Stitches in Time

Book 2: Ormond Beach

by Terri DuLong

Genres: Family Life; Sagas; Women's Fiction

Synopsis

The New York Times bestselling author spins a tale of new beginnings in Ormond Beach, FL, where even the most painful past can lead to a hopeful future. Isabelle Wainwright is no stranger to heartache. She was just fifteen when her mother left her to be raised by her father so she could start a new life across the country. Rather than wallowing in despair, Isabelle stitched together her own path, graduating from college and starting a family in Atlanta. But her hard-won fairytale life is beginning to unravel… The shock of her father's death is compounded when Isabelle's husband leaves her and her daughter for someone else. Reeling from another abandonment, she finds comfort in her father’s delightful girlfriend, Chloe Radcliffe. Chloe encourages Isabelle to move to Ormond Beach, Florida, where she can help Chloe’s yarn shop. There, Isabelle may find the strength to confront her past, build new friendships, and perhaps even learn to love in a way she never thought possible… Includes an original knitting pattern! “DuLong reminds me of a Southern Debbie Macomber but with a flair all her own.”—Karin Gillespie Includes An Original Knitting Pattern! Praise for Terri DuLong's Cedar Key Novels "An intriguing premise, a cozy, small-town backdrop, and even the hint of some magic. . .A sweet story, set in a friendly community." -- Kirkus on Postcards from Cedar Key "Tender and poignant, perfect for those who love knitting as well as the bonds between women." – RT Book Reviews (4 Stars) on Sunrise on Cedar Key "A delightful addition to that genre of needlecraft-inspired books." -- Library Journal on Casting About

Release date: June 7, 2016

Publisher: Lyrical Press

Print pages: 252

Sample

I had been toying with the idea of relocating to Ormond Beach since I’d visited my friend Chloe last summer. But I didn’t think it would take a fire in my house to force the move—a fire caused by my smoldering cigarette. To take up the habit of smoking at age forty-five had been stupid at best and dangerous at worst: it had caused the near destruction of my home.

I rolled over in bed and saw sunshine streaming through the windows as the aroma of Petra’s coffee drifted into the bedroom. Petra. The meaning of her name was the rock and she had been my rock since we’d become best friends at age five on the first day of kindergarten. Through the joys of childhood, the emotions of teen years, and the reality of adulthood. For forty years she had been there for me through good and bad, and once again she had extended her friendship by insisting that Haley and I spend some time at her home in Jacksonville before driving down to Ormond Beach.

I let out a yawn and glanced at the bedside clock to see that it was going on seven. After the five-hour drive from Atlanta the day before, Haley and I had arrived at Petra’s home in late afternoon. By nine I was ready for bed and now realized I’d slept straight through the night.

After hitting the bathroom, I wandered out to the kitchen to find it empty, but I noticed a note on the counter near the coffeemaker. Gone to take Lotte for her walk. Help yourself to coffee. Be back soon, it read.

I glanced around the designer kitchen and smiled. Petra had done very well for herself. Never married, no children, she had a top job with a software company and she never failed to admit that the bonus of her job was being able to work from her home. She’d had men in her life over the years but never any serious enough to consider marriage. Unlike me, who only ever wanted a husband and family, Petra was content lavishing all of her love on various dogs she’d had over the years; Lotte was the current recipient of that love.

I poured myself a mug of the strong coffee and headed out to the pool area. It was a beautiful late January morning and I was grateful to be spending some time with Petra. Just as I sat down, my cell phone rang. I looked at the caller ID to see that it was my mother calling. Again. I let it go to voice mail and let out a sigh. Our mother-daughter relationship had been going downhill ever since I was thirteen, and by the time I was fifteen and she left my father and me, it was pretty much nonexistent. When my dad passed away two years ago, my mother began a continuous effort to renew that relationship—to no avail.

“We’re back,” I heard Petra call from the kitchen.

“Out here,” I called back.

