Gran beamed. “Wonderful! Pick out some yarn from my stash in the closet, and I’ll grab you some needles when I see what you pick out.”
As she rummaged through Gran’s impressive collection of yarn, the chatter of arriving women filled the air. She selected a soft, variegated blue yarn that reminded her of the ocean and joined the group in the sunroom.
Familiar faces, along with some newcomers, greeted her warmly as she walked in with her yarn. Mrs. Thompson was still in the group and gave her big hug. “My first grandchild was just born. I’m busy knitting sweaters and booties for her.”
“Congratulations.” She hugged her back. “You must be thrilled.”
“Oh, I am. Nothing better than being a grandmother.”
Sally Ann was knitting a pair of socks and held them up. “Always a new pair of socks.”
Gran introduced a woman she didn’t recognize. “Felicity, this is Amanda. She’s new to the island and we convinced her to join us. She helped organize the Heritage Festival a while back. Amanda, this is my granddaughter, Felicity.”
Amanda smiled. “Nice to meet you. They did convince me to join them, but I’m afraid I’m still really a beginner.”
“Oh, good. Then I’ll have some company in the beginner section.” She grinned as she showed the yarn she’d picked out to Gran.
Gran dug around in her knitting bag and handed her a pair of wooden needles. “Here you go, dear. Why don’t you start with something simple? A scarf, perhaps?” She dug into her bag again and pulled out a worn sheet of paper. “That yarn will work perfectly with this pattern. It’s a small triangular scarf.”
She nodded and glanced at the instructions as she took the pattern. She could do this. Maybe.
Her fingers fumbled slightly as she cast on stitches. It had been so long, but muscle memory slowly kicked in. As she began to knit, the rhythmic motion soothed her, and she found herself relaxing into the familiar routine. The smooth yarn slipped between her fingers as she tried to tension it like Gran had taught her.
The women around her chatted easily about local gossip, upcoming events, and their current knitting projects. She listened, occasionally contributing to the conversation, but mostly enjoying the feeling of community that filled the room.
“How are you enjoying your time back on Magnolia Key, Felicity?” Mrs. Thompson asked, breaking into her concentration on her stitches.
“It’s been wonderful. I’d forgotten how much I love it here.”
“And we hear you’ve been spending time with that handsome historian staying here at the B&B,” another woman chimed in, her eyes twinkling.
Her cheeks grew warm. “We’ve been researching some local history together,” she said, trying to keep her voice neutral.
“I see.” The woman exchanged knowing glances with the others.
“What kind of research?” Amanda asked as she looked up from her work.
She paused her knitting, careful not to drop a stitch as she looked up at Amanda. “We’ve been researching a prince who stayed right here in Gran’s house during the 1920s,” she explained. “Prince Lawrence of Bardonzia. He visited the island several times during that decade.”
Amanda leaned forward, obviously intrigued. “A prince? Here on Magnolia Key? That must have caused quite a stir.”
She nodded, her fingers absently tracing the stitches on her scarf. “I’m sure it did. We found an old guest book with his name in it, and there are a few other clues scattered around town. It’s been fascinating piecing it all together.”
“Have you learned much about why he came here?” Mrs. Thompson asked, her knitting needles clicking steadily.
She was jealous that Mrs. Thompson could actually knit and talk at the same time. “Not as much as we’d like. We know he attended a grand party at this very house when it was the Magnolia Landing Boardinghouse. But the details are still a bit fuzzy.”
She hesitated for a moment, then continued. “We actually asked Miss Eleanor about Prince Lawrence, thinking she might know something given her family’s long history on the island. But she said she knew nothing about it.”
She frowned slightly, remembering Miss Eleanor’s odd reaction. “To be honest, I got the feeling she was hiding something. She became quite evasive and left rather abruptly when we brought up the prince’s name.”
A few of the women exchanged glances, and Gran gave her a pointed look. “Eleanor likes to keep things to herself, and we should respect her privacy.”
Felicity felt a flicker of guilt. She hadn’t meant to gossip about Miss Eleanor. “You’re right, Gran. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“It’s all right, dear. I know you’re just excited about your research. Eleanor must have her reasons for keeping whatever she knows to herself, and it’s not our place to pry.” It still surprised her to hear Gran call Miss Eleanor justEleanor. She was fairly certain Gran was the only person in town who called her that.
The other women nodded in agreement, and she noticed a few of them seemed to relax a bit. She wondered if they knew more about Miss Eleanor’s past than they were letting on.
