Knit the Season

  “Yup,” said Dakota.

  “How’s Anita?”

  “Good.” Dakota hesitated.

  “Don’t tell me she’s backing out again,” said Catherine. “I can barely breathe in this gown as it is.”

  “Uh, she’s waiting for Nathan,” said Dakota. “Only he’s not here.”

  “Where is he, that dirtbag?” said Catherine.

  “He’s in a car that’s gotten itself lost,” said Dakota. “It’s KC’s plan. I only did nothing to prevent it.”

  Catherine broke out into a broad grin. “This is a gorgeous day,” she said. “Listen to me: Do whatever KC said. Let’s help Anita stand up for herself.”

  “How?”

  “Let’s start this wedding now,” said Catherine. “Nathan is crafty—don’t ask me how I know—but we’re better off not taking chances.”

  “Plus, you’re losing oxygen,” added Peri.

  “And my feet hurt,” said Catherine. “There’s that, too.”

  Marty waited, as did Marco, under the gazebo, for the first sight of his beautiful bride. He stood, smiling, waving to the occasional guest. Minute after minute.

  “I should just text Nathan,” Anita was saying to Dakota as Sarah kissed her cheek and left her sister to be ushered to her seat. “Just let him know I love him.”

  “There’s a blizzard,” said Dakota. “All the towers are scrambled. The message won’t get through.”

  “Really?”

  “No, Anita,” said Dakota. “Look, I’ve got to level with you. Nathan is late. There was a mix-up. But he’ll be here soon. And outside this door are your sons Benjamin and David, and they’re ready to go. And there’s Catherine, her feet swelling in her too-high heels as she waits to walk down the aisle to meet her happiness. Or Marty, who has been pouring coffee for years while dreaming of you. You’ve got to decide if you really need Nathan’s blessing or if you’re ready to just accept that sometimes people get mad at your decisions.”

  “Since when do you give advice to me?” asked Anita mildly.

  “Since I learned from some of the best,” said Dakota. “You, Gran, and Mom.”

  Dakota giggled, waiting for the music that was her cue, as she practiced how she was going to take mincing steps down the aisle.

  “You are magnificent,” whispered Roberto, and Dakota was surprised at how much she enjoyed the compliment. “Don’t forget we’re supposed to dance.”

  “Don’t forget you’re supposed to be up there with your father,” reminded Catherine, as Roberto blew kisses to his almost step-mother and winked at his onetime girlfriend. Maybe, thought Dakota, not everything had to change.

  Both their hearts stopped as the music picked up. Dakota waited a beat and then moved forward, incapable of removing the goofy grin that was plastered to her face. Catherine, practically born in stilettos, prayed she didn’t trip over their high heels as she strode up the aisle, discreetly waving to her siblings and their families, to finally take her place under the gazebo next to Marco, uncharacteristically shy and slightly embarrassed to be the focus of so much love and attention. Then they, like all the guests, paused. Waiting for the next bride.

  They heard the sound first, before they could see her. A collective gasp from the entire room—of relief, of sheer joy, of being near her absolute radiance—as Anita Lowenstein, hanging on to the arms of two of her sons, followed her heart to her husband-to-be.

  She wore a simple, square-necked white sheath covered with a smattering of tiny glittering crystals, topped by the exquisite shawl-collared knitted wedding coat that she’d designed and redesigned with her sister, Sarah. Dropping lower than the skirt of her dress, the wide hem of her coat glided along the floor of the library, creating the effect that Anita was merely floating down the aisle. In her shiny silver hair she wore one single lily pinned behind her ear, showcasing the sparkling sapphire earrings that her beloved Marty had given her the day before. Her blue eyes, as bright as the sapphires, shone with excitement as she approached the huppah.

  “Yes,” she murmured in Marty’s ear before the rabbi had even said a word. “I will marry you. Over and over.”

