then she had made a pattern by mixing it first with a mauve eyelash and a delft blue worsted. Farther up, she’d taken out the blue worsted and changed to a green. The subtle change of color and texture created the effect of an impressionist painting. She had finished it with a blue fringe beaded with tiny crystals that caught the light.
“It’s beautiful. I don’t see why you had a problem selling them,” Patricia said.
“That’s not the problem. They have actually been selling very well. It’s just . . .” Sheila swallowed a few times and appeared agitated again. “I’ve been selling them at the Cottage Shoppe, and it was fine as long as Mrs. Brooks was running it. She kept meticulous records and always paid me on time. But she died.” Sheila’s eyes welled up again, and she did her best to fight back the tears. “Her nephews are running the place now. Really, one of them seems to be the boss. His name is Drew Brooks and, and . . .” Sheila sighed. “He gave me a whole story about the scarves not selling and he had to lower the price and some of them got lost, and the check he gave me was for half of what it should have been.” With everything finally out in the open, Sheila seemed spent but calmer. I gave her shoulders a squeeze and sat down.
I knew the store she was talking about. It was located in a house on Ventura Boulevard that had been turned into a business a long time ago. In ancient times in Tarzana, which was like the 70’s, there had been a number of houses that were turned into businesses along the main street. Most had since been replaced by bland-looking store-fronts. Only the Cottage Shoppe had survived, probably because Mrs. Brooks had been the original owner. It was a Tarzana landmark that sold antiques, some eclectic new items and things on consignment. I hadn’t realized the new owners had branched out into selling handicrafts, but then, I hadn’t been in there for a long time.
“That’s terrible,” Patricia said before turning to the rest of us. “It’s such a wonderful store. I placed some things there myself. Before I found Benjamin, I was struggling as a single parent. But of course, I only dealt with Mrs. Brooks, and she was always wonderful.”
“Well, everything’s changed,” Sheila said. “And on top of it, I had already given him more of the scarves before I knew about the money issue. I don’t know what to do. I really need to sell them, and there aren’t any other options.”
“That’s terrible that this Drew person tried to cheat you,” Dinah said.
“I don’t think he tried; I think he succeeded,” Adele chimed in.
Then suddenly everyone started talking at once again. Patricia rapped on the table and opened her mouth to speak, but CeeCee beat her to the punch. “We can’t let him get away with that,” she said, laying a hand on Sheila’s shoulder.
Patricia seemed miffed at having been ignored and said something about needing to leave. She was volunteering at the senior center. As she got up to go, she went on about her commitment to the community and how even though it was Benjamin’s name on the ballot, she and her husband were really a team.
“I have an idea for our next project,” Dinah said. “I don’t know if you noticed how Molly put her hands on Sheila’s shoulders to comfort her, and then CeeCee did something similar. The feeling of having some weight on your shoulders seems to have a comforting effect. What if we crocheted shawls for the Women’s Haven? They would be like comforting hugs.”
“And we could call them ‘hugs of comfort,’ ” Adele suggested.
We all liked the idea. Sheila said it was true that having something on her shoulders had made her feel calmer and if anyone was a good judge, it was her.
“Well, that’s taken care of, but we still have to do something about Sheila’s problem,” CeeCee said.
CHAPTER 2
SINCE THERE WAS NO EVENT AT THE BOOKSTORE that night, I left in the late afternoon. Mrs. Shedd knew I was likely to work more rather than fewer hours, so she let me make my own schedule. I was still thinking about Sheila as I headed for my car. It was great that she had found a place to sell her scarves, but terrible that the guy was shorting her. I, more than the rest of the crochet group, knew how important selling those scarves was to Sheila. The crochet group knew only part of her story.
Sheila came to a lot of the events at the bookstore. And after the program for the book
“I know it’s silly since I am thirty-one, but I feel like an orphan without Granny Annie,” she’d said, tossing her paper cup but making no move to leave. I told her I certainly understood the feeling. I didn’t feel like an orphan, but I certainly felt adrift. Even though my husband Charlie had been dead almost two years, I still sometimes woke up in the morning and forgot. And then I’d realize he wasn’t there and feel a hollow emptiness that just ached.
“You have the crochet group and your boyfriend,” I’d said, hoping to make her feel better. I’d never met him, but she talked about him often. Frankly, he didn’t sound like much of a bargain. They seemed to be always off and on again, and he was always pushing her to take drugs for her anxiety.
“And I have school and my plans for the future. But taking one class at a time at night is making it take forever. I just want to finish and get a job as a costume designer at one of the studios.” At that she had sighed and smiled at me. “I don’t mean to sound so pathetic. Sometimes it all just gets to me.” She’d looked down and then met my eyes again. “Please don’t tell the rest of the group about my living arrangements. It’s so embarrassing.”
I had kept her secret, not even telling Dinah, though I didn’t think anyone would think the lesser of her. So, she rented a room in a house in Reseda and had to babysit for the owner on the weekend to pay part of the rent. Sheila had a lot on her plate, and it was no wonder she was nervous. And no wonder she was so upset about the scarves. I got angry just thinking about it.
I glanced at the Cottage Shoppe as I drove past on my way home. The wood-frame house was painted a blue gray, and the large windows that faced Ventura Boulevard had window boxes overflowing with red, white and deep purple petunias. How could a place that looked so charming on the outside be run by a total jerk?
We had continued talking about Sheila’s problem after Patricia left. Everyone agreed that Sheila should take back the check and insist on the fair amount. She seemed to go along with the idea, but I wondered if she could handle it.
My house was in an area raised off the Valley floor but still flat enough to have a big yard. A few blocks behind me, the land rose upward and became the Santa Monica Mountains. Houses dotted the slopes, and then it turned wild and green where the Santa Monica Mountains Conservancy began.
I pulled the greenmobile into the driveway. My older son Peter had a fit every time he saw me driving the car. I called it vintage. He called it too old. It was a 1993 190E in a shade I called teal green that was so unusual that whenever I saw another car the same color we waved in solidarity. It was a good car, and I hadn’t seen any reason to replace it.
I stepped out of the car and headed toward the backyard, my usual path to my kitchen door. As I opened the gate still deep in thought, I heard rustling coming from inside. Somebody was in the yard. My breath caught, and I started to backtrack toward the driveway while reaching for my cell phone. Suddenly a ball of black fur roared up and dropped a ball at my feet. I felt my lungs release, the air pouring out in a gush. Was I ever going to get used to this?
“We didn’t scare you, did we?” The voice belonged to Barry Greenberg, my sort of boyfriend. The
“As a matter of fact, you did,” I said as my heart rate returned to normal.
“I stopped by to drop off some dog food, and while I was here thought I’d give him a little playtime.” Though Barry shrugged defensively, his smile seemed self-satisfied. “Cosmo wants you to throw the ball,” Barry said, pointing at the red sphere at my feet.
I bent over to pet the little black mutt, and he did a happy dance in response. I lobbed the ball far into the yard, then walked in, shutting the gate behind me. Cosmo ignored the ball and followed me.
“Didn’t you see my Tahoe parked out front?” Barry said. “I’d think you’d be used to my visits by now.”
“I guess I didn’t notice your SUV.” To me all SUVs looked the same; besides, I’d been thinking about Sheila when I drove up, and there was a part of me that didn’t want to see his SUV parked there.
