Till Death Do Us Purl Read Online Free PDF Page A

to stay just for the summer and ended up making it her full-time address.
    Somebody should have told the weatherman spring was coming, Lucy thought as she rounded the turn onto Main Street. There was no sign of it today and she pulled the zipper of her jacket up to her chin. A cold, sharp wind blew straight into her face, making her squint and making Tink squint, too, her ears blown flat against herhead. The wind rose off the harbor and they were walking straight into it.
    Lucy tugged Tink down the street toward Maggie’s shop, then up the brick-lined path that led to the steps and covered porch. The shop looked stark this time of year, bare of flowers or even holiday decorations. But the bay window in front always held a creative display that rarely failed to amuse.
    As Lucy tied one end of the dog’s leash to the porch railing, she noticed Maggie had set up a new window today, showing different knitted pieces—a hat, a mitten, a baby sweater—floating against a blue sky, like airborne kites. Lucy had to look close to figure out how it was done. Very clever and original, she thought.
    When she walked in, the shop was empty. Maggie was at the table in the back unpacking and sorting some new stock. The bright spring colors were enticing and put Lucy in the mind for warm-weather projects, like a halter top or felted summer bag.
    “Hmm . . . this looks interesting,” Lucy picked up a skein of sunny yellow yarn and touched it to her cheek. “Soft, too. What can I make with this?”
    Maggie snatched it from her hand with a disapproving shake of her head. “Not so fast, my dear. First things first.”
    She picked up a plastic bag of yarn from the sideboard and handed it over. “Here’s your share of the bridesmaid yarn. I think we need to have everything done by next Tuesday, so we can block the shrugs and they have time to dry.”
    “Next Tuesday? I thought you said Thursday.”
    “I had to rethink that plan. I’m concerned that the sweaters might not dry in time for the ceremony.We’re really cutting it close as it is.
    “Tell me about it. I thought Thursday would be a tough date to make.”
    “Don’t worry, Lucy, you’ll make it. My mother used to say, ‘A task will expand or shrink, according to the time you have to do it.’”
    Which was probably true, Lucy thought, knowing how she could fiddle and procrastinate for weeks on a work project with a long, loose timeline.
    Before she could reply, another voice chimed in, “I know just what you mean. It’s the same about pocketbooks. Ever notice? If you carry a big clunky bag, you find all kinds of junk to fill it. Stuff you absolutely must have handy. Feels like you’re carrying a ton of bricks. But if you grab a little bag, you can’t fit half that stuff and never miss it.”
    “Oh, hello, Edie,” Maggie said. Both Maggie and Lucy had turned to find Edie Steiber walking toward them. She’d obviously entered the shop without their noticing. Which was saying something, since Edie was not the type of woman who easily flew under the radar.
    Edie ran the Schooner, the town’s most popular eaterie, though certainly not the fanciest. The diner was an unofficial historic landmark and Edie, sort of an unofficial landmark, as well. Edie worked at the diner from dawn until late at night, ruling her little fiefdom from a stool behind the cash register and filling her downtime by passing along town news—commonly known as gossip—and knitting.
    She often trotted across the street to Maggie’s shop to stock up on supplies, solicit a tipor two, or just to sit and chat. Lucy suspected that most of the time, the former reasons were just an excuse for the latter.
    “Oh, that’s a nice color. It would go with my coat.” She picked up a bag of the bridesmaid yarn and held it up against her down coat, which reached to her ankles and puffed out around her body like a lavender thunder cloud.
    “So what are you up to with all this pretty yarn? Did I miss a sign-up sheet