STANDING IN FRONT OF the Princess Yarn and Novelties shop, Bella marveled at how small the little son of a bitch really was. The top of his queer head barely reached her chest.
“You want me to steal from in there?” she asked.
“Be careful. The lady who owns the place is a nutty Southern Baptist who doesn’t miss a trick.”
“Why don’t you do it yourself?”
“That old biddy won’t let boys into her shop.”
“What do you want with a bunch of yarn anyway?”
“WHAT DO YOU CARE?!”
“Okay! Don’t spin your panties into a twist!”
Terelli reached into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper. “Can you read?”
Bella snatched the paper out of his hand. “Yes, I can read!”
“Make sure the wool is 100 percent cashmere.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“NO BLENDS!”
“OKAY!” Bella thrust the list into her coat pocket. “You better beat it over to the other side of the street while I do this.”
“I’m not moving. I want to keep an eye on you.”
“Take a hike or I’m not goin’ in.”
“Don’t spin your panties into a twist yourself!” Terelli grabbed a Herald-News from Pasquale Bortolini’s newsstand. “Be sure and get the right colors!” he called over his shoulder as he skipped across the street. “True navy blue and honeysuckle pink, please!”
A passing boy called him a faggot.
“Fuck you!” Terelli hissed as he skipped past him. “Eat me!”
When Bella stepped into the shop, she was smacked with the cloying scent of Four Roses talcum powder and the itchy stink of ripe old lady. Kodachrome explosions of yarn bouqueted all over the place.
Bella sneezed and a rat terrier of a crone stepped out from behind a busy pattern display. Her face was a powder puff full of wrinkles. Her stiff hair rose off her head like a lacquered pile of purple cotton candy. Around her neck swung a cross big enough to choke the fangs out of Bela Lugosi. “How might I help you, young lady?” she asked with a southern drawl as thick as Grandma’s Molasses.
Bella started checking the yarns. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just browsing.”
“Do you knit, young lady?”
“Like the devil.”
“What’s your favorite stitch?”
Bella found a blue yarn bundle and checked it against Terelli’s list. “Oh, I have so many. Is this 100 percent cashmere?”
“Of course. What are y’all gonna make with it?”
“A baby blanket.”
“How sweet! Is it for a girl or for a boy?”
Bella smiled. “I don’t know.” She pointed to her stomach. “It ain’t here yet.”
The woman placed a claw of a hand on Bella’s belly. “My goodness! What a blessing!”
“Yes. The good Lord has really smiled upon me.” Bella pushed the woman’s hand away. “Can I bother you for a glass of water? My baby’s awfully thirsty.”
“Why, of course you can!”
After the woman ducked into the back, Bella slipped the bundle of true navy blue into the lining of her coat.
“Here you go, darlin’!”
Bella gulped the water down and burped. “Excuse me.”
“Does your baby feel better now?”
“I don’t think so.”
“What do you mean?”
Bella dropped the glass and grabbed her stomach. “Oh no!”
“What is it?”
“You wouldn’t happen to have a slice of cheese or some Ovaltine, would you? The last time I felt like this and didn’t have a chocolate drink and some American cheese, my stomach flipped upside down and I almost lost the baby.”
“Oh my stars! Well, there’s a diner right across the street!”
“I can’t move!”
The woman wrung her hands. “I’m sorry, but I can’t leave my shop.”
Bella clutched her stomach and dropped to the floor. The woman screamed.
Outside, Terelli was about to ditch his newspaper and jump off his post when the old Baptist lady burst out of the shop, flailed across the street, spun past him, and barreled into the diner screaming, “Ovaltine! I need Ovaltine and cheese immediately!”