Page 8 of It Started With a Scarf

He smiled at her and nodded. "Okay, so the fact that he's a scientist… is it related to him knowing Mariam Waterson?"

"Yes, archeology was a hobby of hers."

"Are you talking about the same lady who was in A Crowded Room?"

"Yes. No one ever mentions that one, and that was a good one," she said, smiling at him. "I watched all of her movies in college."

"So, she made the scarf, and you got it through your grandfather, the scientist," he said, trying to get the story straight."

"Yeah, she gave it to my grandma, but they knew her through my Pa Frank. Mariam was a cool lady—she is still, I guess. I'm not sure how old she is now. I've seen photos of her knitting. Not this scarf… I've never come across one of her with it, but that would be cool. I have found a few on the internet of her knitting striped stuff, though."

"Can I see it? Do you mind if I look at it?" he asked.

"Oh, the scarf, sure." She turned and took the knitted strip of fabric off of the back of her chair. She was wearing a black shirt with a tan jacket, and the brightness of the scarf stood out against both. The stripes were about two inches each, and there were what seemed like a thousand of them. Dominic couldn't help but smile at the sight of the long tube of fabric that was stretched across the table.

"It's sort of the whole reason I'm here."

He glanced at her. "Here, at this restaurant?"

"No, here in Chicago."

"Are you not from here?" he asked.

Another smile. She was gorgeous.

"No, I'm not," she said as she stashed the scarf behind her again. "I’m from Texas. I moved here… not even a year ago."

"And what's the scarf got to do with it?"

"My grandmother gave me the scarf when I was a little kid. But then, she and my mom had this gigantic fight, and I wasn't able to be close to my grandma for years after that. Anyway, I went like half of my life barely seeing my grandmother and thinking she was the coolest person. All I had of her was this scarf, and I couldn't wear it because it would make my mom mad." She smiled, trying to make it light. "We talk now. Once I went off to college and started making my own decisions, everything was fine, and I'm close to my Nessa now. And she and my mom have worked on their relationship, too. It's all good. I'm just telling you to explain that, for years, I had the scarf in the back of a drawer, and I felt like I couldn't wear and enjoy it. I've had this idea of moving somewhere cold for years. And, in the back of my mind, I’m sure it's so I can wear the scarf."

He stared at her, feeling so intrigued. "So, here you are… you moved up here to Chicago from Texas so that you could wear your scarf."

She squinted at him. "When you say it like that…" she said in a funny tone, messing with him and causing him to laugh. "No, that same grandma has a friend who lives here. She has a house, and I rent a room from her. It's a good situation. She lets me use her car when I need to."

"You don't have a car?"

"No, but the bus system's good here."

"You take the bus?"

"It's easy. Chicago's set up where it's fast to get around on a bus. I Uber if I have to. It's no big deal not having a car here, though. I only live two-and-a-half miles from work, and the bus ride is easy. I can afford to get another car sometime, but I don't want to right now. Like I said, Joan lets me borrow her car if I really need to go somewhere."

"Is that your grandma's friend?"

"Yeah, Joan. She's great."

"Where did you move here from?"

"Texas."

"I know, but what part? Austin?"

"Not far from Austin—small town—Chandler." She looked over her shoulder, peering around the restaurant.

"Do you see your guy?"

"No, do you see yours?" she asked.

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