“Okay, I’ll ask him to show me the note, and I’ll see what Ruth can tell us about the quilt. In the meantime, have a great week, and I’ll call you after the presentation and let you know how it goes.”
“Terrific. Give my love to Uncle Charles.”
Sarah and Charles were in no way related to Caitlyn. They were, however, friends of her father and had been instrumental in finding her and getting her connected with her dad. With no other relatives at the time, Caitlyn assigned them aunt and uncle roles in her life.
Those roles were happily accepted.
Chapter 3
“I
haven’t seen Norman’s car in your driveway lately. Has he been away?” Sarah asked as she and Sophie were preparing snacks for their afternoon sew-in, as Sophie called it.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Sophie responded without looking at her friend.
“What don’t you want to talk about?”
“If I told you what, I’d be talking about it, and I don’t want to talk about it, remember?”
“Okay. Sorry, Sophie. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
Sophie and Sarah had become fast friends when Sarah, against her better judgment but at the insistence of her children, had moved to the Cunningham Village retirement community. Sophie, a short, chubby woman with a boisterous personality, lived across the street at that time and had been instrumental in getting Sarah acclimated to her new environment.
As it turned out, Sarah’s children, Martha and Jason, had been right. Sarah loved the Village; she enjoyed Community Center activities; and she had made many new friends, become a competent quilter, and even met a retired detective, Charles, whom she ultimately married. “Life is good,” she often said to anyone who would listen.
With a sigh, Sophie picked up her drink and a box of cookies and headed for Sarah’s sewing room. Sarah followed with a bowl of grapes.
“He’s with Irma,” Sophie announced without looking back as they were leaving the kitchen.
“Irma?”
“Yes, Irma,” Sophie responded impatiently. “You know. Irma. His wife.”
“Wife?” Sarah exclaimed, stopping in the middle of the hallway.
“Okay, ex-wife.”
In fact, Sarah had never heard the name Irma, nor did she know that Norman had an ex-wife. Norman was a partially retired event planner whom Sophie had met the previous year at the Community Center, where he was helping to arrange a celebration. They had begun dating and had settled into what Sarah thought was a comfortable relationship. Sophie had been reluctant to let the relationship develop into a more serious one, and Norman seemed willing to accept her boundaries, at least for now.
Sarah and Sophie assumed their usual spots in the sewing room: Sophie at the table Charles had set up for her Featherweight, and Sarah at the worktable he had built for her as part of the quilting station he had designed when they were first getting to know one another.
Since Sophie hadn’t followed up on her earlier statement, Sarah figured that she genuinely didn’t want to talk about Norman. Avoiding the subject, Sarah asked, “What are you going to be working on today?”
“Aren’t you at all interested in knowing why he’s with his ex-wife?” Sophie asked, sounding hurt and annoyed.
Sarah took a deep breath, knowing that she should carefully consider how she would respond. She’d never known her friend to be snarky like this, and she knew something was going on. Anger? Frustration? Disappointment? Sarah wondered.
“I think maybe you need to talk about this, Sophie,” Sarah said gently. “I’m here, and you know I care about you. …”
Sophie’s eyes began to tear up, but she fought to maintain control. “Oh, Sarah, I told you I didn’t want to get involved with this man. I just wanted to have some fun—someone to go out to dinner with, a movie maybe—but then we started going to his cabin at the lake, and we were getting closer. I began to think, Maybe this can work, and then—wham! I let myself start to care, and what happens? His ex-wife shows up.”
“Sophie, that doesn’t necessarily mean …”
“Yes, it does. It means I pushed him away, and now he’s going back to his ex-wife.”
Sarah looked surprised. “He told you that?”
“Of course not,” Sophie snapped, “but what else could it mean? He canceled our trip to the lake, and he hasn’t called. He’s there with her now. They’re making plans to get back together. …”
“He told you that?” Sarah repeated, although more tentatively this time.
