Unravel Me (12 page)

But it was Noah on her mind. He’d done so many things for her over the past years. Even when Wayne was still alive, she remembered Noah arriving on scene as she struggled to lift a flat of pansies from the trunk of her car. On another occasion, he’d laughed at the crooked result of her picture-hanging attempt and taken the hammer out of her hand to line the frame straight on the hallway wall.

For such a long time, she’d merely considered him her husband’s helper, another set of hands, a better eye than her own. But now . . .

Now she was seeing him as more—as a man. A complex man—an attorney, a soldier, someone who overcame a tough childhood with a compassionate soul still intact. When her very own dinner party had hit some snags just days before, it was Noah who had stepped in to smooth and soothe.

As penance for her previous blindness, or at the very least to show him her gratitude for how he’d helped during the party, she wanted to give back something in return. She hoped Cassandra and Nikki could help her brainstorm a suitable gift.

The door to the shop was half open, so she slipped in without a sound. It was not yet 7 P.M., but Cassandra was ready for the knitting group. The lights were blazing, Juliet could smell coffee brewing, and on a small table sat sweating bottles of water and trays of baked goods.

But at the register, the shop owner was cursing. “Nikki, can you give me a hand?” she called out after another string of frustrated swear words.

From somewhere unseen, Nikki called back. “I don’t do register tape, you remember that.”

“No, I remember that you bragged about the ability to do every and any job found in a restaurant. Surely—”

“Can I help?”

Cassandra started at Juliet’s voice, then looked over to beam a distracted smile. “You’re here.”

“And willing to do what I can.”

The other woman flashed another quick smile. “No offense, but I doubt you have the moves to tame the Accucount 480. Or, in layman’s terms, my uncooperative cash register.”

Cassandra couldn’t know how Juliet resented being seen as nothing more than an attractive decoration, so she ignored the little sting and instead made her way behind the counter. She shouldered Cassandra aside even as the woman sent out another smile—indulgent, the kind you’d serve the silly village idiot.

In ninety seconds this village idiot had the paper tape replaced and the register ready for business. She glanced up to give the shop owner a pointed look.

Nikki came around the corner at the rear of the shop. “Hey, lookie. She’s not just another pretty face.”

Juliet nodded. “I’ll have you know I put in my share of afternoons at the Palisades Women’s Club thrift store.” Though once it was out she decided it sounded closer to boasting about flower-arranging classes than she’d like. “Okay, it wasn’t running a business or running a restaurant kitchen or—”

Nikki signaled a time-out. “Don’t apologize. While
I
might have talents truly worth admiring, the Froot Loop here isn’t good for more than weaving nothing into more”—She pointed upward, at an exquisite, knitted string bikini displayed on the wall—“well, more nothing.”

Instead of taking offense, Cassandra laughed, making it clear the two were easy enough with each other to take teasing with good grace.

I’ve never had that
, Juliet thought. No sibling to laugh with, let alone pester.

“You’ll regret your insults after you’ve seen your Halloween costume, Nikki.” Cassandra turned to whip a white plastic dry cleaner’s bag off a dressmaker’s dummy. “Tada!”

“Oh. My. God.” Nikki stared at the figure, then clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh. My. God,” she repeated, her voice muffled and her eyes blue and green platters.

Juliet figured her own were at least saucer-wide. It was the most outrageous Halloween costume she’d ever seen. The skirt was a belly-baring knitted tube of silver-shot seaweed-green that curved in at the ankles and then flared out again in faux-flippers. The top . . . well, the top was really just two starfish-colored and starfish-shaped pasties. Thrown over the shoulders of the dummy was a sort of poncho in sky blue that looked like a fishnet.

Cassandra’s mouth curved like a satisfied cat’s. “Jay’s always calling you his mermaid.”

Nikki’s hands dropped from her mouth, but her gaze didn’t leave the getup. “He’ll never let me out of the house in those starfish,” she said. “What am I saying? I don’t have the guts to leave the house in them.”

The costume designer shrugged. “I can whip up a bikini top and we can sew them on it.”

Nikki’s two-colored eyes gleamed. “A
string
bikini top in a flesh-colored yarn, yes? Jay won’t notice that until after he’s felled by lust. I love a man on his knees.”

