Dakota Love (3 page)

Rodney put a hand to his heart and feigned hurt. Michelle smiled and turned her attention back to the bag.

“I brought lasagna and chili made with ground turkey breast. My family really liked it. They didn’t even notice it wasn’t red meat.”

“That’s because you’re a good cook, just like Mom.” He hoped his brother-in-law and nephews didn’t hate him for the heart-healthy menus his sister now served, although most of the dishes in which Michelle substituted turkey or chicken for the red meat tasted as good as the originals.

“Do you want me to leave anything out, or should I put all the containers in the freezer?”

“Leave a container of the lasagna in the refrigerator. I’ll have it for my dinner.” Rodney peeked over her shoulder. “What, no desserts?”

Michelle lifted two containers. “Cherry pie and apple crisp. I had to hide it from my boys. So how are you feeling?”

“Great.”

“You’re staying in the pickup and plowing with the blade while your crew runs the snowblower and hand scoops?”

“Yes.”

“Wearing your mask when you’re out in the cold?”

Rodney drew a deep breath. “Yes.” He exhaled to show his annoyance.

“No side effects from your meds?”

“Aren’t you a pediatric nurse?” Michelle grilled him with the same questions on every visit.

She raised her eyebrows in a warning fashion. “Answer the question.”

Since he moved back nine months ago, this was their monthly ritual. “I’m fine. I’ve hired a dependable crew, stuck to my diet, eliminated stress, exercise daily.” He pulled at his black sweatpants. “A picture of health. My doctor is pleased.”

“Don’t be flippant.” Michelle wagged a finger at him. “I’m still not over losing Mom. I don’t want to lose you, too.”

Rodney put his palms in the air. “Okay, but I’m fine, really. Speaking of Mom, I have something to show you.”

Michelle followed Rodney down the hallway. “I found this in a trunk in the basement.” He grasped a corner of the quilt and rubbed it between his fingers and thumb. “It was wrapped with care, so I’m guessing it was special to Mom, but I don’t remember it. Do you?”

“Nope.” Michelle pursed her lips and shook her head in emphasis as she ran her hands across the quilt top. “I’ve never seen it before. Looks like it’s seen better days, though, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it does. Did she purchase things at auctions, rummage sales, or secondhand stores?”

Michelle snorted. “I don’t think so. You know how she felt about used items.”

Rodney smiled. “Yeah, she had her fill of hand-me-downs, growing up in the Depression. I thought maybe she’d had a change of heart as she grew older.”

Michelle’s hearty laugh filled the room. “It got worse. She didn’t even want me to reuse any of my baby items, and the boys are only three years apart. Had you visited more often, you’d know that. Minneapolis isn’t
that
far.”

Rodney chose to smile at the thought of his mother’s vehement view of hand-me-downs and ignore Michelle’s dig at his past. He looked at his sister.

With downcast eyes, she said, “Sorry, it slipped out. But we all missed you.”

“I know.” Rodney sighed. He’d loved his occupation and his life in Minneapolis. An award-winning adman with national and local accounts, deadlines and stress energized him. Meetings, networking, and award ceremonies kept him in metropolitan areas. His walls had filled with accolades, and his family life paid the price. Not just the one he’d had since birth, but the one he should have been making for himself. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the slight stubble of hair growth. Best to just change the subject.

“Do you think Mom could have inherited this from someone in the family, after we left home?”

“I don’t know; she could have.” Michelle shrugged.

“Think Aunt Katherine could help? I can snap some digital pictures and e-mail them to her.”

“Worth a try, I guess. Maybe you should include everyone in the family. Why are you so interested in it?”

“I’m thinking about having it restored. Caroline, a lady at church, started a quilting business after her husband passed away. I’ve seen her work, and she does a good job.”

“I see. So it’s not so much about repairing the quilt as it is about getting to know the woman.”

“What?” Rodney frowned at his sister. “No, I know how hard it is to be self-employed. And if this is a family heirloom, it should be preserved.”

Michelle cocked an eyebrow at him. She wasn’t buying it. He knew what little dare followed that look.

“Look me in the eyes and say what you just said without a smile.”

