The Friendship Star Quilt (6 page)
Read The Friendship Star Quilt Online
Authors: Patricia Kiyono,Stephanie Michels
Good grief! He hadn't done grocery shopping over the weekend either.
“Oh, honey, I am so sorry. I'll pick up milk on my way home from work tonight. Let's see,” he said, trying to remember the contents of their refrigerator. “We have leftover Chinese food from our dinners last night. I could warm some of it for an upside-down-day breakfast.”
His daughter wrinkled her button nose. “I don't feel like eating Chinese food this morning, Daddy. Can I just have some crackers and peanut butter instead?”
Brad considered for a moment. Peanut butter was a protein, and crackers were almost like toast. Close enough, problem solved. “Okay, peanut butter and crackers for breakfast it is. I wonder if there's enough for both of us. Do you need me to get things down from the cupboard for you?”
“I think there's plenty for us both, but I can go and check. You don't need to help me. You put the jar and the crackers in the snack drawer so I can reach them.”
“Then you go ahead and start eating while I finish getting dressed.”
“Okay, Daddy,” she said, heading for the door. As she skipped down the hall to the kitchen, she called back, “I love you.”
The three little words brought a big lump to Brad's throat. He swallowed hard. His daughter might love him, but he felt as if he was the top contender for the “Worst Father of the Year” title.
****
Anne climbed from bed early on Tuesday morning and hummed as she got ready for work. Mario's delicious meal, combined with the leisurely evening spent reading and relaxing in a bubble bath, had done her a world of good. She'd slept like a contented baby. Amazing what a good night's sleep could do for a person. She felt rested and energized, eager to get to the shop and start on the many tasks on her
To Do
list for the day.
On Tuesdays, their part-time clerk worked, so Anne decided to take full advantage of the opportunity for a little free time. If she headed to The Stitching Post right after breakfast, she'd have time to calculate some costs for Mario before the store opened. Later, when Courtney arrived, Anne planned to slip away and head down to Falcone'
s
to measure the restaurant windows and show Mario some fabric choices. Making the curtains for him would be a wonderful way for her to repay his many kindnesses. With the thought uppermost in her mind, she wanted to find the perfect colorful but unusual print to make the practical, washable curtains he wanted. She'd include a swatch of traditional red-and-white check material for his consideration, even though she personally found it much too clichéd. Surely, there would be a better choice among the hundreds of bolts in the shop. If not, she'd start browsing fabric catalogues until she found one.
Anne opened her closet door and considered what to wear. Nowadays, her choices were much better than they'd been when she'd arrived in Grandville. All she'd had then were the clothes on her back and the few things she had stuffed in her backpack. Thanks to the generous discount she got on sewing supplies from Myra's suppliersâand the use of the shop's sewing machinesâAnne had managed to expand her wardrobe quite nicely. Now, her choices included a few skirts and slacks she'd made and an array of oversize blouses and sweaters she'd found in second-hand stores. She also had a couple of dresses for Sundays and two pairs of jeans. A warm coat she'd purchased at a sale last winter also hung in the closet beside her fleece jacket. Since she'd be climbing around to measure Mario's windows later, Anne chose her favorite jeans and a pink chenille sweater. The sweater's color flattered her complexion, but its bulk made her feel safely hidden from prying eyes.
After dressing, she quickly made her bed and tidied the room. Her cozy apartment served her needs perfectly. It was small enough to require little cleaning and well within her budget. Best of all, living this close to the shop, Anne didn't have to worry about how to get to work. She simply crossed the street. A variety of area restaurants and shops, also within walking distance, met most of her needs. When she wanted to go to the mall or to one of the large supermarkets, Anne sometimes borrowed Myra's car, but most of the time, she caught the bus. Riding the bus might take a little longer to get places, but it was convenient and affordable. Yes, all in all, Anne enjoyed her quiet and content new life.
