The Sweetgum Ladies Knit for Love - By Beth Pattillo Page 0,5

town dispensing condescension were one of her biggest pet peeves.

“C’mon, James,” the blond man said. “I have a lot of papers to go over.” He nodded toward his friend. “James here thinks I’m crazy to buy so much land in the middle of nowhere.”

Maria froze. It couldn’t be.

“Oh.” She couldn’t think what else to say.

“We’d better go,” the tall man said, glancing at his watch. “Thank you.” He nodded curtly at Maria, letting her know she’d been dismissed as the inferior creature that she was.

“But I thought you wanted—” Before she could remind him about his request for directions, the two men disappeared out the door, and Maria’s suspicions—not to mention her fears-flooded through her.

She should have put two and two together the moment the first man had walked into the store. A stranger in an expensive suit. In town for a meeting. Looking for a fountain pen to sign things. Normally Maria was good at figuring things out. Like where her father had put the quarterly tax forms and how she and Stephanie could manage the store with just the two of them for employees.

What she hadn’t figured out, though, were the more complex questions. Like how she had come to be a small-town spinster when she hadn’t been aware of time passing. Or how she was going to keep the five-and-dime afloat even as the town’s economy continued to wither on the vine. And she certainly had no idea how she was going to tell her mother and sisters that she, as executrix of her father’s will, was about to sell their farm, and the only home they’d ever known, right out from under them.

“Welcome to Sweetgum,” she said to the empty aisles around her, and then she picked up the feather duster once more.

Outside Maxine’s Dress Shop on the north side of the square, the clock in the courthouse tower chimed the noon hour. Camille St. Clair paused to listen, then returned to hanging blouses on a rack marked fifty percent off. Normally she didn’t put things on sale in September, but she’d made an error when she ordered the geometric prints. The local ladies weren’t quite ready for clothes that would look more at home on Fifth Avenue than on Main Street. Camille was ready, though, for something different. Ready for anything that made her feel that, at twenty-four, she wasn’t trapped in her hometown for the rest of her life.

Camille gave the blouses a final tweak just as the bell above the door jangled. She looked over her shoulder to see Merry McGavin entering the shop. Thirtysomething Merry was a fellow member of the Knit Lit Society, mother of four, and the peacemaker of the group.

“Good morning, Merry.” Camille appreciated her coming into the shop. She would be among the first to appear and buy something, knowing that Camille’s livelihood depended on the stores continued profitability. Camille had closed the dress shop for three days after her mother’s death. One day so she could plan the funeral, one day so she could attend the funeral, and one day so that the other residents of Sweetgum wouldn’t be shocked at how quickly she reopened the store.

“Hello, Camille.” Merry hurried toward her, and Camille had no choice but to submit to the motherly hug Merry was determined to bestow. Still, Camille kept her defenses up and refused to give in to the weakness that threatened her knees.

“Thanks for stopping in.” Camille forced a smile.

Merry laughed ruefully, her eyes filled with concern. “I know you’re probably sick to death of people asking how you are, so I thought I’d just give you a hug instead.”

“Thanks.” Camille appreciated Merry’s honesty as much as her presence. “I’m just ready for things to get back to normal”—her throat tightened—“if I can figure out what normal is anymore.”

“Give yourself time.” Merry patted Camille’s shoulder, which again threatened her composure. At least there weren’t any other customers in the shop. She jinxed herself with that thought, though, because the bell rang again. Camille stiffened as she recognized the young woman coming through the door. Natalie Grant. Rival, nemesis, and one of the biggest gossips in Sweetgum. At the same moment, Merry’s cell phone rang from the depths of her purse. She murmured an apology and disappeared toward the back of the store as she answered it, leaving Camille to deal with Natalie.

“Camille! Did you hear about Coach Stults?” Natalie was out of breath, as if she’d sprinted across the town square to deliver

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