by Lori Wilde
“Thanks,” Gia whispered, but she was too scared to ask what “this” was.
After the doctor departed, Gia stumbled into the waiting room, her mission to finish the quilt more essential than ever. She needed it completed by the time Grammy woke up. She’d insist they get started right after lunch.
Not that she was great at insisting.
She must have looked wrecked because the second her sisters spotted her, they hopped to their feet. Dazed, Gia blinked at the people assembled in the waiting area. Many familiar faces. Grammy’s friends from her quilting group, the Quilting Divas. Mike’s sister, Anna Drury, who ran the Moonglow Bakery across the street from the inn. Their mailman. The beach cop who patrolled the beach in front of the Moonglow Inn.
Word had spread.
“What is it?” Madison took hold of Gia’s arm and eased her into the seat she’d just vacated. “What’s wrong?”
In as few words as she could, Gia relayed Dr. Hollingway’s message.
For a brief second, panic crossed her older sister’s face, but Madison quickly regained her composure. “All right then. I’ll get us organized. We’ll draw up a vigil chart and take shifts.”
“But we need to finish the quilt together,” Gia protested. “How will we juggle the hospital and quilting—”
“Sweetie,” said one of Grammy’s oldest friends, a petite little gnome of a woman named Erma. “That’s why we’re here. Darynda already called us in.”
“That’s a lot to ask of you ladies,” Gia said.
“We’re retired.” Erma waved at Madison, who was already setting up a spreadsheet on a phone app. “Write my name down, Maddie; I’ll take the first shift. I’ll stay here right now while you girls go home and have that lunch Darynda’s cooking up for you. I’ll do a three-hour shift.”
“I’ll take a spot,” Anna said.
“Put me on the list too,” Mike added.
Within minutes, they filled the empty slots for the next three days. Then they all spent the next couple of hours telling lively stories of Grammy.
Gia couldn’t believe the outpouring of generosity. Her heart overflowed, and it was all she could do not to cry as she thanked every volunteer.
Darynda texted that lunch was ready. Mike ushered them to his truck. They swung by the dry cleaners to pick up the quilt and arrived back at the inn just as Darynda took the last pieces of chicken from the fryer. They washed up and the five of them enjoyed the delicious meal on the back porch. To keep everyone’s spirits up, Gia redirected the conversation whenever it started turning tense or gloomy.
When they finished eating, Darynda and Mike insisted the sisters relax while they did the dishes and cleaned the kitchen.
“We should begin quilting,” Gia said.
“Now?” Shelley groaned and patted her belly. “I’m sooo full. I haven’t eaten like that in five years.”
“I think . . . um . . .” Gia stammered. “It would be a good idea to get started . . . I mean, since . . .”
“Yes,” Madison said, getting up and going for the quilt Mike had left on the porch swing when he’d brought it in out of his truck. “Shelley, go in the sewing room and grab the quilting supplies.”
Shelley made a noise like a tire going flat. “On it, General Patton.” She scooted into the house while Gia and Maddie rolled the quilt into the frame.
“Is it too early for wine?” Madison muttered.
“Should we drink while we’re quilting?” Gia asked.
“Shelley says she hasn’t had a drink in five years.”
“No kidding?” Gia pulled a rocking chair up to the frame.
“She says she stopped vaping, too.” Madison grabbed a second rocker.
“She’s changed.” Gia positioned the third chair at the frame.
“I’m unconvinced.”
They both turned. The fourth rocker loomed like a ghost. Grammy had sat in that rocking chair when they worked on the quilt five years earlier.
“She will pull through,” Madison said.
“I know.”
But the look they gave each other said otherwise.
“Here we are.” The screen door slammed behind Shelley, who toted the wooden decoupaged sewing box.
They set everything up and took their places at the quilting frame. It was awkward at first. No one said much. Through the screen door they could hear Darynda and Mike talking in hushed whispers.
“Should we invite Darynda to quilt with us?” Gia glanced over her shoulder at the door.
