Once Upon a Craft Shop, page 12
part #1 of Craft Shop Mysteries Series
“Yes, I know.” Zel looked around my shop again, smoothing her hands down her skirt in a vaguely anxious motion.
“Can I help you?” I asked tentatively. “Is there something in particular you’re looking for?”
Zel pressed her lips together in a thin line before she slowly nodded. “I would like to learn how to do that.” She motioned to the shawl in my lap with a pale, slim hand.
“Knitting?” I glanced down at my lap without thinking about it.
“Yes. Knitting.” Zel clasped her hands behind her back, before nodding over her shoulder. “Your sign says that you will teach classes.”
Well. I hadn’t expected the sign to pay off so quickly.
“Yes, I will.” I straightened my shoulders and nodded, before gently patting the half-constructed shawl in my lap. “I want to pass on what I know if anybody is interested.”
“Good.” An expression of relief flashed through Zel’s green eyes, as though she had taken an unexpected leap of faith and was quite relieved to find solid ground beneath her feet when she landed. The relief turned to hesitation.
“How…how much will you charge?” She tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, her fingers slipping through it with a jerky motion like she’d recently cut it and forgotten her hair was shorter.
Huh. I blinked, taken aback, and then I laughed. “You know what? I hadn’t even thought about that yet.” I grinned ruefully. “Terribly impractical of me, as a new business owner, isn’t it?” I lowered my voice dramatically. “Don’t tell Dave.”
This startled a giggle of out of Zel. “Dave?”
“Oh, yes.” I nodded, schooling my features into an expression of mock-solemnity. “He’s so glad I’ve come to Starhaven, he just can’t stand it, don’t you know?”
Zel giggled again, and then her giggle turned into full-blown laughter so contagious that we both doubled over, wheezing.
I hadn’t laughed this hard in a long time. It felt good, like something inside me had released. Finally, I straightened, wiping tears of laughter from my eyes.
From the look of Zel, who was doing the same thing on the other side of the counter, it had been a while since she laughed this hard either. The diminutive blonde braced herself against the counter, still chuckling. Her green eyes danced, and her fair cheeks were flushed.
She reminded me in that moment of a princess out of one of the fairy tales I’d read as a child. I blinked, and the next instant that thought was gone.
“Well…” I cleared my throat, an idea coming to me. “I’ll have to figure out pricing eventually, but for you, to start…” I offered her a bright smile. “How about just the cost of your supplies?” I gestured to my shop. “It’s not like I’m drowning in business at the moment. Frankly, I could use the company.”
A small smile tilted the corners of Zel’s mouth as she looked around. “You’re not drowning in business yet. It’ll come.”
“Dave or no Dave?” I asked wryly.
Zel just let out a breathy little laugh and shook her head. Her gaze sought the yarn aisle, and then she turned her attention back to me. “What do I need?”
Setting my knitting aside, I jumped up and made my way around the front counter, rubbing my hands together in undisguised glee. “You’re going to like this.”
Chapter
Twenty-Four
I might not have thought about how much to charge for classes, but I had thought about good projects for beginners. And, frankly, projects that would be useful after the fact. For knitting and crocheting, I’d settled on dishcloths.
Zel trailed me as I snagged a little blue shopping basket from a stack by the front door with one hand and strode over to my yarn aisle. Stopping about halfway, I pointed to a section that held a selection of small balls in a variety of colors ranging from pastels to bright and vivid colors.
“This is cotton yarn. It’s good for making things like dishcloths, which is what I recommend you start with.”
“I can use more dishcloths.” Zel drifted closer to the yarn, as though drawn by an invisible magnetic force. After a sideways glance at me, she ran her fingers over a pretty aquamarine ball of yarn. “It looks different from the other yarn.”
“That’s because it’s cotton. Those yarns—” I pointed to a selection of Red Heart yarn, “are worsted weight, which is wool and polyester.” I indicated another section farther down the aisle, on the bottom row. “Those are wool fingering weight yarns, which are good for things like gloves or socks.”
