The Friendship Star Quilt (17 page)

****

Anne restocked the bolts of fabric she had cut for customers during the afternoon then moved through the shop, tidying the shelves. With no curtains to make or flags to sew, the hours seemed to drag by for her once Courtney left for the day. There wasn't much to do in the shop. She'd already hung all the winter and holiday samples she'd made and had received good feedback from customers about them. New quilters especially liked the simple tree skirt and matching stockings she'd made using pre-quilted fabric and readymade holiday appliques. Several had asked her to help them pick out fabric to make similar sets for their own families.

As she tidied the shelves, she thought about the next evening's quilt meeting. Since she'd finished all her freelance jobs and the samples for the shop, she would finally be able to work on her Friendship Star quilt again. She wondered if she'd subconsciously chosen to make this particular pattern because of a hidden longing for a friend. Now, she'd been blessed with a whole group of them and enjoyed sharing their potlucks and camaraderie every Tuesday evening.

This week, she had a new dish she'd be making to share. She'd found a recipe in the newspaper a while ago which would be perfect for their potluck. Sesame chicken made in a slow cooker. She planned to prep everything this evening then put it in the crockpot in the morning. It could cook in Myra's office during the day and be perfect by the time everyone arrived around six o'clock.

The shop door opened just minutes before closing, and she glanced over, wondering who had arrived so late. A frisson of pleasure shot through her at the sight of Brad in the doorway.

“Hello. I didn't expect to see you,” she greeted warmly. “Have you decided to take up quilting after all, Mr. Carmichael?”

“No. I plan to leave everything to do with sewing in your capable and lovely hands, Ms. Brown,” he teased then glanced around the empty shop. “Are you about ready to close up for the day?”

“In another minute or two, but I have plenty of time to help you if you need something.”

“Well, actually I was hoping for a little company. Jennie's music teacher is taking her to a former student's concert this evening. She's going to be gone several hours, so I was wondering if you'd join me dinner and dessert. I'd like to thank you for all the help you've given us.”

“Dinner?” A battalion of butterflies suddenly attacked her stomach. “Umm, there's no need for a thank you. The school paid me for the flags and–”

“I'm not talking about the flags or the girls' uniforms. I meant hemming Jennie's costume and watching her for me the last couple of—” He stopped, embarrassed. “I'm sorry. You probably already have dinner plans. I should have called ahead of—”

“Actually, I was just going to warm up a lasagna Mario sent home with me when I delivered the curtains at Falcone's today,” she interrupted. She hurried on before she could change her mind. “It's in the refrigerator here. There's plenty for both of us if you'd care to join me.”

What on earth am I thinking?

Anne had never been the type of girl who could comfortably invite a guy anywhere. But with Brad, she felt… well, safe. Not the kind of safe she'd felt with her grandfather, but the kind of safe where she knew nothing terrible would happen. Brad made her feel valued as a person, too.

Brad grinned. “Only if I can buy you dessert at Falcone'
s
afterwards. I love Mario's
zeppole
.”

She opened her mouth to protest but instead said, “Okay, but I need to make my bank deposit after dinner.”

“No problem. We can do it on the way to the restaurant,” he said then motioned to the door. “Shall I help you lock up?”

****

“Hey, Brad!”

Brad glanced toward the front of Falcone's as his pastor left the counter and headed toward their table to greet them. He didn't need to look at his dinner companion to sense Anne's growing unease. Ever since they'd arrived at the restaurant, everyone who entered the place seemed to know him or her or both of them. Students, band parents, customers, and now his minister. Had someone put out an All-Points Bulletin that he was here with her?

I should have known better than to bring Anne here where so many people know us. She'd probably have been more comfortable at Arnie's or The Grand Traverse Pie Company. Oh well, too late now. I'll just have to try to make the best of things
.

“Hi, Gordon,” he said, rising to his feet as the young minister approached. “Anne, I believe you know my pastor, Gordon Lockhart, don't you?”

“You know she does, pal. You gave me enough grief over it when you heard I'd hired her last fall. It's nice to see you again, Anne.”

“Thank you, Pastor Lockhart. Would you care to join us?” she invited, gesturing to the empty chair at their table.

“Thanks, but I only came here to pick up the pizza my wife ordered. Mario went to the kitchen to get it. In fact, here he is with it now.”

