Read The Friendship Star Quilt Online
Authors: Patricia Kiyono,Stephanie Michels
The Friendship Star Quilt (13 page)
A November wind rustled the old oak tree outside The Stitching Post the next morning and sent another shower of dried leaves dancing across the walkway. Anne seized on them as a perfect excuse to go out in the brisk fall day. After all, she needed to deal with the foliage before it piled up against the stoop and became a nuisance, didn't she? Leaving Courtney to man the store, she grabbed a broom and trash bag from the supply closet then headed outside.
Anne loved autumn in Michigan. She enjoyed being outdoors on days like this when the sky was postcard blue and the trees were in full color. She leaned on her broom for a moment and took a deep breath of fresh air then immediately wrinkled her nose. Automobile exhaust fumes. Maybe fresh wasn't the best description for the air on one of the town's busiest roads. She closed her eyes and tried to remember autumn on her grandparents' farm.
The sweet scent of freshly cut hay baled and stacked in the barn. Bushels of ripe apples, waiting to be trucked to the co-op or to be made into Gran's apple butter. The last of the pumpkins, corn, peppers, and other vegetables piled in the kitchen where Gran would can or freeze them in preparation for the long winter ahead. The air on the farm had been redolent with the scents of growing crops all spring and summer, but it had seemed richer and more fragrant in the fall of the year. She'd forgotten how much she missed the scents until days like this stirred up the memories.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
Anne startled and opened her eyes to find Brad, standing on the walkway below her, holding up a shiny silver coin. “That's a quarter.”
He shrugged. “Inflation has driven up the price of everything these days. Even daydreams.”
“You're right,” she agreed then plucked the coin from his fingers. Grinning, she tucked it into her front pocket. “Besides, I don't want to be accused of putting Mr. Washington on the unemployment rolls.”
They shared a smile at her reference to their conversation at the Meijer bakery.
“So what were you daydreaming about?” he asked, going back to his earlier question.
“Just thinking how much I love the smell of autumn.”
Brad sniffed the air. “It smells like automobile exhaust.”
“A little. But I was remembering the smell back home. Newly harvested crops, pumpkin pie and apples ripening in the orchard.”
“You're a farm girl?”
“For most of my life.”
Brad tipped his head and seemed amused. “How fascinating. I had you pegged as a big city girl, Anne. You know, the opera, museums, fancy restaurants. You appear so stylish andâcomposed.”
“Not according to myâ” She halted and gave a dismissive wave. It was better to leave that particular train of thought at the station. “Where's your little sidekick?”
If he'd noted her abrupt change of subject, he was too polite to question it. “Jennie is at her friend's house for the weekend. She stayed there after trick or treating last night, and since their party is this afternoon, Callie's mom asked if Jennie could spend tonight with them, too. I'll pick her up after church tomorrow.”
“I'll bet it feels a bit odd not to have her by your side.”
“It does, butâ” Brad glanced away for a moment. When he turned back, a worried frown creased his forehead. “Would I sound like a terrible father if I say it is a blessing to have her gone, too?”
Before Anne could comment, he hurried to explain. “My schedule right now is so crazy busy, Anne. I'm trying to get the band ready for the parade, but they have to learn so many new songs in the next two weeks. I'm using every minute of every rehearsal to help the kids memorize the music. It was wonderful to be able to conduct a long rehearsal this morning and not feel I was neglecting Jennie. Again.”
It tugged at Anne's heart to see him so distressed. She gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. “Brad, you're about the least neglectful father I've ever met. Everyone can see how much you love Jennie. And that little girl adores her daddy, too.”
“I hope so, but I worry about her having to be cooped up in my office after school so many days, and it's going to be almost every day again for the next two weeks,” he lamented. “I hate having to do it to her, but I have rehearsals and so many other details to attend to every afternoon. Luckily, she has her piano lessons with Mrs. McGuire on Mondays, but I haven't been able to line up sitters for the rest of the afternoons until the parade.”
