by Lori Wilde
“Well, I for one think she would be very proud of her daughters,” Gia said. “Maddie’s a TV personality. I make kites. Shelley escaped a cult. We Moonglow sisters are anything but dull.”
“I’m proud of us.” Madison paid for their services and gifted her sisters with a group hug right there in the spa and Gia left thinking, Flying pigs! Miracles do happen.
The next day, even with organized, whip-cracking Madison at the helm, dissolved into beautiful chaos as the Quilting Divas descended upon the Moonglow Inn en masse.
Enthusiastic women armed with fabric, needles, thread, rotary cutters, self-healing cutting mats, acrylic quilting rulers, basting safety pins, wonder clips, scissors, and portable sewing machines overflowed the house, the porches, the lawns.
Quilters were everywhere.
Pyewacket found sanctuary on top of the refrigerator, staring down at the collective with narrowed Siamese eyes and leonine disdain.
Directed by Madison, the quilters formed an assembly line to make as many quilts as they could possibly make in three days. No hand sewing for these projects, there simply wasn’t time. The Divas called them stash-buster quilts, meaning they selected simple, efficient designs that used up fabrics from the quilters’ personal stashes of material.
One group of quilters formed the cutting station, a second group did the backing, a third group handled the batting, and a final group did the ditch stitching. Gia volunteered to do all the ironing. She set up an ironing board in the kitchen, steaming block after block of quilt tops.
With all those people, the house came to life. Laughing, talking, music, the air buzzed with voices.
“Light! I need more light!” called out Erma Kelton from behind her thick-lensed glasses, squinting at the fabric pieces in the bright sun beaming in through the kitchen windows. The kitchen table had been transformed into the cutting station laid out with self-healing mats, rotary cutters, and rulers.
Gia had already raised the blinds, turned on every light in the kitchen, and cleaned the windows to let in more illumination, but Erma had cataracts and refused to admit she needed surgery.
“On it,” Mike said, breezing through the kitchen.
He winked at Gia on his way past. He returned a few minutes later with a five-foot adjustable tripod graced with a two-headed, rotating LED light bar that lit the place up like a construction site.
“Now that’s more like it.” Erma nodded her head, satisfied.
“Good gravy, Erma,” mumbled another elderly lady at the cutting table. “I feel like I’m being interrogated. Turn off the floodlights. I’ll talk, I’ll talk.”
“Does that mean if I keep ’em on you’ll stay quiet, Viv?” Erma shot back.
“Stuck my foot in my mouth with that one, didn’t I?” Viv chuckled. “Keep it on, turn it off. I’ll talk either way.”
Mike readjusted the lights so that all the shine was on Erma. “How’s that, ladies?”
Everyone at the table gave a thumbs-up.
“Help!” called wizened Mrs. Turner, who was ninety if she was a day, from the backing station in the dining room. “I need somewhere to plug in my power scissors.”
Gia looked to Mike.
“Be right back.” He trotted from the kitchen, returned momentarily with a multiplug adapter, and soon had Mrs. Turner and her scissors in business.
Gia clasped her hands, tucked them under her chin, tilted her head, and in a swoony, moony voice said, “My hero.”
A collective “aww” went up from the group.
“He is a keeper,” Erma said. “I’m glad you finally realized that, Gia.”
“She sure took her sweet time, didn’t she, Mike?” Viv asked.
“A man who’s good with his hands and puts up with old ladies is a treasure,” Mrs. Turner called from the dining room. “Hold on to him tight.”
Looking inordinately pleased with himself, Mike strolled over to where Gia had set up the ironing board on the other side of the kitchen island. “Hear that? I have a fan club.”
“Should I be worried you’ll leave me for one of these quilting whizzes?”
“I’ll take him off your hands,” Erma chirped. “Just saying.”
Mike chuckled and wrapped his arm around Gia’s waist. Gia set the iron upright on the ironing board and smiled at him through a cloud of steam. “Sorry, Erma, I’m true blue. Gia’s the one for me.”
“Rats,” Erma mumbled with a grin. “Fifty years too late. Story of my life.”
