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  “Coffee?” she asked Gary after Charles left.

  “Yeah, please. Let’s move into the kitchen.” Gary picked up his briefcase and took it along. He placed it on the table and opened it while Sarah poured the coffee. Once she sat down with him, he took an envelope out and laid it on the table.

  “Sarah, as Rose’s executor, I wanted to give you this myself.” She wondered why he was calling her Rose, but decided he was in a different role right now. “She left instructions,” he continued, “that this was to be given to you in person. I figured I was the best person to do that, and when this opportunity to come to Hamilton came up, I jumped at it.”

  “I’m glad you did, Gary, but what’s this all about?” He handed her the envelope, and she opened it carefully. She imagined that the smell of her aunt Rose’s perfume wafted out. The note was written in her aunt’s familiar handwriting, every word carefully penned.

  My dear Sarah,

  As I write this, I’m remembering your visit with me back in the late forties. What fun it was for me to have a young person around! As you know, it was many years later that I was finally blessed with a child of my own.

  What I remember most about your time here is how enchanted you were with my quilts. You told me in your letters that you are learning to quilt, and I’m extremely happy for you. You will never be sorry.

  I have chosen five quilts that I want Gary to give to you after I am gone. One of these was on your bed when you were here. The other four you will probably remember when you see them.

  I want you to know that I have loved you your whole life, my dear niece.

  Your aunt Rose

  Sarah sat without moving. After a few minutes, she folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope. She blotted her eyes with a tissue she took from her pocket. Finally, she turned to Gary and quietly said, “I loved your grandmother very much. She was such a special person and always so good to me, and now this. It’s just overwhelming. I don’t know what to say.”

  “She knew you would give her quilts a good home,” he said, feeling inadequate as men often do when faced with women’s tears.

  “Okay! Enough of this seriousness,” Gary suddenly announced as he stood up and closed his briefcase. “I have a pile of quilts for you in the car!” Sarah jumped up, and they hurried outside. He opened the trunk and removed a large box wrapped with yards of twine. “I was glad to see there were no TSA inspection notices on this when I picked it up. I was afraid they might soil the quilts.”

  They returned to the house, and Gary placed the box on the kitchen table. Sarah removed the coffee cups and wiped the tabletop clean. One by one, they removed the quilts and carried each one into her bedroom, spreading it out on her bed to get the full effect. Sarah caught her breath as each one was spread out, revealing the tiny hand stitches and spectacular designs. Rose had clearly preferred soft colors—mostly pastels—but she also used the reds, blues, and violets from her garden. She had a remarkable ability to create floral designs down to the minutest detail. “Stunning,” Sarah said over and over. “Absolutely stunning.”

  Gary started to fold them, but Sarah stopped him, saying, “Just leave them here for now. I want to look at them again before I put them away.” In fact, she wanted to show them to Charles after Gary left, and she was even considering sleeping on the futon so they would be on her bed the next morning when the light was stronger.

  “Granny would want you to use them, you know. She always used her quilts. All of these have been on her bed at one time or another.” After they returned to the living room, Sarah noticed that Barney was patiently standing by the front door.

  “I need to take Barney for a walk. Would you like to join us?” The three headed out the door and up the street toward the park. Sarah often walked through the park to get to the quilt shop. It was only a mile or so, and Barney loved the walk; he enjoyed being able to go into the shop with Sarah. Occasionally a customer would complain, but generally everyone was happy to see him.

  Gary and Sarah headed to the other side of the park where there was a dog park. Once inside, Sarah unhooked Barney’s leash, and he headed straight for a little white poodle with pink ribbons in her hair. They sniffed their “hellos” and began running around the periphery, yelping and gently nipping at each other. “I think your dog’s in love,” Gary speculated with a smile.

  Sarah and her cousin sat in the park enjoying the late summer sunshine and gentle breeze while the dogs romped and enjoyed their freedom. Barney was distracted several times by squirrels and seemed to be showing off when he attempted to follow one up a tree. Pink-Ribbon Dog observed with a touch of disdain, her aristocratic nose held high. Barney’s tail and head drooped as he returned to her side, seeming to be embarrassed by his lowbrow behavior.

