A Good Yarn Page 0,11

They would share college expenses. He hadn't been late with a check yet, but then the state made sure of that. Bethanne would have to find a job soon, but for a dozen different reasons, she delayed.

It was now six months after the divorce had been finalized, and the fog was only starting to clear. She told herself she had to live one day at a time as she learned to deal with what her family and friends called her "new reality." The problem was, she preferred her old reality....

Bethanne sipped her tea, which had begun to cool. She was startled from her thoughts when the door off the kitchen banged open and sixteen-year-old Annie came in, red-faced and sweating. Tendrils of wet hair pressed against the sides of her face. She wore a halter top and spandex shorts, and had apparently been out for a lengthy run. Because Annie had always felt close to her father, she'd taken the divorce particularly hard. Soon after Grant moved out, Annie had started running and would often go five and even ten miles a day. Unfortunately, that hadn't been the only change in her daughter's behavior. The new friends she'd acquired were a bigger concern.

Bethanne worried endlessly about Annie and the company she kept. The girl's anger was focused on Tiffany, and Bethanne suspected that Annie's new friends encouraged her more outrageous acts. While Bethanne was no fan of the other woman, whom she'd discovered to be fifteen years younger than her ex, she was afraid Annie might do something stupid in her zeal to retaliate against Tiffany, something that would involve the police.

Andrew had talked to Bethanne several times about various things he'd learned Annie had done. These included signing Tiffany up for magazine subscriptions, leaving her name and number with sales staff and scheduling appointments, all in Tiffany's name. However, Annie remained scornfully silent whenever Bethanne tried to bring up the subject.

"You didn't leave me a note," Bethanne chastised mildly as Annie walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out a cold bottle of water.

"Sorry," the girl mumbled unapologetically. She twisted off the lid, leaned back her head and gulped down half the contents. "I figured you'd know. I run every day."

Bethanne did know, but that was beside the point.

"How'd it go at the employment agency?" her daughter asked.

Bethanne sighed, wishing Annie hadn't mentioned it. "Not good." She'd known this job search would be difficult, but she'd had no idea how truly painful the process would be. "When I told the interviewer about my baking skills, he didn't seem overly impressed."

"You should work in a bakery."

Bethanne had already considered that, but being around food for eight hours a day didn't appeal to her.

"Andrew and I were the envy of all our friends." Annie sounded almost nostalgic. "We had the best birthday parties and birthday cakes of anyone."

"I used to organize great scavenger hunts too, but there's little call for that these days."

"Oh, Mom." She rolled her eyes as she spoke.

"I'll look seriously once the summer is over."

"You keep putting it off," Annie chided.

Her daughter was right, but after all these years outside the job market, Bethanne didn't think she possessed any saleable skills. She was terrified that she'd end up at a grocery store asking people if they wanted paper or plastic for the rest of her life.

"I was thinking of selling cosmetics," she said tentatively, glancing at Annie for a reaction. "I could set my own hours and - "

"Mom!" Her daughter glared at her. "That's pathetic."

"Lots of women make a very nice income from it, and - "

"Selling cosmetics is fine for someone else, but not you. You're great at lots of things, but you'd make a terrible salesperson and we both know it. There's got to be something you can do. Where's your pride?"

For the last sixteen months it'd been swirling in the bottom of a toilet bowl. "I'd hate an office job," Bethanne said. She wasn't convinced she could ever adjust to a nine-to-five routine.

"You should do something just for you," Annie insisted. "I'm not even talking about a job."

Everyone Bethanne knew, including the counsellor she'd briefly seen, had told her the same thing. "When did you get so smart?" she teased.

"Isn't there anything you'd like to do just for fun?"

Bethanne shrugged. "You'll laugh and tell me it's pathetic."

"What?"

She sighed, reluctant to say anything. "I saw a yarn store the other day and was thinking how much I'd like to knit again. It's been years. I