Page 59 of When In Doubt

“Even your mom?”

“She’ll talk about him, but it makes her sad.”

“But now you’re sad.”

“No, not really.” He takes a seat on the stool next to the desk. I follow, slumping into my chair. “Maybe? I don’t know… I guess I’d like to talk about him more, share him. But I don’t want to upset her. I’d rather I be sad than her, if that makes sense.”

“It does.” My heart fractures a tiny bit for him, this steadfast man, so willing to bend over backwards for everyone else, even if it risks him breaking. “Do you want to talk about him with me?”

I don’t know if I’m being too forward, but I can’t do nothing. And besides, we’re friends now. I think.

“Yes?” The gentle smile he gives me warms me from the inside out. “But maybe not today, if that’s alright.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you, though. I’d really like that.”

An hour later I’m updating the inventory system with everything we sold at the fair when the door opens and a woman shuffles in, her multiple tote bags making it hard for her to maneuver through the entrance.

Oscar sticks his head out of the stockroom door when he hears the commotion. He’s been back there finishing up the last of the tidying. Once he got the hang of the system he didn’t need much input from me.

The woman faces me and I see that it’s Andrea, one of Joyce’s friends from the knitting circle. I straighten, surprised to see her. She’s always been sweet, but this is the first time anyone from the group has made it into the shop.

Perhaps Joyce’s iron grip is slipping?

“Hi,” I say brightly, “it’s so lovely to see you.”

She returns my smile, adjusting one of the bags on her shoulder. “It seemed like about time I took a peek in here.”

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” I’m trying to sound casual, professional. Hopefully she’s not seeing how thrown I am by her presence.

“Well,” she says, reaching into a tote and pulling out a skein of burgundy yarn, “I’ve got this lovely alpaca, but I’m looking for a mohair to go with it.”

“Of course!” I stand and go to take it from her. It’s ultra soft, but not fuzzy at all. “How much do you need?”

“Enough for a cardigan, maybe a little extra.”

“For your granddaughter again?”

“Not this time.” She smiles, a little cheekily. “This one’s for me.”

Andrea spends another twenty minutes in the shop. She buys more than just the mohair she came in for, also picking up some new circular needles and a cross-stitch kit to give as a gift. When she leaves it’s with a promise to be back, and to bring some of the other knitting circle ladies with her.

Maybe I don’t need Joyce to like me after all? If I can win over the others, then perhaps whatever problem she has with me will just fade into irrelevance?

When I turn back to my desk after walking her out, Oscar’s sat in my chair, playing with one of the projects I keep in the basket at my feet.

“What’s this gonna be?” he asks, smoothing his hands over the fabric.

“Another sweater.” I shrug. When I make my way towards him he stands, gesturing for me to have my seat back. He pulls up the kick stool and takes his place back on it. “This cabling here goes over the body, but the sleeves are going to be blank. I have one like it, but in blue.” I roll my chair back and slide open the bottom drawer, struggling for a second as the wood sticks. When I pull out the sweater, I catch the hint of a smirk at the edges of Oscar’s mouth.

“You just keep those everywhere?” He nods at the half-finished project.

“Pretty much,” I say sheepishly.

“That looks done, right?” He reaches over and takes it, running his thumb over the ridges of the cabling.

“Nearly. I have to do the ribbing, but I hate it.”