Page 60 of Windward Hearts

“Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate it.”

“Anything for you, Hope,” he said, meaning that too. There was a lot more to discuss between them, but he didn’t want to do it here, in front of everyone. “Congrats again on your success today. You really did amazing work. I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she agreed. She reached out and squeezed his hand one more time before he headed away. The sun felt dim compared to her smile as he headed out, as happy as he had been in ages.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

If Hope had ever worried that the hustle to get enough quilting done before the bazaar would make her grow tired of her new hobby, the weeks after the big event proved her wrong. Instead of feeling worn out by the rush, she felt invigorated.

She didn’t necessarily think that she would ever manage to sell quilts as a full-time job or anything. It was just a little too time-consuming, given the hours she spent working at Riverstone Kitchen. If she tried to add on a whole other career, she’d end up burning herself out. But an older woman at the bazaar had mentioned that there were a few craft fairs in the region where Hope’s wares would be well-received. The lady had left her contact information, and Hope planned to reach out. It sounded fun.

She folded up her most recent completed project, smiling over the idea. She was really proud of this one. It was her most ambitious pattern yet, and she was thrilled with the way it had turned out.

“Ooh, that one looks beautiful, sweetheart,” Miriam said, coming into the kitchen, grabbing some grapes off the counter where Hope had recently washed them, and popping one into her mouth. “You’ve really been quilting up a storm these past few weeks.”

“It’s your fault, if you really think about it,” Hope said with a teasing wink, grabbing some grapes herself. “You got me sucked into that show of yours, and it’s just so perfect for quilting, tea, and snacks.”

Miriam had gotten Hope into a long-running drama about nurses after the Second World War. Hope was about two episodes in before she started doing her hair up in barrel curls. They just looked too cute.

“Yes, yes, blame the woman who has introduced you to both your beloved hobby and a deeply fascinating look at women in the working world on the cusp of a large feminist movement!”

Hope laughed at the indignant look on her grandmother’s face.

“You’re right. I should be thanking you,” she amended.

“Just as I suspected,” Miriam retorted with a wink. She crossed to Hope’s folded quilt and ran an admiring hand over it. “I will say, though, honey, you’re going to have a real headache shipping all those quilts back home. They’re not exactly ‘light packing.’”

Hope bit her lip, but she was smiling.

“Well, I’ve been thinking about that,” she admitted.

The past few weeks had been lovely. She really liked her job at Riverstone Kitchen, and she already felt almost as at home there as she had at Sharp’s, even though she’d only been in the new role for a few weeks and had worked at the old restaurant for years. She no longer felt like she was just an add-on for her grandmother at book club, and had even had lunch with June and Diana the other day when they’d all been free on a random afternoon. She’d taken a walk along the beach the other evening, and though the water had been very cold where it had lapped at her toes, she’d had a wonderful time.

She loved this town. She loved that she almost always ran into someone when she was getting coffee, but that they were all kind enough that she didn’t even mind if she looked like she’d just thrown on spare clothes on laundry day… something that had happened on Thursday. And she loved quiet evenings with Miriam.

But, if she was being honest, she had to admit that the part she liked the most was getting to see Jared every day.

“What if I… stay for a while?” Hope concluded, scrunching up her nose. “Would you mind if I stayed in your spare room for a little while longer?”

“Oh, honey.” Miriam wrapped her arm around Hope’s shoulders. “You are welcome to stay as long as you want. But I have to ask… is this decision to stick around a little while longer related to a certain handsome chef?”

Hope knew her cheeks were pink.

“It might,” she confessed.

“And… does he know how you feel?” Miriam prodded.

Hope bobbled her head from side to side. “We’ve… kind of sort of danced around the issue of maybe, possibly finding one another… interesting?”

“That’s a no, then,” Miriam concluded. “Anything with that much hedging is a no.”

Hope winced. “Yeah, I probably should be more straightforward with him about it.”

It wasn’t that she hadn’t considered talking to Jared. But every time she’d almost gotten there, something had held her back.

With Miriam raising her eyebrows and staring her down, Hope decided that this ‘something’ was her being a big baby chicken.

“I have to be more straightforward with him,” she said with a resigned sigh.