Publisher: Amy Barrett-Daffin
Creative Director / Technical Editor: Gailen Runge
Acquisitions Editor: Roxane Cerda
Managing Editor: Liz Aneloski
Project Writer: Teresa Stroin
Cover/Book Designer: April Mostek
Production Coordinator: Zinnia Heinzmann
Production Editor: Alice Mace Nakanishi
Illustrator: Aliza Shalit
Photo Assistant: Lauren Herberg
Cover photography by Estefany Gonzalez of C&T Publishing, Inc.
Cover quilt: Frayed Edges, 2020, by the author
Published by C&T Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 1456, Lafayette, CA 94549
A Quilting Cozy Series
by Carol Dean Jones
Tie Died (book 1)
Running Stitches (book 2)
Sea Bound (book 3)
Patchwork Connections (book 4)
Stitched Together (book 5)
Moon Over the Mountain (book 6)
The Rescue Quilt (book 7)
Missing Memories (book 8)
Tattered & Torn (book 9)
Left Holding the Bag (book 10)
Beneath Missouri Stars (book 11)
Frayed Edges (book 12)
Dedication
To Sharon and Butch Rose, whose friendship I cherish
Acknowledgments
I want to thank four special friends: Sharon Rose, Jan Packard, Paula Curran, and Joyce Frazier. These talented women spent endless hours reading and rereading this manuscript, locating my omissions and inconsistencies, and making valuable recommendations.
I also want to thank the staff of C&T Publishing for their support and commitment to publishing and marketing my Quilting Cozy series.
Special thanks go to Roxane Cerda,
who is always there for me.
But the bulk of my appreciation goes to my many loyal readers who have stuck by me through all twelve books in this series, consistently asking for more. You’ve bonded with my characters, as have I, and I appreciate your many emails and blog comments.
Chapter 1
When I think of the time and love poured into making these quilts long ago, and the many loved ones who were kept warm and cozy beneath them, I understand that their beauty is not only
in the hand stitching and the old fabrics;it is also in the frayed edges
—Jeanne Morton, 2019
* * * * *
“Andy, this is stunning,” Sarah exclaimed as she gently unfolded the antique quilt. “Who is this Aunt Maddie, and why did she send this to you?”
“Aunt Maddie is the relative Caitlyn is living with in Nebraska, remember?”
“You mean the Miss Thompson I’ve heard so much about?”
Earlier in the year, Andy’s daughter, Caitlyn, had done exhaustive computer searches, determined to find more family. As far as she and her father knew, their only relative was Andy’s stepsister, who had been estranged from him for years and was now living in Indonesia with her current husband. With help from Sarah’s computer-savvy husband, Charles, Caitlyn ultimately found a distant relative, a great-aunt in her nineties who was living in Nebraska.
After meeting Aunt Maddie, Caitlyn applied to and was accepted by the junior college near her aunt in Nebraska. Maddie was eager to have the young girl come live with her for the two years she’d be attending school.
“Yes, that’s our aunt Maddie,” Andy responded, “and Caitlyn is fascinated by her cottage, her life, her stories, and especially her quilts. I’m afraid she’s not going to come back home, Sarah.”
“Andy, that girl can’t stay far from you. You know how much she loves you. She’ll be home. I think this is a phase she’s going through. She spent so many years without family to care for her, and now she’s just enjoying having family.”
“But you and Sophie have been family to her since she came to live with me. She even calls you Aunt Sarah. What more does she need?” Andy grumbled.
“And I love her like family, but she is searching for more. Just let her grow up in her own way, Andy. She’s a very level-headed young woman.”
Andy had unexpectedly become a father to a teenage girl and was still adjusting to the intricacies of the task.
The quilt was now carefully spread out on the bed in Sarah and Charles’ guest room. “What do you know about the quilt?” Sarah asked, lightly lifting the worn edges and examining the few threadbare blocks.
“Not much. Aunt Maddie said it was made sometime in the late 1800s by her grandmother.”
“Your great-grandmother?” Sarah marveled.
“I guess so. Never thought about it that way, but yeah, Maddie was my mother’s sister, so they had the same mother and grandmother. Strange to think about, though,” he added as he looked away. “My great-grandmother,” he muttered.
Noticing Andy’s discomfort, Sarah turned her attention to the quilt.
“This is a lovely scrap quilt, Andy, and in excellent condition considering its age. The fabrics are reminiscent of ones used during the Civil War period and on into the late nineteenth century, but I don’t recognize the pattern. I’d like for Ruth to see it, but I’m hesitant to handle it too much.” Ruth, the owner of the Running Stitches quilt shop, was the go-to person for all things quilt related in the area.
“Sarah, I know how you feel about antique quilts. I’d be perfectly willing for you to take it anywhere. I know you’ll take good care of it. Just keep it here with you and take it to Ruth’s shop whenever it’s convenient.”
Sarah started to object, but Andy spoke up. “Actually, it will be more convenient for me that way.”
“Do you remember what happened the last time you asked me to take care of a quilt for you?”
They both burst out laughing. “I do remember,” Andy recalled. “Your dog dragged it under your bed, and you had the police searching for an intruder!” They both continued to laugh as they reminisced.
