Ashley shrugged her shoulders. “Well, as you know, most of them don’t amount to more than one date. You’re always so great to listen to my lovelorn tales.” She put her arm over her face in fake distress. She peeked under her arm. “Lovelorn is an expression from your generation, right?” Her lips curled into a sly smile.
“Aren’t you the funny one this morning. You know it’s a little before my time.” Sarah grinned before she took a sip of coffee.
Ashley leaned against the countertop in front of the coffeepot. “I hope this latest guy calls like he said he would. Not only is he cute, but he seemed to have substance, and I caught him glancing my way from time to time. That’s usually a good indication that he’s interested.”
“Do you really think so?” Sarah sat down on a folding chair beside a small table. She smiled, remembering several of Mark’s lingering looks the night before.
Ashley wrinkled her brow and narrowed her eyes. “Your voice sounds, I don’t know, dreamy. Sarah, are you holding out on me? Is there a man in your life?”
Since she wasn’t able to ask Karla’s advice, maybe she should bounce it off Ashley. She’d been dying to talk about Mark. The occasional glances her way that turned into longer looks. The way his eyes shone when he looked at her. Feelings of happiness wanted to bubble out; still, she held them in.
Ashley’s laugh bounced around the room. “There is someone. You’re blushing just thinking about him.”
“Well, there’s someone I’m interested in, and I think he’s interested in me, but I don’t know for sure.” Adolescent feelings of insecurity rushed back. She’d been younger than Ashley the last time she felt this way about a guy.
“Spill it, girlfriend.” Ashley sipped her coffee.
Sarah hesitated. Ashley was almost twenty years her junior. Sarah had been a bad judge of character at that age.
“Is he someone in the building?” Ashley raised her eyebrows, prompting Sarah to answer.
“No.” Sarah shook her head with more force than necessary, causing her dangly earrings to bounce against her jawbone. Somehow it didn’t seem ethical to date one of her tenants.
Raising her cup and taking another sip of coffee, Ashley held Sarah’s gaze. “Then who?” she asked, lowering her cup.
Sarah cleared her throat. She had to tell someone, and Ashley had confided in her. “His name is Mark Sanders, and he runs Granny Bea’s quilt shop.”
“That’s why you enrolled in quilting lessons!” Ashley smiled wide.
“Kind of.” Sarah shrugged but knew her own smile matched Ashley’s. She’d save the other reason for another conversation.
Ashley made no move to head to her office. “Tell me about him.”
Sarah checked her watch. She still had a few minutes until her official start time. “He’s close to my age with brown hair.”
“And?”
“He’s about five foot eight or nine, wide shoulders, stocky frame.”
Ashley kept smiling. “Is he cute?” Her voice raised a few octaves as she said the word cute.
“Yes.” A thrill ran through Sarah, raising her voice to the same height as Ashley’s. It felt good to express her feelings.
“So, I take it since you know his name, you’ve spoken with him.” Ashley took another sip of her coffee.
“Of course, several times but nothing much more than small talk. However, I’ve caught him looking at me and his gaze lingers, and”—a flush crept onto Sarah’s cheeks—“when he demonstrated a sewing machine, he held my hand to guide me through one of the instructions.” The skin on Sarah’s hand where Mark had touched her tingled. She shrugged. “I don’t know, though. Maybe it’s just me hoping I have the same effect on him as he does on me.”
Ashley rolled her eyes. “Women know when a man’s interested. We just need reassurance from our friends. You consider me a friend, right?”
Sarah nodded. The click of a door handle cut through the silence.
“Sarah?” Karla’s footsteps padded across the carpet.
“In here,” Sarah called.
Ashley straightened. “Time to get to work.” She walked toward the door and nodded a greeting to Karla, who stood just outside the threshold. Ashley paused at the doorway and turned. “Sarah, he’s interested in you.”
In the second it took Ashley to disappear down the hall, Karla’s jaw dropped. Her astonished expression caused Sarah’s heart to plummet to her stomach. “Who’s interested?”
Lifting her cup to her lips, Sarah gulped the last of her coffee, stalling for time.
