Knit Two Together

With that comment, Meghan left the room in a huff.

Libby closed her eyes and drew in a breath designed to calm her. It didn’t work. Neither did her fervent prayer that when she opened her eyes again, Hal would have somehow magically disappeared.

He was still there.

“If what I did might be construed in any way, shape or form as hanging all over you, I hope you’ll forgive me. I didn’t mean—”

He laughed.

“You think that was funny?”

Shaking his head, Hal stood. “I think you’re way too serious.”

“What am I being too serious about?”

“Look,” he said, “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, but I’m a single guy. And my hand might be hurt, and I might be going stir-crazy from being cooped up at home, but I’m far from dead. So the whole thing about you hanging all over me…” A smile tickled the corners of his mouth.

“Your daughter was overreacting,” he said. “She was imagining things. You were not out of line. You were not hanging all over me. But—” with a wink, he walked out the door “—it’s a pretty interesting thought.”

Connie Lane

remembers when she got her first library card and the first book she took out of the Cleveland Public Library: Horton Hatches the Egg. That was the official start of her love of reading; writing stories naturally followed. She majored in English at Cleveland State University, studied literature at Queen’s College, Oxford University, England, and turned her love of words and her overactive imagination into a career in journalism and corporate communications. After the births of her two children, she began writing fiction and has published nearly thirty books. In addition to category romance, she’s written single-title and historical romance as well as mysteries, and has taught writing to aspiring novelists. She has been nominated for a RITA® Award by Romance Writers of America. She lives in northeast Ohio with her family and Oscar, a rescued Jack Russell, and Ernie, an adorable Airedale puppy.

Knit Two Together

Connie Lane

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From the Author

Dear Reader,

If you’ve ever walked into a knitting shop and been blown away by the colors, the textures and the possibilities of what you could do with all that yarn, then we’ve got a lot in common!

You see, like millions of others, I’m addicted to knitting. (And to crochet and weaving, too.) I daydream about the possibilities of what might happen when needles, yarn and a bit of imagination come together. That’s what I was thinking about when I first came up with the idea for Knit Two Together.

Like all novels, this one started as nothing more than that rough idea. All of it came together there in Metropolitan Knits, a fictional version of what I think of as the ideal yarn shop. Libby learns to take her experiences there and knit them into the fabric of her family’s life, seamlessly blending past and present and carrying on traditions that, like knitting, give continuity and form to our world.

Happy knitting!

Connie Lane

P.S.—I love to hear from my readers. You can contact me at connielane@earthlink.net.

How many people can one book be dedicated to?

This one is for Diane, Emilie, Jasmine and Karen

with thanks and appreciation.

It’s also for Cheryl I, Susan, Cheryl II and Patty,

the great staff at Soft ’n Sassy—the world’s best

yarn shop—in Broadview Heights, Ohio.

And for Georgia, Eleanor, Carol, Ruth, Pat, Karin, Gail

and all the other talented knitters I’ve met through the

years. Thank you for many hours of companionship,

advice and inspiration.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 1

“Of course I want to sell the yarn shop. It’s just that—”

Libby Cartwright would have liked to continue her phone conversation, but at that moment she noticed a man standing outside her office door. He was holding a clipboard that contained an official-looking form, and something told her she was going to need two free hands, so she mumbled an excuse to the real-estate agent on the other end of the line. She propped the phone between her ear and her shoulder and motioned for the man to come in. She accepted the clipboard and pen he handed her, and when she scrawled her name and the title Office Manager on the line above where it read Responsible party, her hands didn’t even tremble. At least not too much.

While the man tore off one sheet of the form she’d just signed, dropped it on her desk and backed out of her office, she returned to her conversation.

“I told you, Mr. Harper, getting rid of the knitting shop has been priority number one ever since I found out about the inheritance.” The noise of a scrape and bump from out in the hallway attracted her attention, and Libby glanced out her door to where two men struggled to haul away the just-delivered printer/fax/copier she had ordered three months earlier. With everything else that was happening at Cartwright, Remington and Hawes, no one in the office had even had a chance to read the how-to manual, much less learn to operate the behemoth.

