Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Anna
The first ever Needles and Nightcaps gathering—name and concept courtesy of Rowan—was tonight, and I was more than ready for it.
Girl time had always been a priority in my life, but I’d been short on it lately. That was partly because, as Kemp and I had bemoaned, half of our friends were now married and had different priorities. It was also because of my new responsibility to care for Oliver when Kemp couldn’t.
I wasn’t complaining. I loved that little boy to the moon and back.
Was he an easy baby? I didn’t have a lot of experience, but I wouldn’t call him that.
Doc Julian had recommended switching formula and making a couple other dietary changes, and those seemed to be making Oliver less fussy.
He still woke up frequently at night, but I was told that was normal for a six-month-old.
At any rate, when Rowan had invited me to her place, I’d checked Kemp’s schedule and happy danced when I verified he wasn’t on call tonight and didn’t need me.
Rowan welcomed me in with a hug. Then I followed her to the sunken family room at the back of the house. Olivia and Presley sat next to each other on the couch and greeted me warmly. I bent over to hug each of them and plopped down into a plush armchair.
After small talk that revealed Chance was at ping-pong league; their teenager, Sam, was on a babysitting gig; and Lila Rose was asleep upstairs in the nursery, I asked, “Is anyone else coming, or was I last?”
“This is it,” Rowan said as she handed me a hot buttered rum in a pretty glass mug, then sat on the love seat and set down her own drink.
“Chloe has a family thing. Magnolia’s hosting a corporate event.
Shawna has a deadline. Emerson’s celebrating Grandma Berty’s birthday with the family.
Maeve has no plans but said knitting looked like something that would make her want to do violence. ”
“So just us four,” Olivia said, laughing. “They’ll be begging to join soon enough.”
“Full transparency,” Presley said, “I’m here for the nightcaps more than the needles. I’ve never stitched a thing in my life.”
“We’ll teach you,” Olivia said.
“If I can learn, anyone can,” Rowan said. “Poor Loretta was a saint to see me through Lila’s baby blanket.”
“But you did it, and it’s beautiful,” I said.
“If you can overlook all the mistakes,” Rowan said. “So far my daughter hasn’t complained.”
“She’ll cherish it her whole life,” Presley said. “These buttered rums are delicious. Should we start with a toast?” She held up her mug. “What are we drinking to?”
“To my first adult beverage in over a year,” Rowan said.
“Good one,” I said. “To girl time.”
“For sure to both,” Olivia said. “How about to these delicious warm drinks on a cold winter night?”
“Yes.” Rowan looked to Presley for her addition.
“To you guys being patient enough to teach me to make something pretty,” Presley said, sounding doubtful. “Your work is cut out for you.”
We laughed as we raised our mugs and took a drink.
“Mmm, it’s like butterscotch candy with a kick,” I said.
“Oh,” Olivia said, hopping up and going to the table. “Speaking of sweets, we should eat first so we can avoid getting the yarn gross. I brought treats, as promised.”
She opened a bakery box from Sugar, where she was one of the bakers, to reveal a half dozen beautifully decorated donuts and a dozen llama sugar cookies.
We all helped ourselves and sugared up with our desserts and drinks as we talked.
“My gram used to love those hard butterscotch candies,” Rowan said after she took another swallow of buttered rum, her voice going soft and emotional.
“Aww, we should definitely drink a toast to your gram,” Presley said. “She was a wonderful human.”
“And the inspiration for me to knit a baby blanket,” Rowan said. With a cookie in one hand, she held her drink up in the other. “To my grandma. She’d be absolutely thrilled—and maybe stunned—that I’m in a knitting group.”
We all took another sip.
“And crochet,” I added, grinning.
“I don’t even know the difference,” Presley said.
“Crochet uses a hook and is easier to learn,” Olivia said. “Knitting is good for sweaters and socks.”
I explained, “Crochet’s best for things like blankets, toys, bags—”
“Like this one you made for me,” Olivia said, holding up the cream-colored bag I’d given her last year.
“Wait,” Rowan said. “If crochet’s better for blankets, then why the heck did I knit a whole baby blanket?”
“Because you could?” Presley said.
“Could is maybe an overstatement,” Rowan joked. “But I did. I don’t think I’m up for learning something new.”
“What’s everyone working on?” I asked, pulling out a skein of gorgeous variegated yarn called spring stream that ranged from aqua to periwinkle.
Rowan shrugged, then took out three different skeins. “Something with one of these. I’m open to suggestions.”
“That one would make an adorable baby hat,” Olivia said, pointing to a pink-and-yellow skein.
“I’d love that, but I don’t think I have the right needles?” Rowan said.
