“I’m having the toughest time thinking of something to crochet.”
The owner hovered close to brainstorm. She hummed, thinking. “A scarf? Although that’s quite basic and I’m sure you already have plenty in your closet.”
Sarah shrugged. She supposed she could work on a scarf, but nothing about that felt exciting to her. And Ruth was right; she had a whole drawer full.
“What about something to go with your new job? Maybe a book sleeve?”
Sarah sat a little straighter. “Oh, I like that idea. I don’t have one of those.”
“Let me see if I can find a pattern. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
Jill Hart leaned toward her daughter. “I’ve never heard of a book sleeve.”
“I’ve seen them on Pinterest,” Sarah said. “It’s like a little crocheted envelope for your book. They’re super cute.”
“I wonder if that’s something you could incorporate into your writer’s retreat,” Jill suggested. “Maybe an activity for the authors coming up to Snowdrift.”
It was a great idea, actually, one Sarah wished she’d have come up with on her own. She’d been trying to brainstorm fun activities for the writers attending the retreat, hoping to create a truly unique experience for them. While the main reason for visiting Snowdrift Summit was to have a quiet and secluded location to pen their novels, she figured they would also want a break from the keyboard every once in a while.
“You should talk to Ruth and see if it’s something she might be able to coordinate.”
Just then, Faith, who had been across the way, came over to the mother-daughter duo, settling into an empty chairnearby. “I couldn’t help overhearing,” she started in, then quickly corrected herself. “Okay, I’ll be honest. I was actually eavesdropping.” She gave a sheepish grin. “But did you say you’re organizing a writer’s retreat?”
“I am, in partnership with our community library. So far, I’ve got eight authors signed up, with four more that just need to confirm.”
“No way. That’s so fun. What types of activities are you hoping to do while they’re here? Because if you think they might be interested, I’d be happy to help out however I can. Maybe a cookie decorating class?” she offered. “They could design and decorate cookies to match their book covers, and then give those cookies out to the people that come to the library to attend readings or signings.” Faith’s enthusiasm grew with each suggestion she rattled off. “Just spit balling here.”
“No, I actually love that. It’s perfect.” It really was, and Sarah truly appreciated Faith’s creative input.
After visiting Trinity at the floral shop the day before, Sarah had had the thought that the writers could arrange their own bouquets to keep near their individual book displays at the library. And now with the book sleeve and cookie decorating possibilities, the agenda for the retreat was finally beginning to take shape.
“We can chat more about it later, but just know that I’m in.” Faith smiled before returning to her seat and her project.
“You’ve got some good ideas to work with,” Jill said, moving her hands and her needles rhythmically as she spoke. “And eager helpers, too. That’s half the battle.”
It was a blessing to have friends and community members on board with her vision for the retreat. If this first one was successful and could generate not only more interest in their small library, but also a bit of revenue for it, she hoped it could evolve into an annual occurrence.
Thirty minutes later, Sarah had a good start on the book sleeve and Jill Hart was nearly half done with her left-handed mitten to match the right one. Sarah almost didn’t hear her phone buzzing within her tote bag, but on the third ring, it finally snagged her attention.
“It’s dad,” Sarah said to her mother as she fished out the cellphone and read the screen. Instantly, her heart jumped into a faster tempo. She clicked to answer. “Hey, Dad. Everything okay?”
“Hey, Libby. Sorry to interrupt your time with Mom, but I think our little Laney Bug might have come down with something. Woke up crying from her nap just now, and she’s burning up.”
“Oh no.”
Jill’s eyes flickered over to her daughter. “What’s wrong?” she mouthed.
Sarah held up a hand. “We’ll head out right now.” She could hear her sweet baby girl crying in the background, and based on the cadence in her father’s voice, could tell he was attempting to calm and comfort her by bouncing up and down.
“You don’t have to come back, sweetheart,” Zeke protested. “We’re okay.”
But she did. Even if her father was willing to care for a sick toddler, there was no part of Sarah that would be able to focus on anything other than the worry that coiled in her stomach in knowing that her daughter was ill. She would never be able to relax, let alone enjoy herself.
“We’re already packing up,” she said. “We’ll be home in less than ten.”
“Be careful on the streets. It started snowing again just a bit ago, so tell your mother to take the turn up by the cabin slow. It gets a little dicey around that corner by the Henderson’s place.”
“I’ll tell her.” The lump in Sarah’s throat made the backs of her eyes scratch with bottled up emotion. “Give my Laney a big squeeze for me and tell her Mama’s on the way.”