“You’re very bad, little sister,” Cassandra said.

“And God, does it feel good.” Nikki turned, grinning, to Juliet. “Shall we get Cassandra to make you something memorable, too?”

“Not like that.” Juliet couldn’t imagine. “I don’t have anyone to wear something like that for, and not anyplace to go on Halloween.”

Nikki waved away the objections. “The second we have covered. We bought tickets for a charity thing on the thirty-first and we have extras. As for the who to wear it for . . . not Noah?”

Noah. Juliet’s face burned, thinking about wearing something like that mermaid costume. For Noah. Beneath her cotton blouse and matching buff-colored pants, her skin prickled as if chafed by wool.

“Are you okay?” Cassandra asked.

“Noah,” Juliet managed to get out.

Nikki shot Cassandra a look. “What about him?”

“I . . . he’s one of the reasons why I came here tonight. I thought you two might help me think of a present to give him.”

The sisters glanced at each other again.

“He’s been nice.” Juliet objected to the blatant speculation on their faces. “And I haven’t noticed quite how nice until lately.”

“Okay.” Cassandra sounded cautious. “What kind of gift are you thinking about?”

“I don’t know.” Juliet spun, looking for inspiration about the room. “Maybe I could make him something. Knit him a sweater.”

“No!” The sisters said together, their voices horrified.

“No?”

Cassandra took Juliet by the arm and steered her toward the seating area in the middle of the shop. “It’s a curse,” she said, pushing her onto the soft cushions. “The Curse of the Boyfriend Sweater. You start to make your man one and he’ll be out of your life before you bind off.”

“But Noah’s not my boyfriend.” A little shiver tracked along Juliet’s spine. Was the open door inviting in a draft?

Cassandra must have spotted the telltale tremor. “Let’s brainstorm gift ideas later. For Knitters’ Night, we’ll get you started on making something warm for yourself. A wrap, maybe.”

Nikki watched her bustle about the shop collecting needles and yarn. “Hey, you wouldn’t allow me to attempt anything like a wrap until I was stuck on your couch after surgery.”

“Because I had to keep such a close eye on you when it came time to increase and decrease. Juliet strikes me as a person good at taking direction and following rules.”

Is that truly how they saw her?
Juliet wondered. Good at taking direction and following rules? It sounded so dull and conventional. But she didn’t have time to explore the idea because Cassandra handed over a pair of knitting needles and a luscious yarn the shade of a midnight sky.

“Nice,” Nikki said, complimenting Cassandra. “She needs a color stronger than tan.”

Obviously referring to Juliet’s outfit for the evening. Again, dull and conventional. That wasn’t who she was, was it? Frowning, she shoved away the thought in order to take in Cassandra’s instructions.

“Start by casting on three stitches. Then knit one row, purl one row. On row three, increase one stitch at each end of the work. Do you know how to increase?”

Juliet nodded, though she hoped there were some instruction books lying around or that an experienced knitter would sit down beside her.

“After the increase, purl a row and keep on like that, increasing on each side of the knitted row until your piece is as wide as you want—since you want to wrap it around you, make it about as wide as the length of your back. Once you have that, you simply knit a row, then purl a row until the wrap is as long as you’d like.”

“Then I just decrease, I suppose,” Juliet said, to show she could change cash register tape
and
anticipate simple knitting instructions.

Cassandra beamed at her, even as her attention was divided by more women entering the shop. They were typical Malibuites, dressed in jeans that came with three-digit price tags and casually chic boots that sold for three times that. “Exactly. You knit two stitches together on each side of the knitted rows until you’re down to three stitches. Then you bind off. Easy.”

“Easy,” Juliet echoed.

“For someone so good at taking directions and following rules,” Nikki said, plopping onto the cushions with so much energy they both bounced.

It still sounded like faint praise to Juliet.

But she still couldn’t dwell on it, not when she needed to focus on her knitted piece as well as the conversation flowing between the Tuesday Night Knitters. The dozen or so women who seated themselves in Cassandra’s shop were at various stages of projects that ranged from simple to difficult. Nikki dispensed with any concern over introductions—Juliet wasn’t sure how the Happy Widow or surprise sister would play with this crowd—by announcing, “Everyone, this is Juliet. Juliet, this is everyone.”

