allen was no exception, because he’d found Zoey to be a natural beauty without the coiffed hair, makeup and designer clothes. If he thought her attractive, then no doubt other men also did.
She’s waiting to become a nurse and she’s waiting to get a boyfriend. Mr. Reed, I want you to promise me you’re not going to mess over my sister.
Harper’s words were branded into his brain like a permanent tattoo. Was the teenager sending him signals that he wanted him with Zoey? Or perhaps he was reading more into their conversation because he did want an easygoing and uncomplicated relationship with her.
Not only did he like Zoey, but he also admired her quiet strength and family loyalty. He didn’t know how many high school seniors were willing to assume the responsibility of rearing their younger siblings when they were looking and planning their own futures that did not include becoming a guardian or surrogate parent. She had delayed pursuing a career and relationships because her family had become a priority.
He had reached a point in his life when he wanted children, while Zoey talked about delaying marriage and starting a family because after Harper graduated college she needed to experience a time in her life when she wanted to be responsible only for herself.
And for Sutton, it was family he coveted most. It was the reason he relocated his mother from Wickham Falls to Atlanta, bought a house and vehicle for her and deposited money in an account to ensure a comfortable lifestyle. Family was also the reason why he’d returned to his hometown when Georgina informed him that she was leaving Powell’s to open her own business and asked if he would step up and fill the void in management. Her request had come at the right time; he’d put his condo on the market and had planned to leave Atlanta with the possibility of relocating to Washington, DC, because he’d fallen in love with the capital city.
“What time is Sunday dinner?” he asked Zoey after a comfortable silence.
“Three.”
“What if I return the favor the following Sunday?”
Zoey shifted on her seat and gave him a direct stare. “That sounds like a plan.”
“Take my cell and program your number. If for some reason our plans change, then I’ll text you.”
Grabbing his cell phone attached to the holder on the dashboard, she entered her name and number in his contacts. She then removed her phone from her bucket bag. “What’s your number?” He gave her his number and she returned the phone to her bag.
Sutton smiled, believing he’d won a small victory. He didn’t know why, but he thought Zoey would reject his offer. Other than grilling steak and corn and inviting Zoey and Harper to join him, it had been a while since he’d cooked for someone other than himself. And one of the best things to have come from his marriage was his mother-in-law’s cooking lessons. When he and Angell went house hunting, she insisted they purchase a home with a mother-in-law suite because she wanted her mother to live with them. He had no qualms having his wife’s mother sharing their roof because he really liked the soft-spoken widow who had grown close to her only daughter after losing her husband to complications of diabetes.
During his team’s home stands, Sutton spent most of his free time in the kitchen with Elizabeth Tompkins, who patiently taught him to duplicate recipes passed down through generations of women in her family. Elizabeth did not bother to hide her frustrations when Angell would permit herself only a tablespoon portion of everything her mother had put on the table. It was obvious his wife had an eating disorder, which she vehemently denied whenever he insisted she seek counseling. The ritual at home was he and Elizabeth cooked and ate, while Angell starved herself in order to stay thin.
“Do you want a traditional Southern Sunday dinner with fried chicken or baked ham with all the fixings or something a little different?”
“How different, Sutton?”
“A pork crown roast stuffed with apple sausage stuffing, braised red cabbage and a sweet potato casserole.”
“You’re a gourmet cook!”
Sutton shook his head. “Not hardly. My ex-mother-in-law is a caterer and she taught me whatever I know about preparing different dishes.”
“Lucky you.”
The two words lacked emotion and Sutton wondered if talking about his ex-wife’s mother had Zoey believing that he wasn’t ready to let go of his past. A pregnant silence followed as he headed in the direction of the Wolf Den and maneuvered into an empty parking space. “Wait here, and I’ll be right back.”