Gathered Up. Annabeth Albert

said. She shivered and pulled her lilac shawl closer around her. “You warm enough?”

      “Yes, dear. You’re as bad as Evren with your hovering. Get back to work.” She made a little shooing motion and I went back to the counter, but I kept an eye on her.

      Her shivering got worse, not better, and her hand trembled holding the soup spoon. She brushed the tails of her head scarf off her neck, and there was sweat along her brow line. Her color wasn’t looking so good either—the usual dusky olive skin tone that Evren shared had been replaced with a pale, sickly gray.

      “Mira, are you all right?” I hurried over to her.

      “I’m fine. Perhaps I should be getting back to the shop, though.” She started to rise, then wobbled and sat down fast. “Or maybe not.” She gave me a shaky smile.

      “Let me call Evren for you.”

      “I don’t think that’s…” she trailed off, rubbing her neck.

      “Mira. Give me your phone.” Being bossy didn’t come naturally to me, but I used the voice that always got the twins to comply with my orders.

      “I really don’t want to bother him,” she demurred as she dug out her phone from her knitted bag with trembling fingers. She tried to dial, but her fingers were shaking, so I took the phone.

      “He’s speed-dial number three,” she said in a weak voice.

      I hit the number without hesitation. Any issues I had with Evren were secondary to getting her help.

      “Mira?” Evren’s voice came on the line with the second ring.

      “Evren? This is Brady from the People’s Cup. Mira’s not feeling very well.” I spoke fast so that I could convey that the situation wasn’t dire but still get his attention.

      “Oh, thank you for calling, Brady. I’ll be right there.”

      I sat with Mira, and Evren popped in five minutes later, all out of breath. “Mira! I told you to wait for me to take your lunch break.” He crouched next to her chair.

      “Yes, aşkim. But you turned down People’s Cup and I so wanted their soup.”

      I looked away. I knew exactly why he’d wanted to avoid us, and it made my stomach bubble like the nasty kombucha health-food drink we kept on tap. “Well, I’ll let you take it from here. Let me know if I can help.” I pushed up from the table.

      Evren grabbed my sleeve as I rose. “Thank you for calling me, Brady. Very much.” His voice was more uncertain than I’d heard it, and a faint pink blush stained his cheeks.

      “Any time,” I said and meant it. I should have taken pleasure in his discomfort, but I couldn’t. I shared his concern over Mira and watched as he shepherded her out of the store, letting her lean heavily on his arm.

      * * * *

      About an hour later, as I was finishing up my shift, a customer came to the counter and held out of a bundle of knitted fabric. “I found this under one of the tables,” she said.

      Mira’s shawl. “Thanks. I know whose it is. I’ll see it gets returned.” I’d opened that morning, so it was only a little before two when I got off work. Audrey had the evening shift, so I signed out and headed up the street. I had time before the kids got out of school, and I wanted to check on Mira anyway, see how she was doing.

      Iplik was two blocks down from People’s Cup, past the garden store that sold no plants, the pet store with the bulk organic “cookie” bins that looked tastier than the snacks I had for the kids, and the neighboring gift stores. Whatever awkwardness currently existed between Evren and me was nothing compared to those two competing store owners. Mira had been threatening to make them hug it out, which was something I’d pay good money to see.

      When I entered Iplik, a young woman was working the counter and I couldn’t see either Evren or Mira. My stomach dropped like one of the heavy balls of wool in the plate glass window. Maybe my motives were less pure than I’d thought. I shoved aside my irrational disappointment and surveyed the store because I’d never actually been inside, despite walking by almost daily. Iplik was less industrial than the building that housed the People’s Cup and more like an oversize teal-colored house with little Craftsman details on the exterior and homey print curtains waving on the upstairs windows.

      The store portion was bright and airy, three or four interconnected rooms displaying various fiber types and sample projects. I slowed down my trek to the counter to try to spot which sweaters and scarves might be Evren’s handiwork. A thick one-piece scarf adorned a mannequin. It was a maze of heavy cables and interlocking knots. Attached to it was a copy of a magazine article: “Trendsetting Designer Evren Demir Wows at Knit Expo.” A quick glance showed that Evren was indeed a Big Deal in the world of knitting designers. Yeah, no way would he be sticking around if Mira got well. Or if she…

      Not going there. I quickened my steps and continued toward the front of the store. The young woman brushed her heavy dreadlocks out of her face as she helped a trio of women I recognized from Knit Night. As I waited for her to finish, heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs to the left of the counter. Evren appeared just as the customers departed.

      “Brady! What are you doing here?” He greeted me with surprise and a bit of nervous suspicion, as evidenced by his narrowed eyes and fluttering hands, but not outright hostility, which I took as a good sign.

      “Mira left her shawl behind.” I held it out. “I knew she’d want it back. It’s too pretty to lose.”

      “Ah. You are too kind. Would you like to give it to her? She is resting quietly with her TV, but she is embarrassed about earlier. I think a quick word from you might be just the thing.”

      “Of course.” I followed him up the stairs to a heavy wooden door with a “Private Residence” sign hanging on the front. Evren entered and motioned for me to follow. After a short entry hallway, we came to a living room, where tiny Mira was almost swallowed up by a giant recliner, a knitted afghan draped over her, and one of those tables like they have in hospitals across her with a remote and a big glass of ice water.

      “Hala, Brady has come by with your shawl.” Evren went and knelt down to her.

      “Oh, Brady dear. I’m so sorry. I left in such a rush…left my dishes out.” She sounded very forlorn and I went to stand next to Evren so that she didn’t have to stretch to see me.

      “It’s no problem,” I said. My throat felt thick. “You’re my favorite customer. I’ll bus your dishes any day.”

      “I’m so embarrassed…thought I could handle a little outing.”

      “You’ll get stronger again, Hala,” Evren said firmly. “But next time, maybe I will go with you for the soup.”

      The look he gave me was difficult to decipher. There was apology there for sure, but also something else.

      “Evren, offer Brady a piece of the revani cake you made.” Mira’s voice was thin but insistent.

      “Oh, no, I’m good.” I held up my hands. “I just wanted to return your shawl. I’ll leave you to your rest now.”

      “I insist. Besides…there is something I’ve been wanting you to try.” Evren’s voice was a bit uncertain, and if I wasn’t mistaken, the barest hint of a blush colored his cheeks.

      “Oh?” I was intrigued enough to follow him to a galley-style kitchen.

      “Have you ever had Turkish coffee?” Evren asked as he picked up a curiously shaped silver pot from the stove. “I just made some, but Mira was not in the mood.”

      “I haven’t actually.” I’d tried just about every other coffee variant out there.

      “Come. Sit.” He indicated a small table at one end of the kitchen with two wooden chairs. After fetching two small cups roughly the size of espresso cups, he poured the surprisingly thick brew from