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“Carrie sure has done a great job with that one. I had to pick up some heavier items from the feed store, so Mr. Harvey sent Jeff along with me to help with anything I needed.” Mrs. Harvey winked. “Little did either of them know, I planned to make a detour to hit a few of the local sales, too.”
Sophie suspected Jeff and Mr. Harvey had known exactly what Mrs. Harvey was up to when she’d chosen Black Friday to pick up feed store supplies, but she kept that thought to herself.
“It doesn’t look like Jeff minds this particular detour in the slightest,” Sophie mused, giving Mrs. Harvey a conspiratorial smile as they watched the two teenagers laugh at something Jeff was showing Annabelle on his phone.
“I’d say not. Claudia’s granddaughter is a beauty. I don’t think anyone was the slightest bit surprised when she won Little Miss Pine Hill last year.” Mrs. Harvey sounded as proud as if Annabelle was her own granddaughter and as if she wasn’t talking about Sophie’s cousin.
“She’s even more beautiful on the inside,” Sophie assured, folding the piece of fabric she’d just cut, then writing the amount on a piece of paper she stuck to the top. “We love her dearly.”
“Will she be entering Miss Pine Hill this year?”
Sophie nodded. “Her mother signed her up the day entries opened. I think they caught the pageant bug last year when Annabelle won and were glad she moved up an age category so they could compete again this year.”
“She’s a shoo-in. I recall your Grandmother Belle was a beauty queen, too,” Mrs. Harvey mused. “No one in the county stood a chance if she entered a pageant. All you girls favor her to some degree, but Annabelle is her spitting image.”
Sophie smiled. Her mother rarely spoke of Sophie’s grandmother’s pageant days, but Aunt Claudia loved to go on about them to her daughters, nieces, and grandchildren, which Sophie had always found strange. She’d have thought it would be exactly opposite as Darlene had grown up to love make-up and hairstyling while Aunt Claudia wore her naturally gray locks up in a tidy, no-nonsense bun. Sophie couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen her aunt’s hair down or her mother not done up to a tee outside the privacy of home.
“We all thought she’d go on to do great things, to travel the world and live the life of the rich and famous,” Mrs. Harvey continued.
“From what Aunt Claudia says, Grandma Belle never regretted her life choices.” Although Sophie had wondered more than once if her grandmother’s decision to lead a quiet life had led to Claudia craving to see the world. Thank goodness she was finally getting to realize that dream.
Mrs. Harvey smiled. “It’s no wonder. She loved your grandpa very much and always seemed so happy. It didn’t surprise anyone when they passed within six months of each other.”
No. Even as a young girl, it hadn’t surprised Sophie, either. Her grandparents’ love for each other had been palpable and so unlike what she’d witnessed between her own parents. Sophie was thankful for them, because they’d given her an example to strive toward someday.
When Cole popped into her mind, Sophie shoved him right back out and handed Mrs. Harvey’s material to her. Cole was not going to be part of any relationship that she should be striving toward. Not today. Not someday. Not any day.
Only, he sure sent her pulse through the roof just at the thought of him.
“Is there anything else I can help you with?” she asked Mrs. Harvey.
Taking the fabric, the woman shook her head. “This is all I need, but, Lord willing, I’ll be back for that class. You’re right that matching stockings hanging from the mantle at the gift shop would look amazing.”
The day passed quickly. Thank goodness they’d had both their part-time helpers and Annabelle there to assist customers. She and Isabelle were both exhausted by the time they’d locked the front doors, but it had been a great day.
While Isabelle worked in the office, Sophie straightened out all the disorder in front, restocking items for the following day’s “buy local” sale, then sitting at one of the machines to make a couple dozen Petdanas as Carrie had texted to say she’d sold out again.
Late that night, in the privacy of her bedroom, Sophie sat on her bed, leaned back against the headboard, a light-hearted Christmas movie playing on her favorite television station, while she worked on her quilt.
“Meow.”
Sophie glanced over at her bedroom window.
“Seriously?” she said to the cat sitting on the ledge and staring in at her. “Did you come to thank me for the yummy cat nibbles from Carrie’s shop I left you on the porch?”
The cat blinked and continued to watch her through the glass pane.
“Just think, if you trusted me, you could be in here snuggled up on this blanket with me, getting some love and attention, but no, you have to play Mr. Hard-to-Get.”
Sophie continue to talk to the cat while she sewed, taking care to make sure she got each stitch evenly spaced. She took great care with all the quilts she donated, but this one felt special.
The furry feline settled in to watch her through the window.
“How about Stitches?” she asked, wondering how much the cat could hear through the glass panes. He probably could hear everything she was saying. After all, she’d heard his meow just fine. “Or Bobbin. I like both, for obvious reasons. But I think Stitches fits you best.”
Stitches the cat. Yep. She liked it.
The cat must have, too, because he laid down on the ledge, closed his eyes, and drifted off, looking at peace.