The equipment was unused. Practically untouched. And far easier to return because of it.

“I hear what you’re saying, Mrs. Cartwright.” The sound of Will Harper’s voice drew Libby’s attention away from the commotion in the hallway. “But what you’re saying and what you’re doing sound like two different things to me.”

“What I’m saying is that I want to sell the yarn shop. What I’m doing…”

Libby drummed her fingers against the windowsill. What she was doing was hesitating, plain and simple.

She twitched her shoulders to get rid of the thought, scolding herself as she did. By now she should have known better—there were some things she couldn’t so easily shake.

“I have no intention of ever reopening the shop,” she told Will and reminded herself. “I don’t want to run it. For one thing, the shop is in Cleveland and I live in Pittsburgh.”

“Which is exactly why you should be up on your desk doing the happy dance right about now.” She heard the click of his cigarette lighter and his quick intake of breath. “Tip-Top is all over the West and they claim they’re going to own the drugstore market in Ohio, too, in just a few years. Lucky for you, they want to start in Cleveland and they’re not looking for some pristine parcel out in the burbs. They want an established neighborhood and they’re willing to raze a city block to build one of their stores. Your mother’s property isn’t the only one they’re looking at, remember. We need to jump on this as quickly as we can. The offer they’re making…well, honestly, as I told you before, I don’t think you’ll ever do any better.”

“They’re lowballing me.”

Were they? Libby wasn’t sure. In the two years since she’d taken over the job of office manager for the law firm, she’d discovered that she was a whiz at scheduling, a crackerjack manager of people and something of a genius when it came to finding the best prices on supplies and equipment. But real estate was a whole new ball game. Still, talking money seemed like the appropriate thing to do at this stage. As for balking at the price, wasn’t that what real-estate deals were all about? Besides, it was a plausible excuse for her hesitation. And a better comeback than the truth.

The knit shop is the only thing I have—the only thing I’ve ever had—from my mother. Once I sell, it means I’m severing this one last tie and quitting. For good. Forever.

“Mrs. Cartwright? Don’t you agree?”

Libby snapped out of her thoughts. “I’m sorry. This connection isn’t all that good,” she said, because it was better than admitting she hadn’t been listening. “You were saying—”

“That I’ll bet the money from this deal would come in handy right about now. For you and for your husband.”

As if Will could see her, Libby looked at the receiver in wonder. “How do you know about Rick?”

“Hey, I know the economy stinks. I’ll bet it’s hit you folks hard.”

Hard was putting it mildly.

Libby dropped into the chair behind her desk, and though she didn’t know how, she sensed that Will was reading her mind.

“A big influx of cash might help out, right?” he asked. “Am I onto something here?”

He was. Libby could take the cash from the sale of Barb’s Knits and dump it right into the firm’s account. It wasn’t a magic bullet, but it would help staunch the sea of red ink.

Sending back the mother of all printer/fax/copiers was just the tip of the iceberg. There were staff cuts yet to be made and that meant employees—friends—would spend the summer, the worst job-hunting time of the year, pounding the pavement.

“So…” Will eased back into the subject. “You climbing up on that desk of yours? Is that why you’re so quiet? Should I put on the music so you can start dancing?”

Libby managed a weak smile. “Not yet. Maybe if I just—” She caught herself before the words slipped out.

Maybe if I just went to Cleveland and looked at the shop.

So many times in the past months she’d suggested it. And every time Rick had reminded her the trip was a complete waste of time and inconvenient as well. After all, she had the firm to worry about, as well as their daughter Meghan’s schedule. Going to Cleveland to see a shop that didn’t mean anything to her and that had been left her by a woman she hadn’t seen in years…Why take the chance of reopening wounds that had taken so long to heal?