“No, he didn’t,” Sophie responded in a sharp tone that caused Emma and Barney to come running into the room. The dogs, tails and ears drooping, looked at their respective owners with wide-eyed alarm. Emma moved closer to Sophie’s feet and searched her eyes.
Sophie gently stroked Emma’s head but then stood and left the room. Moments later, Sarah heard the bathroom door being closed. She’d never seen her friend this upset. She usually joked with everyone, was always the life of the party, and never seemed to take anything seriously. Sophie was a jewel, and it pained Sarah to see her friend so troubled.
Emma looked up at Sarah with questioning eyes.
“She’ll be right back, sweetie. Come with me to the kitchen, and I’ll get you a biscuit.” Barney wagged his tail, knowing that a treat was in store for him as well.
Sometime later, they heard the bathroom door being opened and Sophie’s footsteps heading toward the sewing room.
“See?” Sarah mouthed to Emma as she led the dogs back to the sewing room to meet her friend.
The two women didn’t mention their previous conversation as they worked on their projects. Sophie was making a wall hanging for her son, Timothy, and his wife.
“Do you think Martha will like it?” Sophie asked.
“She will love it, Sophie.”
Sophie’s son, Timothy, had returned to Middletown after retiring from his job at the company managing the Alaska pipeline. He met Sarah’s daughter, Martha, and within a year they were married and living just a few blocks from the retirement village. The two mothers were ecstatic, and Sophie had announced that they were now related. “In fact, I think this makes us sisters,” she had said.
“Martha will love the wall hanging,” Sarah continued, “mostly because you made it, but also because you’ve chosen colors that perfectly complement the colors in their living room.”
Sophie was accomplished with a needle but had resisted learning to quilt until she discovered the little sewing machine, which she later learned was a Singer Featherweight, in a secondhand store. Sarah spent many hours teaching her the basics of quilting, and Sophie was now quilting on her own.
When she decided to make a wall hanging for Timothy and Martha, Sarah helped her choose a pattern that was not too demanding. The pattern they found featured a group of daisies appliquéd on a pieced background. Sophie selected several neutral shades for the background and a soft green for the border. Sophie loved handwork and was very skilled at hand appliqué. She especially liked this particular pattern because the daisies spilled out onto the border. “I like things to feel free,” Sophie had said.
“Will you help me figure out how to quilt this when I finish?” Sophie asked.
“Absolutely. I’m not particularly good at machine quilting, but this should be simple since you can do some outline quilting.”
“What do you mean?” Sophie asked, looking uneasy.
“Don’t worry, Sophie. We’ll deal with that when you get there, but it won’t be difficult. You and that little Featherweight of yours will have it done in no time.”
The two worked quietly for a while, each woman lost in her own thoughts, until Sophie softly stated, “Maybe he’s not even with her.”
“What?” Sarah sounded surprised. “I thought you knew they were together.”
“Not exactly. I was just surmising. I know she’s in town.”
“Sophie, Sophie,” Sarah responded, shaking her head. “You are putting yoursel
f through all this for nothing. Do you know how many times I’ve heard you say that people should never worry about imagined problems that might never occur?”
“I know. I know.”
After another long silence, broken only by the hum of their sewing machines, Sophie said, “I’ve had an idea that I want to run past you.”
Oh my, Sarah thought, thinking that her friend was still obsessing about Norman and Irma.
“Yes?” she responded tentatively.
“Well, I saw this metal hanger for small wall hangings. It looked sort of like a regular wire hanger but with some curlicues here and there that made it fancier. There was one that was just wide enough for this wall hanging.”
“That sounds nice,” Sarah responded, pleased that she had been wrong about the topic. “Are you thinking of buying it for them?”
“More than that. I’m thinking about giving it to Tim and Martha along with this wall hanging, but then I’ll continue to make wall hangings this size so they can change them with the seasons. What do you think?”
“I think that’s a fantastic idea, Sophie,” Sarah responded enthusiastically.
