but calm—as close to perfect as a spring day could get. Winter had taken its time departing, with temperatures bouncing up and down like her little brother Caleb on his pogo stick. Kenzie didn’t miss trekking to work through patches of slushy snow while a cold wind tried to tear the scarf from around her neck, as she’d done only a few weeks ago. According to the newspaper, by next week the temperature was expected to reach eighty degrees. Summer weather. She wouldn’t even need her jacket for her walk to and from work.
An airplane’s engine droned overhead, and out of habit she looked skyward. In her two years of living in Wichita, Kenzie had grown accustomed to the sound of aircraft. At first the noise had alarmed her. She’d been certain one of those huge planes would land on her apartment roof, they’d seemed so near. How her naivete must have amused her coworkers, who’d all grown up in this big town. Living in a city certainly differed from being on a farm with nothing but cows and cornfields for as far as she could see. Even though she’d lived in cities—first Indianapolis and now Wichita—for a full decade, the traffic, the close proximity of buildings, and the constant busyness continued to intimidate her. A part of her would probably always miss Indiana’s rolling farmland and quiet, but thanks to her connections with her coworkers and the people at church, Wichita was home.
She neared Central Avenue, and her stomach instinctively tightened. She hated crossing the six lanes of traffic. Two lanes flowed east, two flowed west, and two allowed drivers to turn into the businesses on either side. No matter the time of day, all lanes were busy. With no designated crosswalk at Silver Springs Boulevard, she either had to walk another half mile to utilize a crosswalk or make a dash among vehicles. Kenzie glanced at her wristwatch, a gift from her oldest brother and his wife for her twenty-first birthday. Only seven minutes before she needed to clock in at work. She inwardly groaned. No time for the longer walk.
Biting her lower lip, Kenzie zipped her gaze left and right, searching for a gap in the steady flow of traffic. She sent up a quick prayer for safety and bolted for the median. She paused, her pulse racing, then darted across the second set of lanes. A car honked and whizzed past as she leaped onto the curb, and she blew out the breath she always held while crossing the ridiculously well-traveled street. She offered another prayer—this one of gratitude for having made it without mishap—and trotted through the parking lot where Prairie Meadowlark Fabrics & Quilting was nestled between a beauty supply warehouse and a sporting goods store.
She peeked at her watch and smiled. Three minutes to spare. Lori’s car wasn’t in the area reserved for employees, so she’d even beaten her coworker. Who said feet weren’t dependable for transport? She tapped on the glass door, and moments later the shop’s owner, Ruby Key, hurried from behind the displays of cotton fabrics.
Ruby unlocked the door and swung it open, a smile lighting her round face. “Good morning, Kenzie.”
Kenzie stepped inside. A nutmeggy aroma filled her nostrils. Thanks to strategically placed bowls of potpourri, the shop always smelled better than her family’s barn, where she’d worked for years, helping with the milking. “Good morning, ma’am. How are you?”
“Fine, fine.” Ruby put her hands on her hips and tipped her lips into an impish grin. “And you’re going to be better than fine when I show you what I have in the storeroom.”
Kenzie’s heart gave a happy skip. “More clothes?”
Ruby laughed, the sound so merry Kenzie couldn’t resist smiling. “My dear, you have yet to see more. Come…” She headed for the rear of the store, her arms swinging.
Kenzie followed the older woman, excitement stirring.
“The box came all the way from Texas, delivered on a U-Haul.” Ruby talked as she walked, her voice carrying over the slap of her sandals’ soles against the tiled floor. “I talked about the unique way you support missions last Easter when our family gathered at my sister’s place. I’ve mentioned my Texas sister, Eileen, haven’t I? Well, she was so inspired, she wanted to contribute. She’s been collecting for almost a year.”
Kenzie cringed. “Did you tell her who the clothes were for?” She’d been raised with the instruction to never let her left hand know what her right hand