The Quilting House

by Elizabeth Bromke

  Liesel followed her and set the second box down, and Gretchen and Tabby followed Liesel.

  “Hi Gretchen,” Liesel greeted, managing to strike a cheery tone despite her growing nerves.

  “Hi, Miss Liesel,” Gretchen replied kindly. “How’ve you been?”

  “Good, real good.” Liesel smiled at her then lowered and helped Greta unpack the boxes and arrange the packages beneath the bottom boughs.

  “My, Aunt Liesel,” Greta went on, “You’re spoiling us!”

  Liesel waved her off, pushing up from the floor and smoothing her overcoat, wishing she’d shed it at the door; it was stiff and heavy and too formal. No doubt it’d be awkward to carry onto the plane, and then what? She wouldn’t stow it beneath her seat and get it dirty. She’d have to keep it on her lap and—oh! The pain of traveling!

  “Are you staying for Christmas, Miss Liesel?” Gretchen asked, handing Tabby off to her mother.

  Liesel shook her head. “I’ve got a flight out to Michigan. Visiting, um, family, I suppose you could say.”

  “In this weather?” Gretchen asked, glancing through the window. It had been snowing off and on all day, but the wind had only just picked up. And boy, had it, too.

  Liesel followed Gretchen’s gaze. “Well, I haven’t gotten a notification of any cancellation.”

  “Here,” Greta pulled her phone out, tapping away masterfully as Liesel pursed her lips and crimped her brow. “I’ll check. What airline?”

  Liesel frowned deeper. “Oh, right. Um—TransAir. Flight 4820.”

  Greta flashed her phone Liesel’s way. “Oh, dear, Aunt Liesel. Look.”

  Liesel didn’t know what she was looking at, and her helplessness was evident, because Gretchen then leaned in to see the screen, interpreting the information right away. She pointed to fine print below the flight number and airline. “Grounded.”

  “But that’s okay, Aunt Liesel,” Greta cheered, “you can stay here for Christmas after all!”

  Chapter 3—Gretchen

  Gretchen did not know Liesel Hart very well. The woman was a Hickory Grove native, yes. And she was ultra-involved at Little Flock Catholic, sure. But seeing as Gretchen was a bit of a loner, the woman’s local prestige didn’t mean much to the twenty-year-old.

  As for Christmas plans, where the icy woman celebrated was of little never mind to Gretchen, anyway. She already had her own plans. The usual Engel family Christmas. This year, as the one before, they’d be celebrating at the farm. Rhett would be there. Her father would also make an awkward appearance, no doubt. With any luck, no argument would break out and things would be more than civil. Maybe even merry.

  Then, that evening, she’d report back to the Inn to cover a night shift for Greta.

  This was all taking place in just two days’ time, and Gretchen was anything but ready. Fortunately, she’d thought to stow a small sewing project in her handbag for downtime at the Inn. But all she could afford to do this year was finish up stockings—one for each person in her life—and add a few small gifts. Truth be told, Gretchen did have enough money to do something more elaborate… but that was only if she dipped into her meticulously maintained savings account.

  In fact, this was a point of internal conflict for her: to splurge on family and spoil them rotten? Or to stay the course with saving up for her business plan?

  With mere hours, basically, until Christmas, she was running out of shopping time anyway.

  Thank goodness it was just the family Christmas she had to worry about. No big to-do at Theo’s mom’s house to worry about. No Friendsmas, as was becoming a silly trend. Just her mom, the two dad-figures in her life, two brothers, and one sister. It was more than she could handle, really.

  Theo’s text nagged the back of her mind. But she was strong enough to ignore him. Gretchen refused to become a hometown holiday girlfriend. That’s what she called the girls who didn’t get as far as their boyfriends and who waited in the wings for the boys to return home for Christmas and Easter and the Fourth of July. No, when Gretchen broke up with Theo, it was for good.

  Tabby started fussing, and Gretchen made a mental note to finish the booties she’d started crocheting for the baby’s gift, undermining the whole point of keeping her Christmas small this year.

  And that reminded her that she’d really better get something for Greta, too. Maybe even Luke. They were her employers, after all.