“Grammy’s letter said she wanted us to finish it,” Madison said, taking tight, small stitches, and mumbled, “This’d be easier on a sewing machine.”
“It’s not the same.” Shelley made stitches the same way she walked, with a loose-hipped, looping gait. “And you know it.”
“Yes, forget modern efficiency. Let’s take an eternity to sew a quilt. It’s why we didn’t get it finished in time for . . .” Madison trailed off, kneaded her shoulder with one hand. “I should book a massage after this.”
“Still,” Gia said. “Maybe we should ask Darynda, anyway? It’s weird not having anyone on Grammy’s side of the quilt. It feels unbalanced.”
“Does being alone with us freak you out?” Shelley asked.
“Yeah.” Gia shot her a sheepish grin. “Kind of.”
The screen door creaked and Darynda came out onto the porch holding her cell phone. “Madison, Erma wants to know if you can print off copies of your spreadsheet in a big sans serif font, so that she can distribute it to the Quilting Divas. I’ll take it back up to the hospital when I go.”
“Sure thing.” Madison looked relieved and darted for the door. “Grammy’s computer password the same?”
“It’s still you girls’ names and birthdays all run together.”
“Thanks.” Madison disappeared inside the house and Darynda followed her.
“Do you think she’s acting weird?” Gia asked Shelley.
“Who, Darynda?”
“No, Maddie.”
“I dunno. I haven’t seen her in five years. She seems bossier than ever if that’s what you mean.”
Mike came outside, smoothing his cowlick down with his palm. “I’m headed home, Honeysuckle.”
“Thank you so much.”
He walked over to Gia’s rocker.
Oh dear. She supposed she should say or do something fiancée-ish. But what?
He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Don’t get up. I can see that you’re elbow-deep in needles and thread.” Then he kissed her lightly on the cheek.
As far as kisses went it was next to nothing. A soft brushing of his warm lips. No one on earth would call that kiss erotic.
But inside of Gia something weird, wild, and wonderful happened. A calm, pleasurable tingling started at the top of her head and slowly oozed down her spine, triggering a euphoric sensation inside her, much like the aftermath of a full-body orgasm.
Shocked, she felt her eyes widen, her jaw fall, and her pulse quicken.
What was this lovely sensation?
Mike smiled down at her as if he knew exactly what he’d done and strolled away, leaving Gia topsy-turvy.
Just then Madison burst from the inn, waving a piece of paper in her hand, distress painted on her face. “Stop quilting this instant. Family emergency. Grammy is about to lose the Moonglow Inn!”
Chapter Nine
Madison
INTENSITY: The amount of pure color or muted color present in a fabric.
FIX THIS.
Madison assembled her sisters and Darynda in the kitchen. In the middle of the table sat a letter from the bank, threatening foreclosure if three months of back payments weren’t received within the next two weeks. Along with it, a stack of bank statements, unpaid invoices, and a calculator.
She’d done the math. Grammy was forty-six thousand dollars in debt.
“We’ve got trouble,” Madison said. “Big trouble.”
No one argued.
“How
did this happen?” Madison stared pointedly at Darynda. “Did you know about this?”
Looking stricken, Darynda interlaced her fingers, rested her joined hands on the table, and slowly shook her head. “I knew the inn had gotten a few bad Yelp reviews and your grandmother planned on fixing up the place, but I didn’t know she’d taken out a mortgage against the house.”
“I can’t believe she put her livelihood, and our ancestral home, in jeopardy. This isn’t like Grammy.” Madison paced around the table where everyone else was sitting, palm to her forehead. “The house was one of the first homes ever built in Moonglow Cove. It’s a local treasure.”
No one said anything. They all knew that.
“Well?” Frustrated, Madison settled her hands on her hips.
“Do you think the brain tumor messed with her decision making?” Gia traced a groove in the wood grain of the table with her fingertip and didn’t meet Madison’s eyes.
She didn’t have to look at her for Madison to know that tenderhearted Gia was struggling not to cry.
“If she borrowed the money to fix things up”—Shelley tilted her head back and waved her hand at the water stains on the ceiling—“where’d the money go?”
