ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Special thanks to Jessica Wade, who made this book possible; Jacqueline Sach, formerly of BookEnds, LLC; and legal experts Glenn J. Null, Esq., John A. Cochran, Esq., and Rebecca Eller.
As always, thank you Tim, Lianna, and Nicholas for your unwavering devotion and support.
Chapter One
Just after crossing over... under... through... the covered bridge, I could see it. Barely. I could make out the top of it, and that was enough at the moment to make me set aside the troubling grammatical conundrum of whether one passes over, under, or through a covered bridge.
There it is, I told Angus, an Irish wolfhound who was riding shotgun. Theres our sign!
He woofed, which could mean anything from I gotta pee to Yay! I went with Yay!
Me, too! Im so excited.
I was closer to the store now and could really see the sign. I pointed. See, Angus? My voice was barely above a whisper. Our sign.
THE SEVEN-YEAR STITCH.
I had named the shop the Seven-Year Stitch for three reasons. One, its an embroidery specialty shop. Two, Im a huge fan of classic movies. And three, it actually took me seven years to turn my dream of owning an embroidery shop into a reality.
Once upon a time, in a funky-cool land called San Francisco, I was an accountant. Not a funky-cool job, believe me, especially for a funky-cool girl like me, Marcy Singer. I had a corner cubicle near a window. Youd think the window would be a good thing, but it looked out upon a vacant building that grew more dilapidated by the day. Maybe by the hour. It was majorly depressing. One year, a coworker gave me a cactus for my birthday. I set it in that window, and it died. I told you it was depressing.
Still, my job wasnt that bad. I cant say I truly enjoyed it, but I am good with numbers and the work was tolerable. Then I got the call from Sadie. Not a call, mind you; the call.
Hey, Marce. Are you sitting down? Sadie had said.
Sadie, Im always sitting down. I keep a stationary bike frame and pedal it under my desk so my leg muscles wont atrophy.
Good. The hardware store next to me just went out of business.
And this is good because you hate the hardware guy?
Shed given me an exasperated huff. No, silly. Its good because the space is for lease. Ive already called the landlord, and hes giving you the opportunity to snatch it up before anyone else does.
Sadie is an entrepreneur. She and her husband, Blake, own MacKenzies Mochas, a charming coffee shop on the Oregon coast. She thinks everyoneor, at least, Marcy Singershould also own a charming shop on the Oregon coast.
Wait, wait, wait, Id said. You expect me to come up there to Quaint City, Oregon
Tallulah Falls, thank you very much.
and set up shop? Just like that?
Yes! Its not like youre happy there or like youre on some big five-year career plan.
Thanks for reminding me.
And youve not had a boyfriend or even a date for more than a year now. I could still strangle David when I think of how he broke your heart.
Once again, thank you for the painful reminder.
So whats keeping you there? This is your chance to open up the embroidery shop you used to talk about all the time in college.
But what do I know about actually running a business?
Sadie had huffed. You cant tell me youve been keeping companies books all these years without having picked up some pointers about how toand how not torun a business.
Youve got a point there. But what about Angus?
Marce, he will love it here! He can come to work with you every day, run up and down the beach.... Isnt that better than the situation he has now?
I swallowed a lump of guilt the size of my fist.
Youre right, Sadie, Id admitted. A change will do us both good.
That had been three months ago. Now I was a resident of Tallulah Falls, Oregon, and today was the grand opening of the Seven-Year Stitch.
A cool, salty breeze off the ocean ruffled my hair as I hopped out of the bright red Jeep Id bought to traipse up and down the coast.
Angus followed me out of the Jeep and trotted beside me up the river-rock steps to the walk that connected all the shops on this side of the street. The shops on the other side of the street were set up in a similar manner, with river-rock steps leading up to walks containing bits of shells and colorful rocks for aesthetic appeal. A narrow, two-lane road divided the shops, and black wrought-iron lampposts and benches added to the inviting community feel. A large clock tower sat in the middle of the town square, pulling everything together and somehow reminding us all of the precious-ness of time. Tallulah Falls billed itself as the friendliest town on the Oregon coast, and so far, I had no reason to doubt that claim.
I unlocked the door and flipped the CLOSED sign to OPEN before turning to survey the shop. It was as if I were seeing it for the first time. And, in a way, I was. Id been here until nearly midnight last night, putting the finishing touches on everything. This was my first look at the finished project. Like all my finished projects, I tried to view it objectively. But, like all my finished projects, I looked upon this one as a cherished child.
The floor was black-and-white tile, laid out like a gleaming chessboard. All my wood accents were maple. On the floor to my left, I had maple bins holding cross-stitch threads and yarns. When a customer first came in the door, she would see the cross-stitch threads. They started in white and went through shades of ecru, pink, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, gray, and black. The yarns were organized the same way on the opposite side. Perle flosses, embroidery hoops, needles, and cross-stitch kits hung on maple-trimmed corkboard over the bins. On the other side of the corkboardthe side with the yarnthere were knitting needles, crochet hooks, tapestry needles, and needlepoint kits.
The walls were covered by shelves where I displayed pattern books, dolls with dresses Id designed and embroidered, and framed samplers. I had some dolls for those who liked to sew and embroider outfits (like me), as well as for those who enjoy knitting and crocheting doll clothes.
Standing near the cash register was my life-size mannequin, who bore a striking resemblance to Marilyn Monroe, especially since I put a short, curly blond wig on her and did her makeup. I even gave her a mole... er, beauty mark. I called her Jill. I was going to name her after Marilyns character in The Seven Year Itch, but she didnt have a name. Can you believe thata main character with no name? She was simply billed as The Girl.
To the right of the door was the sitting area. As much as I loved to play with the amazing materials displayed all over the store, the sitting area was my favorite place in the shop. Two navy overstuffed sofas faced each other across an oval maple coffee table. The table sat on a navy, red, and white braided rug. There were red club chairs with matching ottomans near either end of the coffee table, and candlewick pillows with lace borders scattered over both the sofas. I made those, toothe pillows, not the sofas.