  But if she got something for Greta and Luke, would she need to get something for her shift manager at Malley’s? Should she put together a wreath and lay it across Malley’s grave, too? Yes, she really should.

  The anxiety about gift-giving was getting to Gretchen. Really, it was.

  Greta moved the baby up to her shoulder and patted her back vigorously. “Aunt Liesel,” she said, “I wouldn’t even drive home if I were you. Not in this.”

  All three women neared the window and looked outside. Snow whipped in white cyclones beyond. It was borderline blizzard conditions.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this,” Gretchen murmured.

  “We had this when I worked upstate. It’s a whiteout.” Greta rocked Tabby. “I’m sorry, Aunt Liesel, but it looks like you’re stuck here. At least for a little while. Maybe it’s a microburst, or whatever they’re called. They usually sweep in and out in no time.”

  Hopefully, Greta was right—that the storm would be on its way faster than Frosty could melt. Gretchen didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news… but they had no vacancies in the Inn. Of course, she herself was used to staying awake through the night, keeping busy with a book or a craft. Would Greta let Liesel sleep on the sofa in the parlor? Would she stay awake through the night, too? Sitting by the window, willing away the snow so she could get the heck out of Hickory Grove?

  Sounded miserable to Gretchen.

  “Surely the weather’s not that bad,” Liesel protested, tapping her red-painted nails against her lips.

  Greta and Gretchen shared a worrisome glance.

  “Miss Liesel, it does look bad out there. And if your flight is cancelled, anyway—”

  Liesel snapped her fingers. “I need to call Michigan.”

  “Call Michigan?” Greta asked.

  “Mm,” Liesel answered. “Let them know about the flight. Maybe it’s just delayed. Or maybe there’s another way.”

  “Another way?” Greta asked. She was beginning to sound like a record player, stuck. “Oh, no, Aunt Liesel. You’re staying in Hickory Grove tonight. Here, in fact. I’m nervous about so much as walking over to the house,” Greta added fearfully as she swayed left and right with Tabby, who’d fallen asleep, drunk in her mother’s cuddle.

  “I think you’re overreacting,” Liesel murmured. “Let me call my contact in Michigan, and we’ll go from there.” She lifted her hand to the window. “It only just got bad. I bet it doesn’t last.”

  Liesel left the room, moving into the kitchen as Greta and Gretchen and Tabby remained, staring out through the window, enchanted by the snowstorm. It looked very lasting, in fact.

  Even the glow of the Christmas lights, painstakingly hung over a month earlier by Luke, wasn’t enough to power through the churning flakes. A whiteout, indeed. “Coach is having practice in this weather?” Gretchen wondered aloud. She’d known Luke Hart from when she was in high school and he was the resident heartthrob teacher. Though ever since they’d hired Gretchen, he’d told her time and again to call him Luke, she’d never shake Coach.

  “It was their last weight training session before Christmas,” Gretchen answered. “Indoors, naturally. In the high school gym. He was supposed to be done by now.” She glanced at her wristwatch. “I’d better phone him. Be sure he’s safe. His athletes, too.”

  Gretchen lowered into the armchair at the window, mesmerized by the weather, unable to tear her gaze away. When she’d left the farm, the snow had stopped altogether, but the sky had hung heavy and dark, and the wind was picking up. Amazing how just a span of half an hour could bring a small town to its
knees, immobilizing everyone. Freezing them, so to speak.

  Gretchen wondered if this sort of thing made some people feel trapped. No doubt her mother did. Maggie was a goer. A mover and shaker and although she’d stuck around Hickory Grove, she always had things to do and places to be. Her preference for bebopping around town, as she said, partially came from the fact that she worked out of the home. She’d even cautioned Gretchen against following in her footsteps. You’ll grow antsy, trust me. Working at home sounds great until you’re stuck there, eight hours, trapped in your house like a slave to the biz. Don’t get me wrong, Gretch, I love it! But I’m just warning you.

  Gretchen would have loved to stay in her little barn house all day. By no preference of hers, she was the antithesis to her mother, running here and there and home so rarely that the space had yet to really feel like home. She’d never even had a friend over to watch a movie or dinner, save for Theo. He was old news, though.

