An Elm Creek Quilts Sampler (79 page)

“Then we’ll make the best of it,” Paul said.

“I don’t want you to make the best of it,” Lindsay said. “I want you to be happy for us.”

She looked so miserable that Donna rose and embraced her. “We’re happy if you’re happy.” As Lindsay clung to her, Donna caught Paul’s eye and shook her head slightly. They could discuss this privately later and, she hoped, find some way to convince their daughter to reconsider.

“I still say you’re nuts,” Becca muttered.

Lindsay pulled away from her mother and turned to her sister. “I hope you’ll be my maid of honor anyway.”

“Maid of honor?” Becca considered. “Can I help pick out the dress?”

“Why? Are you afraid I’d stick you in something hideous?”

“That thought did cross my mind.”

Lindsay laughed. “Yes, you can help pick out the style—but I get to pick the color.”

“That’s fair.”

Lindsay turned back to her mother, tentative. “Will you help me choose a wedding gown?”

“You don’t need to worry about that just yet,” Donna said. “You have plenty of time.”

“I know. It’s just—well, now that it’s official, I want to get it over with. The work, I mean. It’ll be a lot of work, and I want to get started.” Her smile trembled, and Donna knew what an effort it took for her to keep it in place.

Paul sighed and rubbed at his jaw distractedly.

“I know this is a shock, but you’ll feel better once you get used to the idea,” Lindsay said. “Brandon says his parents were surprised, too, but once they had some time to adjust, they were happy for us.”

Donna wondered how long ago Brandon had told his parents. How long had Lindsay been engaged without telling her and Paul?

“You’ll meet Brandon’s parents soon,” Lindsay promised. “They’re coming to Minneapolis next month to visit him. I thought we could drive down and meet them for supper. That’s on a Sunday, the fifteenth. The families should meet each other before the wedding.”

“I can’t,” Donna heard herself say.

Lindsay’s face fell. “What?”

“I can’t.” She could support her daughter here, at home, but she could not—she
would
not—rush out and meet the other family and plunge into a frenzy of wedding plans as if she wanted this marriage to happen, when she didn’t, at least not now.

“Why not?”

“I can’t.” August fifteenth. Why did that date sound familiar? “I’m busy that day.”

“Too busy to meet Brandon’s parents?”

“That’s the week I’m going out of town,” Donna said. “I know you’ve heard me talk about it. My friend Megan and I are meeting at quilt camp. Don’t you remember?”

Lindsay looked dubious. “I guess I forgot.”

“Well, that’s the week. I’m sorry, honey, but I’ll have to meet Brandon’s family another time.” Brandon was a nice enough young man—what she knew of him—but they were both so young, and she couldn’t bear to see Lindsay throw away all her dreams for the future. Lindsay had begged them to be happy for her, but how could Donna be happy when her every instinct screamed that Lindsay was not?

She climbed the stairs and retreated to the sanctuary of her quilt studio, where she switched on the computer and sank heavily into the chair. As she waited for the system to boot up, she realized she’d have to confirm that date with Megan and ask her where exactly this quilt camp was, anyway.

Adam fumbled for the phone. “Hello?”

“Adam?”

“Yeah?” he mumbled, trying to clear his throbbing head. Last night his two best friends had shown up with a case of beer and a stack of videos—war movies, the kind where the hard-edged, tough hero died at the end by throwing himself on a hand grenade or by carrying a bomb into an enemy bunker to save his equally hard-edged, tough buddies. Natalie despised the genre, and if she had been present, they would have watched something else entirely. And that, his friends’ message seemed to be, was precisely the point; watching movies with an abundance of pyrotechnics and high body counts was celebration of the male independence he had narrowly escaped losing. As if that was what he wanted, as if it were his choice.

“Good morning, honey. It’s Nana.”

Of course. Who else would phone so early on a Sunday morning? “Hi, Nana.”

“Did I wake you, dear?”

“Yeah, but that’s okay.”

“You should be getting ready for church by now anyway.”

He squinted at the clock. “Church isn’t for another four hours.” He sat up on the edge of the bed and yawned. “What’s going on?”

“I need you to drive me somewhere next month.”

He smothered a laugh. “It’s a good thing you called me so early,” he said with mock solemnity. “If you’d waited until dawn, I might have been all booked up.”

“Listen to how you talk to your grandmother,” she scolded him. “I have no idea why you’re still my favorite grandson.”

“Each of us is the favorite, according to you.”

“I can have more than one favorite. Now, about this ride. Are you free on August fifteenth or am I going to have to walk? That’s a Sunday.”

He felt a pang, picturing how that Sunday in August should have been spent—a leisurely breakfast on the patio with Natalie, an afternoon trip out to Amish country to look at the furniture she so adored, maybe a romantic candlelit dinner. But now … “I won’t be busy.”

“Are you sure?”

“Very sure. Where do you need to go?”

“It’s time for my quilt camp again, remember? I always go during my birthday week. I need you to drive me there on August fifteenth and pick me up the twenty-first. That’s a Saturday.”

“Is this the camp in Pennsylvania?”

“Yes. Your sister took me last year, and she said to tell you it’s your turn.”

Now he remembered his sister complaining about the long drive to the middle of nowhere. “Why don’t you fly this time?”

“You know I don’t like airplanes,” she said primly. “I would take the train, but the nearest station is a long drive from Elm Creek Manor. What do you suggest I do, take a taxi? I suppose I’ll have to, if it’s so much trouble—”

“It’s no trouble,” he assured her before she could get too excited. “I have a teachers’ in-service at school the next day, but Sunday’s no problem. I’ll take you.”

