The Wishing Thread: A Novel

The Wishing Thread: A Novel

by Lisa Van Allen


$14.40 $16.00 Save 10% Current price is $14.4, Original price is $16. You Save 10%.
View All Available Formats & Editions
Eligible for FREE SHIPPING
  • Want it by Thursday, September 27?   Order by 12:00 PM Eastern and choose Expedited Shipping at checkout.
    Same Day shipping in Manhattan. 
    See Details


The Wishing Thread: A Novel by Lisa Van Allen


“Reader to reader, knitter to knitter: You’re going to love this book.”—Debbie Macomber

For fans of Jennifer Chiaverini and Sarah Addison Allen, The Wishing Thread is an enchanting novel about the bonds between sisters, the indelible pull of the past, and the transformational power of love.
The Van Ripper women have been the talk of Tarrytown, New York, for centuries. Some say they’re angels; some say they’re crooks. In their tumbledown “Stitchery,” not far from the stomping grounds of the legendary Headless Horseman, the Van Ripper sisters—Aubrey, Bitty, and Meggie—are said to knit people’s most ardent wishes into beautiful scarves and mittens, granting them health, success, or even a blossoming romance. But for the magic to work, sacrifices must be made—and no one knows that better than the Van Rippers.
When the Stitchery matriarch, Mariah, dies, she leaves the yarn shop to her three nieces. Aubrey, shy and reliable, has dedicated her life to weaving spells for the community, though her sisters have long stayed away. Bitty, pragmatic and persistent, has always been skeptical of magic and wants her children to have a normal, nonmagical life. Meggie, restless and free-spirited, follows her own set of rules. Now, after Mariah’s death forces a reunion, the sisters must reassess the state of their lives even as they decide the fate of the Stitchery. But their relationships with one another—and their beliefs in magic—are put to the test. Will the threads hold?

Praise for The Wishing Thread
“With deft needlework, a dash of folklore, and some good old-fashioned family angst, Lisa Van Allen knits together the threads of second chances, the pleasure of giving, the complications of sisterhood, and love. There’s a bit of magic in The Wishing Thread, in the words and the story as well as in the yarn.”—Meg Waite Clayton, author of The Wednesday Sisters
“Rich in myth and mystery, The Wishing Thread explores the tangle that is being a woman—from family and friendship to romance and community. Prepare to be ensnared, enthralled, enchanted!”USA Today bestselling author Christie Ridgway
The Wishing Thread is a lyrical, emotional, finely knit portrayal of three sisters struggling with love, magic and sacrifice. This is the best book I’ve read all year.”—Lisa Verge Higgins, author of The Proper Care and Maintenance of Friendship
“An intriguing story of three sisters tied by blood and a strange inheritance, each searching for a way to belong in that place where magic and life intersect. Wonderful!”—Shelley Noble, author of Beach Colors
“Van Allen knits together this pleasantly entertaining tale as easily as the Van Ripper women knit together the often unraveling threads of people’s lives. . . . Chick-lit cozy meets magical realism with inevitably warm and fuzzy results.”Booklist
“Fans of magical realism will want to pick up this enjoyable novel, which not only weaves magic through stitchery, but also weaves a realistic story about family and sisterhood and the threads that pull us back home.”RT Book Reviews

Includes an exclusive conversation between Sarah Addison Allen and Lisa Van Allen. Join the Random House Reader’s Circle for author chats and more.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780345538550
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Publication date: 08/27/2013
Pages: 400
Sales rank: 403,963
Product dimensions: 5.36(w) x 7.84(h) x 0.82(d)

About the Author

Lisa Van Allen’s writing has been published in many literary journals and has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize. She currently lives in northern New Jersey with her husband and their pet hedgehog.

Read an Excerpt


"Long-Tail Cast On"

Mariah Van Ripper had never done things in life on anyone else's time line, and dying had been no exception. On Mariah's last earthly day in Tarrytown, her niece Aubrey had been sitting in the yarn room, the stitches of a lacy mohair shawl waltzing between her fingers. She hadn't realized she'd been dozing, her mind wandering dreamy byways even while her fingers danced through stitch after stitch, until the moment that Mariah appeared in the doorway.

