Patchwork Family

by Judy Christenberry

  “I didn’t know you had any friends who could cook. I thought they all dined in restaurants.”

  Brady snapped his fingers. “It’s the blonde. She wanted to say thank-you for taking her little girl to the hospital. Why didn’t she send me some muffins? I’m the one who made her well.”

  Quinn sipped his coffee and avoided looking at his relatives.

  “A looker and she can cook like this? I think I want to meet this lady,” Elias said.

  “You’ll have your chance. She’s having an open house for the entire town next weekend,” he said, determined to keep everything impersonal. “She owns the new bed-and-breakfast in town, on Ivy Lane.”

  “The old Blake house?” Brady asked. “I heard something about that, but I hadn’t made the connection to Molly. Interesting. Did she buy it?”

  “She inherited it. She’s Christopher’s widow.” Quinn remembered their last conversation. Not a grieving widow, she’d told him. He was surprised at how much relief that thought gave him.

  “Christopher Blake was no prize,” Elias said.

  “I don’t remember much about him,” Brady said. “What was wrong with him?”

  Quinn waited for his father’s answer with great curiosity. He remembered the man vaguely, but they’d never been friends.

  “He was a pretentious snob, interested only in himself. He neglected his mother shamelessly.” Elias didn’t forgive a lack of family consideration.

  Molly had said Christopher ignored her and Sara. An even greater sin than ignoring his mother, in Quinn’s eyes.

  “What’s the blonde like?” Elias asked.

  Quinn considered his answer. He didn’t want to sound too enthusiastic, because his father would read more into it than he intended. But he had to be honest. “She’s a ray of sunshine. She and Sara. And a hard worker. Wait until you see the house. She’s done wonders with it.”

  “Hasn’t Jenna been working with her? Seems to me I’ve heard her mention something about a bed-and-breakfast.” Brady stared at Quinn, waiting for his answer.

  He nodded.

  “I believe I’ll plan on going to that open house. When did you say it would be?” Elias asked.

  “Next Sunday afternoon.”

  “You going?” Brady asked.

  Quinn realized both men were watching for his response. Damn. He hadn’t been able to throw them off the trail. “I guess so,” he said, trying for an offhand manner. “After all, she’s our client.”

  “Ah,” Elias said. “Maybe we can all go together, so you can introduce us. I’d like to thank her for the muffins.”

  WHAT A HECTIC WEEK!

  In addition to the open house on Sunday, Sara’s birthday fell on Friday. Four days a week, Sara was at the preschool program at Kaity’s Kids day care until three-thirty. On Friday, though the day care center remained open, the preschool ended at noon. It was the perfect time for Sara’s birthday party, so Molly was hosting twelve four-year-olds for the afternoon.

  Kaitlin Rodier, the owner of the day care, was coming, of course. Her workers would take care of the other age groups at the center. But Sara had insisted her teacher be invited.

  Since Kaitlin was one of Molly’s closest friends, she was delighted to have her come, but she was also afraid it would seem like work to Kaitlin. After all, she would’ve already spent the morning with the small guests.

  But Molly could use the help.

  Since she was inviting the entire town to the open house, she’d decided the best way would be to put an invitation in the paper on Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Jenna had promised to take care of that chore, and she stopped by on Wednesday morning with the ad to show her.

  “Oh, Jenna, that’s wonderful!” Molly enthused. The large square had the rose and tulip entwined with ivy. “And they’ll be able to print it in color?”

  “Yeah. It’s going to look terrific.”

  “Yes, it will. Eden is going to do some flower arrangements that will reflect our logo.”

  “She does very good work. I’ve been in there several times,” Jenna agreed.

  “And how are you feeling? You’re not doing too much, are you?” Molly asked. Jenna had recently married, but she was already pregnant. The entire town had been talking about her and Quinn’s older brother Seth.

  “I’m fine. Seth won’t let me do too much. And his family…if I even hint at wanting something, they all jump up at once. A woman could get used to this.”

