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Read an excerpt from Knit Two (Continued...)

Peri Gayle, striking with her deep brown eyes, mahogany skin, and meticulous cornrows that fell just past her shoulders, ran the store, of course.

Anita Lowenstein settled into a happy arrangement with her friend Marty, although their decision not to marry came up now and again.

"I'm living my life in reverse," she told the group. "Now that my mother can't do a damn thing about it, I'm rebelling against society's expectations." She'd been joking, of course. Moving in together was a simpler solution, quite frankly, in terms of estate planning and inheritance, and, as the movie stars say, neither she nor Marty needed a piece of paper to demonstrate their commitment.

"We'll just call him my partner," corrected Anita when yet another of her friends tripped over how to describe her relationship. "It seems overreaching to call him my boyfriend at this age."

They had, however, purchased a new apartment together and moved out of the garden apartment in Marty's Upper West Side brownstone, allowing Marty's niece to incorporate that level into her family home. Anita was seventy-eight, though she'd lie about it if anyone ever asked, and certainly appeared younger, with her layered, silvery hair and her well-cared-for hands. Thanks to Anita, Catherine truly appreciated the value of high SPF.

Catherine Anderson's little business flourished north of the city in Cold Spring, though many days she continued to take the train, spending some days in the tidy, expensively furnished cottage she'd recently purchased and others in the San Remo apartment that Anita had shared with her late husband, Stan.

It seemed that five years was about right for all that had happened to settle in, and for the urge to try something different to begin to swell.

"Not much of a surprise if the presents are all out there," exclaimed KC at the entrance to Walker and Daughter as she wheeled in a red wagon filled with stuffed animals perched inside: a monkey, a giraffe, and two fluffy white teddy bears. Peri stopped trying to rewrap Dakota's gift for a moment to wave hello.

"We should try to hide in the back office and then jump out and surprise her!" said KC, waving back even though she was mere steps away. "What do you say?"

She and Peri were from different generations—KC was twenty-three years older than Peri—but they were, as the volume-impaired and talkative KC explained to anyone who cared and often to those who didn't, the very epitome of BFFs.

"We help each other get ahead," KC explained when Dakota asked at one meeting why the two of them spent so much time together when, on the surface, they looked and acted so different from each other. "We gossip, we go to movies, she picks out my clothes, and I give her legal advice for her pocketbook business." Their shared devotion to career—and KC's years of experience—also kept up the connection. As proud as she was with her professional reinvention, KC had ultimately traded one workaholic lifestyle for another. Just as she'd put in long days at the office when she was an editor and followed it up with nights reading manuscripts, now she spent her evenings reading contracts on the sofa in the pre-war rent-stabilized apartment on the West Side that had been her parents' home.

But while Peri kept up with a steady crowd of pals from the design courses she'd taken, KC's relationship with Peri filled a bit of the gap that had been left by Georgia, who had been a young assistant when KC met her. For a woman who would never describe herself as a nurturer, KC made it a practice to look out for others and to mentor them. And she had a deep fondness for Dakota, who seemed exasperated with her latest concept.

"For one thing, no back office anymore," muttered Dakota, inclining her head toward KC and motioning her to take a look behind her. "So it wouldn't work."

"And for two, we have a no-scaring-pregnant-women policy," added Anita, who was two steps behind KC and coming through the doorway. As she did every day, Anita wore an elegant pantsuit, and a selection of tasteful jewelry. The oldest and wealthiest member of the club, Anita was also—everyone would agree—the kindest and most thoughtful. In her arms Anita carried a giant hydrangea plant in blue; Marty carried a second one in pink. She nodded solemnly.

"The renovations are excellent, my dear," she said, though Peri suspected her words were meant mainly to bolster Dakota's uncertainty since Anita had checked on the shop's progress repeatedly.

"I'm here, I'm here," came a voice from the stairwell. It was Catherine, sweeping into the room with a bit of self-created fanfare and an armful of professionally wrapped presents in brightly colored paper and a large canvas bag filled with several bottles.

"Hello, darlings," she said, blowing enough air kisses that everyone in the room got three each.

"Hello, grumpy," Catherine said to Dakota, lightly wrapping an arm around her shoulders as they surveyed the room.

"I was afraid I was late," said Catherine. "Is she here yet?" The store phone rang as Lucie called to say she wasn't able to get away from work and not to wait. Peri looked at her watch and let out a cry of concern. Quickly, KC pulled out a box of cupcakes from the bottom of the red wagon, and Catherine opened a magnum of chilled champagne without a pop.

"When I think of the Friday Night Knitting Club, I always think of plastic glasses," said Catherine to Dakota. "It adds a certain je ne sais quoi." She winked at Dakota, managed to charm a shrug out of her young pal. The two had forged a big sister-little sister bond since Georgia had taken her in years ago and let Catherine bunk on Dakota's floor during her divorce; many times in the ensuing years since Georgia died, Catherine's cynicism and over-the-top drama had been the perfect antidote to Dakota's teenage moodiness. Anita remained Dakota's source for unconditional love; Catherine was good at keeping secrets and seemed willing to become her partner in crime, if only they could think up a scheme.

"To Walker and Daughter," said Catherine, taking one sip and then another. "To the reno, to my favorite kid, and to the club." The rest of the women raised their glasses.

Even though the vague unease about the remodel persisted, Peri could tell it was going to be a happy night. Anybody could see that. The gang was all here, together again; the volume was already deafening as everyone spoke at once, trying to cram a month's worth of news into a few minutes. She began to relax as she saw Dakota flop into one of the new chairs, throw her jeans-clad leg over the arm and bum a sip of champagne off Catherine, the two of them glancing to see if Anita had noticed.

Tonight, the Friday Night Knitting Club would have made Georgia proud. They were holding a special meeting to throw a surprise baby shower for one Darwin Chiu, who was finally, after many long years of trying and hoping, expecting her first children.

Darwin and Dan were having twins.

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