“I saw an old woman in the park knitting socks once,” Zel murmured. “It seemed like her hands were full of needles.”
That was a creative way to put it. I nodded in agreement. “Yeah, if she was making socks, she’d have used at least four double-pointed knitting needles.” I frowned suddenly, contemplating a new thought. “You know, I can’t remember if they make circular knitting needles small enough to do something like socks.”
I made a mental note to check later.
“Four knitting needles?” Zel’s golden eyebrows practically disappeared into her hairline. “With points at both ends? How in the Forest do you handle that many?”
Now that was an expression I hadn’t heard before. Where in the world had Zel picked that up? My gaze flicked back to her, but the small blonde was still staring at me in wonder.
“It’s really not as complicated as it sounds. You only ever work with two knitting needles at a time.”
Zel looked doubtful, but then she shrugged. “Perhaps I can work my way up to it.” She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think I want to make socks, though.”
“I’m sure you can. And you don’t have to make socks.” I motioned to the cotton yarn. “Pick a couple of colors that you like, and we’ll get you a pair of knitting needles and a few other notions if you don’t have them.”
As soon as those words left my mouth, I suppressed a wince. That was a dumb statement. Other than maybe a pair of scissors, it was a pretty safe bet that Zel didn’t have any knitting notions at home.
If she noticed my inanity, Zel was kind enough not to mention it. She contemplated the rows of yarn for a long moment, her eyes tracking back and forth from color to color.
I wouldn’t exactly call it a hidden talent, but I have a pretty good feel for people and colors. (Another reason I thought I might be good at running a craft shop.) I figured Zel would take the aquamarine yarn, and she did. She also picked out a lovely deep rose pink and pale cream variegated yarn.
“Those will make pretty dishcloths.” I smiled encouragingly at her as she turned toward me with her choices. She put them into the basket I carried, and I then led her down to far end of the aisle and the shelves that held all of my knitting and crocheting-related notions, along with crochet hooks, knitting needles, and pattern books.
I pulled a set of pink metal knitting needles off the shelf and handed them to her. “Size 7. Good for cotton yarn and for beginners.” They went into the basket. “Scissors.” A dainty pair of purple-handled scissors followed the knitting needles. “Needle stoppers. I love these things—they’ve saved my bacon on more than one occasion.”
The last thing I added was a pack of plastic yarn needles. “I think they work just as well as the metal ones,” I said with a shrug, dropping them into the basket with everything else.
I extended the blue plastic handles to Zel. “Here.”
She hesitated before slowly taking the shopping basket, her gaze traveling past me again, this time to land on my small selection of knitting bags. She bit her lip, clearly debating something with herself, and then slowly moved over to them.
Not wanting to crowd her or make her feel like I was pressuring her into purchasing anything, I hung back. It felt awkward to stand there and watch her decide if she wanted to spend money, which surprised me. That part of owning a shop had never occurred to me before. My first few customers had more or less known what they were looking for.
After a moment, Zel selected a knitting bag covered in delicate pink roses. She gently set it into her basket and then turned back to me. Her expression seemed lighter than it had just a moment before.
“I don’t have anything to keep all of these things in.”
“I should have asked you about that.” I smiled wryly, unable to keep from flushing a little. “I told you I’m new to being in business for myself, right?”
Zel favored me with a genuine smile that lit her entire face. “That’s all right.” Still smiling, she glanced down at her full shopping basket. “Is that everything?”
“Everything except a pattern, but you don’t need to buy anything for this project. I’ll write down what I’m going to teach you—it’s easy enough.”
Zel nodded enthusiastically, a blend of excitement and eagerness lighting her eyes. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear again. “When can we begin classes?”
Her question caught me a little off-guard. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” I laughed, excitement bubbling up in my chest and making me want to bounce on my toes like I was six again. “I’m not the one with babies.”