  “Time to go home,” Sarah called after a while. Reluctantly, Barney returned to her side. His new friend stood by the gate watching until they were out of sight.

  * * * * *

  “Let’s take a quick tour through the Center before we have dinner,” Sarah suggested as Charles parked his car. From the outside, the Center looked like an old warehouse. In fact, it probably was in its day. Once inside, Gary expressed surprise at the transformation. There was a two-story lobby with tropical trees reaching for the skylights and two levels of rooms with glass elevators traveling between them.

  Leading the small group toward the elevators, Charles explained about the various activities that went on in the Center. “We have an indoor pool for swimming and water exercise classes, an exercise room with an on-call trainer, a coffee shop …”

  “… and a dance studio, a small grocery store, and a computer lab!” Sarah interjected. “In fact, I learned to use the computer there.”

  Charles added, “I took a woodworking class; Sarah took a hula hooping class …”

  “A hula hooping class?” Gary responded with a questioning look. Sarah explained the theory around hula hooping for fitness, but he continued to look ambivalent. “It really works,” she added. They continued to tour the second floor classrooms and took the elevator back down to the main floor. They walked past the pool, which had windows open to the hallway. A man and woman were swimming laps side by side, stopping occasionally and laughing together. Sarah pointed out the wheelchair parked by the ladder. Charles winked at Sarah, knowing what it must mean to the couple to be able to romp together in the pool.

  They walked to the opposite side of the building and entered the restaurant. “This is fancy! I was expecting nurses to be serving me on bed trays,” Gary said jokingly as he looked across the room at the white tablecloths and candles. Their waiter, dressed in a starched shirt and black tie, took their drink orders and returned with a bottle of imported pinot grigio and an appetizer platter. Gary tested the wine and made a circle of approval with his thumb and forefinger.

  After they placed their dinner orders, Sarah spoke up, saying, “Well, Charles. I have a bit of news.” She proceeded to tell him about her visit with Vicky at the nursing home that morning. Gary looked surprised, expecting her to be telling him about the quilts. She was saving that story until they were alone.

  Sarah went on. “Vicky has an eighty-eight-year-old patient that she wants me to visit. The woman’s name is Grace, and she is in the rehab wing of the nursing home. She had a hip replacement last month and is recovering from that just fine, but she seems to be very lonely, and the doctor feels she would benefit from the volunteer visitor program.”

  “When will you start?” Charles asked, dipping an extra-large shrimp into cocktail sauce. Sarah told Charles she was going to meet Grace the following day just to see how they got along.

  “She’s a quilter,” she added, “so we’ll have lots to talk about!”

  “You volunteer at the nursing home?” Gary asked with interest. “Isn’t that pretty depressing work?” He poured the last of the wine into his glass and signaled the waiter for a second bottle.

  “That’s what I thought when I first went
there several years ago,” Sarah responded. “They took me to the Alzheimer’s wing, and I withdrew from the program for a while. It was incredibly depressing. But then I had a few less stressful assignments, and in fact some of them turned out to be lots of fun.” She smiled at Charles and he winked.

  When they returned to Sarah’s house, a storm seemed to be brewing. Sarah was concerned about Gary driving to Hamilton since he had finished most of the second bottle of wine himself. He assured her he was fine but Charles intervened. Being a retired police officer, he knew the dangers. “How would you like to take a little ride?” he asked Sarah.

  “Where to?”

  “I’m thinking you can drive Gary back to Hamilton, and it will give the two of you more time to visit.” Sarah rolled her eyes inconspicuously so only Charles could see. Gary was a little tipsy at this point and not the best conversationalist. Charles smiled and continued, “And I will follow you in Gary’s car.” Sarah thought about it and realized it was the responsible thing to do. Gary was family. Gary balked at the idea, but Charles was able to calmly get him to agree.