  She gazed lovingly as Marco and Catherine exchanged vows with the justice of the peace, and then, when it was her turn, she twisted to get a better look at the roomful of guests. There, pacing at the end of the aisle, were Nathan and Rhea and their three children. He looked so much like his father, she thought, it was almost as though Stan was in the room with all of them. Gently, she rubbed Marty’s hand, wondering if Nathan was going to attempt a power play, and then decided enough truly was enough. Ready to turn around, she waved. Nathan, nodding slowly, stopped pacing and raised his hand. And then, finally, he waved back.

  Dakota stood, transfixed, watching guest after guest bite into their petit-fours. Were they smiling? Going back for seconds? She’d already watched Roberto eat three of each flavor, pressing him for his culinary reviews. Dakota thought back to when she once kept a notebook of the reactions of the club to her scratch muffins, grilling her mother about her friend’s opinions of her baking. Some things change, she mused, but some things never do.

  She watched Ginger stream on by with a tiny cake in each hand, icing smeared on her chin.

  “Dance with me,” said James, tapping his daughter’s shoulder. Dakota turned, feeling secretly happy to see Sandra trapped in a corner with Catherine and Anita, who were very eager to know all about this new friend of James Foster’s. “C’mon, Dakota! I’ll show you the Robot.”

  “Uh, please, no,” said Dakota, holding her dad’s hand as she followed him. “Let’s just dance like normal people.”

  Of course, there was hardly anybody with the chops to be invited on a reality dance show at this shindig, thought Dakota. They joined Darwin and Dan, wiggling out of step to the music, and Marty and Sarah, keeping it old style, cheek to cheek, as they grooved around the dance floor. Ginger, having consumed her cake as rapidly as possible, joined hands with the little twins to run around in dizzymaking circles. Marco, abandoned by his bride in her quest to suss out the secrets of James’s new lady friend, enticed KC to join him for a twist, as Peri and Roberto tried to rustle up the crowd to start a conga line.

  “I love weddings,” screamed Dakota at her father, trying to be heard over the music.

  “Oh, yeah?” he asked, moving his arms in slow motion.

  “Try not to get any ideas, mister,” she said. “This Walker has had more than enough to handle this holiday. Let’s just take it easy for once.”

  The music shifted and the 1980s anthem “Walking on Sunshine” started to blast as Catherine came running, grabbing Allegra’s hand as she sped over to join her new family for a group dance.

  “Your mother loved this song,” said James, bouncing on his toes.

  “Let me guess,” said Dakota. “Just like the rest of you, she couldn’t really dance, either.”

  She spun around and around on the dance floor, singing the words—“I feel alive, I feel the love”—along with everyone else as she absorbed the joyous energy of her father and all her dearest friends.

  chapter eighteen

  The February club meeting was the first full session of the year. Also the last day for Peri to manage the shop. Finally ready to go, having flown to Paris for a week to find an apartment and returned to sort through her belongings, she checked the various cupboards and drawers in her apartment as she waited for Dakota to arrive.

  “Nearly lost my soufflé with all the rush to see you,” said Dakota as she knocked on the open apartment door and strolled inside. She knew Peri had to leave at eight thirty to catch her overseas flight and the shop was closed early so the club could meet. “I wanted to say my good-byes before everyone else.”

  “Good. Now I’m officially off the clock,” said Peri. “I’m just a friend with a new job.”

  “And an owner until I buy you out, remember?” said Dakota.

  Peri dug into her oversized, candy-apple-red Peri Pocketbook hobo b
ag and pulled out a leather business card holder. She handed a card to Dakota.

  “Hello, Madam President,” said Dakota, offering a salute.

  “Hello, Ms. Walker,” said Peri. She displayed a sheaf of papers in a manila envelope and passed it along. “I’d like to make you an offer you can’t refuse.”

  Dakota giggled nervously. “You don’t want to take over the shop, do you?”

  “No,” said Peri. “But, in my new capacity of head of knitwear for Lydia Jackson, I’d like to license the original designs made by your mother. That Italian Vogue cover did not go unnoticed. And when I mentioned the design for the Blossom dress was not a one-off . . . well, let’s just say there is enthusiasm for your mom’s work.”

  Dakota took the envelope and peered inside. Yup, there really were lots of pages with small print. “Are you serious?”