At the reminder of her children, Zel’s smile softened. “That is kind of you, to work around me.”
“I told you, it’s not like I’ve got a lot going on right now.” I motioned to the shop with an over-exaggerated sweep of one hand as we headed back to the front counter.
Zel set her basket on the counter and I started scanning her items with the little scanner that connected to my tablet. “Speaking of which,” I glanced up at her through my eyelashes, “may I ask where your babies are right now? If it’s okay,” I hastened to add. “I’m not prying or anything, I just know how busy you must be with two little ones and I know it’s hard for moms to get away sometimes.”
“It’s all right.” Zel’s smile shifted again, this time to one of bittersweet weariness. “They’re with their godmother, Maddie.”
I glanced up sharply at Zel, pausing in the middle of scanning her balls of yarn. “Maddie? As in Town Facilitator Maddie?”
“Yes.” Zel gave me a curious look, her eyebrows scrunching in puzzlement. “You know she’s our Facilitator?”
Something about the way she said that seemed odd, but I wasn’t sure why. “Yeah.” I pasted a bright smile on my face, shrugging one shoulder as though it was no big deal. “She introduced herself to me when I moved here.” My smile turned a shade mischievous. “She even saved me from Dave, that first day.”
“Oh. I see.” It was Zel’s turn to smile, her puzzlement smoothing itself from her forehead as though it had never been there at all. “Well, from time to time she watches the twins for me so that I can have a little break.” She glanced down at a delicate silver watch on her left wrist. “I have to leave soon—they’ll be up from their nap shortly.”
“That’s all right.” I finished scanning the last item—her yarn needles—and gave her the total. Zel pulled a debit card from her purse and handed it to me. A moment later, I returned the card along with her receipt and handed her two plastic bags filled with her purchases.
“I put a business card in there.” I nodded to one of the bags. “It has my work number on it. If you want, you can text me the times that would work best for an hour-long class and we’ll go from there.” I paused. “Right now, I can do Monday through Saturday.”
“Thank you.” Zel cradled her bags as though they held some precious treasure.
It made my chest warm again. Seriously, I think there are so many people in the world who have no idea how therapeutic and fulfilling things like knitting, crocheting, or sewing things are. I think we were designed to create things and enjoy the amazing feeling of satisfaction that they bring.
“One more thing.” I motioned to Zel’s bag, smiling conspiratorially. “If you want to get started right now instead of having to wait for a class, you can look up tutorial videos on YouTube. That’s how I learned how to knit with double-pointed needles, actually. Watched some videos on YouTube.”
I was not prepared for Zel’s astonished little gasp.
“I did not know that was possible.” She stared at me with wide eyes, like I’d just imparted some secret of the universe. “That is amazing.” Her green gaze slid past me, suddenly going distant as though she was considering something far beyond my ken. Then, slowly, she shook her head. “It seems everything is on YouTube.”
It was my turn to frown in confusion. What was that supposed to mean? Before I could ask, a musical trilling sound interrupted us.
“Oh. I am so sorry.” Zel juggled her bags in order to pull her phone from her purse. She glanced at the display and then shot me an apologetic look. “My children are up. I need to go now.”
“Oh, no, that is quite all right.” I flapped my hands at her. “You do whatever you need to do. We’ll talk more later.”
Zel nodded, already heading for the door. Just before she pushed it open, she paused and glanced back over her shoulder at me. “Thank you, Celia.”
Then the bell above the door jingled and she was gone.
Chapter
Twenty-Five
After Zel left, part of me wanted to close up shop early. The boost of encouragement I’d received from her threatened to dry up without leaving any trace of its existence, like water poured on the summer-baked ground outside. Again, I found myself confronting the fact that having hardly any customers walk through my door in my first week did not a recipe for long-term success make.
Settled back down in my chair, I picked up my knitting again, but did not resume. Instead, I stared down at the lacy silver stitches.
