An Abundance of Blessings Page 10

  “Pete seems to be unavailable for now, and Christopher really wants to get started on his assignment.”

  “Okay. Let’s see what we can do,” Bob said, gesturing to Christopher to come into the family room.

  Christopher sat himself down on the chair beside his grandfather, looking up at him with an expectant look.

  Bob gave him a quick smile. “Okay, Sport. What do you need to know?”

  “I just want to find out how you train a horse.”

  Bob puffed up his cheeks and blew out his breath. “Well, it’s not like the old days when you used to so called break a horse. I used to just put them in the corral and make them do what I wanted. Sometimes I had to tie them up. It was quick, but hard on the body.” He gave Christopher a grin and raised his arm. “Can’t lift this arm as high as I used to, thanks to breaking a horse. Now you use finer methods. I know when Pete brings a horse home, the first thing he does is put him what he calls a round pen …”

  Charlotte listened to Bob talking and watched Christopher as he scribbled notes. And she felt one burden slip off her shoulders.

  “SO, THAT WENT OKAY,” Bob said as Christopher went back up the stairs to bed. “Did my grandfatherly duty.”

  “And I’m hoping that tomorrow you can do more.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m still going to Harding for the day.”

  “But what about Madison and Jennifer?”

  “I was hoping you could take care of them tomorrow,” Charlotte said as she walked to the bathroom.

  “You sound grumpy,” Bob said, evading her comment. “Grumpy as a mother bear.”

  “I’m starting to sympathize with that mother bear.” Charlotte sighed as she squeezed a line of toothpaste onto her brush. “I feel like I’ve been torn in a hundred different directions this past week, doing schoolwork with Jennifer and Madison, making sure Christopher gets enough attention, and trying not to let Sam and Emily’s moods ruin mine. I just need to get out. Be on my own for a while.”

  “What you need to do is stop doing so much schoolwork with Madison and Jennifer.”

  Charlotte sighed, knowing Bob was right. “I would but Anna won’t be happy about it. Besides, I have a schedule to keep.”

  “Maybe you should stop worrying what Anna will think.”

  “She is married to our son.” Charlotte ran water over her toothbrush. “I would think that merits some concern.”

  Bob shrugged. “Anna is who she is. You can’t please her and you can’t change her. What you need to figure out is how to keep yourself sane. The girls love it here. You’re doing a fine job of taking care of them.”

  “Thank you. I accept your compliment.”

  Bob grinned.

  “But I’m still hoping you can take care of the girls tomorrow,” she said.

  “You are sneaky,” Bob said, clapping his hand on her shoulder. “And yes, I’ll take care of the girls.” He pulled out his toothbrush. “But I’m not going to do flashcards with them.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Of course, thought Charlotte, glaring at the heat gauge on her car. Of course the needle was in the red. Of course it wasn’t working right now, just as she was on her way to Harding.

  At least she noticed the problem while she was still in Bedford and only three blocks from the local garage.

  She coasted into the parking lot and turned her car off, yanked the keys out of the ignition and marched into the front office. She knew there were bigger things going on in the world that were probably better recipients of her current pique, but right now she felt as cranky as the bear that Bob had accused her of being.

  The young woman at the desk greeted her with a smile, her teeth white against her dark skin. A bright yellow band held back her black hair, a bright note on a dreary day. The nameplate on the desk told Charlotte that her name was Sharise. “Cold enough for you?” Sharise asked with a perky tone that Nebraskans sometimes affected. It was as if natives of this state reveled in their ability to withstand the plunging temperatures that would incapacitate many of their fellow Americans.

  “Unfortunately for my car, it doesn’t seem to be cold enough. The needle on the heat gauge is in the red.”

  “Oh, my. That doesn’t sound too good.” This was also delivered in that perky voice.

  “No. Would any of the mechanics have time to have a look at it?”

  “You just wait here. I’ll pop into the back and see what’s up.” Another smile and Sharise pushed her way through the double doors leading to the back.

