A Single Thread (Cobbled Court) (30 page)

I shook my head. It was too much to accept, and I was not going to be swayed by glib argument. “No, Abigail. I won’t let you do it. If my business is going to occupy property that you own, then I’m going to have to pay a fair price. Just like anyone else.”

“Lord, you’re stubborn! All right. Fine. You want to pay me? Then let’s do it the old-fashioned way. Let’s barter. You can pay your rent in goods and services instead of money.”

“I don’t understand. What could I possibly have that you’d want?”

“Your time. I’d like you to go over to the shelter every other week and give free quilting classes to the residents.”

“Every week,” I countered.

Abigail gave a quick nod to indicate her acceptance of my terms. “And the Wynne Foundation will pay for all the fabrics and materials for your classes,” she rejoined.

“Which Cobbled Court will supply at cost.”

Abigail scowled. For a woman who claimed not to have a head for business, she was a tough negotiator, but so was I. And I wasn’t going to budge.

“I mean it, Abigail. Either you let me supply the materials at cost or I won’t do it. Have we got a deal?”

She hesitated a moment and, seeing my resolve, sighed before clasping my outstretched hand. “We do.”

I
’d forgotten my umbrella at home. Thankfully, the rain was now a steady drizzle instead of the downpour of earlier in the evening.

And though I’d assured him that there was very little chance of my getting lost or being accosted in the five blocks that lay between the quilt shop and my house, Franklin insisted on walking me home. He was in a talkative mood.

“It was a nice party,” he said. “And Evelyn looked well. It’s wonderful that she’s not going to need any chemotherapy.”

“Yes,” I said and pulled the collar of my jacket up.

“And Garrett’s idea for expanding the business—if it works out the way he envisions, it could change New Bern for the better, bring in all kinds of new jobs. He’s a very bright young man. Between Evelyn’s creativity and understanding of quilting, Garrett’s vision and knowledge of e-commerce, and Margot’s marketing savvy, I think they just might pull this off. Amazing that all the right people would be in the right place at the right time.” Franklin coughed and glanced at me from under the brim of his gray felt hat. “And, of course, it helps that they have a fairy godmother who happens to have an interest in real estate, wouldn’t you say?”

“Hmmm? Oh yes. I guess it is kind of an amazing coincidence.”

“Nothing coincidental about it. Some things are meant to be.”

I didn’t say anything.

“What’s wrong, Abbie? Are you still worried about Evelyn?”

I bit my lip, thinking how selfish I would sound if I told him the truth, but I just couldn’t keep it to myself anymore. I had to talk to someone. I stopped on the sidewalk and turned to face Franklin.

“It’s Liza,” I admitted. “I know it’s the right thing, her going back to school. I want her to be happy, but the thought of returning to my old, lonely life is awful beyond imagining. I’m going to miss her so much that it hurts even to think about it. What am I going to do?”

Franklin paused for a long moment before speaking, and when he did, his voice sounded strange, soft and oddly hesitant.

“Yes. Well. I’ve got some ideas on that subject,” he said. He didn’t look at me, just kept his eyes focused down at the pavement. He cleared his throat. “The thing is, Abbie, that…well, you and I have been friends for a long time. At least, that’s how I’ve always thought of us….”

I nodded. “Until this year, I don’t think I had any friends other than you, Franklin. But you’re still my best friend. I guess you always have been. I just didn’t realize it until recently.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear it. I feel the same. As you know, over the years, I’ve overseen the creation of scores of successful business partnerships, as well as the dissolution of scores of unsuccessful ones. And in my opinion, the best partnerships, the ones that last, are always founded on a basis of mutual admiration and respect.” He looked at me, as if waiting for me to add something, but I wasn’t sure what he expected me to say.

“Yes. I suppose you’re right.”

He smiled broadly, apparently relieved that I agreed with his point—whatever his point was. “Good! Right! That’s why I’ve been thinking that you and I…well…We respect and admire each other, and, in the last year, I have to say I’ve come to admire you more than ever before.” He reached out, took the hem of my sleeve and held it gently between his thumb and forefinger and didn’t let go, a soft-mouthed retriever intent on carrying home his quarry without leaving a mark.

