The Friendship Star Quilt (23 page)

But no one had ever come to visit her.

Realizing she was alone in the empty house, she shivered and momentarily considered fleeing down the front stairs. It was absurd, she had nothing to fear. The door had a sturdy lock, and she didn't need to actually open it. She could just call out and ask who was there. Most likely, it was simply someone with the wrong address. However, as she crossed the kitchen, she briefly wished she'd had a phone installed.

Stopping a few feet from the door, she took a calming breath. “Who is it?” she asked in a loud enough voice to be heard through the solid wood.

“Brad and Jennie.”

Brad and his daughter had driven her home after the carol service on Thursday, but she hadn't seen him since. Her behavior still embarrassed her, and she'd hoped it wouldn't be too awkward when they saw each other again. Now, hearing his voice, relief surged through her.

“Just a minute!” She hurried the last few steps to the door, checking the kitchen to make sure everything was tidy. In her haste, she fumbled twice with the security chain, finally managing to free it on the third try. She released the deadbolt then threw open the door.

“Merry Christmas!”

Apparently, the snow had restarted after she'd gotten home from work. Flakes, clumped together in fluffy clusters, filled the air and fell gently around the pair who stood on the small porch at the top of her stairs.

“I hope we aren't interrupting you,” Brad apologized. “Is it too late for company?”

“Not at all,” Anne assured him. She unlatched the screen and waved them inside. “I was listening to Christmas music. I had the volume pretty loud, so I didn't hear you. I hope you weren't knocking very long.”

“Sometimes Daddy likes to listen to music loud, too,” Jennie announced in a serious tone then added, “Hi, Miss Anne.”

“Hi, sweetie. Got a hug for me?”

The little girl hurtled into Anne's outstretched arms and snuggled against her for a minute. Anne savored the sensation for a long moment before releasing her. “Can I take your coat? Would you like some hot cocoa?”

“What about me?” Brad asked.

Anne laughed. “Of course, you can have cocoa, too. Or I can make coffee or tea if—”

“I meant a hug,” he interrupted. He set the plastic bag he'd been carrying on the table and opened his arms to her.

Momentarily at a loss for words, Anne didn't move. Heat flooded her cheeks as she remembered how she'd cried in his arms after the carol service. She'd wondered if she'd made a total mess of his dress shirt. Should she offer to wash it or replace it? Before she could decide, Jennie saved the day.

“Daddy says people should hug every chance they get.”

“Is that so?” Anne arched her eyebrow at Brad then felt herself blush again when he winked at her. “Well, Jennie, your daddy is absolutely right. People should hug more.”

Matching her actions to her words, Anne stepped forward, intending to give Brad a quick squeeze. Instead, she found herself wrapped in his arms and pulled into a warm embrace. When he finally released her, she took a steadying breath and prayed her rubbery knees wouldn't betray her.

“Coffee?” she squeaked then coughed and tried again. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

He shook his head. “Thanks, but we can't stay long. I need to get Jennie home to bed. We're leaving early in the morning before the shop opens, so we stopped tonight to wish you Merry Christmas.”

“Oh, of course.”

Brad's family had mentioned their holiday plans at Thanksgiving, but Anne had completely forgotten they'd be gathering at his parents' house across the state. She'd decided to go to Christmas morning services — had even made a new crimson wool dress — and had anticipated seeing Brad and Jennie there.

“Well, I'm glad you stopped,” she said, forcing a bright note in her voice to disguise her disappointment. “I have something for you both. Come into my parlor—”

“Said the spider to the fly?” Brad teased at the same moment Jennie asked, “What's a parlor?”

“It's another name for a living room,” Brad replied, smiling down at his daughter.

“I grew up hearing it called a parlor, so I tend to still call it that,” Anne added. “But Jeff—er—some people say it makes me sound old-fashioned.”

“Those
people
were wrong,” Brad said. His eyes darkened as he met her gaze.

“I like the name,” Jennie said before Anne could reply to Brad's comment. “It sounds like a castle. Can we call our living room a parlor, too, Daddy?”

