CHAPTER 1 “The yarn forms the stitches, the knitting forges the friendships, the craft links the generations.” —Karen Alfke, “Unpattern” designer and knitting instructor LYDIA HOFFMAN T he first time I saw the empty store on Blossom Street I thought of my father. It reminded me so much of the bicycle shop he had when I was a kid. Even the large display windows, shaded by a colorful striped awning, were the same. Outside my dad’s shop, there were flower boxes full of red blossoms—impatiens—that spilled over beneath the large windows. That was Mom’s contribution: impatiens in the spring and summer, chrysanthemums in the fall and shiny green mistletoe at Christmas. I plan to have flowers, too. Dad’s business grew steadily and he moved into increasingly larger premises, but I always loved his first store best. I must have astounded the rental agent who was showing me the property. She’d barely unlocked the front door when I announced, “I’ll take it.” She turned to face me, her expression blank as if she wasn’t sure she’d heard me correctly. “Wouldn’t you like to see the place? You do realize there’s a small apartment above the shop that comes with it, don’t you?” “Yes, you mentioned that earlier.” The apartment worked perfectly for me. My cat, Whiskers, and I were in need of a home. “You