me to the cemetery? I'd like to put a vase of my roses on your dad's grave."
"Of course. Margaret and I will both come." I was speaking out of turn and hoped my sister would agree to accompany us. She'd been so prickly and out of sorts lately. The closeness we'd briefly shared had evaporated like a shallow rain puddle in the sun. Whatever was wrong, she didn't feel comfortable enough to share it with me, and frankly, that hurt. We've come a long way in our relationship, but it was situations such as this that reminded me how far we had yet to go.
As if the strength had gone out of her legs, Mom reached for a patio chair and sat down. Lifting the hat from her head, she wiped her forehead with one arm. "My goodness, it's hot."
I glanced at the temperature gauge my father had hung on the side of the house, and it read seventy-four degrees, which surprised me because it didn't feel that warm. Of course, my mother had been working outside for at least an hour, more likely two.
"Would you like to go out for dinner, Mom?" I asked, thinking that would be a treat for us both.
"No, thank you, honey. I'm not hungry. I met Dorothy Wallace at the Pancake Breakfast the Knights of Columbus held after Mass and we ate our fill."
Translated, she had one small pancake without butter or syrup, followed by a lunch of tuna and crackers, and she'd probably skip dinner altogether.
"Besides, Margaret phoned and she's stopping by with the girls later this afternoon."
Some of my worry left me. Margaret would make sure Mom had a decent meal at the end of the day.
"She enjoys working with you," my mother continued. "She's not one to say it, but she does."
I wondered if I should mention my concerns about my sister. I decided against it, although Margaret had been weighing heavily on my mind since my conversation with Brad earlier in the week. There was no need to bring Mom into this. She'd certainly mention my concerns to my sister, and that would infuriate Margaret; she would resent me for discussing her with Mom, and then I'd hear about it for weeks.
"Can I get you anything?" I asked.
Her smile was distracted. "I'd love a glass of iced tea."
I went inside and poured one for each of us, then added slices of lemon. Several other lemons had shriveled up and I tossed them without telling Mom. A quick look in the refrigerator had revealed a carton of milk a month past its expiry date and a package of liquefying spinach. I'd tossed those too. When I returned to the patio, Mom had replaced the hat and was sitting with her back to the sun.
I joined her and handed her the glass, savoring the warm sunshine against my skin, the sound of birds in the distance along with the swish, swish of the sprinkler watering the lawn.
"Tell me about the shop," Mom suggested. "Did you get in any new yarn this week?"
She especially enjoyed the stories about my customers; so many of them had become my friends, especially Jacqueline, Carol and Alix, my original class members. We've created a real bond, the four of us, and it's rare for me not to see them during the week. If nothing else, one or two always showed up for the charity knitting session on Fridays.
I talked nonstop for almost twenty minutes about the shop and described the three women who'd recently signed up for the sock class. The one who interested Mom most was Courtney Pulanski, the seventeen-year-old granddaughter of Vera Pulanski, a regular.
"I'm thinking of holding a potluck once a month," I said, wanting her opinion on this new idea - partly to allow her to feel involved and partly because I trusted her instincts. Over the years, she'd been a valuable sounding board to my father in his businesses.
"Do you have room at the store?"
"I think so, if I do a bit of shuffling." When I first opened my doors, there was room to set up a large table for classes, but as I'd brought in additional lines of yarn, much of that space had disappeared. Now the table, which sat six people, was surrounded by several displays.
"Are you sure you want food around all that yarn?"
My mother echoed my own reservations. "I thought we'd sit at the table where I hold my classes and put the food on a card table