CHAPTER TEN
Determined that her night for Calvin would be as good as the one he’d given her, Sarah was hard at work on her laptop early the next morning. She pulled up data on tourism in the Adirondack Park, on its residents, their career options, and spending patterns. She made phone calls and set up appointments.
She should have been glad to finally get a productive day in, but her mind kept wandering. Not only to Calvin, but also to Lakeside Stitch & Knit. This was the first day she hadn’t spent in the store, so she decided to drop by with coffee. She’d check in on her mother and grandmother and then come back and work some more.
First, though, there was one more call she needed to make. Her boss picked up on the first ring. “How’s life in the backwater?”
She winced, even though she’d always referred to Summer Lake like that. “Good. I’m progressing on the project, but I want to run something by you before I call the Klein Group. A new boat launch is great, and I still think they should do it, but there’s something else that will be even better for the town—a new high school football field, lights, stands, locker rooms.”
A very intelligent man—ruthless, some might say, when it came to making money—Craig said, “I take it you’re having trouble convincing the town?”
“Small towns operate differently from the rest of the world. High school football is practically a religion here.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” he said, already moving past their conversation. “Just do whatever you need to do to make it happen. We’re all counting on you.”
* * *
Carrying a tray of hot coffee, Sarah walked into Lakeside Stitch & Knit to find the place packed with kids. “The fifth-graders are paying us a visit today,” her mother said with a smile when she gratefully took a cup.
“Where’s Grandma?”
“She decided to take it easy again today.”
Worry about her grandmother’s health rose up once more. “You should have called me. She should have called me. Tell me what you need me to do.”
Five minutes later, Sarah had a girl on either side, correcting their cast-ons just as Christie had done with her on Monday night, while a couple of boys pretended their knitting needles were swords. She hadn’t spent much time with kids, not since her babysitting days, but these fifth-graders were easy to laugh with.
“I just can’t get it,” one of the girls in the back corner cried, throwing her needles and tangled yarn onto the hardwood floor.
Sarah was already heading over there when she realized those were Calvin’s eyes looking back at her in defiance. This was the little girl with the pigtails and the missing tooth. The baby whose diaper she had changed ten years ago, right before she and Calvin had torn each other’s hearts out.
Sarah nearly stumbled as she reached for the seat beside Jordan and slid into it. Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she said, “I was really frustrated too when I started.”
“Knitting is stupid. Why would anyone waste their time on this stuff?”
Sarah settled back into her chair, looked around the store at the laughter, the concentration, the colors, the creativity. “I suppose it’s because knitting makes people feel good. It can be fun to use your hands to make something. It’s not just how soft the yarn is, how pretty the pattern is, it’s the magic of it.”
“Magic?”
Sarah started at that. Had she really just said that knitting was magic?
She thought about the way her grandmother always looked happiest when she was knitting. Her mother too. And she suddenly understood how anything that could make someone feel that good had to be magic.
She nodded. “Yup. Magic.”
“I guess you could show me how to do it,” Jordan said grudgingly.
Hiding her smile, Sarah said, “Sure.”
* * *
Hours later, she was heading for her mother’s house to get ready for her night with Calvin when she heard voices coming from her grandmother’s cottage.
She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when she opened the cottage door. Her great-aunt Jean was concentrating on the lettering of her SAVE THE CAROUSEL sign. Dorothy and Helen from the knitting group were there too.
“Grandma, what are you all doing?”
“Just what it looks like. Getting a jump on our campaign. This is just the start. Everyone we’ve told about the carousel wants to help.”
Sarah pushed down the hurt that her grandmother had so little faith in her, not to mention the fact that she hated knowing they were on opposite sides of the issue. First, she and Calvin. Now, she and her grandmother—and all of these women.
A sharp pang landed smack-dab in the middle of her chest. They were all against her. The insiders versus the girl who had never belonged.
There were so many things she wanted to say to her grandmother just then, but she made herself stick to her health first. “You’re supposed to be resting.”
“I’ll rest when we’re done here.”
Fine. Then Sarah would skip right to point two. “I told you I was going to talk to my client about the carousel, Grandma. You don’t need to do all of this.”
“You gave me no guarantees, and I’ve always thought it’s better to take things into one’s own hands.”
And the truth was, Sarah couldn’t help but be impressed with how quickly her grandmother and her sister and friends had put everything together. A part of her wanted to jump in and help…but she couldn’t fight this battle for her grandmother. Not when it would mean fighting against herself, her client, and her future with her consulting firm. And not when it would be one more step toward failing—and away from the brass ring she’d always reached for.
“Don’t feel bad,” Dorothy said, finally looking up from her computer, where she was doing God knew what. “We know you’re just doing your job.”
