The Sweetgum Ladies Knit for Love by Beth Pattillo Page A

curve upward into a smile.
    “My mother always told me not to listen at keyholes.” She thought of the old-fashioned doors in the family home and how she had spent a good deal of time as a child with her ear pressed to the openings. That warm remembrance, though, brought with it a dash of icy reality. Soon that home would no longer be hers.
    “Well, you certainly don’t have to worry about acquiring an unwanted admirer,” Annabeth teased. “Mr. Delevan is dead set against you, Maria.”
    “The feeling is mutual.”
    Someone loomed at her elbow, and with a start Maria looked up to see the very man they were discussing.
    “Sorry to interrupt. Would you mind if I joined you?” he asked in his stiffly formal manner.
    “Actually we were just about to go help clean up,” Maria said, leaping to her feet and dragging Annabeth with her. “But feel free to sit here.”
    Annabeth cast her an admonishing look, but Maria refused to acknowledge it. Yes, she was being rude, but James Delevan didn’t deserve to receive any better than he dished out.
    “Of course. I’m sure you’re needed.”
    She thought she saw discomfort in his dark eyes but decided she was imagining things. He would be relieved to have her disappear into the kitchen.
A little old for me.
She wouldn’t want to contaminate him with her ancientness. Which probably wasn’t even a word, but Maria didn’t care. She yanked Annabeth’s arm and headed for the kitchen at breakneck speed.
    Bad enough that the man was helping Evan Baxter take away the farm she’d loved so much. She wouldn’t allow him to take her dignity too.

Esther entered her bedroom that evening and slipped off her shoes. Her feet ached from spending the day in three-inch heels, but she’d had little choice. Church in the morning. A tea for the garden club at Maisie Shifley’s in the afternoon. She’d had to retrieve the dog from the animal hospital, since his wounds were finally healed enough for them to release him. Then the covered dish supper at the church. And when she’d finally arrived home, she’d found that the dog had dug up every one of her azalea beds. Her first instinct had been to find a rolled-up newspaper and discipline the beast, but when she looked at him and saw the bare places where the vet had shaved him so his wounds could be treated, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead, she fed him his dinner and then left him to his own devices in the kitchen after securely latching the baby gate that would keep him in that room for the night.
    She really ought to read for the next Knit Lit Society meeting. Never a fan of Shakespeare, she’d procrastinated since their meeting the week before. Of course, she could just choose not to read
Romeo and Juliet
and be done with it, but she’d made a vow to herself to try to do better this year, at least when it came to the reading assignments. The knitting, well…
    She carefully hung her silk suit on a padded hanger and stowed her pumps in their appropriate cubby. Her nightgown and robe were in the lingerie drawer, neatly folded and waiting for her. Her bedtime routine—removing her makeup, washing her face, and slathering on regenerating cream—took less than ten minutes since she had it down to a science.
    She settled into bed, adjusting the pile of pillows behind her, and reached for the book on her nightstand.
    Romeo and Juliet.
She’d read it in high school and remembered thinking it was awfully dramatic. To Esther, romantic love was not only overrated but something to be avoided. Marriage was—and always had been for her—about forming the right alliance. Building a life together. Working as a team. Not this nonsense about dying of love for someone.
    Esther picked up the book, thumbed past the overview and the introduction, and proceeded straight to act 1, scene 1, where the servants of the Capulets and Montagues were insulting one another. Romeo had just entered when she heard the phone ring.
    Esther looked