Carrying the paperback book she'd started the night before, Anne headed for the kitchen. She popped a bagel into the toaster oven then brewed enough coffee to fill a large mug. When the bagel was lightly browned, she put it on a plate and slathered it with a bit of strawberry-flavored cream cheese. The little luxury had been on sale when she'd made her last trip to Meijer, so she'd indulged her sweet tooth. Now, paired with her coffee, the treat made a filling breakfast before the busy day ahead of her. She settled at the table and managed to read another chapter of the romance while she ate.
When she finished her breakfast, she washed her plate and cup then slipped on her jacket and gloves. As always, she paused on the landing outside to lock her door then double-checked it to be certain the deadbolt had engaged. Satisfied the door was secure, Anne carefully made her way down the outside steps. The night's cool temperatures had again created a thin layer of frost on the wood. She frowned, remembering how slippery they had been in the mornings last winter. So far, the area hadn't had any snowfall, but their luck couldn't last, not in Michigan. She made a mental note to add rock salt to the grocery list she'd been compiling for her next trip to the store.
It took next to no time for her to cross from her apartment to The Stitching Post's back door. Anne unlocked the shop then quickly re-locked the back entrance behind her since customers weren't allowed to enter that way. Tucking her gloves and keys in her pockets as she walked, she switched on the bright overhead lights then headed to the office to turn on the computer. While it ran its startup protocol, she hung her jacket on the coat hook beside the desk then went back into the shop to open the blinds on the display windows.
Humming a little tune, she lifted the blind on the front door then gasped and jumped back, clutching her throat. A man stood on the doorstep, nose pressed against the glass, trying to peer inside The Stitching Post.
Behind his wire-framed glasses, the man's eyes blinked in surprise, telling Anne he was as startled by the sight of her as she had been to see him. The coffee he held in a leather-gloved hand had sloshed over the edge of his cup when he'd jerked back in surprise. Some of it had splashed his elegant, caramel-colored overcoat, but the stranger didn't seem to notice. His shocked expression turned to concern when he saw her clutching the front of her sweater.
“Are you okay, Miss?” he asked in a voice muffled by the window glass.
Anne nodded, slowly regaining her composure from the shock of finding someone who resembled her ex-husband on the door stoop. Once her heart stopped racing, she realized that although this man shared Jeffrey's coloring and height, he was a bit heavier than her ex-husband. He wasn't exactly fat, but he had the soft appearance of someone who sat behind a desk most of the day. His eyes were sky blue, too, not the intense steely blue color which haunted her dreams most nights. Right now, the man's eyes radiated concern. After a couple more beats, Anne's heart returned to a normal tempo, and she had the presence of mind to unlock the front door and open it.
“I'm very sorry,” the stranger quickly apologized. “I didn't mean to startle you, Miss. I was trying to read the store's hours of operation on your door sign.”
“Well, it certainly woke me up better than my morning coffee did,” Anne replied with a nervous little chuckle. “Do you need something from the shop? We aren't usually open this early, but after the nasty shock we gave each other, I'll be glad to make an exception for you.”
The man shook his head. “No. My wife saw your shop the other day and wondered if you were open on the weekends. She works during the week, so I told her I'd check out your hours on my way to work.” He glanced around the shop. “Are you the owner?”
For some reason, the question made Anne uncomfortable. “I'm just an employee. The owner⦠hasn't arrived yet. I'm opening the shop today.”
“Well, it's a nice little place,” he said. He cast a final glance around the interior then saluted her with his coffee cup and bid her good day.
Anne watched him cross the street and go into a building housing a big accounting firm. Taking a deep breath of the cool morning air, she scolded herself for being so jumpy. She needed to calm down and not be scared by every shadow. Her check of OTIS the night before should have assured her Jeffrey was still safely incarcerated in Jackson. Still, this morning's encounter had set her nerves in edge. Jeffrey's indulgent parents had deep pockets. Their powerful connections had helped to get their darling son elected to office. An office he'd abused almost as thoroughly as he'd abused her. She needed to make sure they weren't looking for her.
