by Janice Lynn
Lou’s was busy with the usual lunchtime crowd, but there was a booth open in the back of the diner. Since Lou was tied up with customers, Sophie and Cole decided to order lunch prior to talking to the owner about the toy drive.
“Lou’s joke of the day was funny, don’t ya think?” Sophie asked as they made their way to a vacant booth. Cole shrugged. “Did you even read it?”
“‘What do you call it when it’s raining turkeys?’” Cole recited, proving that he actually had noticed what had been written on the dry-erase board.
“‘Fowl weather,’” Sophie answered, grinning at the joke as she sat down across from Cole.
Their waitress took their order, then Sophie went back to talking because that was what she did, particularly when nervous. They’d had a good day, much better than she’d have expected, really, but Cole did make her nervous so she couldn’t stop the chatter, not even after their food arrived. Occasionally, he’d comment.
“You run a shop, sell quilt kits online, sell pet bandanas in local shops, volunteer at church and community projects.” His eyes glittered. “Tell me, Sophie, is that why you’re still single? Because you’re too busy for a relationship? Or is a previous bad relationship why you stay so busy?”
His personal question caught her off guard and she paused before answering, taking a bite of her veggie burger. Finally, she shrugged. “I enjoy all the things I do. And I admit to having an attention disorder.” There were so many interesting things constantly distracting her. Like him, for instance. “There’s no previous bad relationship.” Not a lot of previous good ones, either. “When I meet the right man, making time for a relationship won’t be a problem.”
Because she figured it would be years and years before she met him. By that time, The Threaded Needle wouldn’t be mostly owned by the bank. She and Isabelle would be able to hire more help at the shop than their three part-time employees, which would lessen the number of hours she worked, herself.
Not that she didn’t enjoy the work. She did. But she’d love to devote more time to other projects such as church events and Quilts of Valor. Especially at this time of year. The need for volunteers always picked up around the holidays. Plus, she’d been inspired by the man sitting across the table from her to work on a new patriotic quilt. She’d sketched out a pattern on graph paper, had chosen the material, and was mulling the design over in her head prior to making the first cut.
She really would love to make him a quilt but suspected he’d refuse. Maybe with time, he’d warm to the idea, though.
“What?” he asked, obviously noticing her scrutiny.
“Nothing,” she said, taking another bite of her sandwich and smiling at him from across the booth’s table.
Nothing except he might not have been looking for a friend, but too bad, because he’d found one.
Sophie’s smile was making Cole nervous. Why did she keep looking at him that way? The way that said she knew something he didn’t and if he did know her secret, he wouldn’t approve.
Sophie liked to push people outside their comfort zone.
No doubt going with her today had been a bad idea…but not going would have been worse. The guys never would have let him live it down. They didn’t dictate his every move—far from it—but they were his only close friends outside of the service, and he’d rather not have them on his case.
He was thankful for the bond he’d formed with Andrew and Ben. He’d lay his life down for either one of them, and knew they’d do the same for him. It’s what they did.
But that didn’t mean they wouldn’t hassle him about going to lunch with Sophie. Which was why he kept his end of the conversation to a minimum. In Pine Hill everyone seemed to know everyone, and no doubt someone in the restaurant would mention having seen them there.
Not that his disengagement mattered. Sophie talked enough for both of them, telling him about her shop, her mother, her sister, and life in Pine Hill. Cole just listened and enjoyed watching how animated her face and hands were while she talked.
Finally, he had to ask. “Are you always this happy?”
French fry part of the way to her mouth, Sophie paused mid-sentence. “Happy?”
“Happy, talkative, you know.”
She laughed, then waved her Parmesan-coated French fry. “These are amazing enough to make the whole world happy. Try one.”
Cole could eat anything. Being in the military did that to a person. But for the most part, other than Andrew’s Grandma Ruby’s cooking, he ate for health rather than pleasure, so he shook his head.
“Thanks, but no thanks. My arteries would rather I didn’t.”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “Way to make me feel guilty for enjoying my very, very yummy food.” He started to apologize, then paused as she popped the fry into her mouth and grinned. “And for the record, my cholesterol is completely normal and, fortunately, I have no family history of heart disease. Now, do you always eat healthy or do you have food weaknesses like the rest of us mere mortals?”
Cole thought a moment, trying to think of something he’d eaten that had given him pleasure. Memories of his mother baking hit him, and his lips curved.
“Cookies.”
Her lips curved. “Cookies?”
“Christmas cookies. The kind that are cut in shapes and decorated with all the bells and whistles,” he clarified, his mouth watering a little in a Pavlovian response to the memory of sitting at the kitchen counter, helping his mom make them, decorating them together, laughing, and then demolishing as many as she’d let him have.
“Must be some great cookies, since just thinking of them made you smile.”
Smiling at Sophie was dangerous. Being near her was like playing with matches with fingers soaked in gasoline.
His gaze met hers. “They were great.”