Lotte scampered over to me and I laughed when I saw she was dressed in a pink-and-white outfit and wearing a pink sun visor. She was an adorable Yorkie, but I did think Petra went a bit overboard on the pampering.

Petra joined me with a mug of coffee. Placing it on the table, she scooped up Lotte before sitting down. “Sleep okay?”

“Yeah, I sure did. All night. Which hasn’t happened in a while.”

“Good. Well, I’m sure you were tired from your drive, and polishing off almost a bottle of wine probably helped.”

Was that a tinge of reproach I heard in her tone?

“Haley still sleeping?” she asked.

“Yup. We might not see her till noon.”

“Hey, she’s a teenager. We did the same thing at her age.”

“Do you ever wonder where all the years went?” I let out a deep sigh as I rested my head on the back of the chair, letting the sun warm my face.

“Not really.” Petra took a sip of coffee. “I won’t lie. They do seem to be going faster. And when I think back to our days at Penn State, it seems like ages ago, but we’ve both done a lot of living since then. You got married, had Haley . . .”

“Right,” I interrupted. “That’s about all I did. While you traveled the world, relocated here, bought this gorgeous home, and built a good career for yourself.”

“True,” she said, nodding her head. “But like I’ve always said, we all make our choices.”

Petra was a no-nonsense type person.

“You’ve had a rough two years, Isabelle. Your father passed away, Roger left you, and you still haven’t made an effort with your mom. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re taking the first step to a new start by moving to Ormond Beach. Who knows what’s ahead for you?”

I knew she was right and I also knew I was feeling sorry for myself. Losing my father suddenly to a heart attack had rocked my world. When my mother left thirty years ago and my parents were divorced, my father and I became even closer, making the loss of him more difficult. And a few months later, when Roger informed me that he no longer loved me and was leaving me for somebody else, I felt like my life was being ripped away from me. Roger wasn’t the most passionate of men, but I thought the love we shared was mutual and would continue. I came to understand how wrong I was. Looking back, I now realized that if not for Petra and Chloe, I wasn’t sure I would have walked through that dark time to the other side.

“You’re right,” I told her, making an attempt at being optimistic. “And I’m very grateful to Chloe for insisting that Haley and I come to Koi House. There she is in the middle of planning her wedding to Henry, running the new yarn shop in town and everything else she does, and yet she finds the time to worry about me.” I sniffed as I felt moisture stinging my eyes.

Petra reached over and gave my hand a squeeze. “You’re worth worrying about, Isabelle Wainwright, and don’t you ever think different. And besides, I think Chloe and her friends are just as grateful that you’ll be there. Chloe was thrilled that you agreed to look after Mavis Anne while her brother is in Italy. And how about that delivery service her niece wants to set up? I’m sure she’s very happy that you’ll be doing that for her.”

I smiled. Once again Petra was right and had cheered me up. Mavis Anne Overby was the owner of Koi House, where Chloe lived and where Haley and I would be staying until we found our own home. She was also part owner with Chloe of the yarn shop, Dreamweavers. Mavis’s niece Yarrow owned the tea shop where Dreamweavers was located and had been wanting to set up a morning delivery service for offices and merchants who wanted coffee and baked goods to start their workday. Yarrow was unable to leave the shop during this busy time and therefore needed somebody willing to work part-time making the deliveries. And Mavis Anne would have had to resort to hiring a stranger to look after her while her brother, David, and his partner, Clive, were on holiday.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

Petra’s smile matched mine. “Of course I’m right. It’s obvious that they love you, and Haley and I know they’re very happy that you’re going to be staying with them for a while. Come on,” she said, getting up. “Time for a coffee refill and then I’ll make breakfast for us.”

“You still make the best French toast in town,” I told her as I took the final sip of my coffee. I looked up to see my fourteen-year-old daughter walk into the kitchen. Haley was tall and slim now, proof of how quickly the years had passed. Not for the first time I wished we could recapture the closeness we had shared a few years ago. But, like me, she’d had to endure losses in her life as well as being a victim of bullying the previous school year. My hope was that our relocation to Ormond Beach would enable the sulky, unhappy teen to morph into the well-adjusted daughter I’d once had.