He nodded and rumpled her hair. “Whatever you like, Princess.”

“Well, come into
my
parlor for a moment, while I get your gift from under the tree.”

“Anne, you shouldn't have—”

“Hush,” she said, putting her finger against his lips. “You haven't even seen it yet, so you don't know if I should have or not.” She wrinkled her nose. “That didn't even make sense, did it?”

He laughed and playfully nipped her finger with his teeth. “Oddly, it did.”

Anne jerked her finger away then grinned and led them into the other room.

“Oh, Miss Anne. I like your Christmas tree!” Jennie exclaimed, excitedly. “The lights are so pretty.”

“Thank you, Jennie. I like the lights, too.” She pointed to the sofa. “Why don't you and your dad have a seat on the couch?”

The little girl quickly took a seat and patted the cushion beside her. “Come sit down, Daddy.”

When they were seated, Anne took two gaily wrapped boxes from beneath the tree and carried them over to her guests. The first box, a large cube covered in whimsical Christmas wrap, went to Jennie. She handed Brad the second, a flat package slightly deeper than a shirt box and wrapped in a navy and silver foil.

“Go ahead and open yours, Jennie. Then you can help your daddy with his,” Anne instructed. She perched on the arm of a chair nearby to watch.

Jennie tore into the wrappings with childish delight. “Daddy!” she squealed with excitement. “Miss Anne bought me a sewing machine.”

“I hope it's all right with you. I should have asked you first,” Anne said turning to Brad when it occurred to her she might have overstepped her bounds.

He gave her a reassuring nod. “It's a wonderful idea, Anne. Thank you.”

“Oh yes, thank you,” Jennie exclaimed and jumped up to give Anne another hug.

“You admired my machine at the shop,” Anne said, hugging the little girl back. “But it's against the law for someone under eighteen to operate commercial machinery. Besides, mine is much too big for you to reach the foot pedal. This one is battery-operated, so it won't go too fast, and the needle has a shield around it so you won't poke your finger by accident. But it's still powerful enough to use for sewing. I put a package of batteries inside the box for you.”

“Jennie told me how much she enjoyed her lessons when you watched her,” Brad said.

“Which brings us to your package. It's actually from Jennie, too.”

“From me?” Jennie's button nose wrinkled in doubt.

Anne nodded then seeing Brad's curious expression, she waved to the box. “Open it and you'll understand.”

Taking care not to rip the paper, Brad slowly peeled back the tape on one end.

“Goodness, Jennie,” Anne chuckled. “At this rate it might be next Christmas before your daddy has it opened. Why don't you give him a hand?”

The little girl bounced over to the couch. “Do you want help, Daddy?”

“Certainly.” He set aside the box long enough to lift Jennie onto his lap then handed the box to her. “I already opened this side, now, you open the other one.”

Anne's couldn't help but smile at the picture they made. Blond-haired child and dark-haired father, heads bent eagerly to the task. When a stabbing pain for what she'd lost swept, nearly overwhelming her, Anne looked away. She blinked back her tears, determined not to cry in front of the excited little girl. When she glanced back, she found Brad watching her over the top of Jennie's head. His eyes held understanding and concern. Anne almost felt as if he'd reached across the room to hug her.

She gave a little laugh to let Brad know the moment had passed, and she was okay. “Hurry up, slowpokes,” she urged. “Open the package.”

When the box was unwrapped, Brad lifted off the lid to find the contents covered in a layer of white tissue paper. “What could this be?”

As he pushed aside the wrapping, Jennie started bouncing excitingly.

“It's my sewing, Daddy!” the little girl exclaimed. “Miss Anne made them into a quilt for us.”

“Well, it's not actually a quilt, Jennie. We didn't have enough squares to make that,” Anne explained. “But there were just the right amount for a wall hanging for your daddy's office.”

“Anne, thank you so much,” Brad said, lifting the piece from the box and admiring the colorful squares Jennie had painstakingly sewn together. “Thank you as well, Jennie. I will treasure this forever.”

