“What they do is important. Sarah’s quilt and generous heart pulled Bodie from a dark place.” And had indirectly done the same for Zach.
He wasn’t sure how to explain how Bodie telling him about Sarah and her quilt had reached inside him at his darkest point when he’d been wrestling with demons too many of his brothers and sisters in arms lost their battle with. His wise occupational therapist had used his fascination to help him focus on rehabbing his hand and his inner psyche.
He was quite proud of the squares he’d made for the group’s annual block drive. “I’d like to buy something for Sarah. She’s the kindest person I’ve ever met. Will you help me choose something she’d like?”
If Isabelle had looked surprised before, she now looked floored. “You want to buy Sarah a gift? I… of course, I’ll help. That’s my job. What’s your price range?”
“Whatever you think.” Money didn’t mean much to Zach. He’d inherited a hefty sum from his grandmother, had lived minimally, and invested wisely. He had his military check and Lukas paid him a small fortune. Financially, he didn’t have to work. But mentally and emotionally, Zach needed to be serving in ways that made the world a safer, better place.
“I’m not sure telling a business owner whatever she thinks is a good idea when she’s trying to sell you something,” Isabelle pointed out, still eyeing him with an odd expression.
His gaze met hers, and for once she didn’t immediately look away. “I’ll buy Sarah whatever you suggest, Blondie. I trust you.”
Odd since she professed to not like him, but Zach did trust her. His every instinct said Isabelle Davis was a woman of her word—except when it came to her claims of not liking him. On that, her eyes contradicted her words of dislike.
“I, uh, okay,” she stammered, then tucked her hair behind her ear. “Lucky for you, I won’t march you over to our longarm machines.”
The fancy sewing machines must be the most expensive item in the shop.
“Does Sarah need a longarm?”
Eyes wide, Isabelle shrugged. “Sophie would say every woman needs a longarm quilting machine, but your wallet is safe. Sarah prefers to sew on her Aunt Jean’s old Singer.”
Zach knew the machine Isabelle referred to. It was the one Sarah had been using that morning when she’d grilled him on his picnic with Isabelle and had offered advice as if he planned to woo and date her friend. He wasn’t going to be in town that long, so dating Isabelle wasn’t why they were going to lunch. But she fascinated him, and he wanted to help her.
“Sarah has been eyeing some of the quilt kits that Sophie recently put together. Maybe you could get her one of those?” Isabelle gestured to the red, white, and blue quilt he’d touched.
“What’s in a quilt kit?”
“The items you need to make your own quilt already gathered together. Sophie organizes everything and does a fantastic job meeting our customers’ needs. There are various kits. Some just have patterns. Others have everything you need to complete the quilt top. Others include batting, backing, thread, the whole works from start to finish. Essentially, we offer something for everyone.”
“I’ll take that one.” At Isabelle’s questioning look, he clarified. “The one with everything.”
She named a price as if that might scare him off.
“That’s all? Make it two, then.” Maybe he’d give making a quilt from start to finish a try, especially if he ended up staying as Sarah was insisting he do.
“Two?” Isabelle’s forehead scrunched, then, seeming uncomfortable, she pulled a couple of bulky packages from the shelf. Her lower lip disappeared between her teeth and her fingers tugged at the plastic wrapping. “Can I ask why you’re buying Sarah a gift?”
He arched his brow. “Isn’t it customary to give a house gift when a guest, or did you expect me to be such a heathen that I wouldn’t know that?”
“Definitely the latter,” she said, still picking at the plastic. “Do you want me to ring these up now or after lunch?”
He had nowhere to store them since he’d had Bodie drop him off. “I’ll pay now and grab them after lunch.”
Isabelle headed toward the cashier counter. She rang up his items and told him the total. “I’ll get our lunch from the back and then we can get this over with.”
“Don’t sound so excited,” he teased, handing her his debit card. “By the way, I feel guilty. When I invited you to lunch, I didn’t mean for you to prepare our food.”
“It wasn’t a big deal.” She slid his card into the machine. He started to say it was, but she stayed him. “Really, it wasn’t. I didn’t do a single thing. I got up this morning planning to make sandwiches to find Sophie already in the kitchen with a basket and cooler bag packed with who knows what?”
“You didn’t look?”
She shook her head. “She wasn’t finished and said she would bring them to the shop. I was busy when she got here and never took the time.”
“No worries. Your lunch is perfect,” Sophie called, obviously listening in to their conversation, as she came through a door behind the counter. Wearing a bright red shirt covered with tiny Santa faces with fuzzy white balls on top of each hat, she carried a large cloth bag with the shop’s logo on it, identical to the one Isabelle had been carrying on the day they’d met. A Christmas quilt overflowed from the top. “Zach, I love that you’re buying Sarah a hostess gift. That’s so sweet, isn’t it, Izzy?”
Isabelle grimaced. “Sugary so.”