  Charlotte tried not to tap her toe, tried not to let her own frustration overwhelm her. Even if someone could look at the car right away, it still wouldn’t be soon enough for her to make it to Harding and back in time to make supper.

  The best-laid plans, she thought, walking over to the empty chairs put there for waiting customers. On a table beside them, a stack of well-thumbed magazines shared space with a hissing coffeepot.

  Charlotte dropped into a seat, picked up a gardening magazine and idly flipped through it. Another blast of wind mocked the visions of green lawns and perfect shrubbery she was looking at.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting, ma’am, but no one can look at your car for another hour.” Sharise was still smiling.

  That would delay her trip at least another two hours, depending on what was wrong with the car.

  So what was she going to do? She knew she couldn’t find what Emily wanted in “boring Bedford,” as she called it. She had so hoped that sewing with Emily would create a bonding moment—would put a smile on her granddaughter’s face and give her a stronger sense of self-worth.

  “Well, then I guess that’s just the way it is.” Charlotte put down the magazine, gave the scarf around her neck an extra wrap and pulled on her gloves and her hat. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours and hopefully they will have solved the problem.”

  Charlotte stepped outside and a strong gust of wind snatched her breath away. Snow slapped at her cheeks and for a moment she understood Sam, Emily, and Christopher’s longing for San Diego.

  She tucked her head down against the wind and marched up the street, heading directly for the only place she knew she could get some advice—her sister-in-law Rosemary’s fabric store.

  A few minutes later she ducked into Fabrics and Fun, shivering as blessed warmth surrounded her. The whistling of the wind outside was muffled and mitigated by the bolts of brightly colored cloth lining the walls.

  The tinkling of the bell above the door summoned Rosemary from a back room.

  Rosemary’s steel-gray hair glinted in the overhead lights, and as she approached Charlotte her smile created a familiar net of wrinkles on her face. She unrolled the sleeves of her pink cardigan and smoothed the front of her gray skirt.

  “Charlotte, what brings you to town on such a miserable day?”

  “A car that doesn’t work.” Charlotte couldn’t keep the grumbly tone out of her voice.

  “I’m confused.”

  “I’m upset. I was supposed to drive to Harding today to pick up some patterns for Emily.”

  “Oh yes. She stopped by a couple days ago and looked at my selection but didn’t seem too impressed. I didn’t even realize she sewed,” Rosemary continued.

  “She wants to learn. An aborted fashion statement got her thinking about making her own clothes. I told her I would teach her. But now that my car has conveniently broken down here, I can’t go to Harding to pick up some patterns.” Charlotte knew she sounded whiney but she couldn’t help it. She felt whiney.

  “Come and share your problems with me.” Rosemary walked to a cozy nook on one side of the shop. She had set out a few mismatched chairs around a table holding an assortment of glass jars filled with buttons of various sizes, shapes and hues.

  “I don’t want to keep you from your work,” Charlotte protested.

  “Nonsense. My shop isn’t busy right now.” Rosemary slipped her glasses off, letting them dangle from a chain around her
neck. “I noticed Emily had quite a cute outfit on in church on Sunday.”

  “You liked it?” Rosemary could still surprise Charlotte once in a while. Charlotte slipped her coat off. “That was the aborted fashion statement.”

  “Why? I mean the skirt was a little off, but the rest reminded me of how the girls used to dress years ago. I think I was even eyeing one of those crocheted vests at the time, but I was a bit old for that.”

  Charlotte sighed. “Apparently that cute vest belonged to Mrs. Evans, Nicole’s mother.”

  “And this is a problem because … ?”

  “Nicole is Emily’s nemesis right now. The falling-out started when Emily challenged her mother over the cafeteria menu. Emily’s campaign to change the food didn’t endear her to either Nicole or her mother.”

  “And I’m sure taking Nicole’s place in the Christmas play wasn’t beneficial either,” Rosemary added with a twinkle in her eyes.

