Page 20 of Love, Untangled

“Well, I don’t know about love…” Penelope cleared her throat. Her gaze shot toward Joanna and Eva, begging. “But…I do think Carlo is attractive. And nice. And handy.”

“She’s dreamy over him,” Hattie said.

“Hush, you’ll embarrass her,” Trixie replied.

“No, she won’t,” Birdie said. “Do tell us more.”

That was how Penelope found herself surrounded by the three older ladies, Joanna, Eva and a few other women, intermittently explaining a stitch and filling them in on Alpaca Man’s antics and her interactions with Carlo over the past couple of weeks.

Pen pulled out her knitting and showed the others how to start a project as the rest of the group filtered in. As she worked, the women chatted about the book—a sci-fi romance with an alien for a hero. Penelope decided she’d definitely read the next book, which was a futuristic Western romance. Might as well learn more about the topic that was beginning to fill her thoughts…well, Carlo as the hero in her story was filling her thoughts.

Eva settled next to Penelope. “Will you show me the trick for tension again?”

“Sure.” Pen walked the other woman through the method. Eva poked her tongue through her teeth and she struggled to maintain constant tension.

Joanna set aside her crochet project and made sure everyone had something to drink while Eva ran back to her kitchen to get mini carrot cakes. Pen licked icing from her fork while listening to the women discuss how much they appreciated the emotional intimacy developed between the main characters before they slept together. Her cheeks burned but she listened with avid curiosity. Many of these ladies were married or in long-term relationships; the only ones who weren’t were Birdie, Hattie, and Trixie…and Penelope.

“This was so much fun,” Joanna said, beaming as she smoothed the two long rows of chains she’d made in a soft yellow yarn. “I’m going to make the cutest blanket ever.”

“Joanna, do you do any other classes at Bottles of Bliss?” Eva asked. “You know, for a fun girls’ night offering other than Whine and Wine?”

Joanna shook her head. “But yeah, we could try something out.”

Eva beamed, clearly pleased with her plans to grow Pen’s followers. “Maybe a morning group here.”

Pen tried hard not to gape at the kindness. She swallowed. “Y-you don’t have to…”

Eva smiled. “No pressure, but I think there are some regulars who’d love an art class to go with their coffee and tea. I mean, those who can’t paint.”

“Count me in,” Trixie piped up. “I’ve been hankering to learn how to crochet for forty years.”

Penelope smiled. “Sure. I plan to set up some classes soon.”

“Excellent!” Hattie stood. “I’ll come too. Like Joanna, my mother knit. It’s a nice skill to have. How about we start next Tuesday at nine?”

“Sure,” Pen said, her belly fizzy with excitement…and a bit of fear.

“Now, finish telling us about your hot neighbor,” Eva said with a wink. “While I finish my glass of wine.”

Pen wondered what Carlo would think about the women planning a relationship for them. Her shoulders sagged. “He’s not interested in me,” she said. Heat rose up, cresting on her cheeks. She was familiar with this emotion—it was shame. As usual, it was followed by the hollow pit in her belly as despondency took over.

“Nonsense,” Hattie said. “Any man with eyes would be interested. And maybe some without. Harder to say since I don’t know any of those men.”

The women began to stand and gather their plates and glasses. Pen repacked her much-lighter tote, biting her lip at the amount of yarn she’d given away tonight. While she was thrilled to have made new friends, the yarn was the hardest item for her to procure.

She left, both happy with her newfound friend group and worried about her financial situation—and what the ladies would say to Carlo.

Chapter 8

Penelope

The following week, Pen’s eyes widened as seven women entered the east-facing former living room that Pen had turned into a studio, many of whom she’d seen at her hour-long class at the café earlier that week. She’d never guessed the same women would come out to her home; she hadn’t expected anyone to show here, really. Hattie, Trixie, and Birdie led the group—as Pen was beginning to think they did most things. Birdie’s hair seemed newly dyed. The red was brighter than last time Pen had seen her. And she wore a flowing blouse over loose black pants with more jewelry than she’d had on the night Pen clocked Leon with the branch.

But her bangles were nothing compared to Trixie’s. The woman practically dripped in silver bangles. Behind the three grannies were Eva and Joanna, who smiled brightly at Pen.

The space was off to the side, easy to block from the rest of the house. Plus, the porch wrapped around to the back door, giving Penelope direct access to her customers without having them traipse through the entire house. She’d brought in the high-backed wooden dining room chairs to form a semicircle and pushed the large table that held her supplies against the far wall next to her loom.

“We brought Madeline and Shiloh,” Eva said. “Both their guys work at Blazers—that’s the fire department.”

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