“Good morning, sunshine,” I said.

“Hmm,” was the response I got.

“How about a batch of French toast?” Petra asked her.

“No. But thanks. Just some juice, please. And I’m going for a run.”

“Juice it is,” Petra told her.

I knew I sounded like the nagging mom, but I couldn’t refrain from saying, “Maybe you should have something to eat before you exercise?”

Haley shook her head. “No, Mom. It’s not good to eat first. I’ll have something when I come back.”

She gulped down the juice, scooped Lotte up for a hug, and headed toward the front door. “I’ll be back in about an hour,” she hollered over her shoulder.

I let out a sigh and shrugged. “I don’t know which is worse—her being overweight or being borderline fanatic with her food and exercise.”

I recalled the year before and the misery that Haley had endured after she’d packed on too many pounds. It had been Chloe who had somehow gotten Haley on a healthy eating plan and walking routine. When we returned home two weeks later, I thought perhaps Haley would resume her old ways of eating and lack of exercise, but I was wrong. Instead, she asked to join the local gym and pretty much existed on salad and protein. Now I was concerned that maybe she was going too much in the opposite direction.

“Oh, God, you don’t think she’s anorexic, do you? I did notice last evening at dinner that she seemed to move more food around her plate than she put in her mouth.”

“I honestly don’t know, but I plan to keep an eye on it.” Just then my cell phone went off on the table beside me. Once again the caller ID read Iris Brunell. My mother.

“Why the hell does she keep calling me?” Annoyance tinged my voice.

“Your mother?” Petra questioned.

“Yup.”

“Geez, Isabelle. I think she’s just concerned about you and Haley. She knows about the fire and she knows you’re moving to Ormond Beach. She probably just wants to know if you got here okay.”

“What? How did she even know we were coming here? You’ve been talking to her, haven’t you?”

Petra raised a palm in the air. “Hey, don’t get me involved in this. You know damn well your mother has always been like an aunt to me. You have your differences with her. I don’t.”

A sense of betrayal shot through me. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t you she left to take off to Oregon with a lover when you were fifteen,” I retorted as I headed to the bedroom.

An hour later I came out of the bedroom to find another note on the kitchen counter. I’m holed up in my office working for a few hours. Help yourself to whatever you need. Haley has gone to the mall with the girl across the street, Petra had written.

I looked around the kitchen and decided a glass of wine was in order. The saying that it has to be five o’clock somewhere had become my mantra over the past year. I found a bottle of chardonnay in the wine rack, uncorked it, poured myself a glass, and walked out to the pool area.

Another gorgeous day in paradise. No wonder so many people vacationed and retired to this state. I curled up on the lounge and gazed at the aqua water. It was then that I recalled I’d done the very same thing the day of the fire.

I took a sip of wine, closed my eyes, and leaned my head back. That morning had started like any other. Haley had left for school and once again I gave thanks for that. At least the fire hadn’t happened during the night with both of us asleep and our lives possibly at risk. I had wandered around the house aimlessly, hating the long day that stretched ahead. No job. Nowhere to go. Nothing that required my attention. By eleven, I had poured myself a glass of wine, took the bottle with me, and sat staring at the pool, wondering how my life had unraveled so completely. I was having a difficult time adjusting to the death of my father and the breakup of my marriage. Each day seemed to blend into another with no prospect of change. Chloe and Haley had repeatedly tried to convince me to relocate to Ormond Beach, but I felt my energy had been sapped. Petra was convinced I was depressed, and she was probably right, because it seemed that drinking had become my only comfort.

I now recalled sitting there by the pool feeling sorry for myself as I consumed a few glasses of wine. I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew, I woke to the shrill sound of a fire alarm and saw smoke billowing out of the downstairs windows. By the time the fire department arrived, there had been moderate damage to the family room and kitchen. If there was anything good about the fire, it was the fact that the cigarette that started it was my last.