As the two friends began to refold the quilt, Sarah asked in a more serious tone, “Andy, do you think there might be other relatives out there? Your great-grandmother might have had brothers and sisters who might have had children. You could discover cousins out there.”
Andy looked doubtful. “Caitlyn and Charles did a pretty thorough search, Sarah. I doubt they missed anyone, but it wouldn’t hurt to try again, I guess.”
“May I ask a rather personal question, Andy?”
“Of course, Sarah,” he responded, looking curious. “What is it?”
“Why didn’t you know about this aunt? Maddie was your own mother’s sister.”
Andy sighed. “Mom died when I was very young, and my brother and I went to live with her mother. Granny told us many stories about our mother, but she never talked about her other daughter, Madeline. I was in my teens when I overheard the hushed tale about the daughter who ran off when she was seventeen, but to tell you the truth, I forgot all about it. To my knowledge, no one ever heard from her.”
“That was Maddie?”
“Yes. I figure she must have run off about the time I was born. No one ever talked about her. If Mama had lived, I’d probably have heard about her, but Granny never brought it up.”
“So this quilt is well over a hundred years old and a rare keepsake,” Sarah said thoughtfully. “Now I definitely don’t feel comfortable keeping it here, Andy.”
“Okay, I’ll take it home if you insist, but let me know when you want to take it to the quilt shop. I’ll even go with you if that would make you more comfortable.”
“Hey!” she exclaimed. “That gives me an idea. How would you like to bring the quilt to one of our quilt club meetings? The quilters would love seeing it and hearing its story. They could even give you ideas about caring for it.”
“I guess I could as long as I don’t have to talk or anything.”
“Well,” Sarah replied hesitantly, “I think talking would be an important part of sharing what you know about the quilt, but I would be with you. In fact, we could do the presentation together if you’d like.”
“Me among all those women?” Andy questioned tentatively.
“Well, actually, we have one male member, but everyone would enjoy hearing about the quilt from its current owner.”
“What could I say? I don’t know anything about the quilt.”
“Well, I could talk to Caitlyn and find out everything she and your aunt Maddie know about it. You could tell how you got it, and together we could talk about the quilt’s history, and I could do some research and talk about the history of the pattern and the colors. How’s that?”
“I suppose,” he expressed reluctantly.
“It’ll be fun,” she replied.
“What will be fun?” Sarah’s husband, Charles, asked as he entered the room. “And what’s with that old ragged quilt?”
“This is no ‘old ragged quilt,’ ” Sarah exploded. “This happens to be a valuable antique from the 1800s.”
“I’m sorry,” her husband responded contritely. “I had no idea.” Charles hung his head in mock shame, but Sarah could see the playfulness in his eyes.
“Seriously, Charles, this quilt was made by one of Andy’s relatives several generations ago.” She went on to tell him about the presentation they had planned.
Charles simply shook his head in disbelief. “And you agreed to all this?” he asked, looking skeptically at his friend Andy.
“She can be very persuasive,” Andy replied.
“That’s an understatement,” Charles muttered as he led the group into the kitchen for the spaghetti dinner he had promised earlier.
“I didn’t know you were a cook,” Andy commented as he watched Charles scoop the meatballs onto the bowl of pasta and sauce.
“Yes, I’m an expert at this. You should have seen me. I opened a can and a box, I boiled water, and I thawed frozen meatballs. I’m thinking of a second career as a chef.”
“You should taste his chili con carne,” Sarah teased. “He can make that with his eyes closed—just one can to open.”
Chapter 2
“Charles, something is seriously wrong with my cell phone.”
“What’s it doing?”
“It’s quacking.”
“Quacking?” he asked with a frown.
“Yes, quacking.”
Charles thought a moment and suddenly burst out laughing. “I had forgotten all about that,” he said. “When I set up your new phone, I put a few notification sounds on it.”
“I know. It plays classical music when I get a call. Actually, I’d like for it to just ring if you don’t mind. You know, like a real telephone.”
Charles started to point out that her smartphone was, in fact, a real telephone, but decided to keep that thought to himself. “Okay,” he agreed. “I can do that.”
“But that isn’t the problem right now. Why is it quacking?”
“You told me you never wanted to send or receive text messages. Remember?”
“Yes, so?”
“You said you would just use your smartphone for making calls, but I went ahead and programmed a sound in case someone sent you a text message.”
“Let me guess,” she responded. “A duck?”
“Right!”
“And who’s been texting me?”
“Let’s take a look. Click right there.”
“Oh, it was Caitlyn,” Sarah exclaimed. “When did she send these messages?”
“See the notation above the message? This last one was sent yesterday at 3:14.”
“Oh my. I hope she’s okay.” She quickly read the message. The message said:
[Caitlyn]
Do you text, Aunt Sarah?
“What do I do?” she asked Charles, handing him the phone.
He handed it back to her and showed her how to create a message.
“I don’t know about this …” she said, frowning.
“Sarah, remember when we had the internet service that offered instant messaging?”
“Sure.”
“Well, you wrote to me all the time, didn’t you?”