  “Completely,” said Peri. “Trust me; I’ve been working on my bags for years. You saw me—manufacturing is difficult. This way, you don’t sell them outright, just allow us to use them. I’m hoping to start an entire line of clothes made from undiscovered designers called Tricoter.”

  “Wow,” said Dakota, taking a deep breath and letting it out very, very slowly. “But what about the pattern book?”

  “You can still do that,” said Peri. “We’ll just work together to pick and choose what you license exclusively and what you want to put in the book.”

  “So, what now?”

  “You get a lawyer,” said Peri. “You read over the papers, and we come up with a good deal all around.” She reached over and tapped Dakota’s nose. “This is going to be lucrative, Walker. I’m talking marble counters for the kitchen of the café if you want.”

  “I never thought about my mom’s design as being anything but a way to honor her talent,” said Dakota.

  “That’s what this will be,” said Peri. “And, in the meantime, you get a big fat paycheck to finance the remodel and reinvent the shop. For you. For your daughter, maybe. And that’s far off in the future, you hear me?”

  Dakota affected a dramatic sigh. “I don’t even have a boyfriend right now. Will there come a day when everyone isn’t over-involved in the details of my life?” she asked.

  “Never,” said Peri. “Now, what about this mysterious new manager you’ve hired? I guess I’ll have to meet her when I come back for a visit.”

  “Nope,” said Dakota. “I invited her to come to the shop tonight.”

  “To a club meeting? Whoo, boy, KC is going to have a field day,” said Peri. “No more changes! That’s her motto. She’s already had several tantrums about my move. Told me I had to go, mind you. And then told me she was never going to visit me because I’d probably move on and forget about her.”

  “So, when is she coming?”

  “In April,” said Peri. “When the weather starts improving and we can ride bikes in the countryside. Drink wine and charm handsome French men.”

  “With your inability to speak the language,” commented Dakota drily.

  “Oh,” said Peri. “That wasn’t how I was planning to charm them.”

  Anita’s honeymoon to Australia had returned her tanned and rested, and Catherine’s ski holiday (including a week with the kids, as previously scheduled) left her happy but frazzled.

  “I always just hung out with Dakota,” said Catherine. “But much more is expected of me regarding Allegra. I can’t just read her teen magazines and do facials.”

  “Uh, didn’t you just ship her off to boarding school again?” asked KC.

  “Yes,” said Catherine sheepishly. “But it’s the middle of the school year. No one wants to upset her routine just yet. It’s enough we got married.”

  “Are you staying in New York?”

  Catherine shrugged. “Yes, no, maybe?” she ventured. “We’re here for the moment, while Marco figures out the new vineyard. But there’s the property in Italy, and even though it’s managed, he still needs to be there often. So, I think we’ll be binational for a while. See what works best for us.”

  “What about the antiques shop?” asked Dakota.

  “My manager is quite used to my jet-setting ways,” she admitted. “So, we’ll keep on as we’ve been doing. But I’m going to do more writing.”

  “You finished the novel?”

  “Not quite,” said Catherine. “Marco hired me to write an online newsletter about Cara Mia. Who knows where I’ll go from here.”

  KC made a face. “That’s two,” she said with finality. “Peri and Catherine. Moving.”

  “Very dramatic,” said Anita. “KC, you will be fine. We will all be quite fine. Most friends don’t have the luxury of living so near one another. We should celebrate our luck instead of bemoaning our new directions.”

  “Speaking of living near one another,” began Dakota. “My father has agreed to let me sublet his place with some new roommates.”

  “Really?” said Darwin, who’d arrived a few moments earlier with Lucie and Ginger. “I thought he was concerned you’d throw wild parties with all the other chef kids.”

  “He was,” said Dakota. “But we all had a sit-down, laid out some ground rules, and I think this situation is going to work itself out. I even invited one of them to join the club.”

  “You’re replacing Peri?” KC was horrified.

  “I am not replacing her,” insisted Dakota. “I’m simply expanding the group.”

