Embroidered Truths Read Online Free

wondering. Goddy, could he be seeing someone else? Someone . . . younger?”
    Godwin had been engaged in a fight with the calendar for as long as she’d known him. Combining dieting, exercise, light tanning, hair brightening, tooth whitening, and a bit of botox, Godwin followed a complex regimen to make himself look barely twenty, when in fact he could reach out and touch thirty.
    Godwin’s mouth formed a small O, as he tried and tried to say, “No,” or “Nonsense!” Finally he managed, “He wouldn’t!”
    “Why wouldn’t he?”
    “Because he loves me !”
    “Goddy . . .”
    He burst into tears. “I know, I know! Then why am I homeless?”
    She took him into her arms as he wept helplessly on her shoulder.
    “Oh, dear, what’s the matter?” asked a strange voice, and they jumped apart like clandestine lovers caught in an embrace.
    “Well, hello, Mrs. Sowinski!” said Godwin.
    “Hello, Goddy. What’s got you so upset?”
    “Nothing much, really. You know how I am, I cry over every little thing. And it has nothing to do with the shop, really. Anyway—” He sniffed deeply and forced a smile. “I’m all over it now. What can I get for you?”
    “I’d like a fat quarter of fourteen-count gridded aida in ivory, please.”
    Mrs. Sowinski was a heavyset woman with short red hair and a liking for big floral prints. Even her spring coat was a deep green with enormous yellow flowers splashed all over it. She used to do simple counted cross-stitch pieces—the big, complex charts intimidated her—until she discovered Zweigart’s gridded aida cloth. She knew about gridding—marking fabric into five-thread segments with a single thread—but claimed that she routinely messed up even that simple task on a large piece of cloth. So when Betsy discovered that Zweigart put out aida cloth already gridded, she ordered some with Mrs. Sowinski in mind. As it turned out, other customers liked it, too. Gridding could be tedious and time-consuming; buying cloth already gridded was a blessing for many stitchers. Their only complaint was that Zweigart didn’t also offer linen already gridded.
    But now the news was even worse: “I’m afraid Zweigart has discontinued its gridded cloth,” Godwin said. “And we’re already out of the fourteen count. I have some eighteen count in a stunning shade of ivory, would you like to try some of that?”
    “Hmmm, eighteen count. Do you think I’m ready for eighteen count?”
    Evenweave fabrics were designated by the number of threads per inch. The bigger the number, the finer the weave.
    “Eighteen’s not any more difficult than fourteen—and you’ve turned out some wonderful pieces in fourteen. Actually, I’ve been wondering why you haven’t moved up to eighteen.” This last sentence was spoken in a confidential tone.
    Mrs. Sowinski smiled and raised a hand against that statement. “Oh, you have not!” she said. “But do you really think I could handle eighteen count?”
    “Absolutely! Now, are you going to need a new pattern, or do you already have one?”
    “Oh, I don’t know. Do you still have that chart Wild Wonders? I’ve been thinking it would look nice on the wall of our cabin up on the lake.”
    “I’m pretty sure we do, but let’s go take a look.”
    The two of them passed through the twin sets of box shelves, into the part of the shop where the counted cross-stitch charts and materials were kept.
    “Arrrrrgggghhhh!!” came a cry a few seconds later. “What happened back here?”
    “What? What?” cried Betsy, rushing to the back. She looked around. Everything looked fine to her. “What’s the matter?” she asked.
    “Everything’s been moved!” said Goddy. “I can’t find anything! ” He was waving his arms in a helpless way over his head.
    “I just did what you and Ms. Davis suggested, for heaven’s sake!” said Betsy.
    “Oh?” said Godwin. For a moment his face was blank, then he nodded as he took in the rearranged area. “That’s