Chapter Eleven: Gwen joins the Canadian Knitwear Designer Association and continues to work on establishing her knitwear design business.
photo by ldyck
Chapter Twelve
Some crafters are cold-weather friends—abandoning their knitting needles in the spring. One year, determined to encourage them to remain faithful, I concocted a plan. I collected cotton, bamboo, and linen in colours that popped and knitted summer weather wear. Once done, I worked on a window display. It had my full attention until... I saw him—a really cute guy skirting puddles. I started sending him subliminal messages: come inside the shop. Come inside.
He walked past and was almost out of sight. But then... Then he turned around. He opened the shop door and walked in. He. Was. In. The shop.
Marta pulled the top I was holding out of my hands and all but threw me at him. “Gwen will be happy to help you.”
His face lit up. “I need to buy...um...ah.” He quickly scanned the shop and landed on a pegboard full of knitting needles. “These.”
The electricity between us was so strong I could barely think. “What size?”
“I'm a medium,” he told me.
I smiled. “What size needle?”
“Hmm...well...I don't know.”
“What size does the pattern say you need?”
“Pattern? Yeah, I need one of those too.”
I showed him our collection of patterns. “What would you like to knit? A scarf? A hat?”
“What do you like to knit?”
“Sweaters, mainly,” I told him.
A customer—an attractive redhead—was in line to pay for a pattern, but she walked over to me and dived in. “Knitting a sweater is time-consuming, and the patterns are unreadable. Here, knit these socks.” Ms. Nosy took a sock pattern off the rack and handed it to him.
“I want to buy a sweater pattern,” he told me.
Ms. Nosy rejoined the queue.
I showed him several very nice sweater patterns for men, but he pulled a woman's sweater pattern off the rack—it was one of my designs. “It's a gift for a friend,” he told me. “Do you think she'll like it?”
He was planning on knitting a sweater for his girlfriend. My heart fell to my feet, but I bounced back the best I could. “I think so.”
He commissioned me to select the yarn.
“The pattern states a requirement of six balls of yarn, but I advise buying seven to be safe.”
Yarn, pattern, knitting needles—he carried it all to the checkout.
“Make sure to knit a sample swatch to ensure that you have the right size of knitting needles,” I told him before I rang up the sale.
He looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language but said, “Hmm...okay...sure.”
“Keep the receipt. If you need another pair of needles, we'll exchange them with proof of purchase.” I handed him the bill of sale.
“I'll guard this like gold.” He waved the bill and grinned. ”Do you always play it safe?” He didn't wait for an answer. “Can you wrap it up fancy?”
We didn't have much in the way of gift wrap. I found some tissue paper and a brown paper bag.
“I also need a gift card.”
“We don’t carry any cards.”
“A scrap piece of paper will do.”
I slipped a piece of paper into the bag and handed it to him. “Have a nice day.”
“It's become one.” He offered me an adorable smile.
I watched him walk to the door, down the sidewalk, and out of my life.
After he left, the shop got even busier—someone was trying to figure out how to make I-cord; someone else was having trouble achieving even tension; someone else wanted to exchange a pair of knitting needles; someone else wanted to buy yarn, but we didn't have enough in the colour she'd selected, but I thought we had more in the back. So I didn't notice when the handsome stranger returned until he stood in front of me.
He pulled a folded note out of the brown paper bag and gave it to me.
I unfolded it and read...
Roses are red,
Some tulips are too.
You're really cute.
I'd like to date you
-Jaron Cardew
