Page 35 of Single Chance

“Oh, how sweet she was able to share that with you. Her legacy was teaching you what she loved?”

“She did love to knit. She had Alzheimer’s, and that’s something it took from her in her last few years. She died in December.”

“That’s heartbreaking,” Loretta said.

I nodded, drawn to a particular yarn with lavender, mint, and cream variations. “She had a closet full of yarn,” I said. “During one of her clearer days, she asked me to donate it all to a local knitting club, so I did. This is so pretty.”

“That makes the softest blankets.”

I picked up a skein, my mind churning. My baby would need a blanket. If Gram were alive and well, she’d knit a special one.

Grief gathered in my throat, and my eyes went teary. I kept my gaze averted, running my fingers over the yarn that was indeed remarkably soft. “I’d like to make a baby blanket, but I’m not sure I could pull it off.” I laughed quietly, mostly to divert myself from crying. Then I added, “I know someone who’s pregnant.”

“I’d be happy to help you. We have knitting groups where we help anyone who needs it.”

I considered the idea. “I need so much help I’d be annoying.”

“Never,” Loretta said. “We were all beginners at some point. Most of us had someone to help us. For me it was my mother.”

“Do any groups meet on weekends or in the evening?”

She tilted her head sympathetically. “I’m afraid not. Our demographics are retirees and a couple young mothers.”

I nodded, disappointed, because the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to knit my baby a blanket. In honor of my grandmother. It would be connecting the past with the future.

“I’ll tell you what though,” Loretta said. “If you’d like to learn, I’ll meet you here any time you want—except Thursday evenings. Thursdays are when the Dragonfly Diamonds meet, and I can’t miss that. I’ll help you with a blanket.”

“Dragonfly Diamonds?”

She chuckled. “A bunch of us ladies like to get together to play a little poker.”

“Good for you,” I said, thinking I’d never met anyone like Loretta. Gram would’ve liked her too.

I made eye contact, hoping she wouldn’t notice the teary remnants. “You’d really sacrifice your time to help me?”

“It wouldn’t be a sacrifice.” Her smile was kind, forming deep crinkles at the corners of her eyes. “It would give me such joy.”

I studied her face, looking for any hint she didn’t mean it, but all I saw was kindness.

“Knitting is good for the soul, Rowan,” she continued. “It’s been shown to lower stress levels and decrease anxiety. I find it therapeutic. It’s soothing, something you can do for the rest of your life. It’d be my pleasure to refresh your grandmother’s gift to you.”

“I can tell you’re passionate about it.”

“Passionate.” She laughed. “Honey, I sank everything I had into opening up this little shop just so I could share it with others, create a gathering place, a community of creative souls who like to keep their hands busy.”

I read the yarn label, not really remembering anything Gram had taught me to look for. “You said this would work for a blanket?”

“That’s a four weight. It’ll be perfect.”

I’d barely had time to imagine a tiny baby in a crib.Mytiny baby in a crib inmyhome, wherever that ended up being. But that’s what I wanted. My baby in my home with a beautiful blanket stitched with love. I nodded. “If you’re serious, I’ll take you up on it.”

Loretta took the skein from me to read it, did some figuring in her head, then said, “You’ll need about four skeins for a baby blanket. You can pick a time whenever you’re ready, and we’ll get you started.”

She took me to the next room, where there was a long table with comfortable-looking chairs around it and containers of scissors and knitting needles scattered on top. The walls were covered with more yarn, needles, scissors, books, and other supplies I couldn’t name.

Once I had the supplies she recommended, I paid at the counter in the front room.

“You just let me know when you settle on a time,” she said.

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