While My Pretty One Knits Read Online Free
Lucy was clearly her mother’s child, Lucy knew that it was never so simple as that.
There were a few other messages from work associates and friends in the city. Many couldn’t believe that she was still living out here. At first, neither could Lucy.
During her summers growing up, Lucy’s parents more or less dumped her and Ellen with their aunt Laura, who was a schoolteacher with summers off, for weeks at a stretch, as if Laura’s home were some convenient free summer camp. But Aunt Laura looked forward to it, being unmarried and without kids of her own. Once the girls were in high school and college, summer jobs and their social lives reduced their visits to Plum Harbor down to a weekend or two. Then when she got busy with her career and marriage, Lucy had not come up very often at all.
Aunt Laura seemed to understand. She was not the whining or judgmental type. When Laura died last spring, the cottage that had always been her home was left to Lucy and Ellen.
Lucy had just left her office job and set up her own business so she decided to take a long summer in Plum Harbor. It seemed a good place to clear her head and regroup after so many life-altering changes in such a short time.
Ellen was happy to have Lucy stay in the house, instead of renting it out to strangers. Lucy’s older sister, who was married with two girls, came out for a weekend only once with her family.
Plum Harbor wasn’t really Ellen’s speed anymore. She was more of a Nantucket or Martha’s Vineyard type now. Lucy basically had the place to herself. Ellen hadn’t even wanted any of the furniture, with the exception of a small, tiger oak secretary and a mohogany ballroom chair. They were the only pieces of any value, of course. But Lucy knew she was still getting the better of the bargain.
Lucy’s own belongings, her half of the furniture she’d shared with her ex-husband, made a curious mix with Aunt Laura’s home decor—early American meets early IKEA. Lucy was still trying to sort it all out.
The village did get somewhat desolate in the winter, as Maggie had warned. It was especially so after the holidays, when it was like watching an ant hill, Lucy decided. At first there doesn’t seem to be any activity, but if you keep staring, you’ll eventually see a steady stream of coming and going, a flow of quiet, methodical industry. The empty beach and open spaces had a strange, subtle beauty this time of year, making their summer glory seem obvious and ordinary.
Looking back now, she wasn’t sure if she would have stayed if it hadn’t been for Maggie. She had wandered into the Black Sheep one day, purely by chance and didn’t even know how to hold knitting needles. But one thing led to another and it was impossible now to trace back to the moment when she and the sisterhood of traveling knitting totes had become true friends, or the moment Lucy realized she was totally hooked on knitting—something she at times considered a mixed blessing.
Early the next morning Lucy dressed quickly, leaving the house with her hair wet and altogether skipping makeup. She’d definitely duck any photographers from the Plum Harbor Times. She had promised Maggie she’d come to the shop by nine to help with any last-minute details.
By the time she parked in front of the Black Sheep, the dashboard clock read 8:55. Lucy was surprised to find the shop dark, still closed up tight, and Maggie’s car nowhere in sight. She walked up on the porch and peered into the bay window. Maggie was definitely not in there. Neither was Phoebe.
She waited a moment, thinking she might walk up the street and pick up some coffee. But before she could decide, Maggie’s dark green Subaru pulled up and Maggie jumped out, white plastic shopping bags dangling from each hand and a bouquet of flowers tucked under her arm.
“Oh, good, you’re here. Could you grab this stuff while I open the door?”
Maggie handed over a bag, then unlocked the front door.
“After I
There were a few other messages from work associates and friends in the city. Many couldn’t believe that she was still living out here. At first, neither could Lucy.
During her summers growing up, Lucy’s parents more or less dumped her and Ellen with their aunt Laura, who was a schoolteacher with summers off, for weeks at a stretch, as if Laura’s home were some convenient free summer camp. But Aunt Laura looked forward to it, being unmarried and without kids of her own. Once the girls were in high school and college, summer jobs and their social lives reduced their visits to Plum Harbor down to a weekend or two. Then when she got busy with her career and marriage, Lucy had not come up very often at all.
Aunt Laura seemed to understand. She was not the whining or judgmental type. When Laura died last spring, the cottage that had always been her home was left to Lucy and Ellen.
Lucy had just left her office job and set up her own business so she decided to take a long summer in Plum Harbor. It seemed a good place to clear her head and regroup after so many life-altering changes in such a short time.
Ellen was happy to have Lucy stay in the house, instead of renting it out to strangers. Lucy’s older sister, who was married with two girls, came out for a weekend only once with her family.
Plum Harbor wasn’t really Ellen’s speed anymore. She was more of a Nantucket or Martha’s Vineyard type now. Lucy basically had the place to herself. Ellen hadn’t even wanted any of the furniture, with the exception of a small, tiger oak secretary and a mohogany ballroom chair. They were the only pieces of any value, of course. But Lucy knew she was still getting the better of the bargain.
Lucy’s own belongings, her half of the furniture she’d shared with her ex-husband, made a curious mix with Aunt Laura’s home decor—early American meets early IKEA. Lucy was still trying to sort it all out.
The village did get somewhat desolate in the winter, as Maggie had warned. It was especially so after the holidays, when it was like watching an ant hill, Lucy decided. At first there doesn’t seem to be any activity, but if you keep staring, you’ll eventually see a steady stream of coming and going, a flow of quiet, methodical industry. The empty beach and open spaces had a strange, subtle beauty this time of year, making their summer glory seem obvious and ordinary.
Looking back now, she wasn’t sure if she would have stayed if it hadn’t been for Maggie. She had wandered into the Black Sheep one day, purely by chance and didn’t even know how to hold knitting needles. But one thing led to another and it was impossible now to trace back to the moment when she and the sisterhood of traveling knitting totes had become true friends, or the moment Lucy realized she was totally hooked on knitting—something she at times considered a mixed blessing.
Early the next morning Lucy dressed quickly, leaving the house with her hair wet and altogether skipping makeup. She’d definitely duck any photographers from the Plum Harbor Times. She had promised Maggie she’d come to the shop by nine to help with any last-minute details.
By the time she parked in front of the Black Sheep, the dashboard clock read 8:55. Lucy was surprised to find the shop dark, still closed up tight, and Maggie’s car nowhere in sight. She walked up on the porch and peered into the bay window. Maggie was definitely not in there. Neither was Phoebe.
She waited a moment, thinking she might walk up the street and pick up some coffee. But before she could decide, Maggie’s dark green Subaru pulled up and Maggie jumped out, white plastic shopping bags dangling from each hand and a bouquet of flowers tucked under her arm.
“Oh, good, you’re here. Could you grab this stuff while I open the door?”
Maggie handed over a bag, then unlocked the front door.
“After I
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