  Molly blinked several times. “Even Quinn? I thought he wasn’t interested in children.”

  “I don’t know about that, but he’s been very nice to me.” Jenna looked at Molly. “Didn’t I hear he was doing some work for you?”

  “Um, he helped out while Amanda was out of town.”

  “Ah. Well, I’ve got to run, but if there’s anything else you need done, just let me know. I should be picking up your order for stationery next week.”

  “Great. I appreciate all the work.”

  “I appreciate the business,” Jenna replied with a smile.

  After Jenna left, Molly vacuumed the rug in the entryway, polished the banister on the stairway and swept the hardwood floors.

  Then she broke for lunch. While she ate, she made her shopping list for Sara’s party. She’d received specific instructions from her child about what to serve. Frankly, hot dogs didn’t enchant Molly. Nor could she demonstrate her cooking skills with such mundane fare.

  But the party wasn’t about her. It was for Sara, and she’d requested hot dogs.

  Then Molly made a second shopping list for the weekend. She planned to have the house spotless by Friday evening. If she kept the party contained to the kitchen and breakfast area, that shouldn’t be too difficult.

  Saturday she’d do all the cooking, except for the last-minute preparations. Sunday she’d be relaxed and ready to greet her neighbors.

  After lunch, she continued to polish and scrub. Sara would be brought by the car pool she and several other mothers had organized. Tuesdays and Fridays were her days to drive, so today she could remain at home.

  At three-fifteen the doorbell rang. Checking her watch, she wondered if school had let out early. Hurrying to the door, she swung it open, her gaze fixed on where Sara’s head would be.

  Then traveled up the dark overcoat until it reached Quinn’s face. She hadn’t seen him since their embarrassing encounter last Friday.

  And she had no idea why he was here now.

  She’d discussed her case with Amanda by phone. Amanda assured her Quinn had handled everything.

  “What— I mean, hello, Mr. Spencer.”

  “Hello, Molly.”

  When he stood there, saying nothing else, she asked, “Did you want to come in?” She couldn’t imagine why, but politeness demanded that she offer.

  With a smile he went past her, already removing his overcoat. He planned to stay?

  “I hope you don’t mind,” he said with a smile. “I was in the neighborhood and I thought I’d check on arrangements for Sunday. I feel sort of responsible since it was my idea.”

  She stared at him. “But you offered it as a suggestion. It was my decision to go ahead with it,” she assured him, frowning. “You have no reason to feel responsible.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe not. But I hear a lot of people are coming. I thought I should warn you you might have a crowd.”

  “But I haven’t even advertised it yet. How could you hear—”

  He chuckled, almost a rusty tone, as if he didn’t often laugh. It was an entrancing sound. “This is a small town. I certainly mentioned it to my father. It seems he’s visiting with Lydia a lot. He discussed it with her. She, of course, told the ladies at Worthington House, who in turn told—”

  “I get the picture.” Molly nodded. “Well, I appreciate your letting me know.”

  After a pause, he said, “I wouldn’t turn down a cup of coffee, if you have any made. It’s been a long day.”

  Molly was horrified by her lapse in good mann
ers. The man threw her off track every time. “Of course. Do you mind the kitchen?”

  “I love your kitchen,” he assured her with a smile. “You don’t happen to need any muffins tasted, do you?”

  She couldn’t hold back a return smile. “No, but you could test the oatmeal-raisin cookies. I put pecans in the recipe this time.”

  “I’ll sacrifice myself for the good of science,” he agreed with a heavy sigh and a grin that signaled his playacting.

  “How big of you,” she agreed solemnly, and led the way to the kitchen.

  “It probably will be,” he said, following her. “I’ll probably put on unwanted pounds with all this testing.”

  With a quick look over her shoulder, she muttered, “I don’t think you’re in any danger.” In fact, he looked just about perfect from her point of view. Not that she was interested, of course. She’d looked for the sake of science.

  Seated at the table with a steaming cup of coffee and a plate of cookies in front of him, Quinn asked, “Aren’t you going to join me?”

