“Okay. The good thing is that the tops of your Nana’s quilts are already made. I only have to teach you how to make a block so you understand the process. Then each quilt has to be ironed a certain way. You will need to make the backing for the quilts, buy batting to go in between, then quilt them together. Once they are sewn, or quilted, you have to make the binding, which can either be machine sewn or hand stitched,” Bisa said looking at him.
“That’s a lot of work,” he said.
“Yes. But the rewards are priceless,” she said. “I am certain your Nana will be pleased as punch.”
Bisa began to clear off the makeshift dinner table, placing the left overs in the fridge after asking if he wanted any to take with him. Declining her offer, he pondered the process for making an actual quilt as she moved around the shop, picking up materials and placing them in large sweet grass baskets.
“Those baskets are pretty amazing. I priced a few down in Charleston a few years ago. A woman in a roadside stand was making them,” he said.
“A gray-haired lady with glasses perched on the end of her nose?”
“Yeah, Mattie...Hattie...,” he said.
“Nattie Lou,” Bisa corrected. “She was my grandmother. These baskets put me, my Momma, and two cousins through college.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said, thinking of his own Nana since she’d referred to Nattie Lou in the past tense.
“Don’t be. She taught me to make the baskets and how to quilt. The quilts we made in the winter time put me through law school,” Bisa said with a smile.
“Law School?”
“Yes, I went to Yale. I spent a few years in corporate, defending white collar criminals, but I truthfully spent more time making quilts for my co-workers. After a while, I got sick of all of the office politics, people screwing each other over to get ahead, and so I left.”
“Antoine mentioned you didn’t have a corporate background,” he said.
“That’s what he likes to tell people to make me seem like some hippie fabric artist who doesn’t understand how the world works. I understand it just fine. I simply have no desire to be another rat in the maze,” Bisa said, softly smiling at him.
A warm feeling went all the way to his toes. Changing the subject, hoping to lessen the growing warmth under his collar, he turned his attention to a piece of machinery.
“What’s this?”
“That, my dear man, is my quilting machine,” she said, walking over to the contraption with two handles. “Let me show you how it works.”
With ease and grace, she walked through the process of how to load the top, batting, and backing of a quilt. One was already loaded in the machine as she turned it on, moving through stitches.
“This is a meandering pattern I am using. The design of the quilt is simple, so the quilting should be as well,” she said. She explained the long arm quilting machine as she went, making the task at hand seem simple.
“How much does one of those cost?”
“I got this one for about four grand. My Dad made the stand it sits on and constructed the frames I use,” she said. “This thing has made my life so simple.”
“I hate to sound like the Riddler, but if I were to quilt my own, could I use your machine or would I need to get one of my own?”
“You would really need one of your own. This is my business and if my machine breaks down, then I can’t make money.”
“What if I rented time on your machine?”
“What if you just buy your own?”
He frowned at her as if she’d asked him to borrow his credit card. “But after I finish quilting my Nana’s quilts, what would I do with it?”
She touched his arm softly, making Cody jump from the heat of her fingers on his skin. “I’m sorry, I invaded your space without asking permission, but I am kind of touchy feely. Forgive me,” she said gently.
“It’s okay, your hands are hot,” he lied.
“Again, my apologies, but I have a feeling that once you get the quilting bug, you will use it often.”
“While I am learning, can I set it up here, you know, in case I mess up or something. I mean, I will be at home trying to load it and tangling everything up with no one to help me,” he said, feeling foolish for even entertaining the idea.
“I will be here to guide you all the way, Cody Richardson,” she said giving him that warm smile again that shot fireworks to his toes.
He smiled back. “I would appreciate that.”
“I tell you what, Cody. Why don’t you bring your Nana to the museum tomorrow to see the displays? You get to see some fancy stitches and learn a few things as well,” Bisa offered.
“Sounds good. After that, when do I start?” I am actually agreeing to this. Why am I agreeing to this? I can’t sew.
“Monday would be good, but you will need a sewing machine. I am going to put you in my 6:00 beginner’s class so you can make a few blocks on your first quilt. The class goes all month and you will make that baby quilt on the wall over there,” she said pointing to the colorful baby blanket on the wall.
Cody was frowning. The whole thing looked complicated to him. A beginning quilter’s class. Nope. How about a private lesson instead? Just me and you alone. What am I saying?
“Cody, are you an engineer as well like Antoine?”
His eyes were still on the quilt. As he moved closer, he could see the lines of squares pieced together to make the blanket. The colorful, geometric fabric gave the appearance of complication, but it was just a bunch of blocks.
“No, I am a CAD operator. I do the graphic designs and blueprints the engineers use to construct the buildings and projects,” he said, touching the binding of the quilt.
“Then this little project should be easy for you,” she said giving him that infectious, toe-tingling smile again. This time he smiled back, staring into her brown eyes, an instant connection forming. Bisa dropped her stare, looking at the floor.
“It’s getting late. I have an early morning and stitches to make before I wake,” she said, this time not smiling at him.
“Walk me to the door and lock up,” he said.
