Patchwork Family. Judy Christenberry

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      “YOU STILL HAVEN’T TOLD US your plan,” Lydia protested on the next Friday afternoon. “It’s going to be Christmas before you know it.”

      “What’s wrong with Christmas?” Martha asked. “You got something against it?”

      “Of course not! But I was hoping Molly and little Sara might not have to be alone then. It’s difficult to spend Christmas without any family.”

      “Even I can’t act that fast,” Martha muttered.

      “I guess you’re right,” Lydia agreed, her shoulders sagging. “I was hoping for too much.”

      “That doesn’t mean we’ve given up,” Emma chimed in.

      “We haven’t?” Lydia asked, perking up.

      “Of course not,” Martha reassured her just as the door opened and Quinn Spencer walked in.

      “How are my favorite ladies today?” he asked, a smile on his face. He rounded the table greeting each of them.

      “We’re better for seeing you, my dear, don’t you know,” Martha said, patting his arm. “I’m so glad you could stop by.”

      “You know I would never ignore a request from you, Martha,” Quinn said. “What’s wrong? Is your stash of candy low?” He pulled a bag of peanut-and-chocolate candy from his coat.

      She eagerly took them. “Thank you, but no, that’s not why I asked you to come by. We need you to do us a favor. I know how busy you are, but I thought on your lunch hour you could run an errand for us.”

      “Sure.” While he spoke, he surveyed their work. “You’ve started a new one?” he asked, referring to the quilt they were now working on.

      “Yes,” Emma said. “We do them in sections, you know. We don’t just work on one quilt straight through.”

      He nodded, smiling at her. “I remember.”

      Martha touched his hand. “See those two quilts? They’re king-size, which makes them very large and heavy. We need to get them to Molly, but none of us are strong enough, and she’s too little to manage on her own. I wondered if you’d deliver them for us? She’s just a few blocks away.”

      They all saw his hesitation, unusual for Quinn when they asked something of him. Several glances were exchanged, but not Martha’s. She sat stitching, supreme confidence on her face that Quinn would accommodate her.

      “Um, it’s a busy day, Martha, but I can hire someone to take care of that for you. I can see where they’d be a problem.”

      Martha looked at him briefly, allowing surprise to show on her wrinkled face. Then she reached out and patted his hand. “That’s all right, dear. We can hire someone. It was just— Well, you know how sentimental we are about our quilts. I wanted them to be specially delivered, but… I’ll call the grocery store and get a couple of their package boys to— No, no, they might not have clean hands.”

      “We could call the hardware store. Some strong young men work there,” Emma suggested.

      “Or maybe—” Beatrice began.

      “Never mind,” Quinn interrupted. “I’ll take care of it. I can shift some things.”

      “Oh no, dear,” Martha said. “We don’t want to interrupt your busy schedule. We’re just grateful you can make time to come see us occasionally. We don’t want to—”

      “You old fraud,” Quinn teased, his voice husky. “You know I wouldn’t miss coming to see you.” He leaned over to kiss her cheek again.

      “Such a sweet boy,” Martha said as she patted his cheek, her voice full of love.

      His cheeks flushed, Quinn moved over to the quilts. “I’ll take care of these right now, so don’t worry about your precious delivery. They’ll arrive safe and sound.”

      After the door closed behind him, Martha winked at her friends. “And so what will be our next step?”

      THIS WAS A GOOD THING, Quinn assured himself.

      When you fear something, it grows in proportion to your fear. Fear gives the enemy power.

      He wasn’t going to give any more power to Molly Blake. What a ridiculous thought, that he, an international lawyer, well-to-do, respected and admired, feared Molly Blake.

      Pulling into the driveway of her house, he parked his car and opened the trunk. Because of their size he carried the quilts one at a time to the front porch.

      He was about to use the brass knocker when he took note of the design in the stained-glass oval. Since the bed-and-breakfast was located on Ivy Lane, the design used ivy, its curling tendrils encircling the oval. Then, where it met at the bottom, the ivy entwined itself around two flowers, a red rose and a yellow tulip in the center. He grinned. That block of Ivy Lane was intersected by Rose Street on the south end and Tulip Street to the north. Very nice. He’d heard his brand-new sister-in-law, Jenna, was doing some artwork for Molly. He wondered if she had anything to do with the design.

      He brought himself back to the business at hand. Time to make his delivery and get the hell out of there. The brass knocker fell heavily against the door, making a satisfying, sturdy sound.

      Little feet hurrying to the door alerted him to Sara’s arrival. She tugged the door open about six inches and pressed her face through the opening. In spite of himself, he was glad to see that the child was all right.

      He cleared his throat, ready to make his explanation, when he was surprised by her response.

      With a beaming smile, she pulled the door wide-open. “Hi, Mr. Man. Did you come to take me to the doctor? I’m all well.”

      She obviously remembered him. “Uh, no, Sara, I didn’t. And I’m glad you’re all well. You look lovely today.” And she did. Her delicate features, big blue eyes and soft blond hair made her look like a perfect doll. Except she was dressed in sturdy jeans and an open corduroy shirt over a Sesame Street T-shirt.

      “Thank you.” She reached out, took his hand and tugged. “Come on!”

      “But—” He could’ve resisted, of course, but Sara’s excitement and beaming smile was a lure he didn’t want to deny. So he followed her willy-nilly down the hall, realizing, as he did so, that they’d left the front door standing open.

      Sara raced around the desk beside the stairs to a door on the left, out of sight of arrivals. Pushing it, she tugged him into a big kitchen, brightened by the afternoon sunshine, scented by whatever Molly Blake was baking.

      Of course his gaze fixed on the larger version of Sara. She was bent over one of the ovens, her rounded bottom covered in snug-fitting jeans.

      “Look, Mommy, Mr. Man is here!”

      Molly spun around, almost losing her balance, a startled look on her flushed face. “What— Sara, did you open the front door?”

      Quinn watched as the little girl’s pleasure disappeared, her eyes widening and one finger СКАЧАТЬ