Although he could tell she was itching to ask for details, she didn’t. Just launched into telling him about how vanilla ice cream was her favorite dessert. That surprised him. He’d have guessed any flavor other than vanilla. Sophia seemed more a candy sprinkles and extreme flavors kind of person.
Despite the crowded restaurant, the table seemed eerily quiet when she excused herself to go to the ladies room, leaving him without her chatter.
The quiet didn’t last a full minute.
“I’m wearing his ring!” the blue-haired granny Rosie said as she slid into the booth across from him. She flashed a generous-sized diamond on her left hand, wiggling her finger. “He should be happy with that.”
Cole stared at her, not saying anything and hoping Rosie didn’t expect him to.
“I’ve been married three times—God rest their souls. He should just trust me on this and quit pushing.”
Knowing when to keep quiet, Cole picked up his water glass. Maybe all the Pine Hill women were gifted with the ability to carry on one-sided conversations.
“You can’t blame Lou for wanting you to set a date,” Maybelle said, pushing Rosie over as she also seated herself at Cole and Sophie’s booth.
Would Sophie find him if he paid their bill and headed to the truck?
“Oh, go back to your own table.” Rosie scowled at the other woman. “I came over here to get away from Lou and my so-called friends. I’ll set a date when I’m ready.”
Her seemingly harsh response caught Cole off guard, but Maybelle took it in stride.
Ignoring Maybelle’s concerned frown, Rosie reached over to pick up a fry off Sophie’s plate. “These things are heavenly, but I’m not allowed to order them. Lou won’t let me.”
“Because you’re acting childishly, and so he has to treat you accordingly.” Maybelle plucked the fry from Rosie’s fingers before she could bite into it. But rather than put it back on Sophie’s plate she bit the end off that hadn’t been in Rosie’s fingers. “Mmm, you’re right. That is good.”
Rosie shot an evil eye tow
ard Maybelle. Cole leaned back, wondering if he was about to witness a granny catfight, and wishing Sophie would hurry up and get back to the table.
Maybelle just smiled, as if nothing Rosie said fazed her. “Go talk to Lou and I’ll give you the other half back.”
“As if I want the other half back after you’ve had your fingers all over it.”
Sophie came back to the table, eyed the two women who now occupied her side of the booth, then glanced toward Cole as if to ask how this had happened. He automatically slid over to make space for her on his side of the booth. Not that Cole wanted her that close, but he couldn’t just leave her standing there. Besides, these ladies were her friends. Maybe she’d know what to do with them.
With one more questioning look his way, Sophie sat down, then smiled at the women. “What did I miss?”
The bickering grannies launched into a sordid tale of why Blue Hair wouldn’t set a wedding date and why Regal General thought she should, before finally saying their goodbyes.
Cole let out a sigh of relief when they’d gone back to their table.
“Don’t believe anything they said about each other,” Sophie warned. “They’re the best of friends, even though you’d never know it from that conversation. Kind of like how you are with Andrew and Ben, I imagine.”
With the women gone and the opposite side of the booth empty, Cole felt odd with Sophie still sitting next to him. They weren’t touching, but it wouldn’t take much to accidently bump against her.
After they finished eating, they drove back to her shop with a key lime pie for her sister. As they drove, Sophie told him all about the ladies and their lifelong friendship and matriarch roles within the town. She told him about her Aunt Claudia, who was also a “Butterfly” and who’d started taking trips with her husband after having dreamed of traveling for many years.
When they got to the town square, he parked in front of her shop to let her out. A fuzzy yellow cat sitting on her windowsill caught his eye.
“I thought you didn’t have a pet.”
Following the direction of his gaze, Sophie smiled.
“He’s not mine and doesn’t want to make friends despite the fact I’ve been feeding him for weeks.” She gave an exaggerated sigh. “He comes around, teases me with how close he gets, but has yet to let me touch him. As far as I can tell, he doesn’t belong to anyone.” She eyed the cat that must have sensed them watching him as he jumped down and took off down the street. “He is beautiful, though.”
Cole hadn’t had a pet in years—if the random critters he’d carried into his mom’s apartment had even counted as actual pets. He never got to keep them for long before she forced him to release them.
Sophie picked up the bag with the Santa suit, but she didn’t open the car door, just left her hand resting there as she turned to him.
“I’ll get the suit altered in the next couple of days. I know you need it next week.”
Still staring at the yellow cat, he nodded. “I appreciate it.”
She smiled. “Thanks for helping today. Sorry I have to go back to work before we completely finished.”
His gaze refocused on the woman sitting in his passenger seat. As Sophie opened the SUV’s passenger door and stepped out, he had a flashback of how he’d feel when his mother took away his latest pet.
“No problem,” he mumbled. “I’ll take these boxes to the last couple of places on our list.”
“It’s safer to go in pairs,” she reminded with her usual bubbly smile. “If you’re free, we could go together after the shop closes.”
Safer to go in pairs? Cole snorted. She didn’t really he was in danger by himself on the mean streets of Pine Hill. And if they went together and ran into trouble, did she really think she’d be the one protecting him? What did Sophie think she’d do, talk their assailant into giving up? Unleash her Butterflies on them, maybe? He fought grinning at the notion.
