The Sweetgum Ladies Knit for Love (25 page)

When it came to using a keyboard, Jeff had ten thumbs, so he still wrote most things by hand, sometimes printing off a template, then scratching words out and inserting others. Because she knew how his mind worked, she didn’t find it difficult to make sense of his method.

“Will do.”

Jeff laughed. “I think I’ve created a monster.”

“No, just a brilliant office manager.”

He paused, his smile softened, and then his expression grew more serious. “I know it’s not easy. You have even more on your plate than before. Promise me you’ll say something if it gets to be too much.”

Merry nodded. “I will. But really, I’m okay. One of the other working moms from the church gave me a really good piece of advice.”

“What’s that?”

“When in doubt, lower your standards.”

She laughed along with Jeff, because for years she had been the one who’d insisted that cloth napkins must be used at all times, that the ornaments on the Christmas tree had to be arranged just so, that children could never be seen wearing jeans to church. In the last few weeks, she really had lowered her standards, and to her surprise it felt pretty good. Her schedule was hectic, but in some ways she was more relaxed, as if by giving herself permission to be imperfect, she’d made it easier to do things well. A paradox she hadn’t anticipated.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Jeff said, leaning over to give her a quick kiss. He reached down and picked up his briefcase. She hadn’t noticed it earlier.

“You’re headed out?”

“Court date in Columbia. I’m sorry. I thought I told you.”

“Will you be home late?” Now that she had a better understanding of his world, she could be more understanding about the hours he kept. Before, all she could see was that he seemed to be choosing work over family. Now she knew that in many ways, his time was not his own. He was at the mercy of clients, judges, court reporters, and just about everyone else with whom he came into contact.

“Don’t wait supper on me.”

“All right. We’ll see you when you get back.” Thank goodness for the invention of the Crock-Pot. “I’ll save you a plate.”

“I’ll have my cell phone, but I have to turn it off in the courtroom.”

“No problem.”

The morning hours passed with their usual speed. Merry finished the project Jeff had given her and helped Mitzi with some of her work. The phone rang more than usual, and she collected a dizzying array of pink message slips for Jeff. Clients called to be scheduled and rescheduled. The FedEx guy made his daily delivery, and Daniel Gonzalez, the postman, left her a large stack of mail to deal with. Most days she brought her own lunch and ate it at her desk while she sorted the mail or ordered office supplies online. She was trying to decide which catalogs to keep and which to pitch when the phone rang yet again.

“McGavin Law Office. How may I help you?”

“Merry?”

“Yes?” Something about the caller’s voice made her pulse beat more quickly.

“It’s Sandra, from the day care.”

“Is everything okay?”

There was a pause, and then Sandra spoke again. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but I think you’d better come to the church. There’s something wrong with Hunter.”

Eugenie was never one to shirk her duties, but that first Monday in December, she slipped away from the library midafternoon to
dash to Kendall’s Department Store. She’d seen their ad in the Sunday
Sweetgum Reporter
, and the men’s cashmere sweaters featured caught her attention. A perfect Christmas present for Paul. She’d been wondering what to get him. At first she thought of knitting him a sweater, combining it with her project for the Knit Lit Society, but somehow time had gotten away from her. Plus, she doubted the seed stitch was quite right for a man’s sweater.

She entered Kendall’s through the elegantly etched glass door. In her forty years in Sweetgum, she didn’t think this particular store had ever changed. Dark wood, gleaming counter-tops, the marble floor polished until it glowed. Kendall’s was a throwback to an earlier era, before shopping malls and the Internet. At Kendall’s, you could still find attentive customer service, brass doorknobs, and beautiful gift-wrapping.

“Good morning, Eugenie.” Alfred Kendall, a striking man in his midfifties, was the third-generation owner of the department store. His smile was as warm as his greeting. Over the years, Alfred had helped her pick out a myriad of wedding gifts, baby layettes, and Christmas presents. “What may I help you with today?”

“Hello, Alfred. I wanted to look at the cashmere sweaters that were in your ad yesterday.”

Alfred nodded sagely. “For Rev. Carson? A good choice. We have several colors that would suit him well.”

He led her to the men’s department and personally assisted
her with her choice. She finally settled on a medium shade of blue—cerulean, Alfred called it—as well as a cream-colored oxford shirt and a jauntily striped tie. Eugenie was afraid she might have gone overboard. She and Paul hadn’t set a budget for their first Christmas together, but she was still a working woman with her own income, and she couldn’t think of anything or anyone she’d rather spend her money on than her new husband.

“Will there be anything else?”

Eugenie paused. Her eyes flitted for the barest of moments past Alfred’s shoulder, beyond the edges of the men’s department and across the store to a section she seldom visited. Lingerie. Just the name brought a blush to her cheek. So tempting and so embarrassing. She couldn’t. Not after all these years of playing the town spinster. Alfred Kendall would probably have heart palpitations if she asked to look at the negligees.

“No, Alfred. I believe that’s everything for now.”

