Chapter 14
Annie Fiero’s vision blurred as she tried to make sense of her grandmother Ezzie’s bookkeeping. She stretched in the comfy leather swivel chair and took a long sip of her tea. Annie didn’t use spreadsheets in her job at the New York Police Department, but back in her hometown of Silver Valley, Pennsylvania, she was struggling. She was a police psychologist, not an accountant or small-business owner. Except, for the next three months, she was the manager of Silver Threads Yarn Shop. Since Grandma Ezzie had a minor stroke and had flown to Florida to be nurtured by Annie’s parents, Annie’s sabbatical had appeared as the perfect solution to Annie’s mom. Annie had never been able to say no to her mother.
Annie looked around the historical room and couldn’t stop a grin. Grandma Ezzie’s yarn shop sat in what had once been the library of a grand Victorian home. Floor-to-ceiling shelves were positioned against the circular wall, the original sliding ladder intact. Afraid of destroying the antique wood, they used modern stepladders now for insurance purposes. Hanks of hand-dyed wool hung over the rungs, drawing the customer’s eyes to the vast inventory. Instead of leather-bound books, the library shelves were chock-full of yarn. A rainbow of colors in various fibers surrounded Annie as she sat behind the service counter. It was a far cry from the noisy din of the NYPD offices and the trauma that had made her decision to return to Silver Valley an easy one.
“I’m so glad you’ve come home, finally! Your grandmother must be ecstatic.” Ginny Vanderbruck, Grandma Ezzie’s lifelong friend and one of the shop’s most frequent flyers, glowed with small-town wonder. As if their town cornered the market on a happy life.
Annie looked up from the shop’s business records to watch Ginny place three hanks of the expensive cashmere blend on the counter.
“My grandmother’s happy I’m here to help, but it’s only temporary.” Annie didn’t want anyone to think she’d stay away from New York City longer than she had to. She might be a Silver Valley native, but she was a city person through and through, happily so. Except she hadn’t been feeling the love for city living lately, had she? And since Rick’s death, along with his wife’s, she’d been flat-out miserable.
An immediate cascade of horrible memories associated with the reason she was on sabbatical assaulted her. She gripped the service counter and fought the urge to run from the shop. Run, run, run. But it wouldn’t bring her former client—one of her best friends and oldest work colleagues—back to life. Wouldn’t erase the fact that she’d failed at what NYPD had trusted her to do: keep officers safe.
“Annie, are you okay?” Ginny’s face creased with concern and reminded Annie why she’d been eager to take a longer break than normal from her job. She needed to be in a familiar place.
“I’m good, thanks. I guess I’m getting used to the idea of being back in Silver Valley for the next three months, is all.”
Ginny waved a hand at her. “You made the right decision to come back and help out your grandmother. You know all of her customers are grateful you’ve kept the best yarn shop in the state open for us.” Ginny’s smile turned contemplative. “You do know that your old flame is still single, don’t you?”
And just like that, Annie remembered why she’d stayed in the city. She ignored the pang that poked her heart at Ginny’s assumption that she was single by proxy and not choice. “Ms. Vanderbruck, high school was a long time ago for me.”
“You’re still so young, dear. Do you have someone special in New York, though, is that it?” The way Ginny said “someone” made Annie wonder if the woman thought a passport was needed to travel to Manhattan.
“Oh, no. I’m enjoying my single life.” Liar. Big-time liar. “Looks like you’re having some luck finding the fiber you wanted. What have you decided on for your cardigan pattern?” Ginny had shown Annie a quite contemporary photo from a recent knitting magazine when she’d entered the shop. A tiny tug of excitement surprised Annie. She hadn’t picked up knitting needles since she’d worked for Grandma Ezzie during college summers. When she’d avoided the high school “flame” Ginny pointedly mentioned.
“Do you like this shade?” Ginny brought her back from the edge of another awful flashback. Annie eyed the pile of purple fiber, trying not to mentally add the sale before it was a done deal. She was here to help, to keep things moving, not to beat any sales records.
“I do. It’s lovely next to your skin.”
“I really shouldn’t spend the money this month.”
“Grandma Ezzie always preaches that if you’re going to hold yarn in your hands for an entire project, make it the best you can afford.”
“You’re right, of course. I’ll take it. And I may be back to get enough for a second one if I like this pattern.” Ginny pulled out her credit card.
“You’ve picked the exact same shade as your hair.” Annie began to ring up the order, wondering for the millionth time how her mother had convinced her to use her sabbatical from NYPD in sleepy Silver Valley, no less: the hometown she’d fled and vowed to never return to, save for family visits, over twelve years ago.
It’s for Grandma Ezzie.
“Isn’t it fab?” Ginny ran her fingers through her short violet hair, the ends tipped with fuchsia. “Who says my teenage granddaughters should have all the fun?”
“Not I.” Annie began to wind the hanks on the swift that stood next to the counter, quickly producing neat cakes of yarn. “I need to thank you for agreeing to run the knit and chat tonight. I’ll be here, but this way you’re giving me the freedom to ring up orders. I really don’t have a handle on everything yet.” As evidenced by her hot-and-cold emotions over her return to her hometown.
“No problem! And give me a break—like you said, you’re a city girl now. There’s nothing you can’t handle.” Ginny’s sincerity slayed her.
“I’m hardly equipped to run a business. Different brain cells than working at NYPD.” Annie’s grandmother had bragged to all of her customers about her one granddaughter’s “big city” job, so she wasn’t telling Ginny anything she didn’t already know.
“We’re all glad you agreed to help Ezzie because this shop is important to a lot of us in Silver Valley. It gives us a reason to get out of the house. Speaking of which, I’m going to run out to the grocery store to pick up a birthday cake for Lydia, with whipped cream frosting and strawberry filling. She’s seventy-five tomorrow.” Annie knew that Lydia was one of the dozen or so women who religiously attended knit and chat sessions.
Annie couldn’t help but notice the far cry running a yarn shop was from the life-and-death atmosphere of NYPD.
As they planned for the weekly Friday night gathering, a new customer came in. Petite, blonde and made up like a movie star, with perfect makeup, designer clothing that hung perfectly where her two-hundred-dollar jeans weren’t hugging her tiny frame. A large, leather designer bag that complemented the heeled sandals finished the woman’s ensemble. Annie couldn’t help but take notice of her. It wasn’t as if there weren’t other women in Silver Valley who dressed with high fashion in mind, but