"Oh good. Aubrey! There was something I wanted to tell you."

Aubrey looked up from her knitting. Framed by the doorjamb, Mariah listed slightly to the side like a wide flag waving in a gentle wind. She wore a long shapeless dress made of cotton so crisp and white that it nearly glowed.

"What are you doing back?" Aubrey asked. "I thought you had an appointment with Councilman Halpern. Did you forget something?"

"Yes . . . I believe I did."

"Well, whatever it was, I would have brought it over to you if you'd called me," Aubrey said, chastising a little. "What do you need?"

Mariah didn't answer. Her eyes were wide and confused as a sleepy child's. She murmured between half-closed lips.

"Mariah?" Aubrey stopped knitting at the end of a row, dropped her hands. The shawl lay sunlit and rumpled as yellow fall leaves in her lap. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Something I was going to tell you . . ."

"Well, let's hear it."

"Something . . ."

"Hey. You feeling okay?"

Aubrey watched her aunt's pupils telescope into tiny black points. She seemed focused on something Aubrey couldn't see, a speck of dust perhaps, dancing in the air, or some secret thought of her own, anchored so deep in her gray matter that her unseeing eyes drifted like boats from their moorings. Mariah was of middling height and impressive girth, with hair like long runny drippings of pigeon-gray paint. Although she had not been a beauty even in her youth, she had kind eyes, a generous smile, and deep, appealing wrinkles. The sun coming from behind her silvered her hair and the white hem of her dress.

"Ah, well," Mariah said. "I guess you'll have to figure it out." She sighed, not unhappily. And then she stepped out of the yarn room and out of sight.

Aubrey set aside her knitting and crossed the wide wooden floorboards. She felt light-headed, caught up in the swill of her own worry. Mariah's health had been in decline for the last few years, and it occurred to Aubrey that her aunt might be having a stroke. The doctors had warned them. Aubrey peered around the doorjamb; Mariah had vanished without the sound of a single footfall to mark the direction she'd gone.

Not even possible, Aubrey thought.

But she called up the stairs anyway. "Mariah?"

She called down the hall. "Hey, Mari?"

She jumped when the phone rang. The hair at the nape of her neck stood on end.

She picked up the receiver very slowly. "Yes?"

"Aubrey Van Ripper?" a stranger asked.

It was then that Aubrey knew—knew before she'd been told—that her aunt had not returned to the Stitchery for some forgotten item. In fact, she was not in the Stitchery at all. And Aubrey thought of how vulgar it was that news of death, such an intimate and private thing, should be borne on the lips of a stranger.

For the first time in her life, Aubrey was alone, fully and finally and unexpectedly alone, alone in that moment and forevermore alone, her knitting needles stilled on a table in the yarn room, her ear hot from the press of the phone, and a stranger's words floating to her from somewhere, not here, explaining a thing that had happened all the way across town.

In his private office not far from the Tarrytown village hall, safely ensconced behind neocolonial pillars and Flemish brickwork, Councilman Steve Halpern poured himself a drink from the small flask he kept for emergency use in his bottom desk drawer. The ambulance had left only moments ago, bearing Mariah Van Ripper's body away from his office for the last time. He leaned back in his cigar-brown chair. It whined under his weight.

"You know, a person never wants to see a thing like this happen," he said.

Jackie Halpern, who managed his electoral campaigns, his accounting, his sock drawer, and his blood-pressure medication, smiled. "Of course not."

"But if it had to happen—"

"Don't say it," she told him. "I know."

Slowly, like a thin vapor snaking its way inch by inch through Tarrytown's friendly suburban streets, rumors of Mariah Van Ripper's death spread among people who knew her and people who did not, until finally the fog of bad news wafted thick as raw wool down toward the river, down into the ramshackle neighborhood that Mariah had called home. The dogs of Tappan Square, mangy rottweilers and pit bulls that barked through closed windows, grew uniformly silent and did not so much as squeak at passersby. The oxidized old rooster atop the Stitchery's tower spun counterclockwise in three full circles before coming to point unwaveringly east, and if any of Tappan Square's residents had seen it, they would have known it was not a good sign.