  But old news or not… the mere thought of him drove a chill up her arms and a cold stab to her heart. His stupid text, luring her back. She’d resist Theo Linden. She had to, if her pride mattered one lick. Theo had two more years at N.D. Then law school, wherever that took him. They would have been doomed to keep long distance, or else she’d play tag-along while he gallivanted in and out of hip college bars with his hip college friends and fancy college lingo. Meanwhile, back at what might have been their sterile apartment, Gretchen would be playing house, setting the table for a boyfriend who had better things to do than propose to his small-town, small-beans girl.

  At least, this was Gretchen’s fear. In reality, Theo and Gretchen never much moved past weekend date nights. They’d never been serious. Didn’t get that far. Her walls were up, and his time was limited.

  Despite it all, however, Gretchen missed Theo. Her stomach twisted and she tore herself away from the window, returning to the front desk, where she’d left her handbag. She opened it now, removing her mother’s stocking. She still had to do the exterior stitches to make it look old-fashioned and handmade. The latter of which, it was. Still, she was going for neat and clean but quaint and charming. Big, looping stitchwork around the edges of the stocking as if a child had tried her hand at sewing for the first adorable time.

  Gretchen threaded a fresh needle and punctured the fabric just as Miss Liesel returned from the kitchen. “The weather is bad in Michigan, too,” she declared. “Artic blast or some other thing. Although, Michigan knows how to handle it. I bet they are sending flights.”

  “You said you have family there?” Gretchen inquired out of politeness. In truth, she wasn’t that interested in the woman’s travel plans. Liesel Hart had the reputation of being prickly and perfect and together. Everything that Gretchen wasn’t.

  “Distant relatives,” she answered.

  Greta rejoined them. “I just got off with Luke. He’s stuck. Though he’s got the truck, there are five kids there with folks who can’t come get them. I suppose it’s just us girls for the evening.” She smiled hopefully, and Gretchen felt a bit sorry for the woman. Greta hadn’t made much headway with friends in town. Sure, Gretchen’s mom, Maggie, and Theo’s mom, Becky, had been sweet enough, going so far as to invite Greta to anything and everything.

  Still, though, there was a coolness between Greta and the rest of Hickory Grove. Like they didn’t quite trust her.

  But Gretchen trusted Greta. After all, they practically shared the same name.

  “I’m going to put supper on. We’ve got a full house tonight, so I’m thinking pasta,” Greta went on. “Do you ladies prefer red or white sauce?”

  Gretchen’s stomach growled. “White,” she said.

  “Really,” Miss Liesel answered, her face filled with worry, “I can’t stay. I’ll be on my way as soon as this lets up.”

  Gretchen glanced through the front window. “I don’t know about that, Miss Liesel. You might have to make other plans. At least through the night.”

  “The rooms are booked,” Greta said, wringing her hands. “But you can stay in the main house.” Her face then lit up. “With me and Tabby, assuming Luke doesn’t return. Then again—I don’t see how I can walk Tabby out through this. Even just fifty yards.”

  “Why don’t we all set up in the parlor?” Gretchen suggested. “It’s warm in there. Comfortable, too. We can cancel the evening sherry and close the parlor. I’ll bring down blankets and pillows from the linen closet. We’ll roast marshmallows!”

  Liesel sucked her red lips into her mouth then pushed them out into a pout before glancing yet again through the window. “Oh, all right. All right. I suppose we’ll hunker down.”

  Gretchen couldn’t help but smile when she saw relief play out across Greta’s face. This could be just the boost Greta Hart needed. The chance to bond with a certified Hickory Grove native. The chance to find some common ground.

  The burst of hope that filled Gretchen’s heart also inspired her to take out her phone. While there was no way in the world she’d reconnect with Theo, she could at least be polite. Civil, even.

  “Welcome home,” she wrote, pausing as she considered what next to write. Logically, small talk was her best bet. “I’m at the Inn. Bad storm. Are you safe at your mom’s?”