  “Exactly. Since both these incidents, Nicole has been less than kind to Emily.” Charlotte sighed. “So when Emily found out the vintage clothes she thought were so original were, in fact, hand-me-downs from Nicole’s family, well, you can guess the rest.”

  “Oh, the fun and games of taking care of teenagers. They do come with a whole set of problems, don’t they?” Rosemary shook her head in sympathy. “And you’re caught in the middle.”

  “Plus I’m taking care of Bill and Anna’s girls all this week, doing schoolwork with them and trying to keep them out of Emily’s hair; not to mention trying to keep Christopher happy.”

  “Oh, goodness. You are busy.”

  “Yes. But since Pete’s been taking care of most of the winter chores, Bob isn’t that busy, so he’s watching the girls today.” Charlotte leaned back in her chair as the peace of the shop gently eased away her troubles of the past few days.

  “And now you can’t even go to Harding.”

  “I had hoped to get some fashionable patterns for Emily so we could start sewing this weekend.”

  “I used to stock more patterns. Years ago.” Rosemary tapped her finger on her lips.

  “Unfortunately, Emily can be very hard to please.”

  “You know, I might have some extra patterns left in boxes upstairs. You might want to have a look at them.”

  “Wouldn’t they be out of style?”

  “As out of style as the outfit Emily wore on Sunday.”

  Charlotte sat up, intrigued. “You’re right. If she’s interested in vintage clothing, I might find a vintage pattern she could use.”

  Together they walked to the back room and up the rickety stairs leading to a storage space above Rosemary’s shop.

  She hadn’t been here in years, Charlotte thought, as she looked around the cluttered room. Boxes lined the walls, two deep and covered most of the floor space.

  “Where do we start?”

  “Not to worry. I have a system.” Rosemary paused in the middle of the room, hands planted on her hips, her eyes flitting about, as if getting her bearings.

  “When was the last time you cleaned this out?” Charlotte asked.

  “I haven’t. I just keep bringing stuff up here and making room for it.”

  “This could be a potential fire hazard,” Charlotte said.

  “I know, I know,” Rosemary said with a chuckle. Then she pursed her lips, stepped around a pile of boxes, took a left turn and then bent over and opened the flaps of a box in front of her.

  “Here they are,” she said with a triumphant note.

  “How did you know that?”

  Rosemary shrugged as she knelt down in front of the box. “For some reason I can’t remember where I put my keys, or my pin for my debit card, but I know where my treasures are.” She pointed to another box. “There’s more in there.”

  Charlotte pulled the other box to the space beside Rosemary and started flipping through the envelopes, wondering if this was how the kids had felt when they went digging through the clothing boxes in the attic. “My goodness, Rosemary, some of these are ancient.” Charlotte held up a pattern envelope with a line drawing of a woman wearing a swing coat, a pillbox hat and a smug expression. “This is pure sixties.”

  “Not so ancient, my dear,” Rosemary said with an injured tone. “I believe you had a jacket like that at one time.”

  “Like I said, ancient.” Charlotte made herself comfortable. She wasn’t going to find exactly what Emily wanted, but maybe, with a little luck, she’d find something that came close. “You go. I’m fine up here,” Charlotte told Rosemary.

  “Are you sure? My class isn’t coming for twenty minutes.”

  “And I know you’ve got things to get ready for them.” Charlotte pulled out another envelope, then sneezed as her rustling through the box released a cloud of dust.

  An hour later Charlotte returned downstairs with an armful of patterns and a renewed sense of purpose.

  Rosemary was cutting material and looked up when Charlotte came in the shop. “You look successful.”

  Charlotte set the patterns on an empty table and sneezed again. “Let’s just say I’m hopeful.”

  “Here, I’ll get you a bag.”

  “All I need now is some material that she’ll approve of.” Charlotte sighed as she glanced around the room.

  Material for quilting and material for clothing were two different animals. Though Rosemary’s selection would satisfy even the most discerning quilter, there was less variety for clothing and it would be a challenge to find anything here that would satisfy Emily’s unusual tastes.

  “What do you think she would choose?” Rosemary asked, glancing around her shop.