“It’s hard to find presents for adults who already have everything they want,” Sophie continued, “and I thought this would be a nice solution to gift giving.”
“I love the idea,” Sarah responded.
They talked about various gift ideas, and no mention was made of Norman or Irma the rest of the afternoon. At the end of their sew-in, Sophie packed up her materials and headed toward the front door. “Come on, Emma. Time to go home.”
Emma, her furry friend, had been curled up under the futon with her head resting on Barney’s back. She slithered out and stretched before following her favorite human toward the door.
As Sophie was walking toward her car, she called out over her shoulder, “Well, I guess I’ll just ask him about Irma.”
“Good idea, Sophie.”
“She’s back,” Sarah murmured with a smile as she led Barney back into the house.
Chapter 4
“Did you gals have a good time?” Charles asked when he returned from the gym.
“We got a lot of sewing done. Sophie was upset about Norman, but otherwise it was a productive day.”
“What’s going on with Norman?”
Sarah told her husband what little she knew and then said, “But she has had a great idea for gift giving, and I thought I might also do it for Jason and Jenny. Sophie found this metal quilt hanger and is planning to make a variety of wall quilts for …”
As usual when she was describing a quilt project, Charles’ eyes began to glaze over. “Never mind,” she added. “I’ll show you when I finish it.”
“Sounds great,” he responded, as if he now knew all about the project. “By the way, have you spoken to Andy about the presentation?”
“Andy and I are taking the dogs to the dog park tomorrow, so we’ll talk about it there.”
“Why the dog park?” Charles asked.
“Andy suggested it. I think he wants company when he walks little Sabrina. He hasn’t walked her over there since Caitlyn left, and he wanted company the first time.”
“That seems strange. Did Andy say why? He’s a pretty tough guy.”
“And that may be exactly the reason,” Sarah responded. “That little miniature dachshund is a very prissy little girl. He may be embarrassed to be seen with her.”
“You may be right,” Charles said with a chuckle. “I’m not sure I could do it. I’m glad we have this scruffy old mutt,” he added as he reached down and lovingly scratched Barney’s head. Barney looked up, returning the love with his eyes.
“How old do you suppose this little guy is now?” Charles asked.
“The rescue folks said they thought he was five or six when they got him, but they couldn’t be sure because of his condition. That was more than five years ago, so he’s probably ten or eleven.”
A look of sadness crossed Charles’ face as he again reached down to pet Barney.
“He’s in pretty good health, though,” Sarah added. “At least that’s what the vet said before he retired.”
“He hasn’t been seen for a while,” Charles responded thoughtfully.
“True, but except for these signs of old age he seems fine. I order his joint medication, and it doesn’t require a prescription. I think he’ll be with us for a very long time,” Sarah concluded, demonstrating her usual positive outlook. Then she thought, Sophie would have said I’m being Pollyanna again, if she’d been listening to the conversation.
As Sarah was leaving the kitchen, she bent down and hugged her dog. Charles saw a trace of moisture in her eyes but remained silent.
* * * * *
As it turned out, Sarah and Andy didn’t accomplish much planning at the dog park. Caitlyn’s little dachshund, Sabrina, took a fancy to a very regal miniature pinscher. “Are you sure that’s a pinscher?” Sarah asked. “It looks like a little Doberman.”
“It’s a pinscher, for sure,” Andy insisted. “That dog and Sabrina have some genes in common.”
“I didn’t know you knew about dogs,” Sarah replied, looking surprised.
“I don’t. I only know what Caitlyn told me when she was reading about her little dachshund. It seems the dachshund, the Italian greyhound, and the shorthaired German pinscher were involved in the creation of the miniature pinscher.”
“Amazing,” Sarah said with a frown. “Creating dogs. Somehow that doesn’t seem right.”
“It may not be right,” Andy responded, “but it’s becoming popular. I saw an ad for a goldendoodle online this morning—a cross between a poodle and a golden retriever.”