She didn’t mean to do it, but her eyes watched his back, dropping down to the well-fitting Levi’s snuggling his hand full of bottom. Cody Richardson was some kind of sexy. Having him around her shop was going to be really good for business.
He would also be the death of her relationship with Antoine.
Chapter Four – 9 Inch Square
Cody awoke at the usual six a.m., rolling out of bed, dressing in running clothing. After quickly washing his face and brushing his teeth, he made his way to kitchen, setting the coffee pot timer for seven a.m. before he slipped out the back door. Bending at the waist, he stretched his lean frame, touching his toes to loosen the muscles constricting in his back.
Sleep was fitful for him as the dark-skinned beauty that was Bisa Washington plagued his dreams in Technicolor. The connection between them was palpable. She’d felt it too. You are just going to make the quilts. The beautiful woman is only going to teach you to sew. She is Antoine’s girl. Keep your focus. He ran the same words over and over in his head as he opened the back gate, trotting down the alley, making a right onto Laurens Avenue, then toward the center of town. The fitness watch was set for nine-minute miles and today he ran for nearly forty-five minutes, returning home to shower, finding his Nana in the kitchen.
“Why do you keep setting a timer on this coffeemaker? I can’t figure this thing out,” she said, pursing her lips.
“I set it so I don’t forget to have it ready for when you wake or to shut it off when I leave,” he said, looking at the pot as it kicked on, dripping liquid attitude adjustment into the carafe.
“I just want some coffee. I could use my old percolator and we would have a hot pot of happiness in no time,” Lily Rose said.
“Yes, and I would be bouncing off the walls all day,” he told her. “I’m going to get dressed and take you out for waffles.
There is a quilt display at the Museum that we are going to go check out.”
“Oh goody,” she said, clapping her hands together.
“Let me shower, then we will be ready to roll,” he said to her.
A half hour later he was dressed in a navy blue shirt and had added a bit of gel to his hair for some control plus two dabs of his favorite cologne to round out his grooming routine. A little something Nana Lily picked up on instantly.
“You smell mighty dandy. Are we going to meet a young lady while we are out? Does she work at the Museum? I am so glad you are dating. I was starting to think you were a gay like Amos,” Lily Rose said.
“Nana! I am not gay, and can’t I smell great when I am taking out my favorite girl?” he said, flashing her a smile.
“You and I go out all the time, Cody Richardson, and you never put on any cologne. I hope she is nice. Running may burn off some energy, but there is nothing like a good woman to help a man focus on what is important,” she said, grabbing her handbag.
“I am focused on what is important,” he said, picking up his keys and setting the alarm.
“Cody,” she said touching his arm, “I have lived my life. As much as I appreciate you ensuring my last days on this planet are lived in comfort, you have to also plan for your future.”
“Nana, when I meet the right girl, I will make sure you are the first one to make her acquaintance,” he said, locking the front door.
Taking her by the elbow, he escorted her down the stairs to her old Oldsmobile. Through the years he’d kept the car in tip-top shape since it was a birthday present from Big Bart, his grandfather, for her 79th birthday. Big Bart didn’t live to see Lily Rose’s 80th celebration, which was the same year Cody moved into the house with her to keep Lily from being alone. Not once had he regretted his decision in doing so and he didn’t regret it to this day. He lived a simple life without complications. On the occasion when he needed to burn off some steam, there were a few lady friends he could call for an evening of warmth. After that, he would come home.
Staying all night in a woman’s home or her bed didn’t sit well with him. Waking up next to a lady who wasn’t his life partner made him twitchy. In his estimation, if a man is sharing a woman’s bed on a regular basis, she should be something more than a convenience.
He remained deep in his thoughts as they ordered breakfast. The food arrived with Cody’s hands still remaining gripped around his coffee mug. A scowl wavering on and off his face as he tried, futilely, to clear his head.
“You are deep in thought. Your waffle is getting cold,” Lily Rose said to him.
“Yeah, working out the details on those Christmas quilts is going to be a handful,” he said to her.
“Don’t forget, I have money saved up to get them finished.”
“I know,” he said to her. If he didn’t spend the money she’d saved, it would create a problem. Lily Rose would nag him to no end about spending his own money, but then an idea hit him. He could use some of the money she stored up to buy the quilting machine as well as sewing machine. That way, he would spend the money on the quilts as she ordered, and it would be a win-win for them both.
“Nana, I think I found someone to get them done, so next week, we will need to go to the bank,” he told her.
“Or I could just write you a check, then you handle it all from your account,” she told him.
“That, my good lady, sounds like a plan,” Cody said with a toothy grin.
Cody paid the check, feeling better about the decision to make the quilts himself with each passing moment. The feeling dropped out of his head the moment he entered the Aiken Museum and begin to look at the quilts on display. I must have been out of my mind. I will pay whatever those people want to make these bleeping quilts! I can’t do this.
“Hello there, Cody Richardson,” a soft voice said behind him.
He turned to see Bisa standing there looking like she just stepped out of a haute couture magazine ad for diversity in the workplace.
