ongoing. We could do a night together once a month, and celebrating Abigail, and your heroism, could be just the start. . . .”
Entrepreneurial Molly was always going on about things she could try to make a bigger splash in town—have reading nights, clever themes, book parties. Lucy assumed Molly would love the idea of her working with Whitney.
But those ideas took work, and required taking risk, whereas going along as she always had was safe. Simply selling books and providing coffee was working out fine so far.
Safety always won.
“Mmmm. I don’t want to make money on Abigail’s tragedy.”
Whitney held a hand to her heart. “Of course not! I didn’t mean that!”
But Lucy wondered if she hadn’t. And a party wasn’t a horrible idea. But Lucy didn’t want to work with Whitney. Period.
She pulled out the next hardcover.
“Oh, holy crap.” A grin spread across her face. The book was an old Barbara Walker, a book of stitch patterns that was still popular and still in print. But this was an early one, a really early one. She opened the book to the copyright page. “Oh, man.”
Whitney looked on with interest. “Something good?”
“First edition.” Lucy couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice. Was Owen’s mother a knitter? She had to be, this was just too good.
“Is it worth a lot?”
Of course, that would be the first thing Whitney would ask about. But Lucy nodded, a grin spreading across her face. “It’s worth some. But mostly, it’s just awesome.”
“Really?” Whitney asked.
Lucy moved another layer of paperbacks, this time old mysteries and put them to the side. Come on, early Meg Swanson. Or Elizabeth Zimmerman? Maybe a first edition of Knitting Without Tears ? It was too much to hope for, and she knew it, but she couldn’t help feeling the same as when she rubbed off the coating on the lottery tickets she rarely bought.
Her fingers felt it first. Another hardcover, this one wide and heavy.
It couldn’t be what she thought it was. . . . Closing her eyes, Lucy took a deep breath before opening them again.
It was. Lucy whooped.
Silk Road . In perfect condition, although for this particular Eliza Carpenter book, it didn’t matter what condition it came in. It was the Holy Grail for knitters.
She looked at the copyright page.
It was another first edition.
And it was signed. Eliza Carpenter’s clear hand, those loops that were so recognizable, trailed up the page in ink still dark.
Chills ran up and down her spine. This was the find of a bookstore-lifetime.
Lucy ran her fingers over the cover. The “Cypress Hollow Lighthouse” pattern was in this book. Generally agreed to be one of the most beautiful sweater patterns in the world, it was a fine-gauge, tightly cabled sweater that suggested the sweep and scope of the beam from the old lighthouse, the way it used to shine out to sea before the light became an auto-strobe and the lighthouse itself closed and became too dangerous to enter. In real life, she’d only ever seen one sweater made from the pattern, since the book hadn’t had a large print run and had gone out of print so quickly. She couldn’t even imagine how much it would go for on an auction site.
“You look stunned,” said Whitney.
Lucy held up the book. “The best. Absolutely the best.”
“Worth a lot?”
Lucy placed the book reverentially on the counter. “Oh, yeah. But I’d never sell it. No one lets this book go. Look at this.” She opened to the Lighthouse pattern. “Who wouldn’t be dying to make this?”
Whitney frowned, a slight crease forming between her nicely shaped eyebrows. “It’s really pretty, I guess. If you like a sweater that looks like it needs shoulder pads.”
“That was just the style then. It’s amazing. I’ve never been able to even read the pattern before. I can’t wait to read it, let alone cast on for it.”
“Isn’t there some kind of black market out there? Someone making photocopies?”
“No!”
Entrepreneurial Molly was always going on about things she could try to make a bigger splash in town—have reading nights, clever themes, book parties. Lucy assumed Molly would love the idea of her working with Whitney.
But those ideas took work, and required taking risk, whereas going along as she always had was safe. Simply selling books and providing coffee was working out fine so far.
Safety always won.
“Mmmm. I don’t want to make money on Abigail’s tragedy.”
Whitney held a hand to her heart. “Of course not! I didn’t mean that!”
But Lucy wondered if she hadn’t. And a party wasn’t a horrible idea. But Lucy didn’t want to work with Whitney. Period.
She pulled out the next hardcover.
“Oh, holy crap.” A grin spread across her face. The book was an old Barbara Walker, a book of stitch patterns that was still popular and still in print. But this was an early one, a really early one. She opened the book to the copyright page. “Oh, man.”
Whitney looked on with interest. “Something good?”
“First edition.” Lucy couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice. Was Owen’s mother a knitter? She had to be, this was just too good.
“Is it worth a lot?”
Of course, that would be the first thing Whitney would ask about. But Lucy nodded, a grin spreading across her face. “It’s worth some. But mostly, it’s just awesome.”
“Really?” Whitney asked.
Lucy moved another layer of paperbacks, this time old mysteries and put them to the side. Come on, early Meg Swanson. Or Elizabeth Zimmerman? Maybe a first edition of Knitting Without Tears ? It was too much to hope for, and she knew it, but she couldn’t help feeling the same as when she rubbed off the coating on the lottery tickets she rarely bought.
Her fingers felt it first. Another hardcover, this one wide and heavy.
It couldn’t be what she thought it was. . . . Closing her eyes, Lucy took a deep breath before opening them again.
It was. Lucy whooped.
Silk Road . In perfect condition, although for this particular Eliza Carpenter book, it didn’t matter what condition it came in. It was the Holy Grail for knitters.
She looked at the copyright page.
It was another first edition.
And it was signed. Eliza Carpenter’s clear hand, those loops that were so recognizable, trailed up the page in ink still dark.
Chills ran up and down her spine. This was the find of a bookstore-lifetime.
Lucy ran her fingers over the cover. The “Cypress Hollow Lighthouse” pattern was in this book. Generally agreed to be one of the most beautiful sweater patterns in the world, it was a fine-gauge, tightly cabled sweater that suggested the sweep and scope of the beam from the old lighthouse, the way it used to shine out to sea before the light became an auto-strobe and the lighthouse itself closed and became too dangerous to enter. In real life, she’d only ever seen one sweater made from the pattern, since the book hadn’t had a large print run and had gone out of print so quickly. She couldn’t even imagine how much it would go for on an auction site.
“You look stunned,” said Whitney.
Lucy held up the book. “The best. Absolutely the best.”
“Worth a lot?”
Lucy placed the book reverentially on the counter. “Oh, yeah. But I’d never sell it. No one lets this book go. Look at this.” She opened to the Lighthouse pattern. “Who wouldn’t be dying to make this?”
Whitney frowned, a slight crease forming between her nicely shaped eyebrows. “It’s really pretty, I guess. If you like a sweater that looks like it needs shoulder pads.”
“That was just the style then. It’s amazing. I’ve never been able to even read the pattern before. I can’t wait to read it, let alone cast on for it.”
“Isn’t there some kind of black market out there? Someone making photocopies?”
“No!”
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