Face it, Lib. Inside her head, Rick’s familiar words were a mantra. That rift is too wide ever to cross.

She told herself not to forget it, reminded herself that the past was gone and nothing could change it and got down to business.

“Maybe if Tip-Top ups their offer,” she told Will.

He chuckled. “Even a miracle worker like me couldn’t pull off that one. They’ve seen the property, you haven’t. Maybe you’d feel better about the whole thing if you came to Cleveland and—”

“No.” Libby answered quickly and refused to reconsider. “But I could use more money. I thought the property would be worth more. It’s the retail space on the first floor and the apartment upstairs, right? That’s like getting two properties.”

“Tip-Top doesn’t give a damn about square footage. They’re going to knock the place down! Believe me, this offer is a gift. And, remember, if we play hard to get, they’ve got their eye on a second spot across town. What do you say? It would be one less thing on your plate. A weight off your shoulders. An albatross from around your neck. A—”

“Okay, all right!” Libby had to laugh. There was nothing as over-the-top as a Realtor anxious to seal a deal. “I know it’s the right thing to do. And it would really help us out.”

It wasn’t an outright surrender, but it was pretty close. “You’ll talk to your husband?” Will asked.

“I’ll talk to my husband,” she promised. “But you know the final decision is mine.”

“And I know you’ll make the right one. How about if I tell Tip-Top we’ll have an answer for them this afternoon?”

“That seems awfully quick. How about tomorrow? Or—”

“They’ll go somewhere else.”

“Yes. Of course.” Libby’s breath was tight in her throat. “This afternoon,” she said. “I’ll talk to you then.”

“And we’ll put this deal to bed. You’ll be glad when it’s over, Mrs. Cartwright.”

She had no doubt of it. It was getting there that was, unexplainably, the painful part.

Libby hung up. She’d told Will she’d run the Tip-Top offer by Rick, but she really didn’t have to. She knew what he would say.

She’d talk to Rick anyway. It was how partnerships worked—how their marriage had always worked and one of the reasons that, after sixteen years, theirs was as strong as ever.

She was set to leave her office when she grabbed the file folder that contained her thoughts on staff cuts. As long as she was going to have Rick’s undivided attention, she might as well get as much business accomplished as possible.

The door to Rick’s office wasn’t closed, but Libby rapped it with her knuckles anyway. She’d already stepped inside when she saw that he was on the phone, so while he finished she toed the threshold.

She didn’t mind waiting. It gave her the perfect excuse to step back and look at her husband.

At forty, Rick still made her heart skip a beat, and watching him, a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. As always, he was impeccably dressed in a charcoal suit that was a perfect complement for his slim runner’s body. His dark hair was touched with gray, and she suspected that over the next years he’d turn into a carbon copy of his handsome, silver-haired father. Rick’s eyes were blue, and as he talked, the little dimple in his left cheek made a showing. She remembered that when they’d met in law school, that dimple was the first thing she’d noticed about him. That and the fact that she’d instantly fallen head over heels in love with him.

All these years later, nothing had changed. Oh, they’d had their rough patches—didn’t all couples?—but they’d come through stronger and happier. Life was good even if it wasn’t perfect.

Even if Rick insisted she sell Barb’s Knits without once taking a look at it and maybe getting some insight into the mystery that was her mother’s life.

The thought hit Libby out of the blue, and with a shake of her shoulders she got rid of it.

Logic, she reminded herself, was more important than emotion. Besides, any emotion she might have felt for Barb had evaporated years before.

Rick motioned to Libby that he’d be right with her.

“You’re sure?” he said into the phone. “Yeah. Of course. You know that’s true. I just didn’t think—” He spun his chair toward the window. “I’ll take care of it,” he said. “Don’t worry. We’ll just need to move on this faster and hey, that’s not such a bad thing, is it?”

As soon as he hung up, Libby stepped into the office. “Problems?”