Tappan Square was not Tarrytown's best-kept secret. It did not factor into the region's well-known, accepted lore. When visitors pointed their GPS systems toward Tarrytown and its sister, Sleepy Hollow, they always bypassed Tappan Square. Instead, they flocked to Sunnyside, the ivy-choked cottage where Washington Irving lived and died and dreamed of the Galloping Horseman and Ichabod Crane. They cowered happily at the foot of that tyrannical gothic castle, Lyndhurst, lording over the Hudson River with its crenellated scowl, and they pointed out landmarks from vampire horror movies in its dim, hieratic halls. They trudged among the lichen-flecked soul effigies at the Old Dutch Church, picking their way with cameras and sturdy shoes among tombstones that said BEEKMAN, CARNEGIE, ROCKEFELLER, and SLOAT. They searched for what everyone searches for on the shores of the Hudson River: enchantment. Some of that good old-fashioned magic. And yet, rarely did outsiders make their way to the neighborhood of Tappan Square, where salsa beats blared hard from the windows of rusting jalopies, where illegal cable wires were strung window-to-window, and where magic, or some semblance of the thing, still found footing on the foundation of the building that the Van Ripper family had always called home.

The Stitchery, as it came to be called by neighbors and eventually by the family within it, had always been filled with Van Rippers. To its neighbors, the Stitchery was a curiosity like a whale's eyeball in a formaldehyde mason jar, a taxidermied baby horse with wax eyes coated in dust, a thing that should have been allowed to vanish after the life had passed out of it but instead was artificially preserved. With its architectural hodgepodge cobbled together over the centuries—its temperate Federalist core, its ardent mansard garret, its fish-scaled tower with witch's hat roof—the house did not offer the most welcoming appearance. The latest batches of Van Rippers, most recently led by Mariah, did not believe in renovation. They did not repaint over the awful cabbage-rose wallpaper in the parlor, or fix the scrolling black gate in front of the house that had been knocked crooked during the Great Blizzard of 1888, or replace the sign on the front door that read YARNS even though it was nearly illegible with age. In fact, they vehemently protested such alterations and "unnecessary" upgrades as affronts to history. Mariah Van Ripper was said to have wept, actually wept, when one of the Stitchery's great old toilets needed its innards gutted, and exact replacements for the old digestive system could not be found.

And so the Stitchery was allowed to fall out of fashion, then out of respectability, until it became a mote in an eyesore of a neighborhood, because Mariah had professed too much respect for her ancestors to fix a cockamamie shutter or tighten a baluster. This was the accretion of history that built up like dandruff or snow, and Mariah had always allowed it as one allows the sun to rise in the morning and set at night. Of course, her philosophy fit in nicely with her hatred of housework and her unwillingness to spend what little money the Van Rippers made on such a frivolous thing as a new doorbell. But whatever the root motivation, the result was that the Stitchery—regarded by some as the heart of Tappan Square, and regarded by others as the tumor—was ugly, dilapidated, and falling down.

As news of Mariah's death reached its tentacles into her neighborhood, a handful of Tarrytown transplants who had come from all corners of the world began to gather before the Stitchery's façade. The religious among the crowd crossed themselves and said their prayers, prayers that were not entirely altruistic, for Mariah's soul to be scooped up and deposited quickly in its final landing place, so long as it wasn't roaming the earth with the more well-mannered ghosts of Sleepy Hollow and Tarrytown. Women who were friendly toward the Van Rippers set colorful candles in tall glasses on the sidewalk and fixed carnations to the Stitchery's crooked gate. They did not need to speak a common language to share a common worry: What would happen to the Stitchery? And worse: With Mariah gone, what would happen to them all?

The Van Rippers were charlatans to some, saviors to others. Crooks or angels. Saints or thieves. But even if the gossip about the Stitchery was just and only that—if the strangeness of the Stitchery began and ended with the things that were said about it—uncertainty had never stopped many generations of Tarrytown women from dragging themselves in desperation to the Van Rippers' doorway, begging for help. Make me a sweater, make me mittens, make my baby healthy, make my husband love me again.

The magic of the Van Ripper family, they said, was in the knitting.

If it was magic at all.