  On their way back home, Sarah reached for Charles’ hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you for doing that. Aunt Rose would have appreciated it, too.” He returned the squeeze and smiled.

  “I have something to show you when we get home,” she added. Sarah told Charles about the quilts. She had placed the letter in her purse so she could read it to him on their way home. He listened attentively and said he would love to see the quilts.

  When they got home, Sarah took Charles into her room and one by one lifted a quilt, only to reveal another spectacular quilt below it. Charles was fascinated by them and asked many questions, most of which Sarah couldn’t answer. “I don’t know much about appliqué,” Sarah said, “but I’d like to learn. I wish I’d realized that while Aunt Rose was alive. She would have been an extraordinary teacher.”

  Before he left, Charles managed to convince Sarah to fold the quilts up so she could sleep in her own bed. She didn’t put them away, however. She just folded them loosely and laid them on the futon so she could examine them in more detail the next day.

  Charles didn’t seem to want to leave, and being alone in her bedroom wasn’t helping. Sarah knew she had to deal with her reluctance to make a commitment to this wonderful man. Charles was clearly in love with her, and she knew she loved him as well. Nevertheless, she couldn’t shake the feeling that moving ahead with their relationship was somehow being disloyal to her husband’s memory.

  Somewhat reluctantly, she led Charles to the front door. “It’s okay,” he said, seeming to know what was bothering her. He gave her a gentle kiss and wrapped her in his arms in a warm hug that neither one wanted to end. Barney found it so appealing that he jumped up and nuzzled in between them. Sarah and Charles burst out laughing, and the magic moment was over.

  Chapter 3

  “Sarah! I’m glad you’re here.” The shop was bright and sunny, and Sarah could feel her creative juices flowing from the moment she walked through the door. “We just got a shipment of fabric that I know you will love!” Ruth gave Sarah a friendly hug and led her into the back room, where Katie and Anna were unpacking fabric. The bolts were still wrapped in cellophane, but the vibrant colors showed through; splashes of greens and yellows mixed with blues and violets, effervescing across the bolts.

  Sarah exclaimed excitedly, “These are gorgeous!”

  “They’re the new Bali batiks. Aren’t they scrumptious?”

  “Bali batiks?” Sarah asked, looking puzzled.

  “Batik is a very old technique that was developed centuries ago by the villagers and tribesmen of Malaysia and Indonesia.” Ruth went on to describe the process of using melted wax to draw or paint designs on fabric and then dying the fabric. When the wax is removed, the design is revealed in the original color.

  “They repeat the process over and over to get these intricate patterns of color and design,” Katie, Ruth’s daughter, interjected.

  “Well, they are just gorgeous,” Sarah remarked, gently running her hands over the bolts Katie had finished opening. Once the cellophane was removed, the colors were even more brilliant. “I will have to come up with a project.”

  “These are spectacular for use in an appliqué project, particularly with flowers,” Katie said. “They capture the essence of a blooming garden,” she added with a mischievous smile. “Or at least that’s what it says on the label.” They all laughed, and Katie continued to unwrap the bolts.

  Sarah thought about Aunt Rose’s quilts and how Rose had used various values and hues of the same color to make her flowers appear variegated. She could see how using these batiks would give the flowers depth and texture. “Maybe I should learn to appliqué,” she said thoughtfully.

  “I could teach you,” Katie offered.

  The shop was a joyful place to be. The colors, the textures, the creativity exhibited—on the walls and by the customers as they chose fabrics for their next project—were always an inspiration to Sarah. Just a little over two years earlier, she didn’t know what a seam ripper was, and now it had become a good friend! And the people in this shop were responsible for teaching her a skill that she was sure would be with her the rest of her life. She thought about her aunt Rose and the beautiful quilts folded on the futon, and she wondered if someday she would be able to leave something half as beautiful to her family.

  Sarah picked up the thread and the background fabric she needed as well as three fat quarters she couldn’t bring herself to leave in the shop. At the last minute, she picked up a magazine lying on the checkout counter. “Is someone buying this?” she asked Katie who was getting ready to ring up Sarah’s purchases.