Sure enough, Mario, looking resplendent in his new apron, headed their way with a box held aloft in one hand. A small paper bag balanced on top of it.

“Here's-a your pizza,” the restaurateur said. “Your wife she tell-a me on the phone ‘tape-a the box shut so he don't sneak any on the way home.' But a little tape won't-a stop a hungry man. So Mario give you some breadsticks to tide-a you over for the drive home.”

“You're a good man, Mario,” Pastor Lockhart said, reaching for the bag the restaurant owner held out to him.

“
Si.
So you be sure to put in a good-a word for me with the man upstairs, s'okay?” Turning back to their table, Mario smiled. “Let me send the preacher man onna his way then I be right back with-a your
zeppole
.”

“No hurry,” Brad assured him. “We're happy to just relax and enjoy our coffee. Right, Anne?”

She nodded her agreement; however, he suspected she'd rather run for the door and escape all the attention and inquisitive looks they'd received. As he took his seat again, he noted how she hunched over the table with her hands wrapped around the mug.

“Would you like to change seats?”

She looked up with a startled expression. “What?”

“I asked if you'd like to change places. From the way you're holding your mug, I thought you might be in a draft. We can change seats, or I can get your jacket.”

“No, no. I'm fine,” she replied. “It's just...”

Brad reached over the table and gave her hand a quick squeeze. “I understand. We really seem to be this evening's entertainment, don't we?”

“You noticed.”

“It's pretty hard not to.” He chuckled. “I should have taken you somewhere else. Most of these folks are Mario's regulars, and they're not used to seeing me with anyone except Jennie.”

“Some are customers at our shop, too.”

“They probably wonder how a band geek like me got a date with such a beautiful woman.”

He hadn't meant to say that, but it was truth. Candlelight flattered most women, but Anne had a natural beauty that had nothing to do with soft lighting or the mass of blond hair that his fingers itched to free from its confining ponytail. Her beauty radiated from within. It was in her gentle smile and the kind way she acted toward those around her. Amazingly, she didn't seem aware of her attractiveness. Now, a flattering blush pinked her cheeks under his scrutiny.

“You're not a geek,” she protested, “and I most certainly—”

“One-a plate of fresh
zeppole,”
Mario announced, setting down a dish with a small mound of the sugar-coated Italian doughnuts. He set small dessert plates in front of each of them.

“The band man, he like-a to eat these with
cioccolato
sauce
,
but I was not sure about you,
cara,”
he said and put three ramekins next to the
zeppole.
“So I bring
caramello
, too, and also some whip-a cream.”

“I've never had
zeppole
before,” she confessed, “but they look amazing.”

“Then you're in for a wonderful treat,” Brad said, putting a couple of them on her plate. “Falcone's has the best
zeppole
in the state.”

“
Si, si.
But you must eat them now before they get cold,” Mario instructed. “I will come back later to see how you like-a them.”

“You don't have to tell me twice,” Brad said, taking a couple of the small doughnuts for himself then offering her the dish of rich chocolate sauce.

Anne waved it away then added a drizzle of caramel and a dollop of whipped cream from the other ramekins instead. Picking up her fork, she daintily cut a small piece and took a bite. Brad watched as she closed her eyes to savor the exquisite taste.

“These are incredible!” she exclaimed.

When he didn't reply, she opened her eyes and caught him watching her, his own dessert untouched.

“Told you so,” he said. Hastily, he speared a small piece of his
zeppola
with his fork, dipped it into the dish of chocolate sauce then swiped it through the caramel and the whipped cream. He held the fork out to her and waved it temptingly.

“If you thought that was good, you absolutely have to try it this way,” he insisted.

As their eyes met over the morsel, he suddenly realized how intimate the gesture might appear to her, but it just felt right to him. For a moment, he thought she'd refuse the offering. Then, she smiled and leaned forward to accept. Her gaze remained locked with his as her lips closed over the morsel. She grinned and sat back, chewing thoughtfully.

“So what do you think?”

In reply, she reached for the ramekin next to his plate and grinned. “I think you need to hand over this chocolate, Mr. Carmichael, and no one will get hurt.”

“So, Princess, what would you like to do tomorrow?” Brad asked his daughter as they unpacked their groceries in the kitchen on Friday night.

With the parade behind him, he now had time after school to shop, do laundry, and spend time with his daughter. Tonight, they'd eaten dinner at the sub shop near the grocery store then done the week's shopping afterwards.