“Oh hey, look at all of these quilts. This is overwhelming,” he said.
“Each one was made one 9 inch square at a time, or one scrap, one block, and one stitch. You build upon each block, creating the foundation for the story in fabric, then once it is complete, you close the book by weaving intricate threading to hold the pieces together,” she said, giving him that warm smile again.
“I have never heard quilting described so beautifully before,” Lily Rose said.
Remembering his grandmother was standing there, Cody turned, almost bumping into her. “Bisa Washington, this is my grandmother, Lily Rose Richardson. She is the quilter in the family. It is her quilts you will be working on,” he said raising his eyebrows when he said the word ‘you’.
Bisa picked up on it.
“I look forward to working with Cody to bring your work to life for your family,” she said.
“Bisa? That is an unusual name. What does it mean?” Lily Rose asked.
“It means one that is loved in Swahili,” she said.
“Do you have a quilt on display as well, Bisa?” Lily Rose wanted to know.
“My quilting guild has these two on display and the one in the corner I personally quilted,” she said, pointing to the quilt in the corner. Both Cody and Lily Rose gasped.
The quilt was a work of art.
Children of every race played in a field of high grass laden with flowers as the rays of the sun shone down on them. The details of the children’s faces were patch worked pieces of fabrics creating shadings of lights and darks like skin tones. The flowers were vibrant, the children happy and that stupid warm feeling came back to Cody’s toes. Moreover, the quilt moved him.
“Absolutely stunning,” he said, looking at Bisa.
“You like it?”
“I love it. I have never seen anything like it in my life. You are an amazing fabric artist,” he said.
Lily Rose, who had remained quiet, held a handkerchief to her running nose as tears filled her eyes. The emotions of the children having fun took her back to the days of her young ones running through the fields at the lake, having fun and enjoying life. A time of innocence and pure joy.
“I call it a Time of Innocence,” she said making Lily Rose burst into tears.
“Oh, my dear lady, please don’t cry. Here, let me help you be seated,” Bisa said, helping the gentlewoman to a chair.
“I don’t mean to be silly, but that is exactly what I thought when I saw your quilt. It reminded me of my children playing at the lake, having fun without a care in the world.”
“We forget those times as well, which is why I wanted to capture it on this quilt. A gentle reminder of how beautiful life can be when we let go of the silliness and enjoy those special moments,” Bisa said.
Lily Rose grabbed Bisa’s hands, squeezing them between her own. “Thank you. I know that a quilter who does that kind of work doesn’t have time to work on my old scrap quilts but it means the world to me to present those memories to my family. The Richardsons will forever be in your debt,” she told Bisa.
“No debt required; you are paying for my time, Mrs. Richardson. Your grandson over there is quite the persuader,” Bisa said, flashing Cody a smile and wink, which did not reach his toes, but stopped mid-way in his body.
“Goodness gracious,” he said, turning his back them. “Excuse me for a moment.”
Cody made a beeline out to the back door to get a grip on himself. Between her fricking quilt, that smile, and the way she handled his grandmother, he was sitting all up in his feelings.
“What are you doing?”
He thought he’d asked the question out loud to himself, but it was Bisa’s voice over his shoulder. She was standing so close that if he leaned back, she could accuse him of a personal violation.
“I needed a moment,” he said.
“Your Nana is a sweetheart,” she said, almost whispering in her ear.
He turned suddenly, facing Bisa. He stood so close
the buttons on his shirt could touch her belly button. Her brown eyes searched his blue ones, trying to understand what was occurring between them.
“I’m out of my element here, Bisa,” he said.
“I know, but if you trust me, I will take care of you,” she said softly.
His eyes dropped to her lips. “I believe in reciprocating,” he told her, touching the fabric on her skirt.
“I just bet you do, but first things first,” she said stepping back. “You need to buy a good sewing machine for class on Monday. We start at six sharp. Please don’t be late. The fee covers fabric and all materials.”
“Okay,” he told her, giving her a quick grin.
“Can I ask one favor, Cody?”
“Sure.”
“Don’t wear that cologne. It is like a mating call or something. No one in the class will be able to get anything done,” she added, winking at him again.
“If that’s the case, I’m going to bathe in it before I get there,” he said, winking back at her.
“Watch yourself, Cody. You don’t know what you are getting yourself into,” Bisa said, turning to walk away.
“I can handle anything you dish out, lady,” he called after her. Bisa’s next words were halted by the arrival of Lily Rose, who thanked her again, giving a big hug.
Lily Rose joined her grandson, “I like her. She is going to be good for you.”
“What do you mean, Nana? She is helping me with your quilting,” Cody said.
“A woman like that, Cody, will either bring out the better man in you or expose each and every one of your shortcomings,” Lily Rose said. “It will be one or the other. There is no middle ground with her.”
His grandmother was correct. She exposed the weaknesses in Antoine and brought out the best in Cody. In the end, she would have to make a choice, this Cody knew, because he had every intention in exploring the new sensations she was eliciting in him.
The Christmas Quilts Page 3