“Good questions,” Madison said, feeling stronger now that she had something that was within her control to tackle. “I’ll need to go through these bank statements. Try to track down what happened. If I could find where the money went—”
Darynda cleared her throat. “I can answer that.”
All eyes swung her way.
“Helen paid a contractor who never showed.”
Madison’s mouth dropped. “She gave him all the money? Up front?”
“I don’t how much she paid, I only know what she told me. That she paid a contractor and he disappeared on her.” Darynda sat with her hands in her lap and her shoulders squared, a tight little unit unto herself.
“Why didn’t you call me?” Madison glared at the elderly woman. “Why didn’t you at least tell Gia since she lives in Moonglow Cove?”
“You’re not holding me responsible for this, are you?” Worry and guilt saturated Gia’s voice.
Madison shook her head. No. Yes. Kind of.
“Helen was embarrassed.” Darynda brushed aside a lock of hair that had fallen across her forehead. “She didn’t want you girls to know that she’d gotten taken. She asked me not to contact you. Besides, that was before we knew about the brain tumor. I didn’t realize she wasn’t firing on all cylinders. If I had known, I would have hidden her checkbook and I would have called you.”
Sighing, Madison rubbed her eyes and willed away the migraine teasing at her temple. Please, not two days in a row. “Okay, so that’s probably not money we’re going to recoup, although I am making a police report and getting the advice of an attorney.”
“How long has it been since Grammy’s had guests at the inn?” Shelley shot a glance from Gia to Darynda.
“She had guests last week,” Gia said.
Darynda shook her head, contradicting her. “She hasn’t had any bookings since New Year’s. She told me she was clearing the decks for renovations . . .”
“What?” Gia looked hurt. “But she specifically told me she had guests. Why would she lie to me?”
“You didn’t notice there were no guests? And why didn’t you ask questions when the renovations didn’t happen?” Madison asked Darynda.
“I did ask.” Darynda stayed cool, unruffled. Madison liked that about the woman. “That’s when she told me about the contractor.”
Frustration whipped up Madison’s spine and landed in her throat. Darynda should have called her. There’d been half a dozen red flags.
Yeah? And you should have checked on Grammy more often. You hadn’t seen her in almost half a year. At most, you call her twice a month. Point the finger where it really belongs, Madison. On you.
But Gia and Darynda had been here. She’d expected them to pick up the slack. Remorse kicked irritation’s ass to the curb. She couldn’t hang this on just Darynda and Gia. They’d all played a part in the situation. They’d let Grammy, and one another, down.
No more finger-pointing. Time for solutions.
“I’m sorry if I sounded rude,” Madison apologized. “But this is bad. We’re at risk of losing the inn. We can’t lose the house. It’s been in the family for five generations. We’ve got to do something. We’ve reached a tipping point.”
Everyone nodded. At last. Something they could all agree on. Pyewacket hopped onto the table, wandered over, and plopped down on top of the stack of bills, as if to say, Pay attention to me. Shelley reached over to scratch the cat under her chin.
“But what?” Gia toyed with the ends of her hair, coiling a strand around her finger, a nervous habit from childhood whenever she felt stressed.
“Do I always have to find the solutions?” Madison snapped, but Gia’s hurt face sent instant regret shooting through her. She had to start tempering her irritation or she was going to isolate everyone.
Frowning, Shelley stood up and in a firm voice said, “Sit down, Maddie.”
“Excuse me?” So much for quelling her anger. Why was it so hard for her to let things go? Um, maybe because you’ve lost so much already?
“Sit down. You’re about to blow a gasket. That vein in your head is—”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
“I don’t know what your problem is . . .” Shelley’s nostrils flared. “But you gotta stop taking it out on us. You bitch about always having to take the lead, but let’s be honest, you don’t give anyone else a chance to harness up. You plunge ahead, snorting and raring because no one else jumped in. Wanna know why we don’t jump?”
