Beauty and the Mustache (Knitting in the City #4)(51)
Author: Penny Reid

“What did you—?”

Just then, the screen door opened and Janie, my dear friend and member of my knitting group, stumbled out of Drew’s house.

Upon seeing us, her face brightened with a ginormous grin and she shouted over her shoulder, “She’s here!”

I stared at her and literally took a step back, quite frankly dumbfounded by the image of Janie standing on Drew’s porch dressed in sensible gray pants, a red long-sleeved fitted knit shirt, and four inch crimson stilettos. Even though she was naturally Amazonian height, she enjoyed walking around on girly stilts.

Jethro’s steps slowed as he caught sight of her, and I heard him say under his breath, “Butter my biscuits, now that’s a woman.”

I ignored him because everyone—male and female—reacted this way when faced with Janie for the first time. Janie was boobs and butt paired with a tiny waist and long legs. But my dear friend was completely oblivious to the effect her physique had on men; rather, she assumed men stared at her dumbfounded because she had a tendency to spout trivial information at random.

I still couldn’t believe my eyes that she was there, in the flesh; a towering, red-haired sight for sore eyes.

She rushed forward and hugged me, her cheek pressed to mine. “We just arrived. This place is amazing! The view is spectacular,” she gushed, and I knew it was only the beginning of a typical Janie observation. She stepped back, releasing me, and gazed around at the autumn color, which was at its peak. “Now that the chlorophyll is receding, the glucose is trapped, thus turning the leaves different colors. The ultraviolet light and diminishing temperatures are, of course, to blame. Kind of like how people become paler in the winter, it’s important to get enough vitamin D.”

She turned to Jethro, whose mouth was agape. “Hi, I’m Janie. You’re Jethro, the oldest. Did you finish your hat? Can I see your yarn?”

***

“I couldn’t find my way back up here if my entire yarn stash were at risk. How many turns did we take? Fifty? One hundred?” Elizabeth said this from her seat by the hearth.

Drew had started a fire because the weather had turned rainy and cold rather abruptly. As well, the temperature at the top of the mountains was always a good five to ten degrees cooler than it was in the valley.

“More like fourteen,” Drew answered, handing both Marie and Elizabeth a glass of wine.

I followed him with my eyes, looking up from my knitting just long enough to watch his easy stride and lissome movements as he crossed to the fireplace and added another log. He was grace in motion, and he’d arranged for my friends to surprise me by coming to Tennessee.

I had no idea they wanted to come for the funeral. During the Skype conversations since Momma’s passing, they hadn’t said a word about it, and I hadn’t asked. They all had their own lives and troubles.

But Drew had stepped in and contacted Sandra. Sandra contacted Janie. Janie asked her husband Quinn for the use of his private plane so that everyone could fly down together.

The men were in the kitchen and spilling out on the back porch, drinking beer and talking about who knows what, while the ladies were in the library knitting.

The house handled an impressive amount of people with ease. All my brothers were present, plus Drew and me. All the knitting group was accounted for, which meant six ladies and Nico. Plus, Fiona, Janie, and Sandra had also brought along their spouses.

Greg—Fiona’s husband—was currently in the kitchen making everyone laugh. He was a petroleum engineer and was gone most of the year for work; I was truly touched that he and Fiona had opted to come down, especially when their time together was so fleeting and precious.

“This place probably doesn’t even show up on aerial photos,” Fiona said thoughtfully. Her chair was next to the wall of windows, and she was gazing into the red, yellow, and orange wilderness. “It would make a great safe house.”

“Everyone is going to know where you live now.” Sandra pointed this out to Drew, and he gave her a smirk over his shoulder. She continued, “I’m going to take pictures and post it on Google Earth. You’ll have people knocking on your door trying to sell you cookies by next week. You can thank me later.”

“I’ll thank you now for not doing that.”

“Come on, Charlie,” Sandra implored, and she narrowed her eyes at him for effect. “Don’t you like cookies?”

“The name is Drew, and I like cookies just fine.”

A burst of laughter from the kitchen invaded our cozy respite, and I noticed Fiona shaking her head as her husband Greg’s voice rose above the others.