“I’ve always…admired you, but you were so determined not to let anyone get close. You’re different now. This business with Liza, and with your friends, Margot and Evelyn, has changed you, and for the better.

“Tonight, when you told Evelyn you were going to let her have the shop and the warehouse practically rent-free—and then topped it off by figuring out a way she could save face while doing something that would benefit the women at the shelter?” He laughed. “I’ve always admired you, Abbie, but never quite as much as tonight. You were always generous with your checkbook, but only because it enhanced your public image while keeping you at a safe distance from any real human suffering. Now there are no caveats, no buts, no conditions. You’re generous. End of story. Not only that, you’re more open with your feelings, more willing to take risks.”

I shrugged, not sure what to say to all this. But he was right, something had changed me. Or somebody. Uninvited and unwanted, Liza, Evelyn, and Margot had barged into my life and turned it upside down. Thank God.

“And that,” Franklin continued, resuming his normal tone of voice, “is another requirement for a successful partnership, an openness to risk on the part of the parties involved. And I, for my part, am open to the possibility of risk. Therefore…I was wondering if you…”

He paused, shifting from one foot to another as if he had a pebble in his shoe. He coughed, and I saw some color rising in his cheeks. I looked at him, wondering if he wasn’t coming down with a cold and thinking that standing here in the rain couldn’t be good for him if he was, but then his meaning began to dawn on me. I was astounded.

“Franklin!” I exclaimed. “Is this a proposal?”

His eyes flew open wide, and he swallowed hard. “Why? Does it sound like one?”

“Well. Sort of. Not quite.” The more I said, the sillier I felt. His shocked response to my question made me think I’d been mistaken, but at the risk of making a complete fool of myself, I decided I’d better make my position clear.

“Franklin, I can only assume that in some obtuse, lawyerly way, you’re trying to say that you think we might want to, as the young people would say, ‘take our relationship to the next level.’ Is that right?”

Franklin nodded mutely.

“I see. Well. If you were asking me to marry you, I guess I’d say that, even though we’ve known each other for thirty years, this all seems a bit sudden. But if you weren’t proposing, then I’m wondering what you did have in mind. Maybe it’s old-fashioned, but I’ve learned the hard way that rushing into…” I waited for him to fill in the blank, but he just looked at me. I pressed on, embarrassed by what I was about to say and slightly irritated at Franklin for forcing me to say it. “Rushing into any kind of…intimate relationship…before cementing that relationship in law is a mistake. So if that’s what you were thinking, you can just put it out of your mind right now!”

If possible, Franklin’s eyes grew even wider. “Lord, no! I wasn’t talking about anything like that, Abbie! I care for you too much to compromise you or your feelings in any way.” He blushed right to the edges of his receding hairline. In thirty years I’d never seen Franklin blush. I didn’t know he could.

“The last thing I had in mind was any kind of indecent proposal, I assure you!”

This information should have been a relief to me, and in a way it was, but it was also somewhat insulting. However, I decided to sort that out later. What
did
he want? It was dark and cold and my feet were wet. I was in no mood for a mystery.

“Franklin, what are you trying to say? For once in your life, quit talking like a lawyer and speak English.”

“All right. I will. Abbie…I…I care about you. In fact, I love you. I have for years. And what I want to know is this…” He cleared his throat again. “Would you like to go steady?”

He stood there, wet, cold, and pathetic. I’d never seen him looking so handsome. A voice that I was surprised to realize was mine said, “Yes, Franklin. I believe I would.”

He laughed aloud and lunged toward me, arms outstretched, but then remembered his manners. He took a step backward.

“Abbie, would it be all right if I kissed you?”

I frowned. “Frankin, how long is it that you think you’ve been in love with me?”

“Probably from the beginning, I guess.”

“Are you telling me that you’ve loved me for thirty years but this is the first time you’d ever thought to ask if you could kiss me?” I asked incredulously.