The parade, of course. He'd stopped by the shop to pick up the flags. “Brad, I'm sorry. You must have come for your flags, but they aren't quiteâ”
“The flags?” he puzzled. “No. I knew you couldn't possibly have finished the rest of them. Not after I dumped Jennie's costume alterations on you, too.”
“You didn't dump anything on me,” Anne protested. “I was glad to help.”
“Well, I was driving past just now and, when I saw you standing out front, I realized I hadn't paid you for altering Miss Cinderella's gown.”
“Paid? Don't be ridiculous. I never get the chance to fuss with little girl things.” Her voice threatened to crack at the thought of what might have been, but she struggled past the moment. “Jennie is an amazing little girl, Brad.”
A look of pride touched the harried father's features. “I think so, too. But I might be just a tad bit prejudiced.”
“Not at all, I enjoy spending time with her, too,” Anne said then grinned as an idea popped into her head. “Brad, why don't you let Jennie stay here during your band practices? The shop isn't terribly busy in the late afternoons, and if I have to wait on customers, Jennie can do her homework or color at one of our work tables.”
“Anne, I can't impose on you. You've already done so much for Jennie and me.”
“Oh, stop it. It's no imposition. Consider it my bit of community service since the band will represent all of us in the parade.” She tapped her lip thoughtfully as another idea occurred to her. “You know, Myra mentioned she wants me to add some children's crafts to our inventory in the spring. Jennie can help me test some simple projects.”
“Well, if you're sure⦔
****
“What's this? It looks like a purple star.”
Anne glanced up from the sewing machine where she was working on Brad's flags to find Jennie studying a quilt block in various shades of purple. Stopping the sewing machine, Anne asked, “Now where on earth did you find that?”
“In the bottom of your basket,” the youngster replied, pointing to the plastic tote where the supplies for the flags had been stored.
“I wonder how it got in this tote. It's a square I made for a quilt I'm making.”
“I like all the purple flowers,” the little girl said, studying the various calico prints in the block. “Purple is one of my favorite colors.”
“Mine, too,” Anne agreed. “And you're right. It is a star. In fact, this pattern is called a Friendship Star. But the block should be in my work tote with its brothers and sisters not in this one with the band flags.”
“Do you want me to put it away for you?”
“Why, thank you. That would be very helpful. It goes in the tote on the bottom shelf of the cupboard. I would wonder why I was short one square when I started putting my quilt top together.”
“And Daddy would wonder what flag the star went on,” Jennie said with one of her rare giggles. She carried the block to the storage cupboard and carefully placed it in the proper container. When she finished, she came back to watch in fascination as Anne maneuvered a piece of blue silk beneath the swiftly moving needle of the sewing machine.
“You sew so pretty. Can you teach me how to do it, too, Miss Anne?”
“Oh, sweetie, I wish I could, but the law says you have to be eighteen or older before you're allowed to use any of the shop machines.”
Seeing the child's disappointment, Anne offered a compromise. “But I could teach you something else. Would you like to learn how to sew something by hand? It's how my grandmother taught me when I was about your age. Grams sewed all her beautiful quilts by hand, too.”
Excitement briefly lit up the little girl's features, but it quickly faded. “I don't have any material to sew.”
“Not a problem, we can easily fix it,” Anne assured the child and switched off her sewing machine. “The ladies from our quilt group always toss leftover fabric into a scrap bin when they are here. That way anyone who needs a piece can just search in there. We make a lot of quilts for the nursing home with the scraps, too.”
“Will they mind if I take some?”
“Heavens, no.” Anne pulled a large storage tub from under the work table and lifted the lid. “Sharing is part of the magic of quilt-making, Jennie. You get to take leftover fabric from other people's quiltsâsome people even cut up favorite clothes they've outgrownâand you re-use the leftovers to make something brand new. We all share our scraps. There are always lots of pretty patterns, so I know we can find something you'll like.”
