Spinning Forward. Terri DuLong

Does the Humane Society know about this?”

      Who the hell did this woman think she was? Obviously, she didn’t know a thing about spinning fiber, and she was making me feel like an animal abuser.

      “It’s perfectly legal to spin pet fur. It doesn’t injure them at all. Collecting excess fur that would be thrown away doesn’t harm dogs or cats.”

      She made a sound that resembled a snarl. “Well, it doesn’t sound right to me. And I can tell ya right now—if you think a business like that would be successful here, you’ve got another thought comin’.”

      What a nerve. I hadn’t asked for this woman’s opinion and here she was knocking me down before I even started. Damn her. I was sensitive enough right now and didn’t need her adding to my problems.

      Removing her glasses and staring up at me she said, “Well, just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

      She sniffed and replaced her sunglasses, but not before I had the distinct feeling we’d already met.

      Had I not been waiting on her as a customer, I would’ve had some choice words to fling back. But instead, I said, “Guess we’ll see what happens,” and I walked back inside.

      “Oh, yeah, Sybile can be a bitch,” Ali related to me. “But don’t let her get to you. Sometimes I wonder how poor Miss Dora puts up with her. She seems to carry sisterly love to a whole new level.”

      I nodded. “Yeah, why would Dora put up with such behavior?”

      “Have no clue, but…Now, I know you won’t say anything, but somebody mentioned to me that they saw Dora and Sybile at the Medical Center in Gainesville last month.”

      “So you’re saying she’s ill?”

      Ali pursed her lips. “I really don’t know, but I guess that would explain why Dora seems to cater to her. Sybile has always acted like a prima donna. But she’s gotten worse this past year.”

      “Is Dora her only relative? Sybile never had children?”

      Ali paused for a moment before answering. “God, I feel like a guest on The Jerry Springer Show. I don’t enjoy gossip, but I know what I tell you won’t go further. Although, most of the town probably knows this rumor.”

      “What is it?” I asked with curiosity.

      “I’d heard from a number of different people that Sybile did have a child years ago. But nobody knows for certain what happened. If the child died or she gave it up for adoption…or what.”

      The word adoption jumped out at me. “How the heck would anybody know something so personal? You mean it happened here when she was a teenager?”

      “No, I guess she was drinking at the Eagles years ago and got to talking. It seems whatever happened occurred when she lived in New York City.”

      As soon as Ali said the words, I could see by the look on her face she was headed on the same track that I was. “New York City?” I repeated.

      “Yeah,” she replied slowly, nodding her head. She remained quiet for a few moments. “Oh, Syd, don’t let your imagination run away with you. I know what you’re thinking.”

      She was right. Both about what I was thinking and about the thought being ludicrous. It was insane to even consider that Sybile Bowden could be my biological mother. Wasn’t it? The age would be about right though—Dora told me that Sybile was seventy-two. She would have been twenty when she gave birth. And why was Dora so inquisitive about my birth date, where I was born, and that I was adopted? No. Absolutely out of the question, I told myself. Get a grip, Sydney.

      “Yeah, you’re right,” I told Ali. “God, what would the chances be? That I’d end up here in Cedar Key and find my biological mother? That’s the kind of stuff they make movies about. It’s just not possible. Besides, I can’t stand this woman. No way could she be related to me.”

      Ali laughed. “Your chances are probably about a billion to one. So I don’t think you need to be concerned.”

      A group of six women came into Cook’s for lunch and took a middle table inside. I recognized a few from the hair salon. They were friendly, and it made me feel good that they remembered me.

      One woman in particular kept staring. When I stood next to her for her order, she made no effort to switch her gaze from my face. “I’m Raylene Porter,” she said. “I don’t think we’ve met, but you sure do look familiar to me.”

      I recalled Polly saying those exact words on Thanksgiving and gave my standard answer. “No, I don’t think we have, but you’ve probably seen me around town. I’ve lived here a month and I stay with Alison at the B and B. She’s a good friend of mine.”

      “Hmm, no, I don’t think I’ve seen you around. I live in Rosewood, off island, and I don’t get into town that much. Strange. I could swear we’ve met before though. Oh, do you have some relatives in Cedar Key? That’s probably what it is. You resemble somebody that I know.”

      A lump formed in my throat as another hot flash raced up my neck, causing me to break out in a sweat. Running a hand across my forehead, I shook my head. “No. No relatives here at all. Just a coincidence, I guess. What would you like to order?”

      For the first time since encountering Sybile and hearing her story from Alison, I wondered if any of what I was experiencing was merely coincidence.

      8

      Sitting in the garden, sipping a glass of cabernet, I observed the interaction between Ali and Paul. From the moment she’d introduced us, I liked him. Five years older than Ali and about four inches taller, silver streaked his dark hair and provided a nice contrast to his smiling blue eyes. His sense of humor had kept us laughing, and he seemed to be one of those men who were at ease in their own body.

      He sat comfortably relaxed in a lawn chair, one hand resting on Alison’s knee. A natural aura of warmth and caring floated between them. Ali’s persona had changed the moment he’d arrived and embraced her. She appeared different in a subtle way. More relaxed, brighter—youthful.

      “Alison tells me you’re giving some consideration to opening a business,” he said, moving his hand to begin kneading Ali’s forearm.

      I nodded. “I’m doing some research. Since I’ve never owned a shop before, I’m a real novice. But I’ve been to the bank to sort out financial details and…I actually stopped in at Pelican Realty yesterday to find out more about leasing the space I’d like to have.”

      “I didn’t know you’d taken that step,” Ali told me. “That’s great, Syd. And you’re now beginning to get orders from Lu’s friends. That’s a great start to your mail-order business.”

      I laughed. “Yeah, if Lu keeps this up, I’ll have to put her in charge of publicity and advertising.”

      They both stood up. “Are you sure you won’t reconsider and join us for lunch?” Paul questioned.

      “No, but thanks for the invite. I think I’ll hang out here for a few hours and get some spinning done. Then maybe I’ll head downtown and browse around.”

      Later that afternoon, I found myself peering inside the empty retail space once again. I allowed my imagination to take over, and could visualize an antique desk in the corner where I’d conduct purchases. Stepping inside, I saw that the large wall would be perfect for wooden cubbyholes filled with rainbow colors of yarn. And the lighting—Noah had been right about that. It would be ideal for women who wanted to sit and knit. The small brick fireplace provided a focal point where I could place two wing-back chairs on either side. My spinning wheel would add a nice touch, and the wide window seats in the front windows would allow me to display various yarns and accessories.

      I looked around and realized that the remodeling was almost finished. Opening a door off the main room, I discovered a medium-sized