“Oh, I thought about it, all right. Plenty of times. I just never worked up the nerve to actually say it before. I was afraid you might smack me in the mouth or something.” Franklin’s eyes crinkled just a little at the corners. A whisper of a smiled tugged at his mouth.

“Hmmph! I still might. In fact, I probably should. But that’d probably scare you off for another thirty years. How old would that make us by then? Let me see….”

“Abigail, shut up,” he said and opened his arms.

I did, stepping into his embrace and lifting my lips to meet with his while the rain fell, the fat, heavy drops hitting the brim of Franklin’s hat in an insistent staccato, like an approving round of applause.

I
t was still drizzling the next morning, but, in spite of the cloudy skies, I woke up feeling better than I had in a long time. I actually whistled as I went into the bathroom, turned on the faucet to get the hot water going, which, on the second floor of an antique building with antique plumbing to match, could take several minutes, and started brushing my teeth.

As I rolled up the tube, trying to coax the last bit of toothpaste out, I thought about the previous night.

Who could have imagined it? Just a few weeks ago I was so downhearted and depressed that I couldn’t face the idea of even getting out of bed, and now, here I was whistling, cancer free, and about to embark on the expansion of my business, a business that until a few hours before had been teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. Now it seemed possible that Cobbled Court Quilts was poised to become what I’d always dreamed it would be, not just a successful quilt shop but an important asset to the community and a community unto itself, where quilters of all ages and backgrounds would gather together for companionship, self-expression, and even healing.

I bared my teeth in a genuine grin as I began brushing. Abigail didn’t have to ask me to teach classes at the shelter in lieu of rent; I’d have gladly done it for free. But she knew that. It was just her way of helping me save face while at the same time bringing some good into the lives of the women at the shelter, women whom I could see she genuinely cared about. And it would do them good. I knew it would. Just like it had Abigail, Margot, and Liza. These novice quilters from the shelter—many of them abused, debased; women who had been told over and over again that they were worthless—would find confidence and their own artistic voice as they sat side by side, stitching together something surprising and beautiful out of cast-off scraps of fabric that anyone besides a quilter would think were too insignificant to be of any use.

Yes! I decided as I spat a white stream into the sink and filled the cup with water to rinse my mouth. That was it! My beginners class project at the shelter would be a scrap quilt, something that would help them realize that even the most torn and ragged lives could be remade into something to be treasured for generations to come. No doubt about it; this class was going to change lives. I wondered how long it would take to order the machines and get them delivered to the shelter. I couldn’t wait to get started!

Lifting my legs high and humming “Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah,” a tune I’d forgotten I even remembered, I kicked off my slippers one by one, like a chorus girl in a kick line, and reached behind the shower curtain to test the water. Almost hot enough. Another minute should do it.

Best of all, I thought while I pulled a stack of fresh towels out of the closet and put the old ones in the laundry hamper, I was going to be working with some of the people I loved most in the world: Abigail, Margot, and Garrett. I smiled, thinking how wonderful it would be to have Garrett in New Bern permanently. Of course, he’d want to get a place of his own. Living with your mother for a few weeks while you were helping her through a health crisis was one thing, but a young man needed a place of his own—somewhere he could leave dirty dishes in the sink, play video games until two in the morning, and have friends over.

The steam coming over the top of the plastic curtain told me the shower was hot enough.

And one of those friends, I thought as I took off my robe and carried the last towel to the bar near the shower, was certain to be Liza. During her school breaks, I was sure she’d be visiting Garrett often. That was fine with me. Liza was still very young and maybe a little rough around the edges, but she was a smart, lovely, giving young woman. Garrett could do a lot worse, and besides, you didn’t need a mother’s intuition to notice the spark between them. The way he looked at her when he thought no one else was looking was like thirst gazing on water.

It was the same look that, for just a moment last night, I thought I’d seen on Charlie’s face when his eyes seemed to pierce the crowd, searching for my face the same way I was searching for his. Among the shouted chorus of congratulations, Charlie’s was the voice my ears were straining to hear, his face the face my eyes hunted for among the throng of well-wishers.