“And pick me up?”

“And pick you up.” Why not? Anything was better than moping around the empty house. Maybe he should get a dog.

“Thank you. You’re a good boy.” She paused. “Do you want to come to supper tonight? I could make a nice pork roast.”

“Thanks, Nana, but—”

“Dayton’s only an hour north of you. Less than that, the way you drive.”

“Maybe next week.” He didn’t feel up to seeing anyone that day. Or maybe for the rest of the summer.

Nana’s voice softened. “Adam, I didn’t forget what day yesterday was.”

The reminder pained him. “You mean, what yesterday was supposed to have been.”

“You’re much better off without her.”

“So I’m told.”

“If she’s that fickle, it’s better you find out now rather than three or four years into it.”

“Please don’t criticize her.”

“Why not, after what she did to you? I never liked her, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” So did Natalie. So did the entire family and, if he knew his grandmother, all the ladies in her quilting circle and every other senior in her apartment complex. Nana had never been one to keep her opinions to herself, even when her words were sharp enough to cut. Yes, Natalie had her faults; he could admit that. She had a temper, and he never knew whether he would please her or set off a tantrum. But even now, when any sensible person would be too angry to remember any of her good qualities, just thinking about her made him ache with loss. He couldn’t honestly say he still loved her the way he had before she broke off their engagement—his trust had been too badly damaged for that—but he still cared about her, and he missed her.

“My friends have granddaughters—”

“No, you’re not setting me up,” he interrupted. “I’m not ready. I mean it, Nana.”

“I heard you,” she said innocently. “But if I meet a lovely young woman and happen to mention my favorite grandson, and if she happens to be available …”

He was too tired to argue. After promising to come to dinner the next Sunday, Adam hung up the phone and slumped back into bed with a groan. This was supposed to have been his first full day as a married man. He should be sleeping peacefully in the bridal suite of the Radisson Hotel Cincinnati right now, his beautiful, dark-haired wife in his arms. He should be dreaming of their future, which had always seemed so full of promise. He should have risen just in time for a shower and breakfast before they left on their honeymoon. Instead Natalie and her sister were going to use their nonrefundable tickets to the Bahamas, and a call from his grandmother instead of a kiss from his bride had awakened him.

Adam closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep. It wasn’t even six o’clock in the morning, but already he knew he was in for a rough day. Maybe he should get a dog. Natalie hated dogs. Now that he was allowed to have one, he ought to get one, if only to convince his well-meaning but overanxious family and friends that he was getting on with his life.

Grace nodded as Sondra chatted about the two men she was dating, though she was only partially listening. For the most part her thoughts were on the television interview scheduled for later that morning, but in the back of her mind she fretted about the sewing machine and fabric stash left idle too long in her studio. She also worried about how tired she was, and how if the smell of relaxants and perming solution weren’t so sharp in her nostrils, she might fall asleep. She tired so easily lately.

“Justine driving you to the station?” Sondra suddenly asked, speaking in a voice far too casual to be casual.

“Yes.” Grace tried to catch her eye in the mirror. “Why do you ask?” Was it that obvious she rarely drove these days? She had walked to the salon, but her loft was only a few blocks away; surely that had not roused Sondra’s suspicions.

“No reason.” Sondra kept her attention on Grace’s hair. “I was just wondering how she’s doing.”

“She’s fine. Busy with school and Joshua, and volunteering at the women’s shelter.” Grace admired her daughter’s commitment to social justice, but she hoped when Justine completed her degree and passed the bar, not all of her work would be pro bono.

Sondra trimmed a stray curl with the electric razor. “She seeing anyone?”

“Not that I know of.”

“You sure?”

“Well …” Grace thought about it and shrugged. “Of course. She would have told me.”

“Is that so.”

Something in her expression made Grace suspicious. “What do you mean?”

“I wasn’t going to say anything—”

Though Sondra had raised the seat until Grace could barely reach the ground with an outstretched foot, she managed to spin the chair around so she could face her friend. “Tell me.”

“If you’re going to force it out of me, two nights ago I saw her and Joshua out at a restaurant.” Sondra raised her eyebrows. “They weren’t alone.”

“You mean, a man was with them?”

“What else would I mean?” Sondra shook her head. “For someone who’s not seeing anyone, Justine sure looked interested.”

Grace’s hopes rose. Since Joshua had accompanied them, maybe this mysterious man was his father, and maybe that meant Justine had decided to patch things up with him. Grace had always liked Marc and had been heartbroken when Justine told her in no uncertain terms that they wouldn’t be getting married. Two-year-old Joshua was an angel, but the older he grew, the more he would need a father figure in his life. Maybe Justine had finally realized that. “Did you get a good look at him?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Sondra spun Grace’s chair around to face the mirror and tended her close-cropped hair with a comb. “Tall, nice eyes, good-looking. If Justine gets tired of him, she can send him to me. He’s more my type, anyway.”

Grace hid a smile. Sondra thought every handsome man was her type. “How so, exactly?”

Sondra gave her a pointed look in the mirror. “He’s old enough to be her father, that’s how.”

“Are you sure?” Grace’s heart sank. So the man wasn’t Joshua’s father but someone else—someone her age. “Justine’s never had a thing for older men.”

“You didn’t see this particular older man.”