“…I didn’t care if it had bullet holes—the car was free. Are you telling me you’d turn down a free car just because it had bullet holes?”

Quinn’s tone was incredulous when he responded, “Please don’t tell me you drive your kids around in that car.”

“Uh, yeah. Of course I do.” Greg responded like Quinn had asked a ridiculous question, “That’s their inheritance, Quinn. I’m leaving my kids that holey car and my collection of antifungal cream when I die. No need to be jealous, but feel free to take notes.”

Kat chuckled as their voices faded; she turned to Fiona and said, “Greg is the funniest guy I’ve ever met. He should talk to Nico about becoming a comedian.”

Fiona snorted. “Um, no. I can’t imagine what would come out of his mouth in front of an audience.”

I saw that Drew cracked a smile, one that he was trying to hide.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “What? Why are you smiling?”

“Because your friend Kat is right, and so is Fiona. No offense, Fiona, but your husband isn’t right in the head. The stuff he says is hilarious, but it might not be ready for prime time.”

Fiona nodded once to Drew. “Exactly. That’s exactly right. Drew is a smart man.”

Drew stood, glancing around at us as he said, “If anyone needs anything, feel free to help yourself. There’s more food in the kitchen…” his gaze swung to Marie, “…and wine.”

“What?” Her eyes widened and she looked from side to side. “Why are you looking at me?”

He didn’t say anything, just gave her a good-natured suspicious glare. Before he left, he held my eyes and gifted me a small smile, then left the room to join the men on the porch. We heard a wave of chatter as the glass door off the kitchen opened then closed with his departure.

And that’s when everyone—but me—stopped knitting and shifted forward in their seats and leveled me with expectant stares.

Sensing their eyes, I sunk lower into the couch and said, “The fire is nice, isn’t it? So cozy….”

“Cut the poo, Ashley. What’s going on with you and the mountain man? When did this happen? How did this happen? Tell us everything. Leave out nothing. We want details! Also, I love that he wears suspenders. He totally pulls it off. I’m now buying Alex suspenders.” Sandra always did have a lovely way of cutting to the chase.

Marie raised her hand. “I second the motion about suspenders.”

“Third,” Elizabeth said.

“So passed,” Sandra announced.

I huffed hair from my forehead and set my knitting down, closing my eyes. “I have no idea. All I know is…he’s been awesome. He’s like…he’s…gah.”

“He’s ‘gah’? Uh oh.” Fiona said this, and I could hear the tempered amusement in her voice.

“No.” I opened just one eye, meeting her gaze. “No, there is no uh oh. There can’t be an uh oh.”

“Why, pray tell, can’t there be an uh oh?” Marie lifted her eyebrows, her eyes narrowed.

“Because he doesn’t…because I don’t….” I opened my other eye and struggled to put into words all the reasons Drew and I had no future; I settled on, “Because we just can’t…we just can’t uh oh.”

“Why not?” Kat pressed. “He clearly cares about you, and you care about him, and your family seems to like him—not that it should make a difference what your family thinks—so why not go for it? I mean, no one is perfect. And if you have feelings for him, you should act on them instead of pushing them aside and waiting too long. If you wait too long it’ll be too late, and he’ll start dating someone else, like a business analyst on the seventeenth floor.” At the end of her little tirade, it was clear that Kat was talking to herself.

We all stared at her, waiting for her to realize that she’d just inadvertently spilled a figurative can of beans.

“Uh…what?” Marie asked.

Kat sighed, finishing her wine with three gulps, her face shading a color to match; she continued in a quiet voice. “I just meant, don’t push him away if you care about him.”

Fiona cleared her throat, drawing our attention to her, and gave a little shake of her head. This meant that we should leave Kat alone and not press the issue.

Sandra, as usual, was the one to pick up the dropped ball. “Well, back to delicious Drew. I can understand why you’re hesitating. He’s a game warden in Tennessee. It’s not like he could get a job in Chicago.”

“He could, just not as a game warden,” Janie volunteered. “He’s got a PhD in biology and wildlife management from Baylor. He could easily get a job in Chicago.”