Shelley made what she called a "runningstop" at a stop sign and said, "You must be a lot of fun around the fireside in the evenings.”

Jane stopped working for a moment. "Firesides would be okay. It's the television that gets me in trouble. The kids won't let me in the same room when they're watching. I annoy them to a frenzy."

“Of course you do. Just being their mother is enough for that."

“I can't understand what went wrong with me. The women in my family were usually born knitting. You know those little hats babies wear home from the hospital ... ? My aunts made their own to wile away time in the bassinets. I swear it. Knitting and crocheting are in our genes. Even Katie can whip up a granny square. How could I pass the ability on to my daughter without any sticking to me? My mother can work an elaborate cable stitch in three colors without even looking at the needles and discuss the history of the Reformation at the same time. I must be missing some crucial part of my brain."

“The part that connects with your hands probably. Or maybe the part that wants to discuss the Reformation. We're only a block from Fiona's. I've got all that stuff I have to drop off for the church bazaar. We have time before we have to be at the airport?"

“And have you speed all the way to make up lost time? I'd rather go to a dentist than let myself in for that. No, I'll help you unload it at Fiona's later. Fiona's another one—she could build a whole town with leftover scarps of yarn if she set her mind to it. Of course, she's English, so that helps explain it. Probably cut her teeth on the Bayeux Tapestry."

“Isn't that in France?”

Jane cocked an eyebrow. "If you're going to get literal on me, I won't be your friend anymore."

“If you're not my friend, I won't drive you to the airport to pick up this long lost pal of yours and you'll never finish that afghan—which might be my ultimate contribution to the longterm benefit of mankind. Now, tell me about this friend of yours.”