The declaration allowed her to sit back and quietly work on her piece—and work on her ability to increase her stitches—as she listened to one woman despair of completing the tree skirt she was knitting by Christmas—the tree skirt she’d started two summers before. Another nimble knitter seemed to have no trouble at all adding to a stack of sweet stars made out of a glittery yarn and intended as tree decorations. Nikki and a couple of others were working on sweaters for the men in their lives.

It didn’t occur to Juliet to question that until the knitting session had ended and the three sisters were once again alone in the shop. As Nikki bundled her work into a canvas bag, Juliet frowned. “Wait a minute. How come you’re ignoring the curse and making Jay a sweater?”

“
Boyfriend
curse. Not father or brother or fiancé.”

Juliet fingered the soft, pretty wool in her hands and felt a little puffed up by the progress she’d made in just a couple of hours. “But I could do it then. Knit a sweater for Noah. He’s like a brother to me.”

Nikki froze, then called over to Cassandra. “Um, help here?”

The other woman stopped her tidying to join them at the matching couches. “What?”

Nikki pointed at Juliet with a knitting needle. “Noah’s like a brother to her. That’s what she just said.”

“Oh.” Cassandra dropped to the opposite couch.

“ ‘Oh’ ? Oh, what?”

Cassandra’s voice was gentle. “He doesn’t look at you like he’s your brother . . .” she started.

“And you don’t look at him like he’s your brother either,” Nikki finished in a rush.

Heat flashed over Juliet’s skin and up her neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” They hadn’t been there that night in her kitchen when she’d stared at him, naked, in her pool. No one but Noah and Juliet knew about the accidental kiss that had come out of her celebratory hug.

It had been a mistake, she’d decided days ago. An aberration. And the fact that she’d felt a resurgence of sexual feelings wasn’t something personal to Noah, just something she was experiencing as another step in the grieving process.

“I’ll tell you what I’m talking about,” Nikki said. “The man’s hot. He stares at you like skinny women stare at slices of chocolate cake on a restaurant’s dessert tray. Why don’t you give both of you a present and do something about that?”

“Nikki,” Cassandra protested, a laugh in her voice. “Sex isn’t the answer to everything.”

“I didn’t say so. I just don’t want two celibate sisters. That’s no fun.”

Cassandra shook her head, leaving Juliet to sputter. “I can’t . . . I’m not . . .”

“You’re not what?”

She tucked her hair behind her ears and took a breath. “I’m a widow. My husband and I . . . I loved him very much.”

“Oh.” Nikki sank back into the couch, her exuberant expression gone. “It’s not that I forgot . . . it’s just that . . . it’s just that . . .” Her eyes filled with tears.

Alarm made Juliet slide closer to the younger woman. “What’s the matter?”

Cassandra tossed Nikki a tissue box from a nearby table. “It’s okay, Nik. Everything’s okay.” She glanced over at Juliet. “Our chef’s been a crier since the night Jay got her cornered and made her promise to marry him. Turned her romance-crazy, too. She wants everyone to be part of a committed couple.”

“God,” Nikki said, wiping her eyes. “I’m mortified to admit I resemble that remark. But I’m so sorry, Juliet. I wasn’t thinking about you losing your husband.”

“It’s all right.” She smiled, remembering herself as Nikki was now. Giddy with new love and wanting everyone to have their own taste of that incredible dish. “But I’ve had my turn as half of a committed couple. I’m not expecting to find that again.”

“Well,” Cassandra mused, “it doesn’t have to be about commitment, now, does it?”

Nikki popped upright on the cushions and hooted, tears all dry. “No way! Ms. Takes-No-Man-to-Bed is suggesting Juliet shag Noah for . . . for . . . just for the fun of it?”

For the fun of it? Juliet remembered his hot mouth, his hard hands, the breadth of his chest and the solid weight of his muscles. Would getting close to all that be
fun
? With a shiver, she gathered her knitting against her chest.

“He’s going away soon,” she said. “In three, four weeks tops, he’s going to leave the house and move on to his own life.”