“Ready for lunch?” I heard Petra say.

I shielded my eyes from the sun with my arm and looked up. “Sure.”

“Grilled cheese and tomato soup?”

I smiled. Ever since we were kids, that had been our comfort lunch. No matter how bad things were at school or home or with our other friends, a grilled cheese and tomato soup was the solution.

Petra turned around and headed back inside. I finished my last sip of wine and followed her.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” I said.

“I know you are. But geez, Isabelle, maybe you should cut your mom some slack. She really is trying.”

“It’s not that easy, Pet. You, of all people, should know that. You were there when she left. You know how tough it was for me.”

I watched as she slathered butter onto slices of sourdough bread, placed a slice of Monterey Jack in between, and put the sandwiches on the sizzling grill.

“I know it was hard for you, but just remember it wasn’t all about you. You know yourself you used to complain about your parents not getting along. They didn’t have major fights, but I still remember the tension in that house. They weren’t happy together anymore, Isabelle. This happens. As you now know.”

“Right. But she left us for somebody else. Imagine how my poor father felt. God, they worked at the same university together. He must have been so embarrassed that his wife left him and he had to face their colleagues every day at work.”

“But that was their problem, as I’ve told you a million times. It shouldn’t have affected your relationship with your mom. Iris is a kindhearted person. She really tried over the years. It was you who always rejected her. When was the last time you even saw her?”

It had been when I was pregnant with Haley. Fourteen years ago. She had flown back to Atlanta, stayed in a hotel for a few days, met with my dad over some financial matters, begged me to have dinner with her, and then returned to Oregon. I did have dinner with her, but it was strained and uncomfortable for me. And in the years since then, our relationship could be described as out of sight, out of mind.

When I remained silent, Petra said, “Yeah, when you were pregnant with Haley. Believe me, I remember. You have effectively pushed her out of your life. The only thing I can give you credit for is not taking Haley away from her, but even with that you could have tried harder and allowed them to see much more of each other over the years. She is Haley’s grandmother, but you’ve made very little effort to let Iris be part of Haley’s life.”

She was right and I knew it. When Haley turned twelve, I finally let her fly to Oregon for a week during summer vacation, and when Haley returned I pretty much ignored anything she had to relate about the visit.

“You just don’t understand,” I said, wanting to drop the subject.

“I do understand and you know that. Okay, enough. Let’s enjoy our lunch.”

I reached for the two bowls of soup and placed them on the table while Petra brought the sandwiches.

“Ice water with lemon?” she asked.

I had a feeling wine wasn’t on the menu. “Sure.”

I took a bite of the sandwich and groaned. “Delicious. I swear that the problems of the world could be solved with these sandwiches.”

Petra laughed. “If only. Hey, I need to go to the yarn shop later to get some sock yarn. You’ll come with me, right? I think Haley also wants to go.”

Over the past year, I had actually made more of an attempt to become a knitter. While I wasn’t nearly as proficient as my daughter, I had to admit that I did enjoy the hobby, and could now brag that I’d actually completed a few scarves and was working on a cowl.

“Sure. That sounds like fun. A new yarn shop to explore. Knitting really is addictive.”

“I’m jealous, you know. You’re so fortunate you’ll be staying at Koi House with Dreamweavers right out back. Talk about a knitter’s fantasy.”

I let out a chuckle and nodded. “Yeah, probably true. I haven’t seen the completed shop since it opened last September, but Chloe says it’s just beautiful and business is doing very well. I think more and more women are either learning to knit or returning to it after many years.”

“Well, no doubt about it. I’m a confirmed knitter. I always found it odd that when your mom offered to teach both of us as kids, you showed little interest. Your mom is still an expert knitter, you know.”

“I’m not surprised. She’s always been a creative person. That’s why she teaches art at the university.”

