The Lover's Knot by Clare O'Donohue Page A

of the Friday Night Quilt Club, my grandmother agreed to open the shop for one last meeting in the old space. We had done a pretty good job of pulling the place apart the last few days, and no one had bothered to sweep up. On Friday morning I walked over to make sure that the place would be clean and safe. One broken leg was all I could handle.
    As I got to the door I passed a flustered Carrie on her way out.
    She looked embarrassed to see me. “Forgot the shop was closed?” I asked her.
    “No, no, of course not. I just wanted to talk with Marc. See what kind of work he was doing.”
    “Why?”
    “I wanted to see, that’s all,” she said defensively. “I was passing and I thought I’d stop in. I might open my own place one of these days. I miss being in business, you know.”
    I nodded, but I didn’t know. I’d never thought about owning my own business, or even running anyone else’s. These last few days did have a certain element of fun to them, I had to admit, but I was riding this bike with my grandmother grasping the seat firmly. I had no interest in seeing if I could pedal all on my own.
    I wanted to ask her why, if she wanted her own business so much, she didn’t just open one. But I realized I probably knew the answer. I’d been saying I wanted to be an artist since I was a kid, and so far I had nothing to show for it. So instead I said good-bye and watched Carrie walk down the street. She walked quickly, looking around to see who else she might run into, but when she disappeared around the corner, I opened the door to the shop.
    Inside the place was almost empty, aside from a few boxes Nancy hadn’t been able to fit in her car. Marc was alone drawing an arch on the wall that divided the shop and diner.
    “Is that the opening? It seems small,” I said.
    “In order to maintain the structural integrity of the place, I have to keep the arch pretty small, but it’s big enough for two people to walk through.” He grabbed me and we leaned up against the wall, both fitting into the space outlined for the arch. “See?” he said. I saw. “Maybe it’s too much room. Maybe I should make it smaller.” He pulled me closer. I couldn’t tell if he was flirting with me because he liked me or making fun of me because maybe I liked him, so I just moved away to another section of the wall.
    “If you’re not tearing the whole wall down, you’ll need to take care of that.” I pointed to a hole in the wall near the corner.
    “That mouse hole?”
    “If that’s a mouse hole, then he has a glandular problem. I could put my fist in it.”
    “I never saw it before.” Marc leaned down to examine it.
    “It had shelves in front of it, and piles of fabric.”
    “I’ll fix it, boss,” he said, smiling. He was excited to be there, I could tell. And maybe even excited to see me every day. Or maybe that was just my wishful thinking.
    “Why don’t I get some coffee?” I suggested.
    “I could use the caffeine,” he nodded.
    “Late night?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
    He blushed slightly. “I was up late, going over the plans for this place.”
    “Oh, please. I’ve heard about your reputation.”
    “I’ve heard it too. I wish I got laid as often as people say, but I actually I spent my night alone.” He smiled briefly, then looked down. “I better get back to work.”
    “I better get that coffee.” I had to get out of there because I knew I was smiling and I couldn’t stop. I was almost out the door when I heard a banging.
    “We’re closed,” I called back. There was a sign on the door that said CLOSED in big black letters, but some people must need more than that to take a hint. The banging started again.
    Prepared to be polite and firm to whatever fanatical quilter I would find on the other side of the door, I pulled it open. Ryan was standing there.
    “Hi,” he said as he stood just outside the door. “Your grandmother said you were here.” He looked toward Marc but didn’t