“I think I’ll be okay on this one.” Delivering toy collection boxes by himself in Pine Hill seemed way safer than spending more time with Sophie.
“I—okay, but I had a good time today and wish we could deliver the rest of the boxes together. I’d like for us to be friends.”
Her disappointment was palpable, which had Cole feeling guilty. But today had been a mission, not a precursor to their becoming friends.
She saw him as another charity case, he reminded himself. She could save her charity for someone else who deserved it.
“We’re not friends and never will be.” Pushing the words out was harder than he’d expected.
Sophie winced, and for a brief second, Cole wished he could take back his blunt words, that he could give in to the desire to be his friend shining so clearly in her lovely eyes.
“I, well, I thought…never mind what I thought. If that’s how you feel—” She paused, swallowed, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she was fighting back tears.
Yeah, he was a real piece of work and deserved the guilt shredding his insides. Guilt that he’d allowed today to happen without realizing what it meant to her. He’d been trying to get their obligations over with, and instead Sophie had thought they were becoming buddies.
“Then fine, we won’t be friends. But for the record,” she lifted her chin, “you are missing out, just like that silly cat is, because I’m a great friend.”
Cole suspected she was, but he was determined not to find out firsthand. Just like the cat, he didn’t need her to come along and try to rescue him. Some things were beyond rescuing.
Sophie couldn’t fix the parts of him that were broken.
Chapter Six
The Friday before Thanksgiving, Sophie backstitched her seam, clipped the thread, then pulled the material from the sewing machine and looked at what she’d sewn. Perfect scant quarter-inch seams bound the two pieces of fuzzy red material together. There. She was done with the Santa suit.
She shook the material and smiled at how well it had turned out. The pants should fit him perfectly, as should the coat. He’d be a dashing Santa.
Cole was pretty much a dashing everything.
Groaning at the thought, Sophie changed the thread in her machine over to navy, then picked up two pieces of precut navy material. Over and over, she sewed pieces together, adding them to a growing stack. Soon, she’d press the pieces and start combining them together into a quilt of stars and stripes—the best design she’d ever created. Every block needed to be perfect, as she’d likely use it for a prototype block-of-the-month at some point in the future.
The bold colors and design would have been perfect for Cole if he’d ever let her award a quilt to him. She still held out hope that one day, he’d accept it.
Even if he didn’t want to be her friend.
What a mix the man was. Dark and deep, but with a sense of humor that would come out at the oddest moments. During the times he’d dropped his guard, she’d enjoyed delivering the boxes with him and had been thoroughly disappointed he’d rejected her friendship. Again.
She knew why, of course. He was embarrassed that she’d pried into his personal thoughts without his permission. Not that she could have gotten his permission beforehand since she’d only read the journal in the first place to find out whose it was.
Sophie had a sewing machine in her bedroom; an old-fashioned Singer model that had belonged to her grandmother. It had seen many hours of use over the decades. Prior to the shop closing, she’d started sewing on the Santa suit, then the quilt, and hadn’t wanted to quit to go home even long after Isabelle had locked up and headed out.
She stood, stretched her arms over her head, then behind her back, rolling her shoulders several times. She should’ve stopped to stretch more. She tried to maintain good body mechanics and habits, but sometimes, she got so caught up in what she was doing she didn’t notice how much time had passed and would sew to the point of all her joi
nts going stiff.
Like tonight. It was nearly eleven. She’d have to be quiet when she snuck into the house.
She packed her supplies and stowed them in their bag. No need to bring it home with her as she wouldn’t be doing any more sewing tonight.
Her gaze fell on the Santa suit. She’d leave it here, as well, and have Cole pick it up. After all, he’d insisted her repairing it was a business transaction. So she’d be all business.
She set the alarm, stepped outside the front of the shop, then locked the deadbolt. The night air was brisk, and she wished she’d brought a heavier jacket with her that morning. Thankfully, her walk home would take less than ten minutes.
Despite the chill and her rumbly belly from being too busy sewing to remember dinner, she paused to admire the courthouse across the street, majestic as the center of the square and the town. The entire square was well lit, displaying picturesque lampposts and streetlights and Christmas decor, but the courthouse always seemed so grand with the lights shined upward illuminating the flag whipping in the wind.
Pride filled her at the sight of her hometown. She loved Pine Hill so much.
Unable to resist, she pulled her cell phone from her bag and snapped a photo of the building with its haloed-in-light flag, planning to post it on the shop’s social media page the following morning, then slid the phone into her back pocket.
She was still thinking about how pretty downtown looked when it was decorated for Christmas as she exited the commercial district and rounded the corner to the residential street where she lived. As with the square, her neighbors took Christmas seriously and almost every house already boasted festive lights. A few had big, blow-up decorations filling their yards, and Christmas trees twinkled from inside windows.
Despite the chill nipping at her, Sophie smiled at the pretty scenery around her. All that was needed was Santa to make the night complete. Santa Cole, that is.