Free The True Love Quilting Club by Lori Wilde Page A

around children, perhaps because she’d been an only child. She never knew what to say to them, so she said nothing, just smiled and squatted down to his eye level.
    The boy stood staring at her. He didn’t say anything either.
    Emma grinned wider, using her smile to battle back the uncertainty churning her stomach. Did the kid hateher at first sight? She felt the heat of Sam’s gaze on her skin, and doubt assailed her. She didn’t know what to do next. Should she stand up? Say something?
    A second passed.
    Charlie stepped toward her.
    Emma didn’t move.
    He came closer, reached out a hand, and gently stroked her hair. His eyes softened and his bottom lip trembled.
    “Charlie’s mother had red hair,” Sam murmured so quietly she almost didn’t hear him.
    Had.
    Past tense. As in Charlie’s mother was no longer around. Was she dead? Had she walked out on them? Her stomach lurched. Emma knew exactly what it felt like to be abandoned by your mother.
    Charlie stared into her eyes and she could see his pain. Emma’s heart clutched. Who was she kidding? She could feel it.
    “Hi Charlie,” she whispered.
    Charlie said nothing.
    “He’s chosen not to speak,” Sam said.
    “Oh.”
    The boy kept stroking her hair like she was his long-lost mother returned. Emma battled the tears pushing against the backs of her eyelids. Her emotional nature might help her in acting, but in a situation like this, crying would be counterproductive. She blinked, widened her smile.
    Charlie threw his arms around her neck and squeezed tight.
    All the air rushed from Emma’s lungs, and she fell instantly, madly in love.
    “Lunch is ready.” A middle-aged woman, with anapron tied around her waist, appeared in the foyer. “Charlie, go wash up, please.”
    The boy let go of Emma’s neck and scampered off down the hall.
    “Hi,” the woman said, and held out her hand. “I’m Maddie Gunnison, Sam’s housekeeper.”
    Maddie carried a cautious aura about her, as if she didn’t take well to strangers. She possessed sharp cheekbones, intense blue eyes, and a nose that was too long for her narrow face. Her brown hair, threaded through with gray, was worn in a single braid down her back. She spoke with the lazy drawl and marsh-mallowy lilt of the East Texas piney woods.
    “Hello.” Emma shook her hand. “I’m Emma Parks.”
    Maddie looked from Emma to Sam and back again. “I take it you know Sam.”
    “We’re old friends.”
    “How fitting that Patches herded you home from the bus stop,” Maddie said.
    Was she being sarcastic? Emma couldn’t tell. “How did you know that’s what happened?”
    Maddie waved a hand. “That dog herds home at least one person a month. I keep telling Sam that Patches belongs on a sheep farm, but he’s too attached to the dog to ever give him up.”
    “Who knows, Maddie, maybe I’ll buy a sheep farm one day,” Sam said.
    “When would you have time for a sheep farm? It’s a miracle you haven’t been called away on an emergency today. It happens almost every Sunday, your only day off.”
    “You have a point,” he said.
    Maddie inclined her head toward the room she’d emerged from. “Why don’t we go into the kitchen?Would you like something to drink, Emma? I’ve got a big pitcher of sweet tea made up.”
    “That sounds wonderful.”
    “Charlie.” Maddie raised her voice. “Wash the backs of those hands too, little mister.”
    “Can I help with anything?” Emma asked as they walked into the kitchen.
    “No, no, everything’s ready. You just have a seat.”
    The kitchen table was set with napkins and silverware. Sam pulled out a chair, and Emma moved past him, going for the next chair.
    “This is for you,” he said.
    Emma’s cheeks heated. He’d held the chair out for her. When was the last time a man had done that? She couldn’t remember. Had a man ever done that for her? “Um, thanks.”
    She sat down awkwardly, and Sam took the seat opposite her. Charlie came into the room, palms