"Make a Knot"

There were only a handful of places in the area of Tarrytown where Aubrey Van Ripper appeared with any regularity: the grocery store, the library, the pet store, the sushi house, and sometimes—when the evening was clear and cool—the park. And so when she made her appearance at the hospital on the day that Mariah died, locals looked on with curiosity, half fearful and half intrigued. She wore clunky white orthopedic shoes like an old lady—though she was only twenty-eight—a horrific polyester blouse dotted with tiny forget-me-nots, and thick black glasses with plastic frames. Her hair was a pretty blond that swept to her shoulders, but it was frizzy and kinked with knots.

As for Aubrey, she wasn't nearly as interested in the hospital as it was in her. To her mind, the hospital should have been lively, frenetic, caught in the teeth-gnashing clench between death and life. Instead, it was dull. Bored administrative types chewed gum and watched the game show channel on the TV in the waiting room, which played a rerun of Wheel of Fortune. The lobby would have looked just like this—sterile and sleepy—whether or not her aunt had just died.

"Sign, please." A woman behind the counter thrust a translucent purple clipboard toward her. "If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask—anyone else but me."

Aubrey complied. There were so many words on every piece of paper, tiny words made of tiny letters, one running into the other. If she could unwind all the words out into a long, single thread, they would reach around the building and back again. She could knit them into a sweater. Or a heavy black shawl.

Out of the corner of her eye, Aubrey noticed a couple of the nurses standing together in a distant corner of the room, whispering softly with their heads bent low. They wore slouchy bright scrubs bedecked with cartoon flowers. One of them was Katrina Van der Donck, who liked to claim she was descended from the great seventeenth-century documentarian of Sleepy Hollow, Adriaen Van der Donck, who first recorded Slapershaven as name of the Hudson tributary that ran through the glen. The other woman was a stranger. They were trying not to glance Aubrey's way but were unable to avoid the temptation.

Aubrey bore their scrutiny as long as she could. Their whispers scratched at her eardrums like a dog at a door. Finally, she could not stand it. She glanced up, and both women winced. Aubrey spoke as loud as she dared. "You do realize I know what you're saying, right?"

"Oh my God. She's a mind reader, too?" the stranger said, loudly enough for Aubrey to hear. "You didn't say she was a mind reader."

"She's not a mind reader," Aubrey said.

"Oh no?" Katrina smirked. "What am I thinking now?" She crossed her arms and glared.

Aubrey lowered her eyes back to her paperwork. Her face was burning red; she could feel it. Her armpits were prickly with sweat. She did not know precisely why Katrina Van der Donck had come to hate her, but she guessed it had to do with the magic and that perhaps Katrina had paid for an ineffective spell. Aubrey hated confrontation more than she hated squishy white bread in long plastic bags, more than she hated laugh tracks in sitcoms, more than she hated Steve Halpern. Mariah would have known what to say.

The Stitchery—and the women in it—had always been touched by a vague darkness, a miasma of speculation. Aubrey's ancestors trailed all the way back to the first settlers who lived in ditches in New Netherland earth, and the more distant the modern world became from those starved and lice-ridden adventurers, the more mysterious and alluring they began to appear, so that the effect of time on the progenitors of the Stitchery was like the effect of atmosphere on the stars.

Unfortunately for Aubrey, the gossips of Tarrytown didn't think the village librarian's assistant, who shopped for beets in the grocery store and who carried a picture of her pet hedgehog in her wallet, was especially captivating. The lore of the Stitchery was mysterious. Mariah had been its peculiar but venerable old maven. Aubrey—poor Aubrey—she was just weird.

Her appearance didn't help her reputation. As the next in line to be the guardian of the Stitchery—the next in line after Mariah—she bore the Stitchery's Mark. In Mariah, the Mark had manifested itself discreetly: Even with no perfume on, even when it was a hundred degrees in August, Mariah's skin smelled strongly of flower petals. The scent glands that made other people stink like horses had literally made Mariah smell like a rose—granted, a cheap rose that sometimes put one in mind of an Old West hooker, but a rose nonetheless. The people of Tarrytown had assumed that Mariah was just another old lady who drowned her sorrows in drugstore perfume. And although there were always exceptions, people liked her as well as any Van Ripper could be liked.

