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turns into a family heirloom and a treasured memento.”
    I recalled some of the things passed on to me by my mother—hand-knitted Christmas ornaments that I could never part with. “You might be on to something. But how would I begin?”
    â€œThe same way your mother did. Develop a Web site, come up with a name for your stockings—something unique and appealing. Do lots of Internet advertising—Facebook is great for that. Send out flyers with some photos of finished ones. And like anything else, it’s word of mouth. Other moms and grandmothers will see them and want one for their kids.”
    My mind was racing with thoughts, and I felt Grace’s idea had a lot of potential.
    â€œYou’re very talented with designing patterns, Monica. You could use the ones you designed last year on the scarves you made—just incorporate the pelicans and dolphins onto stockings. They even had red bows around their necks, remember? Design the child’s name across the top and I think you have yourself a very popular and unique gift item.”
    I visualized my brightly colored knitted stockings hanging on display around the shop catching the attention of tourists. Maybe this was exactly what I needed to replace the spinning of dog and cat fur. Something that was all mine—a creative marketing idea that would keep the business successful. Extra income to offset the slow periods.
    All of a sudden the enormity of the project hit me. “What if it really took off and I was swamped with orders? I can only knit so fast.”
    A look of disappointment crossed Grace’s face. “I think you have a point. How many stockings could you realistically make in a week?”
    I shrugged while pondering the question. “I suppose that depends on how large I make them. The longer they are, the more…” I turned around as the wind chimes tinkled and Dora walked into the shop.
    â€œHope I’m not interrupting. I finished the sweater for Marin and need to get more yarn for my next project.”
    â€œYou knit faster than anybody I know,” I told her, and as soon as I said it a thought occurred to me. “Grace and I have been sitting here brainstorming for an idea to replace my mother’s spinning service. I’m definitely going to offer the classes like you suggested, but I need something else.”
    I went on to explain about the possibility of personalized knitted stockings.
    â€œOh, I think that’s a grand idea! Knitting has come full circle and made a tremendous comeback. There was a time you never saw a woman without her yarn and needles, but unfortunately over the years only us diehards kept knitting. But it’s enjoying a resurgence, and even women who don’t have the time to knit themselves love the new fibers and items that can be handmade. Why, look at all the patterns available for scarves and shawls, and those felted handbags are very popular. I think offering a service of knitting personalized Christmas stockings could be every bit as successful as your mother’s spinning was.”
    â€œAunt Dora,” I said, jumping up to pull her into a bear hug, “I do believe you and I need to have a talk.”
    I got Dora a cup of coffee and settled her on the sofa beside me before explaining my idea.
    â€œHow would you feel about entering a new business venture with me?”
    â€œMe?” Surprise and pleasure crossed her face.
    I nodded. “Now, you have to promise to be honest with me. If you don’t want to do this for whatever reason, I’ll certainly understand. But I’m thinking these stockings are something we could do together. If I get this up and running and it actually takes off, I’m going to need help knitting the orders that come in.” I paused to allow her a few moments to consider what I’d told her.
    â€œI wouldn’t be able to pay you a lot at first,” I explained. “But depending on