“I’m not playing childish games.” Rodney focused his gaze on the quilt.

“Because you can’t do it, never could. I’m right. You’re interested in…what was her name?” Michelle pretended she’d forgotten, then snapped her fingers. “Caroline.”

Rodney’s shoulders sagged. His sister knew him too well. He might as well admit the truth. He raised his eyes to meet his sister’s and nodded his head in the affirmative. “Originally, I thought of this”—Rodney lifted a corner of the quilt—“as my icebreaker, but today when I approached her about it, she asked the history of the quilt. She said each one has a story. That got me wondering about this quilt.”

Michelle grazed a block with her fingertips. “That story part is probably true. This quilt’s pretty old. We’d best get some pictures taken, downloaded, and e-mailed off to relatives. Are you sure getting to know this woman is worth the cost of fixing this quilt?”

“First, she hasn’t seen it yet, so I don’t know if she can repair it. Second, I don’t know what she charges. And third, I can afford it.”

Michelle rolled her eyes at her brother. “Go get your camera.”

Rodney snapped several photos of the quilt. He went to the den to download them while Michelle brewed two mugs of herbal tea.

“I think these are the three we should send.” Rodney pointed to the pictures on his computer screen. Michelle set his mug on a stoneware coaster and peered over his shoulder.

“I don’t know. I think this one where we flipped the corner over the quilt shows the back fabric better.” Michelle tapped her nail on the computer screen.

After a few minutes of sibling deliberation, Rodney attached the pictures Michelle thought best represented the quilt to a brief e-mail message asking their family members if they remembered or knew anything about this quilt. He thanked them in advance for any insights and hit the S
END
button. He sent up a silent prayer that he’d receive a positive reply before tomorrow, when he planned on making an appointment with Caroline.

Due to his former occupation, Rodney could converse with anyone, but today at breakfast revealed that quilting sparked Caroline’s conversation and nothing else. Unless he surfed the web for general information, he knew only two things about quilts. They were pretty and warm.

For the remainder of the afternoon, Rodney and Michelle caught up on their activities from the previous month. At five o’clock Rodney watched Michelle pull out of the driveway. He knew in an hour, she’d call to say that she’d arrived home safe and sound. A habit she’d started in college for her parents. A consideration he never gave his family. He’d leave after a visit, and by the time he arrived at his destination, his thoughts would be deep into his current or next project.

The sunset cast orange-red hues in what remained of the clear blue sky, the clouds puffy and white with no threat of snow. It appeared the January thaw would continue tomorrow. The previous snow cover, melted to small patches throughout the yard, would be gone if the unseasonal temperatures held.

Rodney went into the living room. He picked up the television remote, pressed the P
OWER
button, and then entered the station numbers for the local news. He increased the volume before heading into the kitchen, using the time before the weather forecast to heat his lasagna in the microwave and fill a glass with water. He set his drink on the coffee table and took his usual spot for dinner on the arm of the sofa. He forked a bite of lasagna as he watched the graphics while the weatherman described the change in the jet stream.

Above-average temperatures and no snow predicted for the first three days of the week. Last week he’d scowled at that forecast. This week he smiled. He picked up the powder blue business card he’d laid on the coffee table and reread the business hours. At ten o’clock sharp, he’d call Caroline and see if she’d work him into her schedule.

O
ffer him refreshment
. The thought nagged at Caroline from the moment she hung up the phone with Rodney. Normally she didn’t serve beverages to potential customers, well, any customers. She shook her head. How silly was this?

Not as silly as changing out of sweats into jeans and a sweater, applying makeup, taking her hair out of the ponytail, and trying to style it so the strands of gray weren’t apparent. She’d tried to convince herself a serious businesswoman needed to look presentable, which was true but, in her case, inaccurate.

Rodney’s presence triggered a strange reaction in her, an awareness of her appearance. It had happened on Sunday and then again today on the phone. Truth be told, he probably wouldn’t even notice. Although Ted complimented her new outfits, he paid little attention to a change of hairstyle or makeup.