As Sarah polished off the coffee, Karla crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips in disgust.
Sarah waved a dismissive hand in the air as she stood. “Nothing really.”
The raised eyebrow and glaring stare told Sarah that Karla wasn’t buying that explanation.
“Ashley and I were just trading girl talk about guys we’ve recently met and the signals they send that shows they’re interested.” Sarah smiled at Karla as she squeezed past her and walked over to her desk.
“When did you meet a guy?” Karla followed Sarah and seated herself in a guest chair.
Easing down in her office chair, Sarah slipped on her phone earpiece. “I met him while I was shopping.” She tried to keep her tone casual, not filled with the giddiness she’d let slip when talking with Ashley about Mark.
“So, you’re picking guys up at the mall now?” The sarcasm oozed from Karla’s remark.
“No, I’m not picking up guys at the mall. Actually, you more than anyone know that I’ve never picked up a guy in my life.” Sarah’s response was clipped because she was tired of Karla’s attitude.
Karla shrugged. “The old Sarah wouldn’t have, but now it’s like I don’t know you anymore since your diagnosis.”
I could say the same about you.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Karla leaned forward in her chair.
Sarah sighed. “I planned to talk to you about this last night but—”
“We had more serious matters to discuss,” Karla interrupted. “That’s why I’m here. I don’t think you fully understand my concern for you.”
Sarah’s shoulders tightened. The tension crept up her neck. She rested her right elbow on her desk and massaged the muscles over that shoulder blade. The last thing she needed today was to deal with numbness in her right arm. She was so tired of this same conversation with Karla. Not to mention this wasn’t the appropriate time or place to have it again. “I understand your concern.”
“I don’t think you do,” Karla interjected. “You don’t take anything I say seriously.” She scooted to the edge of her chair and rested her forearms on her knees. “I googled MS and discovered it makes you fatigued. You need to rest. You’re doing too much. A new job. A new hobby. And now I find out a new boyfriend.” Karla rolled her eyes.
“Enough.” Sarah raised her voice and rolled her right shoulder to keep the muscles loose. “This conversation is over. If you haven’t noticed, I am at work. You might not think I need to work but I do. I’m managing my fatigue with medicine and it’s working.” Most of the time. Sarah paused, not for drama but to calm the burning anger her friend ignited.
“I’m very sorry to say this”—Sarah’s voice now non-confrontational—“but unless you want to rent office space, you’re going to have to leave. I have work to do.”
Karla practically jumped out of her chair. “You’re kicking me out?” She grabbed her purse and huffed over to the door. She opened it, paused, then glanced over her shoulder, all traces of her anger gone. “Sarah, be careful,” she said, her tone now conversational. “Most guys have a hard time committing to a healthy woman, much less one who has to deal with health issues on a daily basis. I know you don’t believe me, but I have your best interests at heart.” With a small shrug of her shoulders and a weak smile, Karla closed the door behind her.
Every car that pulled into a parking space caught Mark’s eye. He’d been watching for a familiar black
compact since five o’clock even though he knew if Sarah worked eight to five it’d take a good half hour or longer to get to Granny Bea’s through the rush-hour traffic.
Mark replayed their conversation from the previous night as he reshelved bolts of material. He was certain she said she’d stop by after work, but six o’clock came and went. Still no Sarah.
Ding-dong. Mark jerked his head up, hoping it was Sarah that walked through the door. Disappointment tamped out his initial hope.
“What brings you to my store?” Mark pushed a bolt of fabric into place as he tried to get a grip on his feelings.
“It’s that time of the year again.” Diane Wall held up a large manila envelope. “How have you been?”
Mark met her halfway in the main aisle of the store. He admired the cut of her expensive business suit as he extended his hand. “Great. Once a sharp dresser, always a sharp dresser. You’ve never looked better.”
Diane smiled at his compliment and shook the hand he offered. “Thank you. As cochair of the MS walk, I’m dropping your packet off for”—she tilted her head as she read the team’s name written in black marker on the outside of the envelope—“Gert’s Gang. I’m glad you continue to do this each year in honor of your mom.”