The sound of his phone interrupted them. Brad reached into his pocket for it. Glancing at the screen, he shrugged.

“Would you excuse me a moment? I have to return this call,” he asked. Then, without waiting for her reply, he lifted Jennie from his lap and tapped a few numbers on the screen. Suddenly, the opening notes of Trans-Siberian Orchestra's
Wizards in Winter
sounded from the kitchen.

“What on earth?”

Brad shrugged. “Sounds like a cell phone ringing.”

“But I don't—”

“Come on, Miss Anne,” Jennie said, grabbing her hand and tugging her toward the other room. “Come and look!”

Anne let the child guide her to the table where her father had set down his plastic bag earlier. The music stopped for a moment then started again. Jennie picked up the small bag and thrust it into Anne's hands just as the music stopped.

“I think that's your cue to open it,” Brad announced, leaning in the doorway, a big grin on his face. He held up his phone. “Unless you need me to hit redial again.”

With shaking hands, Anne reached into the bag and pulled out a small box. The lid was open to show the shiny new cell phone inside. “Brad, I can't—”

“It's one of those pay-as-you-go phones, Anne. I took the liberty to set it up for you, using the address for the quilt shop.”

“But my name—”

“Doesn't appear anywhere. It's registered to T. S. Post,” he said, offering her a card with the name, The Stitching Post's address, and her new phone number. “No one else needs to know you have it, Anne. But Jennie and I want a way to get in touch with you when you aren't at work. And you can call us, too — I programmed in my cell phone number. This way we can talk — like maybe on Christmas Eve or something.”

She blushed and ducked her head, feeling as shy as a teenage girl, who'd just had a boy say he liked her. Then, she raised her head and reached for the card. “Thank you. I'd like that very much.”

Anne said goodbye to her final customer at a little after one o'clock on New Year's Eve then closed and locked the door for the day. After pulling the shades down over the door and window, she moved to the register.

It had been a slow day at the shop. Only a couple of people had come in for thread or other small supplies, and they'd paid for their purchases with debit cards. So, there was no need to balance out the drawer or make a bank deposit. Myra wouldn't expect one. She'd told Anne business would be slow until after the new year and had suggested just closing for the interim. But Anne hadn't liked the idea of customers having to go elsewhere for their needs.

Besides, with Brad and Jennie on the other side of the state, all the free time on her hands had driven her crazy. She'd spent most of Christmas afternoon curled up with her romance novels, but images of Brad kept intruding on her reading. When she found herself fantasizing about him and her during one of the steamier scenes, Anne had blushed and tucked the books away, glad she would return to her usual routine the next day. Well, not quite the usual. Every morning since Christmas Eve, her little cell phone had rung at eight o'clock and either Brad or Jennie was on the line when she answered.

On Christmas morning, Jennie's voice had been filled with childlike wonder as she told Anne about the gifts she received. “But none of them are as nice as my sewing machine,” she'd confided.

Then Brad's voice had come on the line, wishing her a Merry Christmas and asking about her plans for the day. Anne told him she'd been invited to Falcone's for Mario's annual open house. Every year, the chef closed his restaurant and served his family and friends such traditional dishes as rack of lamb with apple-and-lentil salad,
mostaccioli
,
pannetone
and a variety of pastas and regional delicacies.

“Man, I gained two pounds just thinking about it,” Brad had groaned then asked her to give Mario holiday greetings from Jennie and him.

The restaurateur had chortled with delight when she'd passed on the message. “You tell-a the band director to bring you here for dinner one night, and I make a you my famous strawberry
mascarpone tiramisu
. Special treat for young lovers,” Mario had added with a sly wink. Anne had turned away, blushing, knowing she would not relay the chef's message when she next talked to Brad.

Surprisingly, the next time had been that very night and every night since. During the evening conversations, Jennie would tell Anne all about her day's adventures then Brad would put the phone on speaker so Anne could hear Jennie say her night prayers. After he tucked Jennie in bed, she and Brad would usually chat for bit longer before saying goodnight. Those conversations were usually the last things she thought of as she climbed into her own bed at the end of the day.