Spinning Forward. Terri DuLong
My mind had gone blank. Whose name? “Our name,” I told him, clutching the phone to my ear. “What difference does it make?”
“A big difference, I’m afraid. And Stephen’s name is on there.”
“Yeah, so? Okay. His name is on there,” I’d told Calvin with impatience.
“You’re not following me, Syd. Only Stephen’s name. Your name isn’t on the deed. Did he purchase your home in his name only?”
“What the hell difference does that make? I’m his widow and beneficiary. Why would I be evicted?”
Calvin’s insistent voice repeated, “Did Stephen purchase the house in his name only?”
“Yes,” I had whispered.
I ran a hand through my hair and looked at Ali. “I should have gotten that deed changed years ago. It was the week before Thanksgiving and I was due to deliver Monica any minute. We got an early blizzard that year in Boston and Stephen assured me I didn’t need to attend the closing. I guess I always felt we were married and the house was half mine anyway, even though my name wasn’t on the deed. Over the years there never seemed a reason to change things. Now it’s come back to bite me.”
Ali sipped her coffee and remained silent.
“I still find it hard to believe that Stephen mortgaged our house to pay off some large gambling debts. And then, making it worse, he defaulted on the loan and was three months in arrears.”
“Syd, sometimes you never know the person you’re living with. Really know them. I’m sure Stephen’s stress level was off the charts. Knowing that the bank was about to take possession of your home for non-payment.”
Anger flared up again inside of me. “And now they’ll sell the house for close to a million and I’m left a bag lady. Literally.”
Ali smiled. “I’ll never let you be a bag lady. You don’t need to worry about that. But speaking of bags, where’s that spinning wheel and knitting bag you brought down here with you?”
“Up in my room,” I replied with no enthusiasm.
“Maybe that should be your plan for today. Sit out here, enjoy the great weather, and do some knitting. That always relaxes you and allows you to think clearly. Try to focus on what you might like to do. Fifty-something is the new thirty—you have the rest of your life ahead of you.”
As always, Ali was right. Feeling sorry for myself was getting me nowhere. Maybe I needed to regroup and figure out where I might be going.
2
Sitting in the garden with the late-afternoon sun creating lacy patterns on the grass, I watched Lilly romp and play with Winston. She sure seemed to have settled in quite well. My eye caught the flashy pink bougainvillea draped along the fence and gate. Circular flower beds held purple lantana with butterflies hovering above the blossoms. It was easy to see why Ali had been drawn to this place. I was captivated with the dramatic green of the old cypress tree. The circumference was at least ten or eleven feet, with thick, knotted roots emerging from the ground. My life was in limbo, but sitting beneath the majestic tree provided me a certain amount of tranquility.
I leaned forward toward my spinning wheel and heard a woman’s voice.
“My goodness, I haven’t seen one of those since my grandmother’s attic.”
I recognized her as the guest in room four. “Yeah, it does have an authentic look. That’s what attracted me to it. The brochure said it has the look of wheels from the Baltic area of Poland and Scandinavia. In fact, a well-known spinning-wheel historian said that the manner in which the wheel was built is as close to being historically correct as he’d seen.”
“Oh, it’s absolutely lovely.” The woman reached to touch the walnut finish. “And what on earth are you spinning? Is that dog fur?”
I laughed and nodded. “Yeah, this happens to be Winston’s fur.”
“What a clever idea. So you spin the fur into yarn?”
“Sure. Just like alpaca or any other kind of fiber. Then you knit with it.”
Excitement spread across the woman’s face. “Oh, my goodness. If I mailed you some fur from my Bailey—he’s my Old English sheepdog—would you be willing to spin it for me?”
When I hesitated, she added, “I’ll pay you for your services, of course.”
Pay me for my services? To spin dog fur? “Well, uh…I’ve never really done this for other people. I mean…”
“I’d need enough to knit myself a sweater. I’d be the hit of my knitting club, I can tell you that. How’s two hundred dollars? Would that be adequate?”
I was flabbergasted that somebody would offer me money to do something I enjoyed.
“I’ll add another hundred,” she said. “I know it’s presumptuous of me to even ask you. But I adore my Bailey and he’s getting on in years. To think I could have a part of him with me forever. I’d be so indebted to you. By the way, I’m Lucille—Lucille Graystone, but you can call me Lu.”
I had no idea if the price was too high or maybe not enough. It did involve a certain amount of work to prepare the fur for spinning. After being properly cleaned, it then had to be carded. Not to mention the labor of spinning it. I knew how I felt about Lilly and couldn’t think of the day she’d no longer be with me so it was easy to understand how Lu wanted a keepsake of Bailey. Besides, I was desperate to earn some money.
“Alright,” I told her. “I’ll do it for you, but I have to explain what you need to do before mailing it to me. Plus, you’ll require quite a bit of fur for a sweater unless you want to combine the fur with another yarn.”
Lu threw her head back laughing. “Bailey sheds so much, quantity won’t be a problem.”
“Well, hey girlfriend, you could be on to something here,” Ali said later that evening. “You might want to think about opening your own business. Spinning pet fur for devoted owners.”
We were sitting on the porch after supper enjoying a glass of sweet tea.
“I don’t think so. I haven’t a clue about running a business.”
“Neither did I when I bought this place.”
I shook my head. “No, I’ll do this favor for Lu, but I wouldn’t know where to begin starting a company. I do need to begin thinking about a job though. Any ideas?”
Alison sighed. “Hmm, not really. Unless you’re a merchant, most of the jobs on the island are cleaning, waitress positions, or clerks. Minimum pay.”
“Oh, God. I haven’t been a waitress since my college days.” The emptiness I’d been feeling since Stephen’s death overwhelmed me as moisture filled my eyes. “What the hell am I going to do, Ali? It’s not like I’m sixteen again and can run home to my parents. They’re both gone now anyway. Monica has been extra cool toward me since she found out about the foreclosure on the house. Not that I’d ask her for help anyway.”
Ali remained silent, sipping her tea thoughtfully. After a few minutes she said, “I hate to be so brutally honest, Syd, but I guess the time has come for you to figure out what you want to be when you grow up.”
I flashed her a nasty look. With raised eyebrows, I said, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ve always been somebody’s daughter, wife, mother. You know yourself you relied on Stephen way too much and as a result you lost your own identity over the years. Haven’t you ever wondered about the real you? Who you are inside? Not that person created by other people.” She paused for a second. “Have you ever thought about searching for your biological parents?”
I sat up straighter in the chair and took