“Well”—Mark took the information and peeked in at the contents—“old habits die hard, I guess.” He’d considered stopping when his mom passed away, but she’d provided such a good life for him, all on her own, he decided to honor her memory by continuing to raise money to fight the disease that left her a struggling single mom.
“I guess.” Diane shrugged. She twisted the pointed toe of her shoe. “I’m glad you’re doing okay.”
“Thanks.” Mark knew that when Diane broke it off with him six months ago that she really thought they’d get back together. “How are things going for you?”
Diane held up her left hand and wiggled her ring finger. A large princess-cut diamond sparkled under the fluorescent store lights.
“Congratulations.” His dating theory did work—she’d found her true love.
“Thank you.” Diane held her hand out and admired her ring. “Well,” she said, putting her hand down, “I’m sure I’ll see you at the walk.” She headed to the exit, her high heels clicking on the polished gray tiled floor.
Mark folded the flap of the envelope closed and held it between his fingers. “Thanks again for dropping this off.” He walked to the cash register.
Diane stopped and glanced over her shoulder. “Are you seeing anyone special?”
Mark shrugged. Diane shook her head and pushed through the door. She held it open so another customer could enter. Relief swirled through Mark.
“Thanks.” Sarah smiled her gratitude to the woman then snagged a cart and stashed her purse where a child should sit.
“There you are. I thought you were going to be a no-show.” Mark greeted Sarah with a wide smile.
Pushing the cart with a slow pace, Sarah stopped in front of the cash register. “I made up some time at work.”
“Long day?” Mark asked. Although Sarah’s attire remained wrinkle-free, her body seemed to have lost its starch. It looked as if it took all her energy to take the next step. Instead of maintaining her usually erect posture, she leaned on the cart. Dullness replaced the usual sparkle in her eyes.
“That is an understatement.” She raised tired eyes to meet his. “How was your day?”
“Pretty busy up until an hour ago.” Mark tapped the envelope on the counter by the cash register to give his hands something to do. “Unhappy renter? Would it help to talk about it? I’m a good listener.”
A slight twinkle appeared in Sarah’s eyes at his offer. “It was a personal matter, nothing to do with work.” She sighed, her mouth turning into a frown. “I’m pretty sure a longtime friendship is ending.”
He knew it. A bad breakup. He could read the signs from a mile away. Who would let a good-looking lady like Sarah get away? I would. Mark sobered at the thought that was surely brought on by Diane’s visit. “That happens sometimes.”
“I guess.” Sarah shrugged with what looked like great effort.
Mark could fix this. Maybe not tonight, but in the near future. He’d bring her self-confidence back so she could go out and face the dating world and find the elusive fairy tale all women seemed to believe in as exampled by Diane’s recent engagement. She’d apparently found true love.
“Well, you’re here now, and among friends, well, friend.” Mark grinned.
Sarah managed a crooked smile. Some of the normal sparkle returned to her coal-colored eyes. “Yes, I am.” She sighed. “I should probably pick out my fabric.”
Mark abandoned the envelope beside the cash register and rounded the end of the counter. “Mind if I tag along while you pick out your material?”
“Company would be nice. I could use a distraction.” Sarah’s stance straightened as she pushed the cart, but her pace remained slow as she made her way down an aisle.
Her flowery fragrance lured Mark closer to the cart as they walked to the back corner of the quilt shop. “Are you making a wall quilt or table runner?” As they passed by the section with heavier-weight material, Mark straightened a bolt of denim someone had pulled forward.
“I planned on a wall quilt, but since I might be doing all the sewing by hand, I’m thinking maybe I should go with the table runner.” Sarah stopped the cart in front of patterned cotton fabric.
“What did I tell you?” Mark waited for Sarah to look at him. “You can use my extra machines anytime.”
“I know.” Sarah pulled the paper with fabric requirements for the class from her purse. “And that’s very generous of you, but…” Sarah’s voice trailed off.
“No buts about it. Those machines sit in the workroom and only get used during quilting class, so don’t worry about it.”
