A Thread of Truth by Marie Bostwick

Author:Marie Bostwick
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.
Published: 2009-09-23T04:00:00+00:00

21

Ivy Peterman

Frankly, I didn’t see how making a quilt was going to help anything. After spending the whole afternoon listening to my pathetic history, I would have figured that I was the last person Evelyn, Margot, and Abigail would want to spend the evening with, but they were insistent. Friday night was Quilt Circle night and the ladies wanted to quilt—end of story.

Over my protests, Evelyn recruited Garrett to babysit. Surely he had better things to do on a Friday night.

“Not really,” he said. “Liza has to stay in New York until tomorrow. Trust me, taking your kids out to get some burgers and play a round of goofy golf is the best offer I’m going to get tonight. Otherwise it’ll just be me, a bag of Doritos, and the Gilligan’s Island marathon on the Nostalgia Network.”

“Wow,” Margot teased. “You really don’t have much of a life, do you, Garrett?”

“Tell me about it.” He smiled as he grabbed his car keys and went out the door.

“There you go,” Evelyn said. “We’re all set.”

“Not quite,” Margot said. “We’ll need provisions. I’m starving.”

“There’s all that food Charlie brought,” Abigail replied. “Tomatoes, olives and cheese, plus some bread and butter. Everyone was so caught up in the story that we forgot to eat. Everything is still in the kitchen. I’ll just get some napkins and forks and put it out upstairs.”

“Let me do it,” I said quickly. Everyone had spent their entire day trying to help me and I was eager to do something for them, even something as small as setting the table.

I headed downstairs. Margot was right behind me.

“I’m just going to run out for a minute,” she said. “Be back in a jiffy.”

Fifteen minutes later, I had the food set up on one end of the worktable and was putting slices of tomato and mozzarella onto four paper plates and garnishing each with some of the fresh basil Charlie had left in a separate container in the refrigerator. Evelyn was rolling out fabric from several different bolts and studying color combinations, and sketching something on a pad of graph paper. Abigail was fiddling with the radio, trying to find a classical station. Everyone was busy with something. It was nice. It felt normal.

Margot yoo-hooed cheerfully as she tromped up the stairs carrying a bottle of French Bordeaux, a box of chocolate-covered ice cream bonbons, and a corkscrew. “I had these at my house and thought they’d be the perfect additions to our supper.”

Abigail took the bottle, examined it, then glanced at the bonbons doubtfully. “Red wine and ice cream? Do you think these go together?”

“Sure they do,” Margot replied, pointing to the bonbon label. “It says right here, ‘French Vanilla’!”

Evelyn clapped her hands to get our attention. “All right, all right. Are we here to eat or quilt?”

“Can’t we do both?” Margot giggled.

“Yes, but let’s try to work out a plan for our new quilt before we open the wine, shall we? I’ve got a feeling the end result will be much better if we do.

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