Vi and I turned to look at the door as well. Duchess stalked into the room, surveyed the area, and approached Holly. Purring sounds filled the air as she rubbed her head on Holly’s legs. The cat jumped up and made herself comfortable on Holly’s lap.
“That’s a beautiful cat,” Vi said. “I haven’t been able to get close enough to see her—she always disappears before I can get near her.” Vi cocked her head at Duchess. She sat very still and stared hard at the cat in what I knew was her “receptive” mode. Duchess continued to purr with her eyes closed, seemingly unaware of Vi’s focused attention.
Vi quietly stood and approached Duchess. Just as Vi reached forward to touch the cat, she jumped off Holly’s lap and zoomed out the door.
Vi tsked. “She’s a clever one.”
“I thought you said you didn’t get along with cats?” I said.
Holly shook her head. “I don’t. That’s the first time she’s let me pet her since she arrived.”
“Very strange,” Vi said. She stroked her chin and watched Holly.
Holly began to fidget under Vi’s glare.
“Thank you for talking to us,” I said. I sent Vi a “back off” look. “Please let us know if you think of anything that might help.”
Holly nodded, stood up, and gathered her things. She cleared out quickly and didn’t look back.
19
Vi had convinced me to come to the workshop with her while I waited for Mac to return from his snowmobiling adventure. We passed Wally in reception. He was huddled over his weather radio and didn’t notice us as we passed.
“If I didn’t know he was innocent, he’d be my first suspect,” Vi said.
“Why? He seems completely harmless,” I said and had to quicken my pace to keep up with her.
“That’s exactly why,” Vi said. “People are never the way they seem.”
Miss Marple was Vi’s new hero—she’d been talking about her all winter as if Agatha Christie were an up-and-coming new author. Quoting her cynical view of human nature had become a new hobby.
“I think that’s going a little far,” I said. “Not everyone is up to something.”
Vi shook her head and looked at me sadly.
Fortunately, we had arrived at the workshop room. I never thought I would welcome a roomful of knitters, but anything to get Vi off this topic was fine with me.
The knitters sat in a circle near the fire, each one clicking her needles rapidly while a buzz of conversation filled the room. Amy’s bright pink head was bent near Mavis’s gray one and they counted stitches on a delicate pink baby sweater. Heather, the nurse, sat near Mom and quizzed her on herbal remedies for headaches and allergies. Mom’s best friend is an herbalist and she’s picked up a few tips through the years. Tina and Isabel knitted brightly colored socks and discussed local yarn suppliers. I glanced back at the door, but Vi grabbed my arm and pulled me forward.
“Clyde! Come sit with me and I’ll get you started.” Lucille patted the couch next to her. I looked over my shoulder again and saw no easy escape. Lucille had a prime seat next to the small fireplace so I climbed over the bags of yarn and needles and sat next to her.
They explained that this was their sharing workshop, so everyone had brought something different to show the other knitters. Selma had just finished presenting a neon-striped scarf that had to be a gift. She wore a brighter shade of beige today with a soft ivory scarf. I murmured polite compliments as they all showed off their works in progress. Then the attention shifted to me.
“Here, Clyde, you can use this yarn,” Mom said. She handed me a soft purple skein that slowly shifted from pale lavender to deep plum. “If you finish a scarf, it will look great on you.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I said.
Mavis handed me a cord with needles on either end, but Vi intercepted it and traded for two thick straight needles.
“Don’t get her addicted to circulars until she learns how to use straights,” Vi said to Mavis.
Mavis narrowed her eyes at Vi and sniffed. She turned away from Vi and began vigorously knitting. I was glad I wasn’t sitting next to her—she looked like she wanted to kill her knitting, or Vi.
“She should try both,” Lucille said. “Which do you want to start with?” Lucille turned to me holding out the needles. I looked at them and shrugged. She might as well have been asking whether I wanted to hold the snake or the tarantula. I decided on family loyalty and chose the straight pair.
Vi sat back and humphed in a satisfied way. Mavis refused to look at me. I consoled myself with the knowledge that we were never going to be friends anyway, what with our competition for Mac’s affection and all.
For the next hour I tried to knit using the purple yarn and big needles. Several of the knitters got involved and contributed advice and encouragement. After Lucille cast on for me, she patiently showed me how to put the tip of the needle in the first loop, wrap the yarn, and pull it through. When it was clear that I was a complete klutz when it came to the knit stitch, Isabel got involved and tried to show me the “continental” method.
“Hmmm,” she started, “maybe you’re a picker, not a thrower.”