The Sweetgum Ladies Knit for Love - By Beth Pattillo Page 0,94
to start as soon as possible. In the May summer session.”
“What about the dress shop?”
“I’m going to sell it.”
Maria frowned in confusion. “I still don’t understand what this has to do with me and my family.”
Camille fought the knot in her stomach. “I need someone to live in my mom’s house. I’m not ready to sell it yet, and if I rent it, I won’t have any place to stay during semester breaks.”
“You’re going to live in the dorms?”
Camille laughed. “Yeah. I may be the oldest freshman on record.”
“I don’t know.” Maria looked at the tabletop, studying her flatware intensely.
“You’d be doing me a favor.”
Maria shook her head. “Not really.” Now her eyes were blinking back tears, Camille saw. “Look, I couldn’t afford to pay any rent. We’re barely making ends meet as it is, living above the store.”
“I don’t want rent. I want someone who’ll look after things, take care of them.” She paused, trying to get the words past the lump in her throat. “Even though I’m leaving Sweetgum, that house is still my home.”
“Are you sure?” Maria looked at her with cautious optimism. “We’d pay the utilities, things like that.”
“We’ll work something out.” Camille wasn’t concerned about minor issues like gas or water bills. “It would only be for the time I’m in college. I’m not sure what I’ll do after that.”
“Of course.” Maria reached across the table and laid her hand on top of Camille’s. “You don’t have to do this though. My family, we’ll get by. You should find someone who can pay you—”
“You can’t buy family.” Camille smiled at the other woman, willing her to understand. “Now that my mom’s gone, the Knit Lit Society’s the only family I have left. Please say you’ll do it.”
Maria nodded. “Of course we will. You’re being far too generous.”
“No. Just practical.”
“When will you leave for Murfreesboro?”
“In early May.”
“We can manage over the store until then.” Maria paused. “When are you going to tell Dante?”
“Soon,” Camille said. “As soon as I get my courage up, anyway.”
“It’s a shame that you two found each other right when you finally get a chance to follow your dream.”
“A shame?” Camille laughed, wishing it didn’t sound so bitter. “No, I just think God has a sick sense of humor.”
“You’re sure you don’t want to stay?”
“I can’t.” Camille was as sure of that as she was of her own name. “I just can’t.”
“It will be okay.” Maria squeezed her hand. “I’m sure it will. Maybe you can have a long-distance relationship.”
Camille wished she felt a tenth as optimistic as Maria seemed to be. “No. When I leave Sweetgum, I don’t want to still be tied to it. Otherwise, what would be the point?”
“You’re really sure?” Maria asked.
Camille nodded. She was very, very sure, and it was breaking her heart.
Maria stared through the plate-glass window of the five-and-dime at the gray day. The sky hung low and heavy, as if threatening a rare March snowfall. Well, that was one advantage to living above the store. She never had to worry about getting to and from work during bad weather. Soon, though, she and her family would be in a house once more. Maria smiled, the thought of Camille St. Clair’s generosity warming her despite the chill in the air. She’d never imagined when Eugenie Carson invited her to join the Knit Lit Society that it would turn out to be such a saving grace.
Her mother had been pleased at the prospective arrangement, if a bit critical of the location of their home-to-be. She would have preferred something in Esther Jackson’s neighborhood to the modest bungalows along Camille’s street. Daphne had been delighted, of course, and even Stephanie had shown some maturity for once. She’d stopped by Maxine’s Dress Shop to thank Camille in person. Maria had been astonished at the news. Perhaps her younger sister wasn’t a complete disaster.
Maria looked down at the counter in front of her. Business had been slow that day mostly due to the weather, so she’d settled on a stool behind the register and alternated reading for the Knit Lit Society with working on the assigned knitting project for Pride and Prejudice. The subtle pattern of the moss stitch looked sufficiently old fashioned to have been worn by the Bennett sisters. After much thought, Maria had decided on a pair of stockings. Well, more like socks, really. But the double challenge of the stitch and the sock ought to keep her mind off her troubles for a while.