“Where are you?” She searched through her cupboard for powdered creamer left from making hot chocolate mix before Christmas. She removed boxes and pushed containers to the side. Standing on tiptoes, she took the items from the top shelf and placed them on the counter. Who designed these cupboards that ran to the ceiling? How did short women manage? Taking a few steps back, still on tiptoes, she saw a bright red cap hiding in a corner. She pulled a step stool from the broom closet, retrieved the creamer, and reshelved her pantry items.

She carried the step stool back to the closet before taking the creamer downstairs. She set it on a card table beside the coffee carafe filled with hot water, two mugs, instant coffee, several types of tea bags, spoons, and napkins. Rodney had used two liquid creamers in each cup of his tea at breakfast yesterday. She drank coffee and tea black, so she never bought that type of creamer. Would powdered creamer be acceptable?

Caroline heard knocking on the side door. She started to hurry up the steps, then slowed her pace. Although she was anxious to see his quilt and possibly commission a new project, she concentrated on one step at a time to maintain a professional decorum. She could see Rodney through the door window. He wore a blue stocking cap and jean jacket with a wool collar. His focus was toward the street.

When Caroline reached the landing, she sucked in a deep breath and released it in an effort to calm her jitters. When she reached for the doorknob, her movements caught Rodney’s eye. He turned toward the door window and smiled widely. A puff of his breath turned to vapor in the January air. He lifted a shopping bag with one hand and pointed at it with the other.

A rush of excitement made Caroline’s hand tremble as she turned the doorknob. So much for deep breathing. As soon as the bolt retracted, a gust of wind forced the door open, causing her to lose her grip on the knob. The glass in the door rattled when it bumped into the wall.

“Good morning,” Caroline said, grabbing for the door-knob. She leaned against the door with hopes of composing herself. The cool winter air penetrated her clothes and sent a shiver through her.

“Good morning. Thanks for letting me come over on such short notice.” Rodney stepped into the entryway.

Caroline pushed the door closed behind him. “Not a problem,” Caroline said as she rubbed the chill and hopefully the nervous shake from her hands. “I was working on my own project anyway. My studio is at the bottom of the stairs to your left.”

Rodney wiped his dry boots across the entry rug, slipped the stocking cap from his head, and stuffed the cap into his coat pocket. “After you.”

Caroline held on to the safety rail and led the way down the six stairs to her work space. She walked into the room, but Rodney’s footsteps stopped in the doorway.

She followed his gaze as he took in her work area. Since Jason’s outburst about her major purchase, she braced herself for negative comments. Rodney looked from the corner that held the cabinet with her traditional sewing machine to the other corner where several different-sized hoops for hand quilting stood. When his eyes rested on her long arm quilting machine, he let out a low it’s-a-beaut whistle. Caroline laughed, releasing her defenses. Most people never realized the size of a quilting machine.

“Wow, that is quite a contraption!” Rodney walked over to the quilting machine and looked it over as if it were a classic car on display.

“It is, isn’t it?” Caroline joined him by the table, which was really a frame with rollers that held her long arm model. The sewing machine head and table ran the length of the room. “It’s easier to use than you’d think.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Rodney said, shaking his head. He walked over to her display board and studied the small quilt pinned to it. “Is this your project?”

Caroline’s heart swelled. “Yes, I’m going to be a grandma.” She’d shared this news with few people, the neighbors and her good friend in Arizona. Not because it bothered her like it did some women her age. Who did she have to tell? She was an only child, like Jason, and both of her parents had passed away. She’d stopped socializing with their couple friends after Ted’s death.

“Congratulations! Judging by the pink and white colors, it’s a girl.”

“Well, it could be.” Caroline’s cheeks grew warm when Rodney’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “My son and his wife, Jason and Angela, don’t want to know the sex until it’s born, so”—Caroline walked over to a worktable and unfolded a blue bundle—“I’m prepared for both.”

Rodney’s laugh echoed in the basement. “I can tell you’re excited about the new addition to your family.”

“Very much. Do you have children or grandchildren?”

“No.” Rodney sighed the word more than said it. The smile slipped from his face. His eyes glazed with a faraway look as they rested on the blue quilt she held.