Mike nuzzled Gia’s neck, putting on a show for the ladies. “It’s been a long time since the place has been this much fun,” he murmured.
“Thanks to you.”
“No, I’m not the special ingredient. It’s because the Moonglow sisters all came home.”
“You’re pretty special to me,” she said. “And all this”—she flapped her hand at the group—“happened because of you. Without you, I couldn’t have gotten my sisters on the same page.”
“Okay.” He kissed the top of her head. “We’re the dream team.”
“Yes,” she whispered, and in that moment, she wished with all her heart that their engagement was real.
* * *
THE QUILTING BEE was a stunning success. In three days, twenty-six quilting wizards made seventy-eight quilts. Adding that number to the quilts they’d already collected as donations, they had one hundred and ten quilts to sell in the pop-up store. The stash-buster quilts would sell for one hundred and fifty dollars apiece, while the more artistic and handsewn quilts would be priced accordingly.
The most prized? Darynda’s masterpiece, a tumbling blocks quilt, designed as wall art, and estimated by the Quilting Divas as worth fifteen hundred dollars.
If they sold every quilt for its sticker price, they’d bring in over twenty-five thousand dollars. Minus the amount Maddie had already paid to keep the inn out of foreclosure, they were still left with a sixteen-thousand-dollar shortfall to pay off the mortgage. But then there were Gia’s kites, Madison’s wreaths, Shelley’s yoga classes, and the furniture Mike had donated to fill in the gap.
For the first time, Gia felt optimistic that they could actually pull this off and save the Moonglow Inn.
On Monday morning, June 8, the three sisters headed for the hospital to check on Grammy and Darynda, whom they hadn’t seen in four days.
Gia entered the room first.
Grammy was sitting up in bed. The bandage on her head had been removed, revealing her head shaved bald and the vivid surgical suture line. In her lap lay a photo album. Darynda had put the bed rail down on her side and was leaning over to look at the album with Grammy. The minute Grammy spied Gia, her eyes lit up.
“Morning, Grammy.” Gia smiled and zoomed across the room to swallow her grandmother in a big hug. She felt so thin and frail in Gia’s arms.
Darynda pulled back to let Gia get closer.
Grammy’s hand fluttered up to touch Gia’s shoulder, but she was too weak to hold her hand aloft for long and it dropped to the photo album. Gia glanced down to see a photograph of their mother at eighteen on some ski slope somewhere with an intrepid smile on her face, and the bright sun shining on her golden hair flowing from underneath a blue toboggan cap. She looked like a coquettish angel full of daring innocence.
Gia ached for the woman she’d never known, wishing she’d had more time to find out who her mother was. She knew her only by pictures and other people’s memories. Sassy, they said. Outspoken. Stubborn. Knew her own mind. Beth Chapman Clark sounded a whole lot like Madison.
Although Madison might have their mother’s personality, Shelley was the one who most resembled her.
“Has she spoken?” Madison asked Darynda as she waited behind Gia to give Grammy a hug.
“No.” Darynda’s voice was strong. “But she nods or shakes her head in response to questions.” Darynda reached over to squeeze Grammy’s hand. “We’re getting there.”
Gia slipped out of the way to let Madison lean over and kiss Grammy’s for
ehead. Shelley held back, hanging in the doorway. Gia motioned her in.
Glancing over her shoulder, Shelley shook her head. “The last time we had this many people in here, the nurses bawled us out.”
“Since when did you start following rules?” Madison asked. “Get in here and give Grammy a hug.”
Shelley hesitated, then came on in, shutting the door behind her. She turned and headed over as Madison stepped to the foot of the bed with Gia.
Grammy’s eyes widened at the sight of Shelley with her newly made-over hairstyle. Pure joy illuminated her face and she cried in a halting, scratchy voice, “Beth!”
All three sisters startled and exchanged stunned glances.
Grammy had spoken! But the name she’d called Shelley was the name of a woman who’d been dead for twenty years. Their mother.
Tears streamed down Grammy’s face and her bottom lip quivered. “Y-you c-came . . . home.”
Simultaneously, the three sisters swung their gazes to Darynda, who looked as surprised as they were. Tears brimmed in her eyes too.