It took several minutes for Jennie to admire all the fabric in the big tub and find her “absolute most favoritest” patterns. When she'd finally narrowed the choices to a half dozen, Anne spread the fabric on the work table then measured and cut several four inch squares from each print. With Jennie watching every move, Anne marked a straight line along the sides of two contrasting squares and explained it would be a sewing guide. Then she fastened the two pieces together, using small safety pins instead of the usual quilt pins to prevent Jennie's little fingers from being accidentally pricked. Next, Anne threaded a needle with a length of plain white thread and had Jennie sit beside her.
“Are you ready to start sewing the squares together?” Anne asked. The little girl nodded eagerly, so Anne demonstrated how to make a simple running stitch along the line she'd marked on the fabric. After taking a few stitches, she handed the piece to her eager student. “Your turn. Try to stay on the line.”
The child bent over the blocks, her face screwed up in concentration. Her first stitches were crooked and huge, but she bounced in her seat with excitement. “I did it, Miss Anne. Look! I sewed them.”
“Yes, you did, sweetie. Congratulations. Now, let's go all the way to the end then I'll add another square, okay? Try to keep your stitches nice and straight and small. It will make your sewing extra pretty.”
Jennie nodded and bent over her fabric again. Her brow wrinkled as she took slow, deliberate stitches.
The bell above the door tinkled.
Anne glanced up as Ellen's husband, Gene, entered the shop. The quilter often asked her hubby to swing by on his way home from their book store to pick up thread or other supplies Ellen needed for a project. In fact, Gene was in the shop so often, he teased he knew where to find things better than his wife did. Now, he called a greeting and headed straight to the thread display.
“Don't worry, Anne,” Jennie whispered, ducking her head. “I can go sit in the bathroom and be quiet as a mouse while you're with your friend. He won't even know I'm here. I promise.”
“That's not necessary, sweetie. You're fine right where you are. You just stay here and work on your seam while I help Mr. Wheeler find whatever he needs. I'll be right back.”
The child's comment puzzled her. Why on earth would Jennie think she needed to hide? Then she remembered Tee's comments about seeing the late Mrs. Carmichael at clubs with another man. Surely, the woman wouldn't have entertained him when her daughter was home, would she?
Brushing aside the horrible thought, Anne hurried to the front to assist Gene with his purchase.
Brad rinsed the dishes from their dinner and put them in the dishwasher. Thanks to one of his band students' moms, he and Jennie had enjoyed a home-cooked meal for Wednesday night's dinner. It had been a rare treat.
The woman had arrived at his office after school, balancing a slow cooker filled with savory beef stew and a container of homemade rolls. Her story about making too much for her family's meal had seemed a bit far-fetched. After all, how could anyone
accidentally
make an extra slow cooker of food? She'd probably done it as a guilt offering for turning him down when he needed help sewing the band flags and another time when he'd called to ask her to chaperone the trip to the parade. Whatever the reason, he wasn't about to refuse such a windfall. It would be wonderful to feed Jennie something other than take-out food or a thrown together meal. So, he'd happily accepted the meal for his daughter's sake.
Besides,
he admitted,
it had smelled delicious.
He chuckled as he rinsed another glass. Things were certainly considerably better than a few weeks ago when he'd been making all those frantic calls. The flags were finished. Anne had given them to him, along with her invoice, when he'd picked Jennie up at The Stitching Post after practice that evening. He didn't know how she'd managed to get them sewn so quickly, but he was very grateful for it. It would give the girls in the color guard a little over a week to get familiar with handling the weight and size of the new flags before marching with them in Royal Oak.
The issue with chaperones had been resolved, too. A few parents had volunteered to ride on the bus, but the administration had flatly refused to allow the use of a school vehicle without a staff member aboard. He'd explained he had plans to stay at his aunt's home in Highland Park after the parade, but they wouldn't budge from their decision. Then, this past Monday, two experienced school aides had volunteered to accompany the band.
“Molly and I don't mind chaperoning on the bus,” Jill King said, facing him across the desk in the band office. The long-time office aide impatiently tucked an escaped strand of graying hair back into her no-nonsense bun. “But why aren't more parents helping out, Mr. Carmichael? You shouldn't have to worry about arranging for chaperones.”