Tangled Yarns

8: Simple Seed Stitch

When Harry doesn't appear with scones, the Knotties are disappointed, and Pam scowls when her stomach growls. The other ladies glare at her as though it is her stomach's fault that he hasn't shown up.

"Don't look at me," Pam snarls, "I've gotten used to the pastries he's been bringing."

Elena sits quietly with them until it is time to open, and then she moves to the front door to make sure everything is ready. Since the original frenzy over Harry's appearance in the newspaper, the flow of customers steadily slowed and has not been insane like in the first days. Everyone at Tangled Yarn is relieved, as there is no way they could maintain that heightened pace, but there is also disappointment. Business is still brisk, but there is that after-Christmas letdown where the joy of new toys has worn off and you're wondering how the celebration you had anticipated for so long has now passed.

Once Elena leaves the space, Janet leans forward. In a conspiratorial tone, she asks, "Okay, so what went wrong? Obviously there's something we didn't anticipate."

"Maybe he's just tired," Peg offers, to which the rest of the Knotties gasp and regard her as though trying to determine her relative sanity.

With her nose pinched, Pam stares Peg down, "He didn't have a date last night with one of the granddaughters, and I have it on good authority that he didn't stay here at the store all night. So where is he?"

Diane shrugs, "Maybe we were wrong?"

The collective inhale makes her backtrack quickly, "I mean, of course we aren't wrong. But ...well...maybe something happened that we don't know about?"

All five pairs of eyes swivel to the front of the store where they know Elena is unlocking the front door and inviting the waiting customers to browse.

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Taking a deep breath, Elena pastes a smile on her face as she opens the door. Fake it until you make it. That had been her mantra at her old job, and look how well that had....Never mind. Just ignore that advice because it hadn't saved her position in that company. Still, customers like to see a smile, and it sells more merchandise than a dour scowl.

Like the Knotties, she is crestfallen that Harry hasn't brought breakfast this morning, although she didn't allow her feelings to show on her face with the Knotties. Confusion sweeps over her like a quick-rising flood that starts at her toes and spreads to the top of her neck until she's sucking in air as though her breathing will soon be cut off. What had happened?

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Last night, upon his return to Holmes Chapel, Harry had driven straight to Tangled Yarn to share the pictures he had taken at the theaters in Manchester, and Elena had exclaimed multiple times about the amazing shots and how they captured Diane's story so well.

"Did you have her in mind when you took them?" she asked, leaning over his arm as he scrolled through the viewfinder of the Hasselblad camera. He noticed her breast was pressing into his forearm. It felt so comfortable that he didn't shift his arm for the entire time they were exploring the pictures. The feel of her pebbled nipple on his flesh had made him hard, and he chalked the feeling up to having been alone so many nights lately; it had nothing to do with his friend Elena.

"I did," he nodded and smiled, "I went into the dressing room where she must have gotten that scar. There wasn't much to give the photo depth other than a single dress costume on a mannequin, but that was enough to highlight the age of the backstage area: how old it is now compared to 50 years ago, and how old it must have appeared at the time Diane was there."

Elena was overwhelmed at how expertly he had framed the composition in the shots. "Did you take lessons, Harry? Because these are brilliant photos."

Shyly he smiled, and then a faraway look appeared in his eyes, "Someone I knew taught me a bit about photography."