Reading Group Guide

1. The three sisters, Bitty, Aubrey, and Meggie, are each very different and have spent a lot of time apart, but despite everything they all find their way back home upon the death of the aunt who raised them. What does the novel have to say about the bonds of sisterhood?

2. Each sister rejects, deals with, or embraces the idea of magic in her own way. Which sister do you relate to most? Are there themes in this book that run parallel with (or contrary to) the tenets of your faith community or your own personal ideas and beliefs?

3. At one point, Aubrey thinks “if the Madness was real, then the sacrifice of being a guardian of the Stitchery was a bigger, scarier thing than any single sacrifice made in the name of a single spell.” What is the connection between the Madness and magic? Do you think the Madness will continue to follow the family after the Stitchery is gone?

4. Why do you think Bitty started out so rebellious, but was so quick to embrace a socially acceptable lifestyle in adulthood and to distance herself from her sisters and the Stitchery?

5. Aubrey struggles with confidence throughout the book. What do you think was the main turning point for her? What made her believe in herself?

6. Meggie drops everything to go looking for the truth about her mother. Is there anything from your past you’d like to get to the bottom of?

7. Why do you think Aubrey feels that she can’t give in to her attraction to Vic?

8. The women of Tappan Square band together on Halloween Night to produce a feat of, if not magic, at the very least of remarkable artistry. What were the true effects of the yarn bombing? Do you feel the conclusion of the book indicates that magic is literally at work, that magic is something people choose to see, or that magic is what we make of it?

9. Were you upset by the fate of Tappan Square? What does this novel have to say about gentrification?

10. After Aubrey sacrifices Vic to save Tarrytown, she takes him back even though the Great Book in the Hall says she shouldn’t. How does she justify her actions? Was she right to take him back or should she have stayed true to her legacy?

11. The old Stitchery is no more but something remarkable happens instead. What do you think is the legacy of the Stitchery and how does it live on?

12. In the end, Aubrey comes to accept uncertainty. She thinks “The Stitchery had made a thing very clear to her—-a thing she did not see until now: Whatever the Van Ripper guardians had said magic was, was only a very small part of it, if it was part at all.” Do you feel this is a step forward in her understanding? Or is it an excuse that allows Aubrey to reshape tradition according to her own ideas? What are your feelings about embracing irresolution and uncertainty?