I stood still on the center of the bath mat, clutching a towel close to my body, staring at nothing, my eyes focused on the tiny bathroom window that framed the dull, gray sky.

Yes, for a moment last night, Charlie’s eyes had searched for me just as mine were searching for him. At least, that’s what I’d thought. And when he’d found me, for a second, I thought his face was going to split into a grin and he was going to come to me, parting the crowd like an ancient sea as he pushed his way to be at my side. But then, in a breath, his eyes changed, flitted up over my head, the spark in them suddenly extinguished, and he turned his back on me. The spark was extinguished. Or had I imagined it? Was it ever there to begin with?

A fist pounded on the bathroom door, interrupting my train of thought. “Mom! How long are you going to be in there? I want to get to the bank as soon as it opens.”

“Not long. Five minutes.”

“Save a little hot water for me too,” he called good-naturedly. “We’ve got to look like solid citizens today. Good investments.”

“Will do, partner,” I said brightly, forcing my voice to match the cheery optimism in my son’s, an optimism that had been mine until, startled by the sound of Garrett’s voice, I’d dropped the towel and, turning to answer him, saw the blurred reflection of my naked body in the steam-clouded mirror, the pink, half-healed scars that traced my ravaged torso. I closed my eyes and turned away.

Stop it, Evelyn. There’s no point in thinking about what might have been. And there’s no point in feeling sorry for yourself. You’re alive. You don’t have to get chemo. You’ve got a new chance at life, a wonderful son, and some of the most amazing friends on the face of the earth—and Charlie is one of them. Don’t mess that up. You’re lucky. Friendship should be enough for you. It must be.

By the time the meeting wrapped up, lunch hour had come and gone. Garrett headed back to the apartment, saying he’d eat some of the party leftovers before relieving Margot in the shop. I said I’d see him later, after I ran a few errands.

The rain had finally let up. I hopped across a few puddles as I walked to the Grill.

Inside, a single pair of diners lingered over coffee and dessert. The waitstaff had all gone home. Charlie stood behind the bar with his back turned and a clipboard in his hand.

“Table for one?” I asked.

“It’s past three. The kitchen is closed.” He turned. “Oh. Hi, Evelyn. I didn’t realize it was you. Kitchen really is closed though. If you’re hungry, I could get you a bowl of soup, but that’s the best I can do right now.”

I shook my head. “I was just coming over to see you. I was at the Bean this morning. Did I miss you?”

“No. Came in early today. Trying to figure out why we’re running low on scotch. Either one of my waiters is taking a wee nip or five when he thinks no one is looking, or they’re giving free drinks to their friends when I’m out of the restaurant, or they’re just pouring heavy.” He shrugged. “One way or another, it’s costing me money. I’ve got to put a stop to it.”

“It’s probably the latter, Charlie. Your waiters aren’t dishonest, just generous. It’s to be expected,” I teased. “They’re taking their cues from the owner.”

Charlie didn’t so much as crack a smile. “I’ve got to finish this, Evelyn. Then I’ve got to go to the market and pick up something before the kitchen opens for dinner. I really don’t have time to visit today.”

Clearly, Abigail had been wrong and I had been right. Something was bothering Charlie. He was obviously trying to put me off, just like he had at the party, but I was determined to get to the bottom of this.

“Charlie, you’ve got nearly three hours until dinner. What I’ve got to say won’t take five minutes.”

He put down the clipboard and crossed his arms over his chest. “All right. What is it?”

“What’s the matter? Why are you mad at me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I stared at him, refusing to be brushed aside. “Pardon me. I take back what I said before. What I have to say should take five minutes, but if you insist on having me pull it out of you like an impacted molar it’s going to take five hours. And be just as painful.”

“Evelyn,” he said, “other than my becoming more behind schedule the longer you stand here blathering, there is nothing the matter with me. I am not angry with you. I am not anything with you. If I seem upset, it’s because I’m low on scotch and irritated with my staff. Nothing more.”

He opened his hands, a magician showing there was nothing up his sleeve, and tried to smooth the hard edge in his voice. I wasn’t buying.