Seeing just how much these women were relishing their task, she decided it would be a good chance to get some more background on the carousel. Something she could share with her clients that would help them understand why it was so important for Summer Lake. “Tell me about the carousel. Tell me what it means to each of you.”
Her great-aunt Jean looked up with a smile. “When we were kids, we would always try to stand on top of the horses like we were in the circus.”
“Mother thought it was too dangerous, but we never fell. Not once.”
Sarah noticed that Dorothy had stopped typing. “What about you, Dorothy?”
“We were very poor when I was a little girl.” Sarah was surprised to hear it. Dorothy looked so classy and put together. “We didn’t have money for any extras, barely had enough to keep ourselves clothed and fed. Remember, Olive?”
“You used to wear my old shoes.”
Dorothy snorted. “Old? You’d barely worn them before you told your daddy you needed another pair, and he bought them for you.”
“Did you hate me for it?” Olive asked. Everyone in the room stopped and turned to Dorothy, waiting for her answer.
Sarah could see them so clearly—two girls in school together, two friends who came from such different backgrounds, who had such different things. For a second, she was reminded of the way she and Catherine had once been.
“Sometimes.”
“I hated you sometimes too,” Olive said, shocking all of them. “You had so much freedom.”
Dorothy smiled. “Well, more than you lot, anyway, with all of your fancy money and expectations. But you were asking about the carousel, weren’t you, Sarah? Not the history of two old friends.”
Sarah worked to bring herself back to the carousel, but it was hard when she couldn’t stop wondering about what her grandmother had said about freedom. What hadn’t Olive felt free to do? To love Carlos instead of the man who had become Sarah’s grandfather?
“It was five cents for a ride,” Dorothy said, “but one day a year it was free.”
“The Fall Festival,” Jean put in.
“We would finish our chores early and run over to get in line to ride it over and over.”
“Why was riding it so great?” Sarah vaguely remembered enjoying carousel rides as a little girl, but she couldn’t imagine it being a cherished memory in her eighties.
“You have to understand,” her grandmother said, “we didn’t have roller coasters or TV or the Internet. Just the sand and the sun and the lake. And the carousel.”
“If it was so important to all of you, then why haven’t you tried to fix it up or get it running before?”
Sarah’s grandmother looked her in the eye. “You’re right. We should have done something about it long before now. But sometimes it takes almost losing something to realize just how much it really means to you.”
“I have to confess,” Sarah said, “I still don’t completely get it.”
“Maybe that’s because listening to our stories isn’t the same as telling one of your own.”
“I don’t have a carousel story.” But as soon as Sarah said it, one came to her, spinning back into her conscious mind as if it were the present, not the past.
She’d been five years old and her kindergarten day was over. She walked outside onto the playground expecting to see her mother. But her father had been there instead, saying, “How about the two of us go get an ice cream?”
She’d been excited, so excited that she ran away from Calvin and Catherine without saying good-bye. She remembered getting a double scoop of rainbow sherbet, but she was so intent on holding her father’s hand that it kept almost falling over in her free hand.
Her father had wanted to sit and eat their ice cream on the carousel. He held her cone while she got on one of the matched pairs of horses, then he climbed onto the other. She’d loved it, just the two of them. The carousel didn’t even run anymore at that point; it hadn’t been running since long before Sarah was born. But it had been fun to sit on it and pretend with her father. So much fun she could hardly believe it.
He’d been smiling, a bigger smile than she’d ever seen before as he’d said, “The brass ring used to be a real part of the carousel ride. You’d reach out and grab it as you went by.” She loved the picture he was painting for her, wishing there was still a brass ring she could reach for right then. “Now it has a different meaning—to always do your best to strive to achieve your goals. Promise you’ll never forget to always reach for the brass ring, Sarah. No matter what the obstacles are, always go for what you want and don’t give up.”
Sarah started in her seat in her grandmother’s cottage. That had always been her father’s mantra for her. “Always reach for the brass ring, Sarah.” But until now, she hadn’t realized that was the first time he’d said it to her.
“Sarah, are you all right?”
She looked up at her grandmother. “How old was I when Daddy won his first election?”
Olive thought about it for a moment. “You must have been around five.”
Sarah worked to keep her expression clear. All these years, she’d thought her father had been so happy because he’d finally been able to spend the day with her. Now she realized—that was the day he had become senator.
He’d chosen her to celebrate with him, but only that once. After that, he’d been busy in Washington, DC, always gone when she needed him.
Was this the reason she hadn’t cared about getting rid of the carousel? Not only because it was falling apart, but also because instead of associating joy with it, there was pain?
The pain of being left behind.