Jennie glanced up in surprise from restocking her snack cupboard with peanut butter, crackers, and fruit cups. “I don't know, Daddy. Why?”

“Well, I've had to spend a lot of hours rehearsing with the band for games and competitions then the parade. You've never complained about it once. So, I was wondering what we can do tomorrow to celebrate since we got all the shopping done today. Maybe we could go to the movies or maybe to the mall to ride the carousel.”

Instead of the delighted reaction he'd expected, Jennie appeared wistful. “It would be lots of fun, Daddy, but we should clean the house on Saturday. We haven't dusted or vacuumed yet this week, and Mommy always…”

Brad frowned. What six year-old worried about things like housecleaning instead of having fun? He hated to judge Sarah when she couldn't defend herself, but his late wife's had obviously pushed her homemaking ideas on Jennie much harder than he'd realized. It was one thing to tout her beliefs to the homemakers who eagerly subscribed to Sup-R-Mom-U dot com, but to impose such things on a kindergartener? What sort of person did such a thing?

“Princess, the house is just fine.”

“But, Mommy…”

“If it will make you feel better, I can tidy up in the morning before we go,” he reassured her. “Will that work?”

She considered his solution then nodded happily. “Could we go dress shopping? The winter concert is coming up, and my teacher wants all of us to wear something red or green or dark burgundy. I don't have any pretty dresses in those colors, Daddy. Grandma said she would take me when we visit her and Pop-Pop at Thanksgiving, but I'd much rather go with you.”

Brad understood what his daughter was trying hard not to say. Jennie had distinct tastes about her clothes, and so did his mother. The two didn't sync too well. He suspected Jennie feared her grandmother would buy a dress
she
liked rather than one Jennie wanted. Unfortunately, Jennie probably was right.

“I'd love to take you, Princess. It will be fun picking out your dress together. And we should get new shoes for you, too. We don't want to discover on the day of the concert your feet have grown.”

“You mean like we did on Easter?” She giggled. “Good thing my dress had a long skirt, so no one could see I was wearing the silver shoes from my piano recital.”

“Yes, it would have been a terrible social disaster,” he said, trying to hide his amusement at her scandalized tone. “I'll tell you what, Miss Fashionista, let's plan on getting up early in the morning so we can have a good breakfast before we go to the mall. It sounds like we'll have a full day ahead of us.”

Jennie's eyes lit up. “We're going to RiverTown Crossing?” she asked.

“You bet. I'm sure you know the best places to shop for party dresses there, don't you?”

“I sure do!” She gave him a hug then pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Daddy?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“Can I ask a friend to come with us, too?”

“A friend? Why?”

“So I can have somebody in the dressing room with me to tell me if the dress fits right and is pretty on me.”

“Can't you just come out of the dressing room and show it to me? I can tell you if it looks good or not.”

“Daddy!”

He groaned. Of course, He should have known a father's opinion wouldn't count as much as the compliments of another girl. The thought of dealing with two giddy six-year-old girls for a whole day made him cringe a bit, but this day was for Jenny and she was worth it. “Okay.
One
friend. Why don't you go call her now?”

“Oh, goodie! Thank you, Daddy.” She hugged him around his middle then scurried off to make her calls.

Brad chuckled then went to his desk to pay bills. At least this was a job he didn't have to worry about doing wrong. He had a simple method: get a bill, pay it. He'd been paying off bills a lot faster this year. Even with the funeral expenses, his bills were much smaller, especially the ones for their credit cards. Sarah had run those balances up almost to the max. When he'd first seen those past bills, he'd been surprised at how many cash advances she'd taken out against them. Had she wasted so much money each month, or was he overlooking things his daughter might need?

He huffed out a deep breath. He wanted the best for Jennie, but sometimes he wasn't sure what it even was. The uncertainty made him feel completely inadequate. Other people, even ones with no children, seemed to know instinctively what children needed. Images of Anne — hemming Jennie's costume, rocking Lila's great-granddaughter on Halloween, talking to Lexi and the color guard — suddenly popped into Brad's head. These were followed by the warm memory of her sitting in the candlelight across from him at Falcone's, chatting animatedly between bites of their shared
zeppole
.

Bills forgotten, he leaned back in his chair and gave himself over to the memory.