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She had done the same for Bodie. Not that Sarah knew it.
She’d made and donated a quilt that had, for whatever reason, resonated deep within him, shrouding him in selfless goodness that had shut out the darkness and wrapped him within its healing powers.
What would Sarah say, think, if she knew he had her quilt?
Part of him didn’t think she’d mind, that she’d love the fact that her quilt meant so much to him.
Another part wondered if she’d consider him a crazy stalker with nothing better to do than track down a quilter and take on her home repairs.
Yeah, that didn’t make him sound crazy. Much.
Uncomfortable with his thoughts, he glanced around at the empty ornament boxes.
“I’m going to carry these to the attic.”
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“I’ll help.”
There were only a few, but more than he could get in one trip, so arguing was futile.
Regardless, gathering up the empty boxes changed the subject and that was his main objective. His and Sarah’s conversation had too many personal undertones.
The single trip up the stairs didn’t bother his hip.
Once they got the boxes stored, he turned and found Sarah eyeing the cluttered corner of the attic. It appeared to be the odds and ends storage area, full of bits of furniture, trunks, boxes, and who knew what else beneath the stacks, drop cloths, and layers of dust.
“What’s all that stuff?”
“Who knows?” she answered. “Once the estate was settled to where I could get started on the repairs, my priority was downstairs in hopes of getting things ready for the open house. I haven’t gone through things up here, beyond throwing out whatever got damaged when the roof leaked. Once I get the suites up and going, I’ll need to process all of this in hopes that some of the furniture will be useable.”
“What happened to your aunt’s furniture?”
“Everything from the downstairs suites is either stored upstairs, in my dad’s garage, or piled up in corners. The mostly empty upstairs rooms are from where she sold things over the years.”
“If any of the items she sold were like some of the antiques downstairs, then it’s a shame she had to let them go.”
“There were some beautiful pieces. But she needed the money.” He could hear the pain she felt that her aunt had had to sell her furniture, that Sarah hadn’t been able to help her. “Best I can tell, over the past five years, she was supplementing her income by selling things out of the house.”
“Why didn’t she open the B & B herself to bring in some income?”
Sarah shrugged. “Good question, and not one I have an answer to. Certainly, she and I talked about opening one often enough.”
Sarah glanced over at the pile of stuff again.
“I have to admit, part of the reason I’ve put off going through this stuff is because of the heartache of going through more of Aunt Jean’s things, rather than not having the time.” At his look, she added, “Don’t get me wrong. I’ve been busy. My aunt kept things just done enough that no one suspected she was having money issues. Once she passed and I really looked around, I could see a lot of little things that should have been repaired or replaced years before. The house, the yard… so many things had been neglected.”
“I’m sure she did what she could.”
Sarah nodded. “Right up until she got sick just after Thanksgiving, she was a fireball of energy. But, truthfully, most of her time was spent helping me. From the time I could walk and talk, I could always count on Aunt Jean and the Butterflies to make any project I dreamed up happen.”
Bodie tried to imagine Sarah’s childhood, the love that was directed at her from so many people, and he couldn’t. She was easy to…well, for her friends and family, she was easy to love.
Take him, for example.
He wasn’t in love with Sarah, but even as jaded as he was, he cared about her well-being. Sarah exuded goodness, so it was no wonder others wanted to help her, to be a part of that goodness in some way.
A temporary way to feel good about himself.