“Yes, I think they’re calling those designer dogs. Becky in the quilt club just got a pomapoo, a combination of a Pomeranian and a poodle, but she was looking at a labradoodle first.”
“That must be a combination of a Labrador and a poodle. They seem to like using poodles for many of these new designs,” Andy added.
They sat quietly for a while, watching the dogs performing the rituals understood by all members of their species. They sniffed their greetings and signaled their invitations to play, while some declared their desire to be left alone.
“Did you know that some dogs can detect the presence of cancer?” Andy asked. “And some can predict when an epileptic seizure is coming on.”
“I’ve read that,” Sarah replied. “I’ve also read that they have many of the same emotions we have, like jealousy and grief. But it’s believed that they don’t feel guilt.”
“That would be nice. I’m always feeling guilty about something,” Andy replied. “I try not to, but I get caught up in it.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing. Perhaps it keeps us on the right path, at least some of the time,” Sarah responded.
A few more dogs joined in the activities until one lost his temper, and Andy felt he should remove Sabrina for her protection. Barney followed them to the gate reluctantly and waited for Sarah to attach his leash. He loved his time in the park, and his tail and ears drooped as he headed toward home.
“Can you come to my house tomorrow, Sarah? We need peace and quiet for this planning exercise, and I need notes about what I’m supposed to say.”
“Okay, that sounds like a good plan. How’s 10:00?”
“Just right,” Andy replied. “Tomorrow is my day to sleep in.”
On her way home, Sarah decided to stop at Sophie’s. She’d been wondering what had happened between her friend and Norman but didn’t want to ask. The two women sat down at the kitchen table, where Sophie had poured iced tea and set out the cookie jar along with a couple of napkins. “Help yourself,” she said.
As if reading her friend’s mind, Sophie added, “So I asked Norman about Irma.”
“And?”
“He said, ‘Yes, she’s in town,’ and that’s all he said. I didn’t know what else to ask, so I let it drop. What do you think that means?”
“Do you want me t
o tell you what my best friend, Sophie Ward, told me once?”
“I suppose,” Sophie responded skeptically, while silently vowing to stop giving advice since it seemed always to come back to bite her. “What did I tell you?”
“You told me not to try to figure out what people mean or what people are thinking. You said I should either ask them what they mean or drop it. You also said that if I try to figure it out without asking, I’ll probably get it wrong.”
“So I should ask him, or I should drop it,” Sophie pondered. “I think I’ll drop it.”
“Okay,” Sarah responded reluctantly.
“At least for now,” Sophie muttered.
* * * * *
“Sarah, can you come over right away?” Sophie sobbed on the phone early the next morning.
“Oh, Sophie, have you fallen?”
“It’s nothing like that, Sarah, but I need you. Don’t bring Charles. This is a female thing.”
“I’m going to Sophie’s,” Sarah called over her shoulder as she pulled on her coat and snapped Barney’s leash onto his harness. She decided it would be just as fast to walk and not spend time explaining to Barney why they weren’t going for a walk.
“What is it?” she asked immediately upon arriving at her friend’s house.
“Take your coat off and come into the kitchen. This conversation requires sugar.”
Once they were settled at Sophie’s table, each with a slice of warmed apple pie, Sophie announced, “Norman is with Irma in Kentucky at his cabin.”
“You know this for sure this time?”
“Yes. I called him, and I heard voices in the background. Lots of voices, for that matter, and I asked him where he was. He said he was at the cabin.”
“And all the voices in the background?” Sarah asked. “Who else was there?”
“His entire family.”
“What did he say about it?”
“He said they had a family issue to discuss, and he’d explain when he came back later this week.”
Sarah, for the second time that day, didn’t know what to say. She could tell her friend was on edge, and she wanted to be supportive, but she didn’t think this family get-together necessarily meant that Sophie was being pushed out of Norman’s life.
Frayed Edges Page 2