Since the shop usually wasn't very busy early on weekday mornings, Anne decided to put her mind at ease and check further on her former in-laws' whereabouts. She hurried back to the office but made sure she had a clear view of the front entrance from Myra's desk. Once Courtney arrived, Anne wouldn't need to watch for customers coming into the shop, but she might have her search done by then. Before she started her Internet search, Anne pulled up the email for her StitchPost1 email ID to check for any mail from the account Myra used. The shop owner hadn't written in a couple of days, and Anne hoped her silence meant Myra and Ed were having a good time. Maybe, if they relaxed and had a good enough time, Myra would reconsider her decision to sell the shop when she returned. The very thought of it being sold worried Anne. Would she be able to maintain her low profile under a new owner? For that matter, would a new owner even keep her on? Anne pushed aside the thought. No use fretting about it until the time came.
There was no mail from Myra, so Anne began to browse some of her favorite places for information on Jeffrey's family. Her first stop was
Harper Happenings
, the thinly disguised blog of Jeffrey's youngest sister. Like many young people, Tarah lived her life online. Using only initials, she blithely posted even the most personal of details about her family for her “personal friends.” The girl had nearly a thousand of them on the blog, and she also allowed people to browse her posts without actually signing up as a follower. They just couldn't publish comments. The latter option worked perfectly for Anne. It let her read about the Harpers without risking a sign on.
Now, as she browsed the latest entries, Anne wondered again why Tarah's parents hadn't shut down her blog.
Harper Happenings
read like the latest Hollywood gossip column. Pictures of society events and tantalizing tidbits about family members and their friends filled the pages. The participants might be identified only by initials, but some of the scandalous tidbits were accompanied by addresses and dates of the intimate events. It appeared the Harper family would be in Colorado skiing over Thanksgiving. Tarah had several rambling posts about the clothes she'd bought, including a rather suggestive picture of her modeling some new, lacy lingerie. Thankfully, Tarah had no recent update about the man she lovingly referred to as her DBBâdear big brother. Anne puffed out a sigh of relief.
Before signing off for the morning, Anne checked the various social media. Tarah and Jeffrey had both been online junkies, constantly checking for the latest updates on their smart phones. It sometimes seemed like Jeffrey had let the entire online world know everything he thought, planned, or didâexcept his affair and his treatment of his wife, of course. It had been tricky for Anne to get accounts set up which couldn't be traced back to her. She'd done it on the library computer, creating a fictitious profile for a middle-aged man in California. No one should be able to connect it with her. Thankfully, a review of Tarah's pages showed nothing about Jeffrey. His accounts, of course, had remained inactive since his incarceration. Relieved, Anne logged off the computer then went out to the sales floor.
Keeping in mind her promise to Mario the night before, she pulled out the placemat he'd given her, hoping for some inspiration. His design showed her the style of curtains he wanted, but he hadn't given her any other preferences except that they needed to be sturdy and washable. She had no idea what patterns or colors he preferred, so she wandered through the shop with a cart, gathering various fabrics she thought might work in a restaurant setting. As she came around a corner, a bolt of yellow cotton caught her eye. She pulled it out from the others to see the print. A pair of cartoon chefs cavorted across the fabric. One chef, tall and thin, precariously balanced an overflowing tray of pasta while the other, short and comically rotund, concentrated on tossing a huge pizza crust over his head.
Now, these cheery fellows would be right at home in the front window at Falcone's,
Anne thought as she added it to her cart then wheeled everything over to the cutting table.
She had just started snipping samples to show Mario when the bell rang, signaling a customer. She put down her pinking shears and glanced up as Brad and Jennie entered the shop. The sight of them made the morning even brighter. She hurried to the front of the shop to greet them, wondering if her voice sounded as giddy to them as it did to her.
“Good morning, Jennie and Jennie's dad. What can I do for the two of you this lovely morning?”