Sarah pulled her pretty mouth into a pucker. Was she considering his offer to use the machines or thinking about telling him to back off? Her grip tightened on the cart. “Here’s the thing. Will it really help to use the machines, if I don’t know how to sew? I mean, I don’t want to ruin my fabric, ripping out mistakes.”
Mark crossed his arms over his chest and rocked back on his heels. “I see your point.”
“So it’s settled. I’ll sew my quilt by hand and make the table runner.”
“Hmm. Tell you what.” Mark dropped his arms and crossed the sales floor to a book display. He couldn’t let her get out of coming into the quilt store so easily. He pulled out a hardbound book and returned to the spot where Sarah stood. “I happen to have in my possession a manual on sewing basics.” He held it out for Sarah to see.
Sarah took the book and turned it over. Her eyes focused on the bottom left-hand corner.
“You don’t have to buy it. Use it when you come into the store to practice on the sewing machines. And you can practice on remnant fabric.”
“You’re making it hard for a girl to say no.” Sarah lifted her turmoil-filled eyes to search his face. It appeared as if she wanted to say yes, but something was keeping her from it, something other than the fact that she lacked sewing skills.
The last thing he wanted to do was scare her away. “I’m just saying, if you want a wall quilt, make one. Don’t let a tiny obstacle like not having expert sewing skills get in the way.”
Sarah laughed. “Tiny obstacle?”
Mark shrugged. “It’s all a matter of perspective.”
For a few seconds Sarah drew her brows together, and then a smile lit her face. “Okay, I’m convinced. I’ll make the wall quilt.” She handed the book back to Mark.
The jangle of the door alerted Mark to another customer. He shelved the sewing book and greeted his customer. By the time he turned his attention back to Sarah, she and her fabric bolts were waiting patiently by the cutting center.
“Ready?” Mark slid a bolt of light blue paisley fabric toward him.
“Yes.” Sarah ran her finger down the paper with the fabric require
ments for the wall quilt. “I need three yards of that one.”
Mark flipped the bolt over several times, releasing the tightly bound fabric before he grabbed the cut end of the cloth and stretched a length of material over the yardstick attached to the Formica-topped cutting counter. His sharp shears whooshed down the material, cutting it loose from the bolt.
“A yard of each of the light blue and white.” Sarah pushed the solid bolts of cotton to Mark.
“This will make a pretty quilt. The paisley’s the back and part of the block pattern, right?”
Sarah nodded her head. “Is that the name of the fabric’s pattern—paisley? I just thought it was tear shaped and fitting for a Job’s Tears quilt.”
“Guess I never saw that in the paisley pattern. But you’re right. Some of the print is tear shaped.” Mark slid the cut fabric to the side. “That it?”
“No.” Sarah handed Mark another bolt. It was from the clearance area with preprinted Christmas pillow panels. “The printed instructions on the fabric make this pillow project sound easy. Would a project like this help me learn to sew?”
“It would.” Mark cut on the solid black line to cut the panel from the bolt.
“When is a good night for me to come in and practice?” Sarah’s eyes shone in spite of the dark circles that underscored them.
He bowled tomorrow, and Friday at four started the first weekend he’d had off in six weeks. Mark wanted to be in the store when Sarah came in to practice.
“Monday?” Some of the glow started to diminish from Sarah’s face. Mark added hurriedly, “I’m sure you’re busy Friday night.”
“No.” Sarah shook her head.
“Friday it is.” Mark didn’t really have any plans anyway. He could hang around the store.
Chapter 3
Mark sat in his office, surfing the Internet, when the workroom illuminated. He swiveled in his chair and caught a glimpse of Sarah through the glass window. Dressed in hip-hugger jeans and a white T-shirt, she carried a denim tote bag. Sarah walked to the demonstration machine Mark showed her how to work on Tuesday night.
Sarah laid her tote bag on the table and studied the sewing machine. She reached a finger out and touched the power button. Light reflected on the arm of the sewing machine, and Sarah pulled a fist back and forth in a victory fashion.
Dakota Love Page 18
