“Which I nearly did,” I add in. Reece laughs and it breaks some of the tension.
“Anyway, it’s nice to meet you, Holden. Come and meet Levi.” I follow Mac over to where a young man is talking to Marina. He’s striking, in a feral way, blond and tattooed, all prickly looking.
“Pleased to meet you,” he says and gives a wide smile, which diffuses the spikiness and enhances his beauty.
“And you,” I reply. “Reece says you’re in catering college.”
“Yes, I just passed the first unit with honors. I’m planning to go into hospitality management when I finish.”
There’s a knock on the door and Marina goes to answer it, and she returns with two more people. She introduces them to me as Nolan and Uli.
“Hi, nice to finally meet you,” Nolan says, offering his hand. “So you’re the reason Reece stood us up on Friday night.”
My cheeks burn and once again I’m grateful that my beard covers most of them. Reece comes over and puts his arm around my shoulders.
“Can you blame me for taking the better offer?” he says, and Nolan chuckles. I’m saved from any more embarrassment by Marina calling out that dinner’s ready. She directs Mac into making sure everyone has a drink, and allows all of us to help carry a dish through to the dining room.
I’m seated between Reece and Uli, who I discover is a florist with his own store in the next village. After having listened to my dad talk about flowers for years, I’m pleased I was able to hold an intelligent conversation with him. I like him a lot and plan to ask Reece if we can visit his store while I’m here.
After dinner, Nolan and Uli have to leave, but the rest of us settle in the lounge, Levi making teas and coffees for us all. He looks at home here, but I understand from Marina that he lodged with her for several months before he got together with Mac and moved in with him.
Finally I get to ask Marina about a lampshade that’s been intriguing me. It has a brightly colored cable-pattern texture with yarn fringing.
“Did you make it?” I ask, and she tells me which yarn she used and how she should still have the pattern if I want it.
“It looks perfect in your cottage, but it won’t quite suit my house. But I think I could modify it into something that would.”
“Oh, that sounds like fun,” she replies. “You know, if you aren’t doing anything on Tuesday, I’m in town and I’d love to show you Ami’s store.”
“Yeah, sure, I’d like that.” I know Reece has to work, so I’ll probably be searching the internet for new stores to check out when I get back, but a trip to the famous yarn store would be lovely.
“And my knitting group ladies would love you,” she carries on. I glance over at Reece and see he’s suppressing a giggle as Marina tries to fill up my social calendar.
A good yarn store feels like home. Not one of those modern chain stores for craft supplies where yarn is just a small part of their range, but a traditional store, with a full rainbow of yarns in all different types. There’s a certain smell a yarn store like that has, and I inhale deeply when I walk into Ami’s Yarn Barn.
Marina introduces us, and I remember that Ami’s from the US.
“Where do you come from originally?” I ask.
“Iowa, but I’ve been here forty years.”
“Do you ever miss it?”
“Sure, sometimes,” she says. “But this is home now, it’s where my friends and my life are.”
I wander around the store. I see a lot of familiar US brands, and some I don’t recognize, which I ask about.
“Yes, most of them are UK suppliers, but I have Scandinavian and also some from New Zealand.” She indicates a display stand of yarn.
“Oh, that’s cool.” I pick up the yarn, feeling the quality of it. “Would you be able to give me the details of your supplier? I’d love to stock these in my store.”
She asks for my email to send the details over, and then asks me about my store.
“It’s not as big as this; it’s in a small town. Gomillion in South Carolina. But it has a good reputation, and people come from all over the state and beyond. I’m planning to open a second store, a larger one in the city.”
“That’s a grand plan. Good luck.”
After we leave the store, Marina buys me lunch and takes me to the Ashmolean museum. As we walk through the city, she points out some of the colleges that make up the university. I don’t know what it is about being around hundreds of years of history, but I’m beginning to like Oxford. When I say as much to Marina she gives me a knowing smile as if she knew I would.