Shelley blinked, and then shot a what-should-I-do glance at Madison.
“Helen,” Darynda murmured. “That’s not Beth. That’s Shelley, Beth’s middle daughter.”
Grammy shook her head. “Beth,” she said, her voice clearer, steadier now.
“Should I pretend to be Mom?” Shelley whispered to Madison and Gia.
“Give it a whirl,” Gia said. “It seems to make her happy.”
“Don’t deceive her,” Madison contradicted. “It’s not fair.”
“Okay.” Shelley inhaled. “Not helpful at all.”
“Beth.” Grammy looked from the photo album in her lap to Shelley. “Beth?”
“I told you that makeover made you look like Mom,” Madison said.
Shelley inched over and sank down on the thin ledge of mattress beside Grammy. Spoke the truth. “I’m so happy to be home.”
“I-I—” Grammy’s mouth twisted in upset as she struggled to find the words.
“Shh,” Darynda soothed. “It’s all right. It’s okay. You don’t have to talk.”
Grammy darted a quick glare at Darynda, then gave her attention back to Shelley. “S-so-sorry.”
“I’m sorry too.” Shelley rubbed Grammy’s forearm with her palm.
Gia watched her sister with her grandmother. Feeling both of their pain as they struggled to communicate, she wished she could make things easier. The moment seemed weighted, monumental. A long time coming.
A rift between mother and daughter. A rift between sisters. It seemed like her family was full of cracks and fractures, rips and schisms. Gia fingered the woven bracelet at her wrist.
“For . . . give . . . me.” Grammy’s voice was so hoarse that Gia could barely hear her. She worried Grammy was overdoing it. Saw the same fear on Darynda’s face.
“You’ve done nothing to be forgiven for,” Shelley said. “I’m the one who needs to be forgiven. Me. I caused all the trouble.”
“No.” Grammy’s whisper was the only sound in the room. She reached up a hand to touch Shelley’s cheek. “Beth.”
Shelley looked to Madison and Gia again, her eyes asking if she should play along and pretend to be their mother or correct her.
Gia shrugged. Hey, she was trapped in the midst of a pretty big whopper, she had no advice. Madison frowned and shook her head.
“For . . . give . . . me.”
“Shh,” Madison said. “Save your strength. You can talk more later. This is a lot for one day.”
Grammy gave her the same glare dart she’d shot at Darynda earlier. “You hush.”
Gia giggled, glad to see her spunky grandmother was still in there somewhere.
Turning her attention back to Shelley, Grammy repeated, “For . . . give . . . me.”
“I forgive you . . .” Shelley hesitated, then plunged ahead. “Mama.”
Madison made a you-handled-that-wrong noise. Gia poked Madison in the ribs with her elbow. Sometimes a kind lie was better than the cruel truth.
Grammy was crying. Shelley was crying. Gia felt warm tears on her cheeks. Even crusty Madison was sniffling. Darynda passed out Kleenex.
Their grandmother closed her eyes, a soft smile coming to her lips. She looked happy.
Shelley sat beside Grammy holding her hand and saying over and over like a mantra, I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you.
Ironic when all this time, Shelley was the one needing forgiveness.
Grammy’s breathing slowed, and it seemed she’d fallen asleep. Shelley hung on to her hand.
Gently, Darynda took the photo album from Grammy’s lap and settled it onto the bedside table next to the medical accoutrements.
“I need to know something.” Gia surprised herself. She hadn’t meant to speak her thoughts aloud.
Everyone, except Grammy, who was either asleep or so exhausted she couldn’t respond, swung their gazes toward Gia. She’d backed herself into the far corner of the room, enjoying the security of having the wall at her back.
“Yes?” Darynda sat up straighter in her chair.
“What happened between our mother and Grammy?”
The uncomfortable expression on Darynda’s face had Gia wishing she hadn’t started down this road, but dammit, there had been too many secrets in this family. She flicked a glance at Grammy, who looked both peaceful and worn out. Grammy’s eyes opened, and she exhaled a sigh so deeply they all felt the shuddering effort of her breath.