Rick turned his chair around. “Nothing I can’t handle.” He looked her over, and for the second time in as many minutes, Libby felt her heart skip a beat. She swore she could feel a little lick of fire every time Rick looked at her.

This time, though, his gaze stopped at the file folder she carried.

“You want to talk business.”

Libby dropped into the guest chair across from where Rick sat. “Is that so unusual?”

“No, it’s just that…” He cleared his throat. “I’ve got some things to talk to you about, too.”

“Oh, no, buster. Me first. You’re not stealing my thunder.” For reasons she’d already examined and dismissed as unfounded, she wasn’t as excited about selling the knit shop as she knew Rick would be. But she didn’t mind pretending. After all the stress caused by the business slump the law firm was experiencing, he deserved a little pampering. “Good news. I got an offer on the property in Cleveland.”

“Take it.”

“Just like that? You don’t want to know how much they offered?”

He shrugged. “I don’t much care.”

“I thought you did. I thought—”

“You’re always putting words in my mouth.” Rick got up and crossed the room to close his office door. He stood with his back to her. “You know I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I’m just thinking about you, Lib. You need to have that Palmer woman out of your life.”

“That Palmer woman…” Libby gave the words the same inflection Rick had. As if they tasted bad. “She was my mother.”

“And a lousy one at that.”

“There’s no denying it. But that doesn’t mean—”

“What? That you should go on some kind of Indiana Jones quest?” Rick spun around. “You’re thinking about going to Cleveland again, aren’t you? Let’s face it, you’re not going to find something there that explains why Barb treated you the way she did. Or why, after all these years, she left you her business. What are you looking for, a letter? ‘Dear Libby, here are all the reasons I abandoned you, now you can live happily ever after’?”

“Of course not!” Though she denied it, Libby had to admit—at least to herself—that the thought had occurred to her. It was preposterous, sure. That didn’t make it any less appealing. And Rick should have known that.

She pulled in a breath to steady her racing heart. “I didn’t come in here to argue,” she said. “We’ve talked about it all before.”

“Ad nauseam.”

“Really?” Tears stung Libby’s eyes. She sniffed and stood. “And here I thought we were discussing an important part of my life because you cared about me.”

In an instant Rick’s anger dissolved. He stepped toward her but stopped short of folding her into a hug. “Of course I care,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been so preoccupied. You know that, Lib. You know I’ve got other things on my mind. That’s why when you said you had an offer, I figured we’d put an end to this whole thing.”

If he wasn’t going to make the first move, Libby would. She reached for Rick’s hand and folded her fingers over his. “It’s just that now that it’s come down to crunch time—”

“Nobody’s better in a crisis than you are.” He flashed a smile that disappeared quickly. “You know this is the right thing to do, Lib. It’s time to put that part of your life to rest.”

“I know. I have, but—”

“We could really use the money.”

“Yeah.” Libby pulled in a breath and let it out slowly. “You’re right.”

Rick untangled himself from her grasp and retreated to the other side of his desk. “One more thing off our to-do list.”

“But there are other things we need to discuss.” She waved the file folder. “I’ve been going over the list of people we could let go.”

“You know we have to do it.”

“I know. But I’ve been thinking…we could keep three clerical people. If we cut somebody with a higher salary.”

Rick dropped into his chair. “I was thinking the same thing.”

Libby was relieved. She flipped open the folder, took out the paperwork on Belinda Acton, the firm’s newest attorney, and handed it to Rick. “She’s been here only a few months,” she said. “There aren’t any strong ties and she’s not responsible for many billable hours. Besides, she’ll find something else fast.”

Rick’s gaze snapped to her. “It’s out of the question.”

“But that’s crazy, Rick. Belinda will be sitting pretty in a matter of weeks.”

“She stays.”

“Then who?”

He pulled in a breath, but his gaze never wavered from hers. “You.”

Libby opened her mouth to respond, but the words refused to form on her lips.

