Chapter 52
As fast as my paintings came together, the winter season creeps in. Fall isn’t over yet, but it always feels like the end when Holiday Valley has their opening day of ski season.
It’s bittersweet, seeing the harvest themed flags coming down from the lamp posts and the flags with skier silhouettes going up. But I’m trying to embrace change, letting the moments come as they may.
Especially with the change coming this week.
I lean my elbow on the bar as Smashing Pumpkins serenade the moment and continue to watch Laurie change out the lamp post pendants. It’s not until I feel a tap on my shoulder that I suspect I’m no longer alone.
Turning away from Dina’s front window, I find Claire standing over me. She’s in her ski instructor tee and the teal spandex leggings that she sports under her snow pants. Yes, it’s officially ski season.
Which is why we are meeting for lunch at Dina’s in the middle of a weekday afternoon—a tradition we started the year she got the job at Holiday Valley.
“Hey, you’re here,” she says. At least I think so as I read her lips, because I have my CD Walkman out.
“Hi.” I pause Smashing Pumpkins and remove my headphones. “Where’d you come from?”
She jabs a finger over her shoulder. “Back entrance.”
“How were morning lessons?”
She drops onto the stool beside me and subtly flicks her hand to get the bartender’s attention. “They were sparse, but you know how it goes before Christmas.” Grabbing menus from the bar, she turns to pass me one when her mouth falls open in surprise.
Reaching out to clutch my arm, she whispers. “You are not going to believe this. Turn around slowly and prepare to witness the newest member of my grandmother’s knitting club.”
I try to subtly peek over my shoulder as Alice, Agatha and Faye enter. The three women that have always pronounced themselves as a formal club. And standing right alongside them, holding a tote overflowing with yarn, is my mother.
“No,” I gasp. “When did this happen?”
“This is the first I’ve seen of it. But what is Susie doing with them?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know, I thought you had to be like eighty to join the club.”
We lean together, giggling as quietly as possible, just as we’re spotted.
“Ladies, what a lovely surprise!” my mom calls to us, waving furiously as if we aren’t only steps away. “Look Alice, it’s our girls.”
“Isn’t this such a happy accident?” Alice chirps. “We almost went to Jitters instead this afternoon, but something told us Dina’s was the place to be.”
“It was the fact that I wanted wine with lunch,” Faye cuts in with a wink.
“Well, you have to join us, we haven’t gotten a good catch up with you in such a long time,” Alice tells us, tugging Claire off the barstool. Then turning to Meg at the hostess station she announces, “It will be six rather than four, dear.”
Meg grabs two more menus and smiles. “Not a problem, right this way.”
Before I know what’s happening, Claire and I are getting ushered into a booth, her tucked in the back corner beside Agatha and Alice, me sandwiched between Faye and my mother.
“What do we have to catch up on?” Claire asks carefully, knowing I haven’t really spoken to my mother about my news that Jake was associated with the Carpenter Collection. I’m sure she didn’t tell her new club, but my chest feels tight all the same.
“Probably the same thing everyone is talking about,” Agatha replies, leaning in for drama. “The second proposal.”
I feel far too hot, and far too cramped stuck between these knitters. “Everyone’s talking about that?” I ask.
Beneath the table, my mom pats my knee gently. It becomes a fraction easier to breathe. “It is quite the mystery,” she reminds me.
“Well it worries me,” Faye announces. “At least with the hotel we know what we’re getting. This secret bid could be anything. Anyone.”
A server arrives with a pitcher of water, filling the glasses before us. I immediately reach for mine and down half of it in one gulp.
“It has to be an intriguing offer,” Alice offers, “in order to delay the village heads’ closing on the Carpenter contract.”
“Which is what worries me.” Faye waggles her finger in warning. “Mark my words.”
The tightness in my chest doubles down. Who knew a bunch of knitters could be so fearsome?