“Hi, Anne,” Brad greeted, giving her one of his wonderful smiles. “We were on the way to Jennie's school when I saw the lights on in here. We decided to stop so I could drop off the ad I wrote about the flags. I kind of hoped you might be able to advise me on a fair price to offer for the job if someone responds.” He pulled a folded paper from his jacket and handed it to Anne.
Anne glanced down at Jennie. “Did you help your dad write it?”
The little girl shook her head solemnly. “No, Daddy did it all by himself.”
“Well, let's see how he did,” Anne said and read the neatly typed paper. She glanced up and nodded. “This is very good, Mr. Carmichael. It explains what you need quite clearly. But I was wondering⦔ She paused and bit her bottom lip.
“I'm not sure what your budget is,” she continued, the words rushing out in a tumble. “But I have extra time in the evenings, and I'd be willing to do the project for you. I'm an experienced seamstress, and I work fast. I could even make a sample for your approval before you decide if you'd like.”
The band director's brown eyes widened. “Are you kidding me? That would be incredible. I don't need a sample to decide. You're hired! Just tell me how much you'll charge.”
Anne pursed her lips, considering how much time the job would take then named a price.
“Are you sure it's enough?” he asked. “Even with the cost of the materials, it's a fraction of what the flag companies all quoted.”
“I don't have their overhead,” she explained, giving a little shrug. “Besides, it will give me a chance to contribute to a good cause
and
make a little extra cash.”
“You know,” Brad said, “if you're serious about making some extra money, the band parents always need someone to do alterations for the kids' uniforms. Every year, sleeves have to be shortened or lengthened. The trousers have to be hemmed or let down, too. Would it be okay if I have them contact you?
Anne hesitated. She wasn't sure how she felt about having her name passed around where anyone might see it. But the opportunity to earn some extra cash was too good to pass up. She reached over to the card holder on the countertop and handed him one of the shop business cards. “Here's a card with the shop's phone number. If you give this number to the parents, they can reach me here. I'm the one who answers the phone most of the time.”
“Wonderful. Be ready for a slew of calls. Symphony band starts after the holidays, so everyone will want their concert uniforms altered.”
“Fine with me. I can handle the volume. I altered more than a dozen choir robes for Pastor Lockhart last spring.”
“What? You mean Gordon Lockhart knew about you and didn't tell me?” Brad pretended to frown. “You better believe I'm going to have a few words with my preacher buddy about that.”
Anne stifled a giggle, suddenly feeling like a teenager. It had been a long time since a male had teased her, and it felt good. Flattering. She had nearly forgotten what it was like to have a pleasant conversation with a nice man. If she weren't careful, she could easily let down her guard.
No! She could never allow it to happen. Never! Not with Brad, not with any other man. Anne knew how men were. They started out so sweet and pleasant then they turned. The change would be gradual, so slow she wouldn't notice it at first. But all too soon, she'd find her life restricted. She wouldn't be able to have friends or indulge in hobbies. He would control who she could talk to and would listen in on her phone conversations. He'd read her email and lock up the computer so she couldn't get online unless he was standing over her shoulder. She'd be forced to quit her job, too. In short, he'd take over her life.
She wouldn't give up control of her life ever again. No matter how nice the man might seem. She pulled herself up short. Why was she even thinking such thoughts? Mr. Carmichael wasn't actually flirting. The band director wasn't asking her out for a date. He was just a customer, a customer who needed her help. She would be polite to him, nothing more.
“Thank you for your trust in me, Mr. Carmichael. I'll order the materials for the flags right away.”
“You're welcome, but the name is Brad, remember?” he said, taking his daughter's hand. “And I'm the one who should thank you. You've taken one huge task off my never-ending
To Do
list.”
He held out his hand to his daughter. “Come on, Princess. I'd better get you to school before we're both late.”
When the pair waved and headed out to their car, Anne stood at the window and watched them drive away. As she returned to her tasks, she realized how empty the shop seemed with them gone.