  “No,” Katie responded. “I was on my way to the magazine rack to put that away. I was showing someone a picture of a basket quilt that I thought she would like to make with her 1930s reproduction fabrics, but she decided on a different pattern. Did you want it?” she asked Sarah.

  “It looks interesting. I think I’ll take it, too,” she responded as she placed the magazine on her pile.

  “That’s 25% off today. You’re in luck!” Katie said with a chuckle as she rang it up along with her other items.

  It was almost 12:30, and Sarah headed for the nursing home to meet Grace. As she drove, she reviewed the few things she knew about the woman. Grace was in her late eighties and was getting physical therapy following a hip replacement. Medically she was doing fine, considering her advanced age. Unfortunately, she had been through the entire experience totally alone. She had no family. She had never married and had outlived her sisters. She had told Vicky that her closest friend had recently died, as well. She was alone and extremely lonely.

  Sarah was feeling a bit uneasy, wondering what they would talk about and if she could really be of any help to Grace. She had learned about listening skills when she took the volunteer visitor training program the previous year. However, she was always a little nervous about making that initial connection with a stranger. Of course, there’s always the quilting, she thought with a smile. The only other thing Sarah knew about Grace was that she was a quilter. Sarah knew that would give her an opening as far as conversation was concerned. One day at a time, Andy always said. One day at a time.

  Sarah approached Vicky’s office about ten minutes early, and the two women leisurely walked up to the second floor and through swinging doors into the rehab wing. “This wing is set aside for our patients in rehabilitation,” Vicky explained. “Rehab patients are usually here temporarily, and they all have private rooms. The physical therapist and vocational therapists are in this wing, too. That door leads to a sauna and an exercise pool.”

  “Nice!” Sarah responded. She thought about Charles and the many months he had spent here. He must have been lonely, too.

  When they arrived at Grace’s door, Vicky knocked softly and called, “Grace, it’s Vicky and the visitor I told you about. May we come in?”

  “Yes, come on in
,” the soft voice responded.

  Grace was propped up in bed, holding a book and wearing a pretty bed jacket over her gown. Her gray hair was cut short and curled softly around her face. She appeared to be a small woman, but it was hard to tell since she was covered with a quilt. A Dresden Plate, Sarah thought. Ruth had a Dresden Plate quilt hanging in the shop that was made by her grandmother.

  Vicky introduced Sarah, explaining that Sarah was a volunteer at the Center and was learning to quilt. “I was hoping you might show her those two beautiful quilts you brought with you,” Vicky added. Grace’s face softened as she pulled her quilt up so it was more visible. “This is one,” she said, “and the other is in the cupboard over there. Vicky?”

  “I’ll get it,” Vicky said, reaching into the cupboard and pulling out a second quilt. Sarah came closer to the bed and studied the quilts. The second one was a Triple Irish Chain made with florals on a white background.

  “These are both hand quilted,” Sarah said, astonished. “Did you make these quilts?”

  Grace looked proud as she smiled and responded, “Yes, I did. I made both of these ten or fifteen years ago. I haven’t done much sewing lately. I have arthritis in my hands, and that slows me down.”

  Vicky looked at her watch and said, “Grace, do you mind if I leave Sarah here with you for a while?”

  “That would be nice,” Grace responded, pointing toward a chair. “Have a seat.”

  Sarah moved the chair closer to the bed and sat down. She looked at the Dresden Plate quilt again and examined the handwork. “This is such beautiful work,” she commented. You hand appliquéd the plates to the background, didn’t you?”

  “Yes. I hand pieced the plates first, then appliquéd them to the background squares.” The plates were primarily blue calicos with touches of mauve. The background was a mauve tone-on-tone, and Grace had used a medium blue tone-on-tone for the sashing and the border. It was completely quilted by hand.

  “So much work!” Sarah exclaimed. “Do you do all your work by hand?”