Chapter Nine
Kellie felt like a kid again. Reed had suggested they ride Seattle’s Big Wheel, something she’d always wanted to do.
Like so many other things, this was one of those fun ideas that was far too easy to put off until someday.
It looked like someday had finally arrived and she was thrilled.
This afternoon, as they lazily strolled down the festive waterfront, the sights and sounds of the holidays were all around them, wrapping her in a spirit of joy she hadn’t felt in months.
Eventually, after several short stops along the way, Reed went to purchase their tickets, and learned there was a two-hour wait time for the Ferris wheel.
She shouldn’t have been surprised. This was one of the most popular tourist spots in town, along with the Space Needle and the tour of Underground Seattle.
Reed handed her the tickets. “Are you sure we’ll have enough time? I mean, the ferry should be working by then, don’t you think?”
“Maybe,” he said. “And maybe not. That call from my sister indicated the problem could take several hours to fix. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?”
“Right,” she agreed. As eager as she was to see her brother, she found herself happy to spend what she could of this day with Reed.
“Seeing that we’ve got a wait, let’s explore Pike Place Market,” Reed suggested.
“What a great idea.” They headed up what is known in Seattle as the Pike Street Hill Climb, the 163 stairs leading from the waterfront to Pike Place Market. Their progress was slow, as the popular walkway was congested.
As they reached the top a bit breathless, Reed tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow. As if expecting her to object, he added, “In case you lose your footing again.”
Kellie was more than happy to hold on to him, especially in the crowd of holiday shoppers that filled the market with its multiple stalls.
The entire area was alive with activity.
Although she’d lived in the Seattle area for several years, Kellie had been to Pike Place Market only a handful of times.
It never failed to fascinate her. The market, like Seattle Center, was the heart of the city.
It pulsed with charm and an old-world vibe.
Upon entering, they paused outside the seafood display. A bed of crushed ice showed a variety of halibut, salmon, tuna, rockfish, crab, oysters, and clams, all fresh from the waters of the Pacific Northwest.
While noting the wide array of fish, a large salmon went flying over her head to be caught by a fishmonger.
A loud cheer went up, followed by a round of enthusiastic applause.
Kellie had heard about the salmon toss, as it was a well-known tourist antic.
Seeing it in person was a first, and she loved it.
From the fish stall, Reed steered them into the body of the market.
The next place that caught Kellie’s attention were the flower stands.
Brightly colored large bouquets of blooms of every conceivable color were on display.
Red carnations, gladioli, and roses were a few of the flowers Kellie could easily identify.
Living in a condo close to her worksite, she wasn’t into gardening other than a couple houseplants and a few herbs that grew on her windowsill.
The bouquets were wrapped in holiday colors that were a feast for the eyes and the senses.
Despite the cold, Kellie drew in a deep breath, hoping to catch a whiff of their fragrance.
“Look,” she said, pausing to admire the beauty and artwork. “These arrangements are breathtaking.”
“They are,” Reed agreed. “You should have one.” He immediately caught the attention of the Asian woman who sat on an upturned wooden crate, working on wrapping up the bouquets.
“Reed, no.” Kellie reached for his forearm, stopping him. “I didn’t mean for you to—”
“Let me do this as a small appreciation for saving me from a boring afternoon,” Reed insisted. “Pick whichever one you like best.”
Kellie hesitated. Each arrangement was so beautiful, it was difficult to choose. After looking over several, she pointed to one with sprigs of holly along with the red and white carnations and roses.
“That Christmas-looking one,” she said, glancing back at Reed.
“Perfect.”
The older woman named the price.
Kellie swallowed hard. She’d inadvertently chosen one of the priciest bunches available. She wanted to protest but didn’t have the heart to disappoint Reed, as he seemed intent on purchasing her the flowers.
“Thank you,” she said, being as gracious as she could and yet a bit reluctant. Reed had already paid for their lunch. When dating Jude, they’d always shared expenses. Kellie was accustomed to paying her way.
The shopkeeper wrapped the bouquet in newspaper and then in a clear bag before handing it to Kellie. She winked at her and whispered, “Hang on to him, dear, he’s a keeper.”
If Reed heard he pretended not to, for which Kellie was grateful.