  She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down across from him. “I’ll let you do the tasting, since I’ve already tried a few too many.”

  He bit into the first cookie and closed his eyes to savor the taste. Then he finished that one and reached for another. “I’d better try more than one. For quality control, you know. That one could be a rogue cookie that didn’t conform to the rest of them.”

  “True,” she agreed, and nudged the plate closer to him.

  “So how are plans shaping up for Sunday?”

  “I’m pretty much on schedule. Oh, here’s the ad that will be in the paper. I’ve decided to run it Friday, Saturday and Sunday, so everyone will see it.” She proudly displayed the paper Jenna had brought by earlier. “Jenna—I mean your sister-in-law—did it for me.”

  “Very nice.”

  “Yes, she’s been a real godsend. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to find what I needed in such a small town, but she’s designed my stationery, my invoices, my business cards, everything I’ll need. And once I finalize my menus, she’ll do those, too.”

  “Are you serving anything but breakfast?”

  “Not really. But I figured offering a late-night snack, like a pot of coffee and cookies or something like that, might be a good idea. And on Sundays, maybe a brunch that would be open to the public, too.”

  “That’s pretty ambitious,” he said, a frown on his face.

  Molly felt herself stiffen and drew a deep breath. “I’m an ambitious person. I want my business to succeed.”

  He reached for another cookie. “I don’t see how it could fail. And if it does, you can open a bakery. We don’t really have a first-class bakery in town.”

  About to answer him, Molly froze. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Friday, when she made Sara’s birthday cake, she could show off her skills. And the Christmas cake she intended to make for her open house. If she printed up a notice about special occasion baking, she might be able to generate more income. And she loved baking.

  “Molly? Molly, did I say something wrong?”

  She beamed at him. “No! You’ve given me another idea! I can offer special occasion baking to order. After all, I’ll have my afternoons free even after I open. I could use that time to— I’ll call Jenna and get her to make me a sign for Sunday that discreetly advertises my services. What a wonderful idea!”

  “I didn’t mean you should do more work. You’ve already taken on a big job, Molly. I’m not sure—”

  The sound of a car horn interrupted his warning.

  “Sara’s home! I’ll be right back.” She hurried to the front door. When she came back in with Sara, Quinn still sat at the table. Somehow, she’d expected him to disappear.

  Having prepared Sara, she was gratified when her child greeted Quinn properly. “Hi, Mr. Spencer. You came to see us!”

  Quinn returned her daughter’s big smile. “Yes, I did. How are you?”

  Suddenly Molly knew what was coming, but she didn’t see any way to avoid it. She didn’t want this man involved in her life. He was too much of a temptation. Both to her and Sara. And she was sure he wasn’t interested.

  But Sara, a beaming smile on her face, was about to make it difficult to keep him away.

  Chapter Seven

  “I’m having a birthday in two days,” Sara exclaimed. “Will you come to my party?”

  Quinn stared at the little girl. She was as bright and charming as he’d remembered. Just like her mother. “Your party? You’re having a party for your birthday?”

  “Yes. On Friday. And we’re having hot dogs!” Sara announced, obviously considering the menu to be the pièce de résistance.

  “No!” Molly began.

  “I’d love to,” Quinn said at the same time. How could he turn Sara down?

  “Mr. Spencer, you’re not thinking. Sara, Mr. Spencer will have to be at work. He can’t come to the party.”

  “But he said yes, Mommy. Didn’t you, Mr. Spencer?”

  “Yes, I did. What time is your party?” Molly’s obvious reluctance to have him come to Sara’s party only made it more important for him to be there.

  “When we come home from school,” Sara informed him.

  He looked at his watch. “Of course I can leave work a little early.”

  “On Fridays, school lets out at noon. And there will be twelve four-year-olds, Mr. Spencer. I don’t think you want to be a part of that.” Molly kept her voice low, as if hoping her daughter wouldn’t realize she was discouraging him.