“Come on, Lib, it’s the most plausible plan and you know it. You’re going to quit anyway.”

She heard what Rick was saying, but it was as if he was speaking another language. Her knees turned to jelly, and Libby dropped into the closest chair. “I have no plans to quit. I never did. I took this job when you needed extra help. I’ve been good for the firm.”

“And you’ve got the place running like clockwork. I’m grateful. But, come on, let’s be honest. You also know that you’ve got something of a pattern. You know, a reputation?”

He smiled at her the way she’d seen him smile at Meghan when their daughter didn’t understand her math homework. As if the truth was staring her right in the face and if she looked a little harder she was bound to see it.

“You quit law school,” he said.

“Ancient history.” It was, and so ridiculous Libby nearly laughed. Until she realized that Rick wasn’t kidding. “I quit law school because of you,” she said, reminding him though she shouldn’t have had to. “We both couldn’t afford to stay in school. And let’s face it, we all say it isn’t real, but that glass ceiling does exist. We knew your income would outpace mine eventually. Besides, I wouldn’t have had to quit if your father had paid for your schooling. If you two hadn’t been going at each other like cats and dogs—”

“We wouldn’t have been going at each other like cats and dogs if I hadn’t been dating you. I gave up—”

“What?” Libby rose and looked around the office with its to-die-for view and expensive furnishing. “Looks like you and Daddy kissed and made up.”

“Yeah, but not until I had a degree. One I paid for myself.”

“You mean one I paid for. I gave up my dream of being an attorney. For you.”

“You quit.”

As if he’d slapped her, Libby stepped back, but before she could argue, Rick continued. “You quit your book discussion group.”

“Oh, come on, that’s not even in the same ballpark. Besides, that was because I took the job here!”

“You quit your yoga class.”

“When Meghan needed more appointments at the orthodontist.”

“You quit everything, Lib. Eventually you’d walk out on the firm, too.”

A tear slipped down Libby’s cheek. She remembered the phone call he’d been on when she’d walked into his office. “Something’s going on. You’re not acting like yourself. If it’s my idea that we lay off Belinda—”

“Belinda is…” Rick’s voice broke. He cleared his throat. “As a matter of fact, that was Belinda on the phone. Belinda and I…well, I know you’ll be happy for me. Someday, when you have time to think about it. We’ve been meaning to tell you, but the time’s never been right. And now…” His gaze flickered away. “Belinda and I were planning on getting married anyway, but now…well, we’re going to need to accelerate our plans. That’s why she called, you see. To tell me she’s having my baby.”

CHAPTER 2

“All right, you saw it. Can we get out of here now, Mommy? Please!”

At the sound of the pleading voice, Libby jerked to awareness. She looked away from the ramshackle building that had held her attention since she’d gotten out of the car and glanced to her left, where Meghan had a firm hold on the sleeve of her black cotton cardigan.

At fourteen, Meghan was way past calling her “Mommy.” Except when she wanted something. The something she wanted now was all too apparent, and as Libby had been doing for the past couple months, she wavered about making a decision as to what to do about it. She had never been the indecisive type before—at least not before Rick caused her world to crumble and her self-esteem to plunge—and the very act of hesitating only made her feel less self-assured. She knew Meghan would pick right up on the weakness and Libby braced herself. No doubt her daughter would be all over her in a second.

“Mommy, come on.” Meghan tugged her toward the silver Subaru. “If we leave now, maybe nobody will know we were ever here.”

As arguments went, it wasn’t the most convincing.

Libby glanced around at the city neighborhood where the buildings stood so close together they might as well have been sided with Velcro. The main street had small businesses interspersed between houses, bars and art galleries. In the few minutes she and Meghan had been standing there staring at the building with the faded sign over the front door that declared it Barb’s Knits, they had yet to see one other person come or go at either the bakery on the right or the beauty shop on the left. And, of course, no one was shopping at Barb’s Knits these days; the store had been closed for nearly a year.