  “I think simple would be best.” Charlotte wandered down the rows of fabric and stopped at the shelf holding plain cotton cloth. Not even close to what Emily had shown her, but she had no other option. Besides, it would be best if Emily started out with something simple anyway, she reasoned to herself as she made her choices.

  “Purple and white?” Rosemary’s frown wasn’t encouraging as Charlotte laid the bolts on the table.

  “I know she likes bright colors and white is a good basic wardrobe choice.”

  “How about stripes?”

  “I wouldn’t know what kind to get.”

  “Why don’t you let her come here after school and I could help her pick something out?”

  “I had hoped to get it cut out tonight so we can start sewing tomorrow. I need to keep her busy this weekend.” Charlotte’s second thoughts assaulted her, but she pushed them down. “If she truly doesn’t like what I pick out, maybe she can come on Monday after school.”

  “Okay.” Rosemary pulled the bolts of cloth toward her and glanced quickly at the patterns Charlotte had chosen. “If you are going with long sleeves, we’ll need once the length for the body and once the length for the sleeves and a bit extra for collars and cuffs.” While she talked, she unrolled the bolt and measured. The snip of scissors through the cloth resurrected memories of evenings when the kids were in bed and she had time to cut out patterns.

  Charlotte recalled how often had she laid out pattern pieces on material, checked and double-checked, making sure they were all there, that they were positioned correctly. Then, each time she made that first cut she suffered a hundred little agonies hoping she hadn’t made a mistake.

  “There you are.” Rosemary scribbled out a bill, then bagged the material and the patterns. When she rang up the purchases, Charlotte frowned. “And no, I’m not charging you for the patterns,” Rosemary added as the change drawer swooshed open. “They are so old I’m glad you can use them.”

  “Okay. I know better than to argue with you, so thanks.” Charlotte took the rustling plastic bag and glanced at her watch. “Can I use your phone to see if my car is ready?”

  It wasn’t, and Rosemary had work to finish.

  “I’m going to have a cup of coffee at Melody’s,” she told Rosemary. “Thanks for all your help.”

  “Maybe I’ll stop by tomorrow and see how
things are going.”

  “You’re always welcome to come,” Charlotte said, wrapping her scarf around her neck. She tugged her gloves on, said good-bye, then braved the outdoors once more.

  Snow whipped across Main Street, snapping the flags and shaking the bare branches of the ash trees lining the street.

  Charlotte glanced left, then right, then scooted across the street to the warmth and safety of Mel’s Place.

  The shop was humming with conversation as the ice-frosted door wheezed closed behind Charlotte.

  Melody was behind the counter, and glanced up as Charlotte found an empty table. “Be with you in a minute, Charlotte!” she sang out, wiping her hands on a tea towel. Under her red apron she wore a bright pink T-shirt with a sparkly heart on one sleeve.

  Charlotte settled into a wooden chair, glancing around the homey coffee shop as she unwound her scarf. She recognized a few people who waved at her as she set her gloves on the quilted table runner Melody had on each table.

  “Coffee?” Melody asked, setting a large, earthenware mug in front of Charlotte.

  “Please.” Charlotte shivered as a few customers left the shop, letting in another gust of frigid air.

  “Some weather, isn’t it?”

  “Typical Nebraska winter, huh.”

  “How are the kids managing through their first January?” Melody asked as she poured the coffee.

  “About the same as their first November and December. It’s cold, it’s depressing, and it’s not San Diego.” Charlotte added a smile so Melody would know she was okay with her grandchildren’s complaints.

  “Yeah. Ashley said Emily was getting a bit antsy.”

  “That’s why I’m getting her started on a sewing project.”

  “Really? What are you making?”

  “Emily showed me the kind of shirts she wanted to sew, but I’m not sure the patterns I got will work.” She shrugged. “I’ll just have to see if we can alter them to her exacting standards.”

  “I wish I could sew.” Melody patted her stomach and laughed. “Would be a whole lot easier to find something to wrap around my traditional build if I could.”