The Restoration of Celia Fairchild - Marie Bostwick Page 0,91

might mean that I won’t get to be your mother. I hope not, but it’s possible. But if I did anything else, I wouldn’t deserve to be.

Teddy was a grown man. He could make his own choices, say yes, or no, or that he’d have to think about it. But there was no question for me. I knew what I had to do.

First thing the next morning, I got into my wallet and pulled a scrap of paper with a phone number that had been printed in a slow and careful hand, then punched the numbers into my phone.

“Teddy? Hey, it’s cousin Celia. I hope it’s not too early to call. There’s something I wanted to discuss with you . . .”

Chapter Thirty-One

It had been a busy and very interesting week. I’d hosted the first dinner party in my half-restored house, been accosted by an inebriated neighbor, learned that Calpurnia had given birth to a love child, met my cousin, invited him to share my house, and worked out the details of his move. Now I was getting ready for craft night with my new friends.

Polly showed up first and brought a suitcase the size of a steamer trunk.

“Are you planning to move in?” I asked when I opened the door. “Because, I have to tell you, the rooms are filling up fast.”

Polly shot me a look, then bent down and placed both hands on her thighs and panted like a dog on a hot day. “Stairs,” she gasped. “Heavy.”

“Here, let me help.”

The suitcase had wheels, so rolling it through the front hall was a piece of cake. Hauling it up the stairs to Beebee’s yarn cave was a different story. I had to turn around backward, grip the strap with both hands, and drag it up one step at a time, thumping and bumping on every tread.

“Polly, what’s in here?”

“Stuff from Sheepish. I know you’ve got tons of yarn already, but I thought people might want different colors or weights.”

“This is yarn?”

“Not just yarn,” she said, sounding a little defensive. “Instruction books, patterns, scissors, rulers, needles, and fabric. I want to make sure that everybody has whatever they need for all the different kinds of projects. And well . . .” She looked a little hesitant as we reached the top step. “I was thinking that they might see some things they want to buy. The clearance sale hasn’t been going very well.”

“Good idea.”

I was absolutely sincere: it was a good idea. But Polly still looked embarrassed, as if I might be thinking she was taking advantage of my hospitality to make a profit. But if the others started new craft projects, they’d probably need some supplies, so why not buy them from Polly? At forty percent off, it wasn’t like she’d be making much money off the deal. What was there to be embarrassed about?

The doorbell rang. Polly ran downstairs to answer it while I dragged the suitcase into the yarn cave and started unloading the contents onto one of the two eight-foot tables I’d set up inside. Pris had helped me move my stuff across the hall into my new bedroom earlier that morning. I really wasn’t kidding when I told Polly we were starting to run out of rooms.

The small room next to mine had yet to be cleaned out, but I planned to turn it into the nursery. Teddy would take my parents’ old room and the room next door, which had once been Sterling’s office. It would make a nice sitting room and I thought he might appreciate having a little private space. Lorne had yet to put a door between the two rooms, creating a suite, but we were on schedule for Teddy to move in early the following week.

I heard the sound of feet running up the staircase and knew Pris was in the house; she never walked anywhere if she could help it and had been looking forward to tonight. But when she bounced into the room and saw the suitcase, the smile froze on her face. “We’re supposed to be bringing stuff out, not in. Remember?”

“Polly thought we might need more supplies.”

“More yarn?” she asked skeptically. I pulled out several skeins of variegated yarn in shades of turquoise, aquamarine, and blue with just a touch of pink and piled them on the table. “On the other hand . . . that is pretty.” Pris picked up a skein and squashed it between her fingers. “Oooh. Feel this. What do you