  “We’ve never laid out a charter,” pointed out Darwin. “We’ve never really considered the impact of strangers.”

  “We were all mostly a bunch of strangers not so long ago,” said Lucie. “It’s easy to forget that sometimes.”

  “I look forward to meeting your new girl,” agreed Anita. “Is it your NYU friend, Olivia?”

  “Nope,” said Dakota, jogging lightly to the closed shop door. “It’s a lady I’ve known my whole life but only recently got to know well. I even hired her to work part-time at the shop.”

  She stepped back to introduce a gray-haired woman who bore a strong resemblance to an old friend of theirs.

  “My goodness,” exclaimed Anita, reflexively smoothing her hair. She wanted to make a good impression.

  “Everyone, this is Bess Walker,” said Dakota. “My mother’s mother.”

  “Hello,” said Bess, remembering to smile even though she was intimidated by her late daughter’s friends.

  A chorus of “Hello” and “How are you?” rang out automatically, as Anita made her way to Bess and hugged her in a long, teary embrace.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” said Anita. “I’ve always meant to express my gratitude to you. For raising your wonderful daughter. She was such a dear friend to me. Literally saved me, being able to come to this shop, after my first husband died.”

  “There’s nothing to thank me for,” said Bess, so quietly that Anita had to strain to hear her. “I’m the monster mother, you know. Georgia couldn’t wait to get as far away from me as possible for most of her life.”

  “That’s what some children do, though, isn’t it?” asked Anita, her voice low to keep the conversation just between the two women. “Make a big fuss when really they’ve just been testing their ability to be independent all along? You and I both know Georgia didn’t raise herself. There’s a lot of you in her. I can see that.”

  “There’s a physical resemblance, that’s all,” said Bess. She felt anxious, all the women in the club staring at her. She hoped this wasn’t a mistake.

  “It’s much more than that,” said Anita, nodding. “Bess, I have one of my own who took issue with me once he hit his fifties. He could get a senior discount in some places! So, it’s a challenge no matter how grown-up they may look on the outside. They’re always our babies within, aren’t they?”

  Bess nodded vigorously, certainly not about to blubber in front of everyone. She’d often worried about this moment, having spent many evenings of her life practicing in her mind all that she might say to this Anita Lowenstein for her belief that this we
althy New York matron was usurping her role as mother, grandmother, dear friend. Needing to believe that if Anita hadn’t been around—the type of exuberant woman, eagerly doling out hugs, that Georgia seemed to want in a parent—she might have been more willing to accept Bess, with her reserved manner and preferring things to be just so.

  Of course, Bess’s regrets and frustrations hardly disappeared in an instant. There was a lot of history to sort through. But she was contending with a new emotion she didn’t anticipate: gratitude. Because as much as she wanted her daughter, Georgia, to reach out to her and to Tom, it was a relief to know that Georgia felt she was able to turn to this elegant, silver-haired woman with the crinkly blue eyes to help her when she needed it. In spite of everything, Bess had never wanted her daughter to feel alone. And Anita had made sure that was the case.

  “Thank you,” said Bess now. “For all that you did for my daughter. You were a true friend, and her father and I appreciate your support.”

  These were words she’d simply been unable to express—to even imagine saying!—when she last had a conversation of more than pleasantries with Anita, back when Georgia was ill.

  “That’s very kind,” said Anita, who then raised her volume. “I can’t think of a better decision, Dakota. You’ve proven that you really are in charge now.”

  To herself, Anita decided it was a good month to take another trip with her new husband. Just keep a low profile for the next while as grandmother and granddaughter figured out a rhythm on their own. Then she’d be back in her beloved Walker and Daughter, as usual.

  “We’ll have some part-time help, of course,” explained Dakota, as she slid out a chair so her Grandma Bess could join the others at the table in the center of the shop. “But we’ll manage. And then the reno will get under way.”

  “It might take a while though,” Bess said quickly, blushing a little as she spoke. She wasn’t used to this kind of togetherness, just chatting and knitting and eating between stitches. “James just won a new contract today. He got the news while we were unpacking our suitcases.”