It was tempting—very tempting—to lay every bit of the blame for my lack of success at Dave’s feet. He was most definitely responsible for the larger part of it, but…common sense dictated that at least a small part of the blame was on me. I was a new business owner, after all. And didn’t the statistics state that most small businesses failed in the first year?
Well, I told myself firmly, before glancing at my pattern to see where I’d left off. I’ll just have to hang on.
Resolve curled through me, lending me strength. I was not going to be a statistic.
Nobody else ventured into my shop the remainder of the afternoon. I was prepared for it, but I won’t deny that it still stung a little. At five o’clock, I brought my triangle sign back inside before I flipped my ‘OPEN’ sign to ‘CLOSED’. I then locked the door and headed back to the front counter to shut my tablet and the lights off for the night.
Knock. Knock.
The sound of someone knocking rapidly on the glass window in my front door startled me. Caught off-guard, I glanced over at the door—and almost dropped my tablet in shock. Bianca stood on the welcome mat outside, smiling at me, but even through the glass I could see the sense of urgency in her eyes.
A million different thoughts raced through my brain as I rushed over to unlock the door, nearly tripping over my own feet in the process. As soon as I swung the door open, Bianca slipped inside and motioned for me to shut it again.
“Hi,” she said breathlessly. A hint of mirth danced in her eyes, temporarily replacing the urgency. “I’m sneaking away for a minute.”
“Oh. Okay. Hi.” I blinked at her, uncertain how to follow that up.
Bianca nodded to my triangle sign, which I’d set off to one side beside the door. “That’s a good idea.”
“Uh, thanks.” I glanced at the sign as well, before returning my attention to her. “Can I…help you with something?”
A look of regret chased itself across Bianca’s beautiful porcelain face. “Yes, but not yet.” Tucking a black curl behind one ear, she looked around with interest, bouncing on her toes a little as she took in the array of colorful fabrics and aisles of yarn and beads and notions. “It’s terrible timing—you’ve just shut everything down for the night.”
That was true, but… I shrugged. “It’s not like I have anything else to do at the moment.”
Movement beyond the large plate glass windows to our right caught both of our eyes—but it was only Marie, across the street, starting her nightly process of relocating the plants that couldn’t spend the night outside. I noticed that Bianca’s gaze narrowed as she watched the taller woman, as though holding an internal debate with herself about something.
At last, Bianca returned her attention to me. She bit her lip, and then, with a gravity that almost made me laugh, announced, “I want to make socks.”
“Okay.” I nodded encouragingly.
Bianca canted her head slightly to one side, her expression still grave. “You…do not think that is strange?”
Strange? Making socks? I wrinkled my forehead in a frown. “Why would making socks be strange?”
Bianca blinked at me, as though she had never seriously considered this before. “It…seems like it should be strange, when you can walk into a store and buy them.” She waved a hand.
It was my turn to look askance at her. “Lots of people make socks, Bianca. There are tons and tons of patterns out there.” I shrugged. “Sure, you can buy socks, but if you want to make them…” I spread my hands. “Why not?”
Something about the set of Bianca’s shoulders relaxed. “I see.” Her tone held a note of faint relief.
I had a flash of inspiration. “I’ll tell you what. Yes, I closed things down for the day, but—” I jerked a thumb over my shoulder, “—if you want to place a mobile order for in-store pickup, I’ll just go ahead and bag everything for you.”
“You…can do that?” Bianca stared at me, the expression on her face turning wondrous.
“Oh, sure. Lots of stores have in-store pickup.”
I could probably get my point-of-sale software back up and running for her, but it occurred to me that her ordering online had its benefits.
Still looking as though she’d received an amazing gift, Bianca took one step toward the yarn aisle—and then stopped. Looked back at me. “You’re sure? It’s not an imposition?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Like I said, I don’t have much else to do at the moment.”