“I’ll carry it,” he offered, taking the bouquet from her.
They continued down the packed corridor, working their way through the throng of shoppers and others like them simply enjoying the sights and sounds of the market. Passing a variety of meat and vegetable stands, they eventually edged to the stalls selling handcrafts and homemade specialties.
Kellie paused in front of the booth selling small figurines made from the ash of the Mount Saint Helen’s volcano.
“I think Harrison might appreciate this.” Her brother was a history buff.
The eruption happened in 1980 before either of them had been born and remained an important part of history for the Pacific Northwest. It amazed her, after all these years, that the ash was still readily available.
She chose a bear figurine, as her brother’s high school sports teams were known as the Grizzlies.
Not that he participated in sports his senior year.
Harrison would have been a great football player, except his low grades had kept him off the team.
Harrison’s lack of interest in academics had caused a rift between her brother and their father.
Thankfully, that had changed after he’d enlisted in the Navy.
She knew Harrison had a good relationship with their parents these days, and that pleased her.
Kellie paid, and Reed added the small paper bag into the one with the flowers.
The stall next door sold homemade jams and jellies. Reed paused there to read over the labels. “My sister loves spicy food. I bet she’d enjoy this raspberry-jalapeno jam.”
“Perfect for Christmas Morning breakfast,” Kellie agreed.
Reed added that to their sack along with their other purchases.
They left the market and discovered a Christmas bazaar across the street under a large white tent. With time to explore, they ventured inside. Kellie discovered a booth selling hand-spun yarn in a variety of enticing colors.
“Do you knit?” Reed asked.
“I did years ago while in college.” Viewing the yarn brought back a flood of warm memories.
“I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed it. My roommate and I took up knitting, but that was years ago.
” She paused and stifled a laugh. “In an act of dedication and love, I decided to knit my college boyfriend a sweater.”
“I hope he appreciated all the time and effort that went into the project.”
Unable to hold back her amusement any longer, Kellie burst out laughing. “The sweater was a disaster. He was polite enough to thank me, but he never wore it, and I don’t blame him. I believe it ended up lining his dog’s bed.”
Reed chuckled.
“I haven’t knit anything since then. I still have my knitting needles, although I have no idea where I tucked them away.” She picked up a skein of light brown yarn.
The young woman at the booth said, “Feel how soft it is? This yarn comes from Tinkerbell, one of my favorite sheep. I blended her wool with cashmere, which is why it’s so soft.”
Pressing the yarn against her cheek, Kellie had to agree. It was amazingly soft and pliable.
“There’s enough yardage to knit up a hat or a pair of fingerless gloves,” the young sheep herder/yarn dyer pressed.
Simply holding the yarn in her hands gave Kellie the urge to take up knitting again. “It’s been years since I held a pair of needles.”
“Knitting is like riding a bike,” the young woman assured her. “It’s a skill we don’t lose or forget.”
“I don’t really have anyone in my life who needs a hat. My brother doesn’t like hats and . . .”
She chanced a look at Reed. “I don’t suppose you could use a hat, could you?”
His eyes widened and he quickly nodded. “I’d love it if you’d knit me a hat, and I promise not to let it become part of my dog’s bed.”
“Do you have a dog?”
“Not yet.”
“Then that’s an easy promise,” she teased.
“I offer a free hat pattern,” the woman said, encouraging the sale. “And I can recommend a knitting group sponsored by a local yarn store if you run into any trouble.”
Kellie couldn’t keep from smiling. “Sold.” She quickly paid before she could change her mind. The woman handed her the yarn, and the pattern, which Reed added to their small bag of treasures.
As they strolled away, Kellie asked, “You were joking about me knitting you that hat, right?”
Reed shook his head. “I was serious. How long do you think it will take you?”
“I have no idea.” Already doubts were setting in. She’d bought the yarn on impulse and wondered if she’d wasted her money.
“I’ll hold the yarn for you to roll,” he offered. “I did that for my grandmother when I was a kid. Grandma knit Avery and me a sweater every Christmas. Knitting for her was an act of love . . .” He paused, as if he realized what he’d said. “Not that . . . Well, never mind.” He started turning red.