Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“How was the rest of your Sunday, dear?” she asks. Mr. and Mrs. Todd, the owners of Vegas Yarn and Fiber, are a good bit older than my parents. They’ve always reminded me of kind but stern grandparents, the type who’d love their grandkids, but who’d also make them eat all of their vegetables and only allow them to watch educational programming. Much like my own grandparents, actually.
I owe the Todds a debt of gratitude, because I wouldn’t have this job if it wasn’t for them—and my family’s connection to the church—and I love this shop and can’t believe I get paid to work here.
I’ve been crocheting since I was in middle school, taught by my grandmother. A few years later, I learned to knit, and I’ve been making things with yarn for years. Mrs. Todd brought me in to help teach classes here when I was only sixteen, and after I graduated high school, she and Mr. Todd hired me to work as a clerk.
“My day was good. What’s new here? Ooh, these are nice.” Before she can ask any follow-up questions about how I spent my time yesterday, I turn my attention to an open package that sits atop a stack of boxes behind the counter. “Are you ready for me to inventory these?” Skeins of chenille in an array of pastel colors are bundled in plastic.
“Those can wait until later. Can you straighten the shelves first? It looks like a hurricane blew through.”
A quick survey doesn’t reveal too many issues, but I know from experience that Mrs. Todd needs everything to be in place, and I don’t mind, because organizing the store means I get to be among the yarn and make plans for my next projects. Though something tells me I’ll be thinking about other things today.
As I get the shelves in order, Mr. Todd comes out to pass some paperwork off to his wife, giving me a brief hello before he retreats to the office. Mrs. Todd gets the register ready, and another store clerk, my friend Josephine, arrives and says hello. Also a church member, she’s a couple of years older than I am, and we’ve known each other since we were children.
As they do their opening activities, Josephine and Mrs. Todd talk, but I keep to myself, apparently so much so that I inadvertently call attention to myself.
While I’m tidying the wall of notions and thinking about the way Gray’s lips looked when he smiled, Mrs. Todd comes up behind me, taking me by surprise. “You’re awfully quiet today, Ava.”
I jump, dropping three packages of stitch markers on the floor, which I quickly stoop to retrieve. “Ooh, sorry! Am I? Being quiet, I mean.”
When I straighten, her eyes narrow to inspect me. “Is everything all right? Are you feeling well?”
I think about how I felt changed somehow by everything that went on yesterday, and I wonder what it is she sees. “I feel fine. Just getting things straightened out.” I give her a quick smile and turn back to the wall, though there’s very little there that needs my attention.
I feel hot and bothered, I think, remembering a phrase I once read in a book that seems to suit me far too well now.
Once the store is busy with customers, it’s easier to act normal. My thoughts are still distracted by daydreams of Erik, Brax, and Gray, but I answer questions, help people select items, and work the machine that winds yarn into cakes for people who purchase hanks.
The day passes quickly, as it always does here in my happy place, until the moment when I’m at the counter, helping Mrs. Todd bag a customer’s large purchase, and a jarringly loud ring comes from my pocket.
I keep my phone on me when I’m at work, but I always put it on silent. Always—except for today, when I’m apparently too flustered to think straight.
With one hand, I fumble to mute the ring as I apologize to Mrs. Todd, who I know will not appreciate the disruption.
She stops what she’s doing at the register, looking down her nose at me. “Do you need to get that, Ava?”
I shake my head, apologizing again, though my silly imagination starts to run wild. Did Gray ask Erik for my number? That seems like something he would do.
My fingers itch to check my phone, but I keep them busy wrapping two fancy ceramic-handled crochet hooks in paper so they stay safe in the customer’s bag.
At a quiet point when Mrs. Todd is counting out coins for the customer, who’s paid with cash, my phone vibrates against my backside. Of course, my boss hears it, though this time she only gives me a quick glance. It’s still enough to make me shrivel.
Feeling guilty, but unable to stop myself, I take a restroom break at my first opportunity, even though my actual break was less than an hour ago. I pull out my phone as soon as I lock the door of the one-person facility.