  He wrote back immediately. “She sent me to stay with Mamaw at the farm. You need anything? I’ve got four-wheel drive…”

  No, Gretchen did not need anything at all.

  “Oh dear,” Greta said as she emerged from the storage room behind the front desk. They stored cleaning supplies and extra toiletries there, along with a small stack of firewood for emergencies.

  “What?” Liesel asked.

  “We’re low on wood.”

  Chapter 4—Liesel

  Gretchen shook her head. “Coach split half a cord the other day. It’s all stacked and ready out back—” Her voice fell away. “Oh.” There was no getting to the wood that sat way out at the back of the garden. Not now. Though the weather had been snowy and cold all day, they only sometimes had fires. For example, they’d have one the next night—Christmas Eve, for the guests during supper or after. As such, there sat just enough firewood for an evening’s worth. With a working furnace, there was no point in wasting good firewood now.

  But then, the furnace only held out as long as the electricity did.

  As if on cue, the lights blinked on and off for the second time that evening.

  Liesel frowned. Sure, they had the option of heading outside and into the storm. The back garden was just fifty yards off or so. She could do it, if she had to. Gretchen would help. Greta, too. They were tough women. All three could bundle up and press out through the swirling snow.

  Crack.

  Tabby started to wail. The lights blinked again then died.

  “Oh, heavens,” Greta fretted as the room darkened. She shushed Tabby. “I don’t think we’ve ever had the electric go out since we’ve owned this place.”

  Liesel’s eyes adjusted to the very dim light—a glow coming from the snow outside. She spoke next. “When the power went out when my mother lived here, we’d just light candles. If it was cold, then the fire. But now we will have to go out for wood. Right?”

  Greta nodded just as footsteps sounded from above. Liesel glanced up, staring hard through the darkness.

  The guests.

  “Oh, come on down everyone!” Greta called up before directing her attention back to Liesel and Gretchen. “There are candlesticks in the junk drawer in the kitchen. Matches, too. Gretchen, won’t you go on and light one up and come back.” Then she lifted her voice again, and Liesel moved toward the staircase, doing the one thing she could do with ease on her phone, turning its flashlight on and lighting the stairs for the small, confused group of people.

  A full house at the inn meant five parties. Five rooms, five parties. In this case, on December 23, most of the guests were singletons, in the area to meet up with family or perhaps on business nearby. What with so many hotels and motels booked for the week, the Hic
kory Grove Inn easily became a good back-up plan for travelers. Quaint and all-inclusive, one could scarcely argue against the merits of the small-town B&B.

  Of the six people descending the steps, four were individual guests. One was a couple in town for family Christmas. None complained. Mainly, they were just curious.

  “In case of times like this, our first goal is to keep everyone safe,” Greta announced. Tabby had fallen back asleep, no longer roused by the loud storm. The hubbub had worn her out. It was wearing Liesel out, too.

  Once the small group joined them in the lobby, Liesel crossed back to Greta and offered her arms for Tabby. Greta passed the baby over carefully, and Liesel left to the rocking chair that sat in the parlor near the threshold to the foyer, so that she could hear the goings on while keeping Tabby down.

  “Here you go,” Gretchen whispered, a single white candlestick aglow behind her cupped hand.

  “Thanks, Gretch,” Greta answered. “As I was saying. You are welcome to stay down here if you’d prefer. We don’t currently have a fire on, but we’ll get to that soon, I expect. If you’re cold, we have plenty of blankets to go around. Bottled water. Other drinks, too. Mainly, I think we just stay in,” Greta added emphatically. Liesel wondered if this was for her benefit, even though by now it was a foregone conclusion that she’d have to stay.

  The four businessfolks muttered and eventually retreated upstairs, unfazed, it would appear, by such a catastrophe. The couple, middle-aged and mainly bored, lingered long enough for Gretchen to walk them upstairs, where she’d get extra blankets. After, Gretchen brought up the bottled water and reminded guests to let their loved ones know they were safe but might be out of touch, assuming their phones died eventually. Although, the phone line was still in working order, just in case.

  Then, it was the three women and Tabby again, in the parlor.