One Snowy Night (Sweet Home, Alaska #1) - Patience Griffin Page 0,12

under your skin,” her mother said.

“She has no right to say those things. She’s so obnoxious.”

“I know it seems that way, but you should feel sorry for her. She has no family—no kids, no husband. This community is all she has, and what seems like teasing or gossiping is just her way of connecting with other people.”

“Tell her to stop!” Hope said.

“Here is what’s good about Miss Lisa. She’s an excellent quilter and loves to teach others. Ask her to show you how to hand-appliqué and I bet she’ll be nice to you in the future.”

Mom had been right. The next time Hope saw Miss Lisa, she asked for help on a Sunbonnet Sue quilt for Izzie. Miss Lisa had beamed and been a patient teacher to Hope. That connection had kept Miss Lisa in check even when Hope had turned up pregnant at seventeen. But apparently there was an expiration date on praising Miss Lisa’s quilting abilities, because she seemed in rare form today. Hope’s mom wasn’t here anymore to make her feel better. And the Sisterhood of the Quilt was no more, too.

Hope stopped by the canned peas, turned around, and came back to the front of the store with purpose. “Do you still quilt, Miss Lisa? I remember your quilts were the most exquisite in the borough. I loved your Baltimore quilts. Do you still have them?”

Miss Lisa’s brows knitted together and she looked sad. “I haven’t quilted in years. My eyes don’t work good anymore.”

Hope felt sorry for her and took a step nearer. “I’d love to come over sometime and look at your collection.” She didn’t know where the offer had come from. Where was she going to find the time to pay a call on Miss Lisa?

The old woman perked up. “Would you bring your daughter with you?”

“Sure.” If Hope could get her to come.

“How about tomorrow evening?”

“Let me check with Ella to see if she’s free.”

Miss Lisa dug in her purse and came up with a pad of paper. “Write down your number so I can call you in the morning.”

Hope started questioning whether she’d done the right thing. But she took the paper and wrote down her number.

“Eighteen-fifty,” Piney said to Miss Lisa.

Miss Lisa smiled brightly at Hope but spoke to Piney. “Hold my groceries. I need to get some more.”

“Talk to you tomorrow.” Feeling resigned, Hope walked away, kicking herself for taking on one more thing. She couldn’t imagine a life where she had time for herself once in a while—to soak in the tub, read a magazine, or just time to daydream.

But the reality was she had inventory to count and a list to make for next week’s order. She settled into her two-hour shift, alone in the back. An hour and a half later, Piney called on her phone.

“I need you to come to the front and watch things here. Sparkle isn’t feeling well, and I need to get her upstairs. You can close up, can’t you?”

“I’ll be right there.” Hope wanted to stay in the back. But being in the back room hadn’t given her anxiety a rest. Instead, being alone gave her mind time to wander to old memories and good times with Donovan. Though her heart would like to see him again, she couldn’t. It wasn’t just that she wanted to grant him his wish of never seeing her again; she also didn’t want him to see that she’d never become the person she’d envisioned for herself, that she’d never even left Sweet Home. Hope trudged to the front, passing Sparkle on the way.

“Sorry to take you from inventory,” Sparkle said. “Mom insists she has to go up to the apartment with me. Between you and me”—Sparkle leaned toward Hope conspiratorially but winced from the movement—“I think Mom’s feet are bothering her today.”

“You go rest. I don’t mind watching the front.” As long as a certain person from her past didn’t come in to haunt her.

Piney squeezed Hope’s hand as she walked by. “See you bright and early in the morning.”

“You bet.” Hope smiled at Mr. Brewster, who was making his way to the front with a loaf of bread. “How are you today, Mr. Brewster?”

He grinned at her. “Better than I’ve been in a long time.”

Hope wondered what was up with him. He was a nice man, but he never looked this happy. She took his money, stashed his bread in his reusable shopping bag, and wished him a good evening. Only twenty more minutes