Confessions from the Quilting Circle - Maisey Yates Page 0,7
are eating us out of house and home,” David said.
“They’re teenagers.” She shrugged as she set the bags onto the island. “It’s what they do.”
“Sure,” he said, his focus on his phone.
She busied herself putting the groceries in the fridge and the pantry, her mind blank for the first time all day. It had been filled with everything she’d had to do and this was the first time she’d slowed down long enough to have her own thoughts. If she wanted to.
But she was too tired for thinking today.
When she exited the walk-in pantry, her husband had put his phone away.
He looked at her and smiled. Something inside of her lit up.
He was just as handsome as the day she’d met him. They’d been young. Just finishing up college. He wasn’t from Oregon, but he had always wanted to go there. It so happened Medford had a good couple of hospitals, and there was ample opportunity for a new surgeon who was young and full of enthusiasm.
So she had moved back home. And he had moved with her.
“How is your mom?” he asked.
“She’s good. I mean, fine. You know how my mom is. She’s a big believer in sucking it up and soldiering on. She doesn’t talk about her feelings. But I think Gram’s death affected her a little bit more deeply than she expected it to. Considering they weren’t exactly that close.”
“Your gram always came to Sunday dinner, it’s not like they were strangers.”
“No, no I know.” But Avery also knew they were distant from each other. Gram was so easy with her, and with the kids. But a tightness came over her face when Mary entered the room.
And with her mom, who could even tell?
Avery sighed, sadness settling over her. This Sunday would be a dinner-at-Mom’s Sunday. They’d had one other since Gram’s death and Avery missed her sweet presence so much. Missed her giving the kids craft projects to do. Missed her rocking in that ratty old recliner her parents had had in the living room for at least thirty years while she ate her dessert.
Pie had been her favorite. Pumpkin.
Avery had learned her recipe years ago, and she’d made it for her extra in the months leading up to her death because she’d felt her slipping away and...
And there had been nothing she could do about it. Of course not. Gram was in her nineties and it was how life was. But Avery resented it.
Gram had been her link back to such a beautiful time in her life. To moments when she’d felt close with her sisters. When her biggest worry had been getting through snapping enough peas for dinner so she could go sit in the sunshine with a book or with her cross-stitch.
When she’d dreamed of going to college and maybe going somewhere new after. When she’d dreamed of being an actress or a writer. Something fabulous and exciting that had just felt so possible in the warmth of a sunbeam in a grandmother’s tiny backyard.
“What all did you do today?” David asked, his voice filled with concern.
“Had a meeting at school. I went to coffee with Alyssa to talk about organizing speakers for the Writer’s Festival for next school year. I scrounged up some dinner for you guys, and got some food together to take to mom and Avery and Lark. Visited with them for a while. Grocery store. Then home.” She paused for a moment. “What about you?”
“Surgery all day.”
“Did it go well?”
He shrugged. “I’m a doctor. I’m not really seeing people at their best. I figure it goes well every time. Without help, there’d be no hope, right?”
She wondered if that meant someone had died, and he didn’t want to talk about it. It was hard to tell with him. It was why she always hesitated to ask about his day.
“I brought you flowers,” he said. “I know it’s been a rough few weeks.”
She blinked. “You did?”
“Yeah,” he said.
He moved to the side, and on the granite countertop, she saw a crystal vase, filled with red roses. “They’re beautiful.”
“You know I love you,” he said, wrapping his arms around her then, and bringing her in for a kiss. A deep sort of validation filled her. He was such a handsome, accomplished man. And he’d given her all this.