Concerned, Darynda scooted forward in her chair, wedging her upper body in between Shelley, who was still sitting on the hospital bed mattress, and their grandmother resting heavily against the pillows.
“I mean . . .” Gia continued. Now that she had started it, she was determined to see it through. Grammy had begged her to convince her sisters to finish the quilt and mend the family rift. Surely, her goal had been to keep from replicating the family gulf in the younger generation. How could they keep from repeating the past if they didn’t know the story of what went wrong? “What did Grammy do to make our mother so upset with her that she didn’t even acknowledge she had a mother?”
Darynda and Grammy exchanged a long look.
Shelley got off the mattress and came to stand at the foot of the bed with Gia and Madison. The three of them waited. Madison had her arms folded over her chest. Shelley had her fingers interlaced, palms pressed together and clutched at the level of her throat. Gia’s arms hung passively at her sides.
“Beth?” Grammy’s eyebrows went up, asking the question more than her voice did, and motioned toward Shelley with her two fingers.
“Shelley.”
“She . . . looks like Beth.”
“But it’s not Beth. Beth is gone.”
Fresh tears sprang to Grammy’s eyes and she nodded as if she understood.
“Should I?” Darynda asked.
“Tell . . .” Grammy moistened her lips with a dry flick of her tongue. “Them.”
Darynda hooked Gia’s gaze with her own. “Are you asking what your grandmother did that caused your mother to pack up her bags in the middle of the night, drive off to Colorado without saying a word of good-bye, and never contact Helen again, not even when she had three children of her own?”
“Y-yes.”
Darynda pulled her spine up straight, looked each sister squarely in the eyes, first one and then the others. Her face was fierce. “She loved me.”
“What?” Gia blinked.
“Your grandmother dared to love me, and Beth just couldn’t accept that.”
Stunned, Gia stared at Darynda as her meaning sank in. She’d known her grandmother and Darynda were very close. She’d accepted them as the best of friends. Had actually never thought twice about their relationship except to wonder why Darynda didn’t already live with them since they had so much room. “You and Grammy are—”
Darynda notched up her proud chin and narrowed her eyes as if challenging them to judge her. “Life partners.”
Shelley slanted Gia a glance, looking at her as if she’d just dropped off a turnip truck from some greenhorn farm. “You didn’t already know Grammy and Darynda are gay? Why do you think I painted rainbows on Grammy’s toes?”
“To be cheerful?” Gia asked.
“I thought everyone knew.” Madison shrugged and turned to Darynda. “What’s the big deal?”
“Not much these days,” Darynda said. “But twenty years ago, minds were just starting to open to the possibility that everyone deserved the same fundamental human rights no matter whom they loved. And you know, there are still people today who don’t accept differences. Your mother was one of those people.”
“I can see that,” Madison said. “Mom could be very rigid in the way she viewed the world. She was a black-and-white thinker. There were friends she’d had, relationships she dropped when people didn’t behave the way she thought they should. In Mom’s eyes, when you were out, you were out.”
“Guess I would have been in trouble with her,” Shelley mumbled.
“Why didn’t you tell us about being life partners years ago?” Gia asked, honestly confused that they would keep their love a secret.
Darynda looked to their grandmother, who was watching them with heated eyes. “Your grandmother was afraid you might react the same way Beth did, and she couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.”
“You couldn’t be free to be yourself because of us.” Shelley shoved her fingers through her hair and blew out an exasperated breath. “What a shame.”
“Just as it was a shame you and your sisters had a falling-out,” Darynda said.
“How did Mom find out?” Madison asked.
Embarrassment colored Darynda’s cheeks. “She walked in on us during a private moment. I’m sure it was quite shocking to her, even though we were just in bed together snuggling, but with no clothes on—”
Shelley held up both palms. “You don’t owe us the details.”
“It wasn’t so much what your grandmother was doing, but who she was doing it with. Beth never cared for me. I called her out for sassing Helen. She thought it wasn’t my place and it probably wasn’t, but I can’t stand for anyone to mistreat the love of my life.” Darynda smiled at Grammy, both of their eyes shining with more tears.