“You’re always irritated with your staff, Charlie. This is more than that,” I insisted. “Now fess up. What’s bothering you? You can tell me. We’re friends.”

Charlie’s bushy eyebrows shot up. “Friends? Is that what we are? Ah. I wondered.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Aren’t we?”

“If you say so, Evelyn. Friends. Fine. That’s wonderful. Now, if you don’t mind, friend”—he scowled and started to come out from behind the bar—“I’ve got work to do.”

I walked to the end of the counter and blocked his exit. “Actually, I do mind. For heaven’s sake, Charlie. What’s got into you? You’re always a little grumpy. Oddly enough, its part of your charm, but today you’re just plain obnoxious. Now tell me what’s up or I’m going to take one of those half-empty scotch bottles and knock some sense into you!” The last remaining diners turned and craned their necks to see what was going on.

“Pipe down!” Charlie hissed. “I’ve got customers!”

I planted my feet and crossed my arms over my chest. “I don’t care. Either you talk to me,” I insisted in a somewhat lower tone, “or I’m going to make a scene that’ll make your hair curl. Your customers too!”

Whether because they were actually finished with their lunch or, hearing Charlie and me spit at each other like a couple of cats, they decided it was time to leave, the diners got to their feet and headed for the door. Charlie pasted a smile on his face and waved as they passed by the bar. “Thanks for coming in, folks. Hope to see you again soon.”

“You will,” the man responded as he opened the door for his lady. “It was delicious.”

Charlie kept grinning until the door closed behind them and then turned to face me. With the restaurant empty, he didn’t bother keeping his voice down.

“Evelyn, I’ve had enough of this. I don’t have the time, patience, or inclination to participate in your little charade. You want to play games—fine! Nobody’s stopping you. But you’re not going to play them with me. I’ve got more important things to do with my time.”

“Games? What games? What are you talking about?”

He barked out a bitter, derisive laugh and smacked his hand against the bar. “Oh, don’t play the innocent with me! It’s been a long time since I’ve had any kind of relationship with a woman, and now I remember why. You’re untrustworthy—the whole lot of you. As my mother used to say, ‘Beauty won’t make the pot boil.’ I should have thought of that before last night, but there’s nothing to be done about it now. Better late than never.”

Charlie was normally a man of few words, but now I held up my hands in an effort to dam this torrent of accusation. “What’s that supposed to mean? Charlie, hold on a minute! Will you just take a breath and try to make me understand what you’re saying? Try speaking English this time, will you?”

“Oh, you’re a coy one, aren’t you? Don’t try that on me, Evelyn. It took some time, but at least give me credit for having enough sense to see through you at last.”

“What!”

“You used me.” He shrugged. “Fine! I can accept that. But now that you’ve got what you wanted from the first, don’t come around with any of this ‘Oh, Charlie, dear. Let’s be friends’ nonsense.” He batted his eyelashes and raised the pitch of his voice in an imitation of female coquettishness that, if I hadn’t been so confused and angry, would have made me laugh.

“You fooled me once, Evelyn. That’s my own stupid fault. But damned if I’ll let you do it again.”

“I used you? That’s what you’re saying?” I asked incredulously. I could feel the heat of color rising in my face as I began to understand what he was accusing me of. Charlie gave his head one sharp, definitive nod. “I see. That’s interesting. Just how did I do this?”

He narrowed his eyes. “As if you didn’t know,” he scoffed. “You used our relationship to make your ex-husband jealous, lure him up here, and get him to come back to you. And you even got him to bankroll your business in the process! Well, good for you! You wanted the big lout back, and now you’ve got him. Cowboy boots and all. I’m sure he’ll bring you just as much happiness as he always did,” Charlie sneered. “But now that you’ve gotten what you wanted, I’ll thank you to leave me out of it!”

I couldn’t believe my ears. And I was so angry I didn’t know what to say. But my ire had to boil over into something, and it did—my arm. I took a step forward and slapped him hard. It caught him by surprise. Me too.

“Ouch!” he cried and stepped behind the bar again, looking to put something solid between us.