Customer Reviews

Most Helpful Customer Reviews

See All Customer Reviews

The Wishing Thread: A Novel 3.7 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 21 reviews.
Angie_Lisle More than 1 year ago
I liked the story - as promised, it's very reminiscent of Sarah Addison and Alice Hoffman. The book utilizes the same symbols -like the phone tree from the movie version of Practical Magic - with a spin to fit this plot. The downside, there's a lot of telling dispersed with showing. Despite that, I found myself looking forward to my next reading session with this book. The characters hooked me: a thirty-something eldest sister (Bitty) who married for security after a childhood in poverty and now has two kids; the twenty-old year social dweeb (Aubrey) who just happened to be a virgin and the guardian of their magical childhood home, The Stitchery, which was both a blessing and a curse to the family; and the rebelling younger sister (Meggie) who ran away, looking for...(no spoilers). I wanted to know where the characters were going as the story unfolded. I received an uncorrected proof copy of this book in exchange for a review. There were some editing mishaps but they should be fixed in the final version.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Good book. My only issue with it is too much about knitting. Also the author was repeatative in relying information. After a few times, i found myself saying "i get it already...move on". But all in all agood story, enjoyable and a fast read. I really loved the characters.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Simple, easy read. Relaxing.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I loved the book and the premise of the book. Some of us like a little 'magic' in our lives.
Jasmyn9 More than 1 year ago
This was an amazing book! The magic was perfect, the sisters were perfect, Tarrytown was perfect. In a world where magic just may be possible - people still shun it and the Van Ripper sister responsible for guarding it. The Stitchery has been a place of magic for generations, knitting solutions for the residents of Tarrytown for generations. But when a death in the family brings the Van Ripper sisters back home for the first time in years, things take an interesting turn. The Wishing Thread has so much happening that each page flew past. The Van Ripper sisters have a relationship that is anything but good, but we get to watch as they come to terms with their past and make new lives for themselves. We get to watch a town struggle for survival against the inevitable push of progess. There is romance and heartbreak - betrayal and forgiveness - and a couple of cute kids that end up being the glue holding much of it together. For lovers of contemporary family dramas - this will offer so much more than you are used to and I'm sure you will love every minute of it. *This book was received in exchange for an honest review*
Sailon More than 1 year ago
Woven into every item the Van Ripper woman knits is magic. Magic that cost a sacrifice to be granted. Three Van Ripper's reunite in Tarrytown, NY after the death of their aunt. Now they must find their footing in the new life opportunity that has been handed to them. This was an enchanting tale. I really enjoyed watching the “forced” reunion, the different personalities Lisa Van Allen created in her characters interactions and bond of the three sisters that even a separation could not destroy. No knitting skills required to find this book completely enjoyable! The characters alone carry this story well but the descriptive writing style will wrap you in its warm embrace and keep you there till the end. Simply put this was a sweet, warm, magical story.  I received this ARC copy of The Wishing Thread from Random House Publishing Group - Ballantine in exchange for a honest review. This book is set for publication September 3, 2013. Written by: Lisa Van Allen Paperback: 400 pages Publisher: Ballantine Books  Publication Date: August 27, 2013 ISBN-10: 0345538552 ISBN-13: 978-0345538550 Rating: 4 Genre: Paranormal, Woman Fiction
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I really enjoyed this book. It was the first of hers i have read and am planning on reading the next very soon . Oh, my tbr list. Si happy to have found another magic realism author that is sooo good...I reccomend it to those who read Sarah Addison Allen and Alice Hoff.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I really wanted to like this novel, but I found it to be basically a remix of previous books by different authors. Garden Spells and Practical Magic were far too evident as inspiration for this tired old plot and the ending was a huge disappointment since it completely lacked originality. I regret that I already bought a second book by this author because I really don't want to waste my time with it. Stephanie Clanahan
DaisyNM More than 1 year ago
I highly recommend, great story! I look forward to more books from the author.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Really enjoyed this book. Nice light reading to pass an afternoon. Funny, whimsical, romantic, a pull on the heartstrings. Made me laugh, made me cry.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
If you are into walt disney you will love this. Sappy love story.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Great read!
mchwest More than 1 year ago
Loved this book, magic and knitting and wonderful insights into knitting. 
jbarr5 More than 1 year ago
The Wishing Thread by Lisa Van Allen ' knit people’s most ardent wishes into beautiful scarves and mittens, granting them health, success, or even a blossoming romance' This phrase in the description caught my eye as I do knit for many charities and some of the patterns I do use do tell a story about te one I'm knitting for. The Stitchery was owned by the Van Rippers and now that Mariah had died others didn't know what was to become of the store and it's magic. Aubrey had been raised by her aunt Mariah and she knew of some of the magic, the rest she'd have to learn. Every night after dinner for one hour the 3 girls would knit with their mom: Meggie, Bitty and Aubrey. What a tradition and legacy! One had to sacrifice something for the knitted wishes to come true-money wouldn't do it. had to be something sentimental to the one who wanted the wish to be granted. Love the ideas of what type of yarn to use, what stitch and for what project. When the will is read they all learn of what's to become of The Stitchery and Mariah's wishes for them, all together... The sisters should've moved on but that's not what happened. The Tappan Watch was also up in arms about the town taking over the square and there's a lot of support for the owners of the shops to stay strong. There are a handful of people with others coming and going and it's easy to keep track of who is who. Especially like the quotes from The Great Book everything about knitting and then some... The threads speak. Loved this book for the ideas and for the yarn itself. The magic story just spun it's own ball of yarn to be used. I received this book from Net Galley via Random House Publishing Group - Ballantine in exchange for my honest review.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Interesting enjoyed the magic, treatment of family issues and the love story between Vic and Aubrey. Setting would be an interesting place to visit especially around Halloween. I would read other books by Lisa van Allen and will search for some at the library. With the questions at the back, I can see how it could be discussed at a book club but I personally wouldn't suggest it for ours.