“Would you like to have these gift-wrapped?”

“Yes, please.” The packages would look perfect under their Christmas tree, with Kendall’s distinctive green foil wrap and gold bow.

“If you don’t mind waiting, they won’t take long.”

Eugenie nodded, signing her credit card slip with a flourish, and Alfred disappeared to the back of the store. Left alone, the temptation was too great. She gravitated toward the lingerie section like the moon pulled through its orbit by the earth. She edged toward a rack of beautiful gowns, silk and lace and satin
in pale, sumptuous colors, and had just reached out to finger a sleeve when a voice behind her almost made her jump out of her shoes.

“There you are.”

Hazel Emerson. Eugenie swallowed a groan before she turned to greet her nemesis.

“Good afternoon, Hazel.” She forced herself to mold her face into a pleasant expression.

“Well, I hope you’re satisfied.” The other woman’s eyes narrowed with anger, and the lines around her mouth looked deep as ravines.

“I’m sorry?” Eugenie couldn’t imagine what Hazel meant. She’d done what the other woman had wanted, throwing herself into church life to prove herself and her faith to the congregation.

“You’re doing your best to ruin your husband, and now you’ve succeeded.”

Eugenie paused before she spoke, a habit that had served her well over the years. “Ruin my husband?” she finally asked, deciding she’d better seek clarification before she said anything that might actually harm Paul’s career.

“The pledge campaign was a disaster. Budget cuts right and left. We’ll be lucky if we can pay the light bill.”

Eugenie forced herself not to betray the slightest hint of surprise. She’d been aware that the budget wasn’t in great shape, but Paul hadn’t indicated that any imminent disaster loomed.

“Hazel, I doubt that matters are as dire—”

“He’s going to go part time! How much more dire could they be?”

“Part time?” At that, she couldn’t keep the surprise from showing on her face. “Where did you hear that?”

“My husband’s on the finance committee. Are you telling me you didn’t know?”

Eugenie gritted her teeth and shook her head. “Not about Paul cutting back on his hours.”

“Oh, I doubt very much he’ll cut back on his hours. Just on his pay.” Hazel shot her another dark look. “But since you have your own salary, why should you worry?”

Thankfully, at that moment Alfred Kendall reappeared with her beautifully wrapped packages. In light of Hazel’s bombshell, though, they didn’t excite her as much as they had only a few moments before.

“Here you are, Eugenie. Oh, hello, Hazel.” He nodded in greeting. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Thank you, Alfred.” Eugenie relieved him of the packages, eager to make a beeline for the door. “I’d better get back to the library.” She tossed a quick good-bye to Hazel over her shoulder and sped toward the entrance.

If Hazel Emerson had possessed this information for more than thirty minutes, then Eugenie could be sure everyone in Sweetgum already knew. Why hadn’t Paul told her that the budget difficulties hadn’t been resolved?

It was the first secret either of them had kept in their
marriage. That scared Eugenie, almost as much as the fear that the budget troubles were her fault. She knew better than anyone the power of small-town gossip. She also knew as well as anyone that when it came to ministers, expectations were as high as they were unfair. She’d thought it would be enough, saying yes to everyone who asked for her help. What more could they want?

She hurried around the corner toward the library, wondering when Paul would tell her about his difficulty. And why he hadn’t already.

Hannah always looked forward to Saturdays, mostly because they didn’t involve going to school. When she was little, school had been something she liked because it allowed her to escape from her mother for a few hours each day. When she reached middle school, though, things changed. “Peer pressure,” adults liked to call it. “Social mutilation” was Hannah’s name for the torture that went on each day between eighty thirty and three o’clock. Freshman year hadn’t changed anything. She was still an outsider, and hanging out with Josh hadn’t brought her any newfound popularity—just more scorn from Courtney and her crowd.

Josh had a different lunch period than she did, so she only saw him for a few minutes before school, when everyone congregated on the steps waiting for the bell to ring. Sometimes they talked for a few brief moments after school before he had to be in the weight room for off-season conditioning.

Saturdays, though, as precious as they’d been—an escape from the nightmare of high school—were even more precious now. Because now she spent Saturdays with Josh.

Today they were meeting at Sweetgum Creek, at the familiar place where it narrowed and Josh had spent all those hours trying to jump across it. Hannah pushed aside some underbrush as she approached the creek and prayed there wasn’t any poison ivy. She slid down the steep bank and almost lost her footing in the crumbling soil before righting herself in the sandy stretch that lined the edge of the water.

It was almost like a little beach. The creek, not more than five or six feet wide here, tumbled over scattered rocks and pooled in places near the edge. Even though it was the first Saturday in December, gnats still swarmed, and here and there small fish flopped on the surface in search of food.

Hannah slid her backpack off her shoulders and opened it. She’d brought an old blanket for them to sit on and some sandwiches and Coke. She’d also brought a bottle of water because Josh was pretty health conscious and would probably refuse the soft drink.