“Sure, but that was on the computer.”
“And this is on your cell phone. Same concept.”
“Oh, I wish you’d told me about this sooner.”
Charles sighed but didn’t point out the obvious.
Sarah typed her response and looked at the Send button. She decided not to ask Charles any more questions since he seemed to be getting impatient with her. She tapped the Send button, and Caitlyn’s response popped in moments later.
[Caitlyn]
Just leaving class. Will respond soon.
“Okay, she’s going to get back to me. In the meantime, could you change the notification sound so Sophie will stop telling me I have a duck in my pocket?”
He took the phone and made a few quick adjustments.
“Thank you,” she said as she put the phone back in her pocket.
“You are very welcome, my dear,” he responded with a smile. “Sorry I got impatient.”
“And why were you impatient with me, by the way?”
“Well, the fact is I’ve tried to tell you about texting many times, but you were never interested.”
“Sorry, dear. Sometimes I feel like I’m on technology overload, but I’ll try to be more receptive. I want to keep up.”
“You don’t have to worry about that, sweetie. You’re way ahead of most people our age.”
“Sophie and I were talking about the importance of learning new things, how it helps your brain function better during these senior years. I guess learning to use all these gadgets helps with that.”
“I would certainly think so,” Charles responded. “So, what are your plans today?”
“Tonight is quilt club, but this morning I’d like to go to the gym with you and then do some organizing in my sewing room. My stash is getting away from me, and I have several projects out on the worktable that I want to pack up.”
“You aren’t going to finish them?” he asked.
“Yes, eventually. But first I want to spend some time reorganizing my sewing room. Right now my shelves are a mishmash of yardage, pre-cuts, and scraps. I want to get some order in my stash so I know what I have.”
Charles’ eyes glazed over as they often did when Sarah talked about fabric or quilting.
As he was walking out of the kitchen, a sudden chirping sound came from Sarah’s pocket, which caused her to drop the pan she was drying.
“There’s a cricket in your pocket,” Charles called over his shoulder as he disappeared down the hall. “Better see what it wants.”
Sarah, muttering with amused annoyance, pulled the phone out of her pocket and was able to both read and respond to Caitlyn’s message thanks to Charles’ earlier instructions.
[Caitlyn]
I can talk now.
[Sarah]
I would prefer to do just that. I’ll call you from my real phone. Is this a good time?
[Caitlyn]
Sure, Aunt Sarah.
“I’m so much more comfortable with this old-fashioned way of communicating,” Sarah said when Caitlyn answered on the first ring.
“I know,” Caitlyn responded. “Papa says the same thing.”
“How are things in Nebraska?” Sarah asked.
“Well, for one thing, I found a quilt club that meets right up the street from Aunt Maddie. Did you know she used to quilt?”
“No. Have you seen her quilts?”
“They’re all over the house, and they’re wonderful. She’s been letting me use her machine to work on the quilt we’re making in the club.” Caitlyn went on to tell Sarah about the goldenrod fabric and the appliquéd honeybees. “It will be an excellent souvenir of my time here,” she said.
“Gold
enrod fabric?” Sarah asked inquisitively.
“That’s the state flower, and the shop has lots of different goldenrod fabrics. I’m including a couple of meadowlarks and a white-tailed deer. It’s a very simple pattern. Oh, and I’m going to appliqué honeybees all over it.”
“Honeybees?”
“Sure. The state insect.”
“Actually,” Sarah responded, not knowing what else to say, “I didn’t realize that states have their own insects, but if you must have one, I think the honeybee is a good choice.”
“Okay, I know the project sounds crazy, but it was this month’s quilt club challenge. We got pictures of all the state’s symbols—their bird, flag, flower, gem, tree, rock, mammal, insect, and fish—and we were told to make a quilt using at least four of the state symbols.”
“And that explains the honeybee, the meadowlark, the deer, and the goldenrod!” Sarah exclaimed.
“Yes. I could have done something much more elaborate, but I don’t have the time, with school and all, so I picked an easy pattern, and I found fabrics with everything but the honeybees, and I’m going to appliqué them on. The only thing challenging will be learning to appliqué. It will be a memory piece for me.”
“I’m eager to see the result,” Sarah responded. “It sounds like a fun project, and it keeps you involved with quilters and quilting. I know how much you love that. Now, tell me about school.”
Caitlyn chattered on for twenty minutes about her classes and her favorite instructors. Sarah smiled as she listened to the excited young girl and marveled at how the girl’s life had changed since the days when she was struggling for survival on the streets among the homeless.
As they were ending the conversation, Sarah said, “Oh, by the way, did your dad tell you he and I are going to be making a presentation at the quilt club in a few weeks?”
“He did,” Caitlyn exclaimed, “and was I ever shocked. How did you get him to agree to that?”
“I said I would find out what I could about the quilt, and I would do the presentation with him. I think he’s finally getting excited about it. So would you talk to your aunt Maddie and find out whatever you can about the quilt?”
“I’ll speak to her, Aunt Sarah, but Aunt Maddie asked me to read the note she sent to Papa, and I think that’s about all she knows.”
Frayed Edges Page 1