“I’ve got you.” Olivia’s bag of supplies was big and no doubt contained anything any of us could need. She was the needlework variation of the mother who carried every contingency in her bag.
“I’m making a scarf and hat set for Natalie,” I said of Kemp’s sister, having decided the scarf would bring out her blue eyes. “Her birthday’s next month.”
“Lucky Natalie,” Presley said. “I love the scarf you gave me.”
Rowan laughed. “I love the mittens you made me—and the adorable raccoon you made for Lila Rose.”
“And I treasure the sweater you made for me—and the bag,” Olivia said, laughing. “We all have Anna-made pretties.”
“I tend to give away everything I make,” I said.
“And we love receiving it,” Presley said, “but you should make something for yourself.”
I considered that. “Gifting is more fun.”
“You don’t have a box full of sweaters you’ve made for yourself?” Rowan asked as if scandalized.
I tried to think of something I’d kept for myself and came up blank. “Not a single one.”
“You’re overdue then,” Presley said.
“What about that stunning fuchsia, blue, and purple yarn you bought?” Olivia said. “Those colors are so you. Do you still have it?”
“I do. I haven’t been able to decide what to make with it because it’s so pretty. I want it to be something special.” I dug to the bottom of my bag and pulled out the yarn in question.
“You brought it?” Olivia said.
“I’ve been carrying one skein of it around, hoping inspiration will hit.” I told her.
“You picked up several though, right?” Olivia asked.
I laughed. “I overbought because I loved it so much.”
“It would make a pretty sweater,” Rowan said.
“For you,” Presley emphasized.
I laughed them off, knowing I’d probably not put in the effort for something for myself.
“You guys whip up your magic,” Presley said, leaning toward the table and grabbing a cookie. “I need more sugar. I’ll blame you for life for making these Esmerelda cookies so irresistible, Olivia.”
“It’s the sprinkles that do it for me,” Rowan said.
“I haven’t seen any mentions of Esmerelda hitting the bakery on the Tattler lately,” I said. “Is she okay?”
“We haven’t seen her at Sugar for over a week,” Olivia confirmed.
Rowan held up a finger as she finished the last bite of her cookie. “Emerson said Ben found some weak spots in the fence where he thought she was getting out, and he fixed them. So…maybe her days of escaping are done.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Olivia said. “He’s tried so many things to keep that wild beast in.”
“The town wouldn’t be the same without random llama sightings,” I said.
An hour later, I was a few rows into the hat for Natalie, Presley was working on a basic crochet stitch, Rowan had started a baby hat, and Olivia was helping the other two more than working on her own throw pillow.
We’d overdosed on sweets and were on our second round of buttered rums. We tried to be quiet for the baby’s sake, but our laughter increased as our productivity went down.
And nobody cared. Because this felt good.
“I’m so glad you put this together, Rowan,” Olivia said. “We should make a point of doing it regularly.”
“I agree,” Presley said. “Maybe monthly?”
“If you married girls can fit it in around your busy, fulfilling lives,” I teased.
“Seriously,” Olivia said, “I’m happy for you ladies getting massive amounts of sex, but my social life has taken a hit since half the population of Dragonfly Lake got married.”
“You’d be surprised how difficult it is to have massive amounts of sex with a newborn and a teenager,” Rowan said.
“Or three busy little girls,” Presley added. “A few nights ago, Sienna knocked on our door when we were in the middle of getting busy. If West hadn’t thought to lock the door, she would’ve gotten an education that would scar her for life.”
“Oh, God,” Rowan said. “What did you do?”
Presley set her crochet rows aside, picked up her mug, and pulled her legs up to sit cross-legged.
“Well…” She took a drink. “West jumped off me like the house was on fire and scrambled for his pajama pants. I panicked, scooped up my pj’s, and ran to the bathroom to pull them on.
By the time I came out, he had her cuddled next to him talking about her nightmare.
Eventually he took her back to her room and stayed with her until she went to sleep. ”
“So was there a happy ending?” Olivia asked.
Presley laughed. “By the time he came back, I’d fallen asleep.”
“Sad,” I said.
“At least your girls don’t understand why that door was locked,” Rowan said. “Chance and I have had to resort to quickies sometimes when Sam’s out of the house and Lila’s sleeping.”
“We’ve had to get creative too,” Presley said.
“That’s hard,” Olivia said. “No pun intended. The lesson here is to marry a guy without kids, I guess.”
“I love those girls, but it makes newlywedding more challenging for sure,” Presley said.
“I guess that means Kemp is out for you, Anna,” Olivia teased.
“Oh, are you two together?” Rowan asked. “I thought you were just friends.”