“Taught,” Petra said.

My head snapped up to stare at her. “What do you mean, taught?”

We were interrupted by Haley walking into the kitchen—with stripes of pink streaking her thick, gorgeous, honey-colored hair.

I jumped up from my chair. “What the hell did you do, Haley?”

I saw her smirk as she said, “Oh, Mom. Chill out. I went with Liz to the hair salon. She had blue put in her hair. It’ll grow out.”

“What were you thinking? You’ve ruined your beautiful hair! How could you do such a stupid thing?”

She shrugged. “We didn’t think it was stupid. Liz’s mom was fine with it. She drove us there.”

I shook my head. “Well, I’m not fine with it. It looks . . . it looks . . .” I found I had no words to adequately describe what I thought it looked like.

“Cool?” was my daughter’s reply.

“Oh, God, Haley. No, not cool.” I blew out a breath and wondered if I’d survive my daughter’s teen years.

“Yes, well . . .” Petra said, standing up and clearing the table. “How about some lunch, sweetie?”

“I’m not—”

Before she could finish, I said, “You will eat lunch before we go to the yarn shop.”

As if not daring to assert any more of her independence, she said, “Do you have any yogurt and fruit?”

“I do,” Petra said. “In the fridge. Help yourself.”

The drive to the yarn shop was fairly quiet, with Petra making small attempts at conversation. We pulled up to a strip mall and I saw a sign that said “A Piece of Ewe.”

“Cute name for a yarn shop,” I said, getting out of the car and following Petra inside.

I’ll never understand how walking into a yarn shop surrounded by shelves and tables of fiber can suddenly make stress and concerns slip away. But I think any knitter can attest to the fact that this is exactly what happens. So for the next hour the three of us touched and exclaimed over various yarn fibers and colors.

By the time we checked out, we each had a filled shopping bag. I had found some Bamboo Pop by Universal Yarns that had me drooling over the gorgeous colorways. Petra felt it was time for me to move on from scarves to make myself a short-sleeved top. She found a pattern with twisty cables and said she’d teach me that evening.

Haley got some Ultra Pima cotton in various shades of pink—no doubt to match her hair—and was going to make herself a pullover sweater.

And Petra found some funky colors in fingering weight sock yarn, claiming she never wore store-bought socks anymore, only her hand-knitted ones.

We returned home and I helped Petra prepare dinner. I wanted a glass of wine before we ate but I was hesitant to ask and felt guilty just helping myself.

Petra put lemon chicken into the oven while I prepared a salad.

“Okay,” she said. “All I have to do is the rice pilaf. How about a glass of wine by the pool?”

“Sounds good.”

We took the wine out to the patio table. Haley was already curled up in the family room casting on the stitches for her new sweater.

I took a sip of wine and then remembered our interrupted conversation earlier.

“Oh,” I said. “What did you mean about my mother and that she used to teach art?”

“When was the last time you talked to her?”

I honestly wasn’t sure. “Maybe November. A few months ago. Why?”

“Well . . . she’s retired.”

“Retired? Since when?”

“Since last month. Early December.”

“She never said a word to me about that.”

Petra took a sip of wine. “Maybe she thought you wouldn’t be interested.”

I ignored this comment. “Well, she’s always been a bit of a hippie. Maybe now she can go retire on a commune.”

“Oh, she’s not retiring to a commune.”

“So where is she planning to retire?”

“To Florida,” Petra informed me.

Out of all the states in this country, why did my mother have to choose the one I was moving to for her retirement?

I had attempted to pump Haley for information the night before, but I didn’t get very far.

“So you knew she was moving here to Florida?” I had asked her.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Maybe because I didn’t think you’d be interested?”

She had a point. I had never hidden from my daughter the fact that my mother and I weren’t close. Well, Florida was a fairly large state. “Where in Florida? Do you know?” I had asked.

“She still isn’t sure, but she does want to go to Ormond Beach so she can visit with me for a little whil. . .