The Restoration of Celia Fairchild - Marie Bostwick Page 0,53

whoosh. “No,” he said at last. “No, you did the right thing.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure,” he echoed. “It’s your house, your history. You have every right and reason to want to hold on to it. It was the right call. And it’s not like anything changed. You made a choice, that’s all.”

“A harder choice,” I admitted. “This restoration is going to be so much work, even more than I’d thought.”

“But it’ll be worth it,” he said, sounding more convinced than he had a moment before, as if he were warming up to his own rhetoric. “He offered you a house but it could never be a home, not in the way Calpurnia’s house will be, once you’ve finished the work. The harder choice is always worth it, you’ll see.”

“You think?”

“Absolutely,” he said. “And speaking of hard choices, cupcake, I must now make the hard choice between continuing to talk with you or taking my rugelach out of the oven.”

“Me or burned rugelach? There’s no choice. Go.”

“Call me tonight,” he said. “Love you.”

“Love you.”

I ended the call and kept walking. Calvin sounded sure of my decision by the end of our call but . . . was he really? What if it was my engagement to Steve all over again? What if Calvin had doubts but only got on board with my choice because he hoped I’d be happy. Was this like that? Was he just trying to be supportive?

Calvin was a good friend. But he was there and I was here and the rugelach was about to burn.

Just minutes before, I’d been feeling pretty good. Now I sighed, dreading the day to come, dreading the mess and the chaos and the possibility of discovering a dead cat or something worse in the mountain of garbage Calpurnia had left behind, dreading a day of endless work that would end with little discernible progress and knowing that more days just like it loomed ahead.

I trudged along, farther up King than I’d ever walked before, disappointed to discover that Jeni’s Splendid Ice Cream wouldn’t be open for another two hours. Teddy was right. I needed something to break up the drudgery, something I could look forward to doing in the evening. Christmas movies just weren’t doing it for me anymore. I needed something productive and a little more creative.

That’s when I saw the sign.

Sheepish

A SHOP FOR KNITTERS AND CRAFTERS

I’ve never put a ton of faith in the whole “setting your intentions” thing. If that stuff actually worked, I’d have a wildly successful career, a husband who adored me, a house in the Hamptons, and three kids by now. But I do believe in signs. Given the timing, it was hard to think that my stumbling on this yarn store at that particular moment was just a coincidence.

The shop was tiny, narrow, and a little claustrophobic, stuffed to bursting with yarn, needles, notions, racks of pattern books, and displays of every kind. It reminded me of Calpurnia’s hoard, not in a good way. Part of me wanted to turn around and leave but what could I do? A sign is a sign.

I wended my way through the shelves and tables that blocked my path to the counter near the back of the shop. There weren’t any other customers, only a tall woman with red hair who was standing behind the counter. She was bent over with her back toward me. It looked like she might be writing something but I couldn’t tell for sure.

“Excuse me, I was wondering if you offered any beginner’s knitting classes?”

I wasn’t exactly tiptoeing when I approached, and a little cluster of bells on the doorknob had jingled when I entered the shop, but the woman behind the counter yelped at the sound of my voice and clutched her hand to her heart.

After taking a breath, she laid down the Magic Marker she’d been using to make a sign that said, “40% Off Sale! Storewide!!”

“Sorry, ma’am. I didn’t hear you come in.” She turned toward me.

My heart jumped and my hand flew up to cover my mouth.

“Polly? Polly Schermerhorn?”

Polly had always been tall, willowy, and thin but now she was even thinner, almost gaunt. Her hair was still the same vibrant red but the tangle of curls was gone, cut short and gelled into a crown of soft spikes that framed her face. When she moved her head, the diamond stud that pierced her nostril sparkled in the light but the eyes were the same, so deep blue that when she