Madison did not sit. Instead she folded her arms over her chest, feeling the raw edge of her anger scrape against the inside of her mouth. Calm down, calm down. But all the self-admonishment in the world couldn’t tame her grief that cropped up under the guise of anger. “Please, enlighten me.”
“Because you’ll shoot down our ideas no matter what. You think you always know best,” her younger sister said.
Her anger stumbled. Suddenly, she felt worn and weary. Shelley was right. She didn’t trust others to get the job done right. She was a perfectionist. Guilty as charged. Finn had accused her of it as he’d walked out the door. You never let anyone help you, Madison. Until you let someone help you, you’ll always carry your burdens alone. If that’s the way you want to live life, fine. But me? I want a real partner.
Madison gulped, and unshed tears pushed against the back of her eyes. She tightened down on every muscle in her face, determined not to let them see the pain in her eyes. Hardened her jaw. Clenched her fists. “Let’s hear it.”
Shelley blinked. “Hear what?”
“Your ideas. I’m open to input. You have my full attention. What do you want to say?”
Mouth dropping open, Shelley sat down.
“Well?” To show she was accommodating, Madison sat down, too.
“I-I don’t know. I’m so used to you taking charge that I haven’t had time to think.”
“Go ahead. Think. I’ll wait.” Madison stretched her hands out on the table, palms down, and glanced at Gia. “How about you? Got any ideas on how we could raise money to save the inn?”
“I—um . . .” Gia moistened her lips.
Yeah, that’s what she thought, and they wondered why she made all the decisions.
Madison passed her gaze over to Darynda. “Do you?”
“My two cents?” For a moment, Darynda’s polished tone slipped into a lazy West Texas drawl. “Whatever the solution, you three girls should do it together.”
Madison ironed her mouth into a straight line. She wasn’t a girl. Hadn’t been one in a long time.
“Fundraiser. We need some kind of fundraiser.” Shelley snapped her fingers.
“Thanks so much, Captain Obvious.”
“Maddie,” Gia chided.
“Okay, sorry for the smartass quip,” Mad
ison apologized to Shelley, who looked amused, not offended.
“How about Kickstarter like I did for the kite store? Or a GoFundMe campaign.” Gia twisted another strand of hair around her finger.
Madison recalled one time when Gia was little she’d gotten her finger caught in a curl tunnel like a Chinese finger trap and she couldn’t pull it out. Her high-pitched screams brought Madison running to the rescue.
“I don’t like the idea of taking donations to save the place,” Madison said. “It feels desperate.”
“Well, aren’t we?” Gia asked.
Shelley used her hands to simulate an airplane dropping a bomb, ending with clenching her fists, then opening them quick with her fingers splayed, indicating an explosion.
Madison cleared her throat and ignored Shelley. “All right, I’ll try not to dismiss your ideas out of hand. How about we put Kickstarter as a possibility?”
Darynda got up and fetched a pen and paper from beside the house phone. “I’ll make a list.”
“Thank you.” Madison nodded and lowered her shoulders, which had crept up to her ears. “Next?”
“How about a pop-up store?” Gia suggested. “We could shoot for the Fourth of July weekend. It’s the biggest holiday weekend of tourist season.”
“I’m liking . . .” Madison nodded, yet didn’t finish her sentence.
“But?” Shelley propped her chin in her upturned palm.
“The Fourth is six weeks away. We need money now. I have some money put back that I can access to fend off the impending foreclosure, but we need to get the inn opened, ASAP. Grammy needs to get out from under that mortgage. And that’s not even considering the medical bills that are piling up.”
“Helen can’t run this place on her own anymore.” Darynda said it as if Grammy was going to pull through. “There are three of you. She shouldn’t have to do this alone.”
If her intention had been to shame them, it was working.
“I’ll stay here and run the inn,” Shelley said.
Madison snorted.
“What?” Shelley glowered.
“Don’t pretend you’re Miss Altruistic. Truth is, you don’t have anywhere else to go, do you?”
“Madison,” Shelley said, “do you have to work at being a jerk, or does it just come naturally?”