  “I’ll get presents and everything. I’ve never had a party before!” The excitement built in Sara’s voice.

  “I can’t wait,” Quinn assured her with a wink. He thought about his own childhood. There had been only a couple of birthday parties, where his father took him and several friends to a pizza place for a brief marking of his special day. He was pleased that Sara would have a real celebration.

  And he was surprised at how much he wanted to be a part of it. If the decision had been left to Molly, he knew he wouldn’t be invited. But she loved her child too much to deny her invitation to Quinn.

  Molly poured a glass of milk for Sara and got her her own saucer of cookies. Then she put her at a small table in front of a portable television over near the window. “It’s time for Sesame Street, sweetie.”

  “Okay. Do you like Cookie Monster?” she asked Quinn before she sat down.

  “Uh, yeah,” he assured her with a smile.

  Beside him, Molly muttered, “You have no idea who that is, do you?”

  “Not a clue,” he whispered. “Is he bad or good?”

  She shook her head in despair. “When you get back to the office, call and tell me you’ve got to see a client on Friday afternoon. I’ll explain to Sara.”

  It took him a minute to realize she was giving him a way out from attending the party. “Are you taking back my invitation?”

  She plopped down onto the chair next to him, a disgusted look on her face. “Quinn Spencer, I’m trying to give you an out to make up for your monumentally bad decision to accept Sara’s invitation.”

  “Bad for me, or bad for you?”

  Stunned, she stared at him. “Bad for me? Why would your coming to Sara’s party be bad for me?”

  “I have no idea, but you sure are working hard to discourage me.”

  “Didn’t you hear me? There will be twelve four-year-olds, all eating sugar. You’ll hate it.”

  “How do you know?”

  “You hate kids! I heard you!”

  He was growing tired of the conversation she’d overheard being used to condemn him. “I did not say I hated kids. I said I didn’t have room for them in my life.”

  “Well, there you go. Obviously, Friday will be inconvenient for you.”

  “But I hadn’t met Sara,” he added, as if she hadn’t spoken. “She’s—she’s special. And I want to come to her birthday party.”

  “Fine,” she snapped. “Put on someth
ing wash-and-wear and take two aspirin before you come. And don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

  AFTER MOLLY’S CHALLENGE, Quinn was prepared to show her he could handle something as innocuous as a child’s birthday party.

  And he was sure he could. The big difficulty wouldn’t be the party, but what present to buy. After discarding a lot of different ideas, on Thursday he took his problem to the one group of people on whom he could always rely.

  The Quilting Circle.

  “Sara’s having a birthday party?” Martha exclaimed. “I bet my great-grandson, Jeremy, will be there. He and Sara are best friends, don’t you know.”

  “No, I didn’t know,” Quinn said. “Would you like to go to the party with me? I’m sure Molly wouldn’t mind.”

  Martha’s face lit up. “Me? I’d love to— Oh, no, it’d be too much trouble for you.”

  “Not at all. In fact,” he said, leaning closer, “I need a friend. Molly didn’t think I should come. Is it that bad? I never— I mean I haven’t attended a children’s party in years.”

  “Of course not. They’re just noisy. Can’t keep little kids in their chairs,” Martha told him.

  “Then I’ll pick you up at noon on Friday. And we’re having hot dogs. Sara seems to think it’ll be a prime treat.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “Now, here’s my real problem. What do I get her for a present?”

  Martha and Quinn, along with some input from the others, discussed the perfect gift for at least half an hour. Then, promising to find a gift for Martha, too, and get it wrapped, he headed for Gates Department Store.

  That evening, with his purchases sitting proudly wrapped in the den, he called Molly.

  It was eight o’clock, after Sara’s bedtime, so he expected to have Molly’s full attention.

  Instead, she answered the phone as she always seemed to do when he talked with her. Breathless. “Hello?”

  “Is everything all right?”

  “Quinn? Um, yes, well, just a minute.”

  He sat in silence, straining to hear what was going on. It relieved him that he could hear no voices, particularly male voices, in the background.