Free Twisted Threads by Lea Wait

Street.”
    “That’s me. I’m glad she likes my work. It’s relaxing, and reminds me of home. I learned the stitches from my grandmum when I was little. Working with floss takes me out of where I am, back to a place I was happy.”
    “If you were happy there, why did you leave?”
    She shrugged. “I grew up. Wanted to see the world. Had questions to answer. You left here, didn’t you?”
    “Yes.” I looked at her. She was about my age, maybe a year or two older. It was hard to tell. “Why Haven Harbor? Of all the places from here to Australia?”
    “I like it here. People are friendly, but not all over you, if you know what I mean. And I love the sea. I lived near the sea in Australia, and I’d missed it. I’d seen your West Coast, and wanted to see New England. Went to visit Emily Dickinson’s home first, of course, but then drove up Route 1 on holiday. Stayed in Merry Chase’s bed-and-breakfast, up on the hill. And the next morning I went walking and saw the Harbor and the Three Sisters and the lighthouse. I thought I’d woken up inside a picture postcard. There was a ‘for rent’ sign posted on that little store, and I decided it was for me. This was where I should be. Have you ever felt that way? ‘I learned—at least—what Home could be—How ignorant I had been.’”
    I shook my head, assuming she was quoting Emily Dickinson again. Haven Harbor was home. But was it where I was supposed to be? I didn’t know.
    “Well, it’s a great feeling. I signed the lease that day, and then had to figure out what I’d do with the store! I ended up with antiques. Life in Haven Harbor has been good. The building came with a small apartment on the second floor, so I don’t have far to go for work. And my bedroom window looks out to the sea.” I poured hot water over Sarah’s tea bag. “I can keep the store open even in bad weather and don’t even have to think about putting my boots or heavy coat on, although for now I’m only open from the middle of April through Christmas.” She dunked her tea bag a few times. “It suits me.”
    Gram pushed the back door open. “Oh, hi, Sarah! Let me put these groceries down.”
    I took the bags from her and put them on the counter. “Are there more in the car?”
    “No. That’s it.”
    “Shall I pour you a cup of tea? Water’s hot.”
    “Sounds wonderful.” She took off her jacket and sat at the table opposite Sarah while I got out another mug and tea bag. “How have you been, Sarah? I got a peek of you at the back of the church yesterday. Thank you for coming.”
    “I wanted to be there. I couldn’t leave the store for longer. And I’m not much for churchgoing. ‘Some keep the Sabbath going to church—I keep it, staying at Home—’ I didn’t have a chance to say how sorry I was about your daughter. Jenny, it was, right?”
    “Yes. Jenny.” Gram hesitated. “I’m afraid I haven’t got any new information about the business. I haven’t been able to get in touch with Jacques, so I have no money for you, and no new orders.”
    “Don’t worry about me. I’ve cut back on my expenses—and while we’re waiting, I’ve made up extras of the little pillows we sell in the summer.” She opened her bag. Inside were small needlepointed cushions in dark red with green trees on them. “I felt Christmassy. They could be for a regular gift shop or a Christmas shop. Stocking stuffers.”
    I picked one up. “These are beautiful. You could put a ribbon on one and hang it in a closet, or on a doorknob, to bring the pine woods smell to a room.”
    “Excellent idea,” agreed Gram. “Let’s do the next lot like that, shall we, Sarah?”
    Sarah nodded. “That’d be simple, and might give customers another idea of how to use them. A little marketing built in! I’ll leave these with you, if that’s all right.”
    “I’ll make out a receipt for you right now,” said Gram. She went over to the counter, picked up a receipt book, and started to write.