"Mom said we should write you, but I would have anyway. It's a cool sweater, Aunt Lydia. I love the colors."
"I'm glad you like it." I'd chosen a lime-green yarn and accented the cuffs and button bands with bright orange. It turned out to be really cute, even if I do say so myself.
"Mom's here," Hailey said and before I could tell her it wasn't necessary to interrupt Margaret, my sister was on the line.
"Is everything all right?" she demanded in that gruff unfriendly tone she holds in reserve for me.
"Of course," I assured her. "I got the note from the girls today and I - "
"You only ever phone if something's wrong."
That was categorically untrue but I didn't want to argue with her. Normally I avoided calling Margaret because the experience was so often unsettling.
"I'm fine, really." I tried to laugh but it sounded phony.
"Have you seen that handsome UPS driver lately?"
I could feel my face heat up at the mention of Brad. I hadn't phoned her to talk about him. "He was by the other day." Instantly I tried to think of something to distract her from the subject of Brad Goetz, and couldn't.
The UPS driver was as friendly as ever but he no longer asked me out. He knew about my cancer now, and that explained it. I was grateful he didn't force me to invent plausible-sounding excuses. But when he'd left after his most recent visit, I'd experienced a twinge of regret. That slight but unmistakable sense of loss stayed with me the rest of the afternoon.
"Did you suggest the two of you get together?" Margaret pressed.
"No. I..." That was all I got out before my sister cut me off.
"Why not?"
"I - "
"You keep telling me this shop of yours is an affirmation of life."
"Yes, I know, but - "
"Well, why don't you put your money where your mouth is."
It distressed me that my sister seemed to enjoy harassing me. "It's my life, Margaret."
"Life?" She said it scornfully. "What life? All you do is work and knit, which is your work. Oh sure, you visit Mom and have a couple of friends, but - "
It was my turn to cut her off. "I make my own decisions about the men I date."
Margaret acted as if she hadn't heard me. "Ask him out for a beer," she insisted.
"No!"
"Why not?"
I wasn't sure why I was so adamant. "Because..."
"You're afraid."
"All right, I'm afraid," I almost shouted, "but that doesn't change anything."
"Get over it."
"Oh, Margaret, you make everything seem so easy."
"Ask him out and don't call me again until you do."
"Are you serious?" I couldn't believe she'd say anything like that to me.
"Dead serious." She disconnected the phone.
I stared at the receiver a full minute before I stepped away. Margaret could be so dictatorial. My own sister refused to speak to me until I contacted a man she'd only seen once, and briefly at that? Well, she could forget it; I wasn't giving in. That decided, I went to find something decent for dinner.
Because I feel diet is so important in maintaining a healthy body, I avoid processed foods as much as possible. On occasion I microwave a frozen entree, but only rarely. I did that evening, however, because my head was spinning. Margaret had said I should invite Brad out for a drink. Okay, so maybe she had my best interests at heart. Maybe, just maybe she was right, and it was time for me to throw caution to the winds. The women in my knitting class seemed to think so, too. But I had no idea how.
At nine, I phoned her back.
Knowing my sister, I half expected her to slam down the receiver but I didn't give her the chance. "What do I say?" I asked. "I've already turned him down twice. Now that he knows I've had cancer, he probably isn't interested. He might tell me no."
"He might. And I wouldn't blame him."
"Thanks for the encouragement," I muttered under my breath and to my surprise Margaret laughed. Generally not even a stand-up comic can get a response out of my sister. She's one of those deadpan women born without a funny bone. I had no idea I was so amusing.
"I mean it," I said.
"You're actually asking me for help?"
"Yes. If you refuse to talk to me until I make a fool of myself over a man, then the least