Free The Unrelenting Tide (Islands of Intrigue: San Juans - Christian Romantic Suspense) by Lynnette Bonner

floating towards her. Yes, floating was the only way to describe the way the elderly lady walked. Her posture, always perfectly straight, somehow made Devynne feel inches shorter than her five feet two. Devynne had never seen her wear anything but long flowing dresses that flared slightly at the bottom, hiding her feet, and thus making it look like she floated everywhere she went. Her perpetual cigarette, long, slim, brown and sickly smelling stood like a sentinel over her elegantly tapered, bejeweled hand. And her ever-present White Shoulders perfume wafted out in a cloud before her. Hair perfectly coifed, makeup immaculate, haughty expression firmly in place, Mrs. Abernathy looked down her nose at Devynne and took a long pull on her cigarette.
    “Didn’t we agree you would have that quilt to me by the end of last week, Devynne?” she asked, smoke spewing from her mouth.
    Devynne smiled. She had half-way expected something of the sort. “No, Mrs. Abernathy. I have a copy of the contract here in my briefcase. I’ll pull it out for you as soon as we get inside.” She hurried on before the woman could speak. “The quilt turned out lovely. I think you’re really going to like it.” She stepped past the woman and entered the house uninvited. “Here, I’ll lay it across the couch for you.”
    She proceeded to do so, ignoring the lady’s mumbling about people’s manners these days. “There,” Devynne said, smoothing out the last wrinkle, “you check it over and I’ll pull out that contract.”
    The look on Mrs. Abernathy’s face said it all. She loved the quilt, but somehow Devynne didn’t think she would be forthcoming about it. Devynne bent and dug through her briefcase, hiding a smile as she did so.
    “Hmmm,” the lady mumbled to herself, but just loud enough so Devynne would be sure to hear, “the stitching on this one doesn’t seem to be as fine as on the others.”
    “I—” Devynne cut off, determined to hold her tongue.
    “And the colors, well…they aren’t exactly what I had in mind.”
    Mrs. Abernathy had examined the material and approved the colors herself before Devynne ever began work on the quilt. Devynne flipped a page in the contract, studying it as though it were of great interest to her. In reality, the words blurred into a gray haze. She silently counted to ten and then on to twenty-five before she allowed herself to open her mouth for a quick breath.
    “This work really is inferior to the other two, I purchased from you,” Mrs. Abernathy said, turning towards her and blowing a cloud of smoke. “I would get much better quality if I went to the Amish folk back east.”
    That , Devynne didn’t doubt. But Mrs. Abernathy wasn’t paying the premium price she would pay for an Amish quilt either.
    Devynne bit her lip. She really needed the money from this sale, but three times of listening to complaints about her ‘shoddy’ work was quite enough. Maybe she didn’t have all the skill of an Amish woman but she knew Mrs. Abernathy wouldn’t find a better made quilt for miles around. For each of the last three years Carcen had taken one of her quilts to the county fair and each time she had won the blue ribbon for quality.
    Something inside her tightened up like material in a quilting ring. “Well,” Devynne shrugged, “I liked it so well that I wished I had made two. So if you don’t want it, I’ll just keep it.”
    She shoved the contract back into her briefcase and bent, gathering the quilt into her arms. “I’m sorry you didn’t like it. Maybe you should find someone else to make another one for you. There is a quilt shop over in Anacortes. They might know someone to recommend.” She stretched out her hand to the very surprised Mrs. Abernathy who took it only out of pure reflex. “Thank you for your past business, and I wish you good luck in the future.” With that Devynne turned on her heel, hoping that she had judged the woman correctly.
    She almost reached the door