From This Moment - Kim Vogel Sawyer Page 0,6

as keen on cutting the clothing items into strips as she was on watching Kenzie turn them into rugs on a loom that had to have come over on the Mayflower. What was it about the process that fascinated her so? She didn’t have a clue, but it was more entertaining than anything on television. Which was good since Kenzie didn’t even have a TV in her apartment.

“If you’d like. I’d really appreciate it.” Kenzie tugged at her T-shirt hem again. “But you’ve helped me so much, and I’ve never really done anything for you. I need to return the favor.”

Never done anything for her? Kenzie’d been a faithful friend, one who never betrayed a confidence. But she likely wouldn’t see that as a favor. She was just being Kenzie. There was something Lori needed, though. “If you’re serious, I could sure use your help with a party.”

“What kind of party?”

“Brother and Sister Kraft are hosting a welcome-to-Bradleyville gathering Saturday evening for our new youth minister. An informal time for him to get acquainted with the youth and their parents.”

Kenzie’s fine brows came together. “I didn’t know you worked with the youth.”

Lori gave an ominous ha ha ha. “I don’t. Can you imagine?” She’d had no tolerance for teenage drama even when she was a teenager. Maybe that’s why she got along with Kenzie so well. A lot of people considered the former Amish woman standoffish because of her quiet ways, but Lori appreciated her friend’s reserved demeanor. Kenzie stabilized her. “But I am part of the kitchen team—helping with fellowship meals and so forth. So Sister Kraft called us to duty for this get-together.”

Ruby walked up, arms swinging. “What’s my sister put you up to now?”

Lori gave Ruby a hug. “The welcome party for the new youth minister.”

“That’s planned for Saturday evening, right?”

Lori nodded. Of course Ruby would already know about it. She and Sister Kraft probably talked about everything, the way sisters did. Only having brothers, she had no firsthand experience with such relationships. Something she had in common with Kenzie. “I’m trying to recruit Kenzie to help by making some of her killer brownies.”

Ruby laughed. “Baking brownies is one of Kenzie’s many talents. Speaking of which…” The woman looked at Kenzie. “I laid out a new quilt kit in the sewing corner. It’s cuter than cute—three strip-pieced cats, all done in primary colors. I took the liberty of cutting the fabric into strips, but I’d like you to sew it together. And please do it as quickly as possible. It’ll be darling hanging in the front window as a sample.”

Kenzie bustled off, and Ruby turned to Lori. “As for you, someone made an absolute mess of the embroidery thread display. Would you straighten it out? I’ll be in my office, working on the summer order, if you need me.”

Lori shot a glance around the neat sales floor. Were she and Kenzie the only two employees on the schedule for today? “Who’ll tend to customers?”

“Barbara will be here by nine, and she’ll handle customers.” The woman’s face clouded. “Assuming we have some.”

Lori gave a mock salute. “I’ll get right to it.” She hugged Ruby again, then scampered in the direction of the craft area. Ruby’s expression lingered in Lori’s memory, and worry attempted to take hold. She pushed it aside. The fabric shop had been a mainstay for three decades. A slow period didn’t need to spell gloom. Of course it didn’t.

Bradleyville

Jase

One good thing about not owning lots of stuff was that it didn’t take too long to get organized. Shortly before noon on his second day in Bradleyville, Jase flattened the last of the emptied boxes and plopped it on the stack by the door. As soon as he carried the tower of cardboard down the stairs to a recycling dumpster, the open-concept kitchen, dining, and living area of his apartment would be as neat as a pin. The way he liked it.

When Brother Tony told him the church would provide his living quarters, Jase didn’t know what to expect. Yesterday after lunch when he’d followed Brother Kraft up the set of outside stairs to the second-floor landing, he’d mentally prepared himself for disappointment. How nice could a place be if it was part of a garage? But the paint, carpet, and tile were so recently updated that the “new” scent still lingered. All in all, it was much brighter and fresher than his old townhome. Despite its size—less than half the space he’d had

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