Free The Half-Stitched Amish Quilting Club - 02 - The Tattered Quilt by Wanda E. Brunstetter Page A

figured it wasn’t someone coming to visit.
Don’t tell me one of the neighbor kids threw something on my porch
.
    Draping a sweater around her shoulders so she wouldn’t get chilled, she opened the door and was surprised to see a mangy-looking gray cat staring up at her.
Meow!
    “Go away. Shoo!” Selma clapped her hands, but the cat didn’t budge. “Go on now, get!” She stamped her feet and reached for the broom leaning against the wall near her door. “Go back to wherever you belong!”
    The cat hissed and bounded off the porch. Selma stepped back inside and slammed the door. “Stupid neighborhood pests,” she mumbled. “You’ll never catch me owning a cat or a dog!” Shuffling her slipper-covered feet back to the table so she could finish her breakfast, Selma realized that the cat didn’t have a collar. Maybe it was just a stray. Well, she hoped it didn’t come around her place again!

     
    Mishawaka
     
    “How’d things go at the quilting class?” Stuart asked when Blaine arrived at work Monday morning.
    Blaine frowned. “Let’s just say that I’ve had more fun sitting in the dentist’s chair than I did during those two grueling hours. And that’s saying a lot, because I hate going to the dentist.”
    “That bad, huh?”
    Blaine nodded. “No wonder you dreaded going to that class.”
    “I did at first,” Stuart admitted, “but after I got to know everyone, they kind of became my friends. At least most of them did. I never got that close to the biker or his newfound daughter, though.”
    “Well, I doubt anyone attending Emma’s class will ever be my friend. There were too many people eyeballing me, and it made me sweat.”
    Stuart’s eyebrows lifted. “How many people are taking the class?”
    “Six, counting me.”
    “That’s the same number that were in my class. You shouldn’t feel nervous around that small of a group. It’s not like you’re teaching the class or anything.”
    “I know, but it wasn’t just the amount of people there.”
    “What was it then?”
    “I felt some sort of undercurrent going on, and you know I don’t like conflict—even when I’m not personally involved.”
    “What kind of conflict?” Stuart wanted to know.
    Blaine leaned against the wall and folded his arms. “Let’s see now…this white-haired lady, Selma, acted like she knew more than Emma. She was a bit snippy, too. Oh, and the young Amish woman who came in late obviously had a chip on her shoulder and even said she didn’t want to be there. Then there was the Hispanic woman who seemed kind of nervous. Oh, and the redheaded roofer was obnoxious and kept trying to hit on the pretty blond woman, who clearly didn’t like him or his ashtray aroma.”
    “So the guy’s a smoker, huh?”
    “Yeah. He actually tried to light up in Emma’s house, but I put a stop to that. He ended up going outside for a smoke, and I was hoping he wouldn’t come back.”
    Stuart laughed. “Sounds like another group of challenging characters for Emma and Lamar to deal with.” He gave Blaine’s arm a reassuring tap. “Just relax and enjoy the ride. By the end of the six weeks, you might feel differently about things. Believe me, I never thought so at first, but it does get better.”
    “I doubt that,” Blaine muttered. “And I probably won’t know any more about quilting than I do right now.”

     
    Goshen
     
    Cheryl gripped the steering wheel tightly as she headed for work. She’d awakened with a headache and had thought about calling in sick. But she wasn’t going to give in to it. She’d taken an aspirin with a strong cup of coffee and told herself that she could get through the day. Maybe by the time she got to the office, the aspirin would take effect.
    As Cheryl drove along, she was thankful that on Friday she’d gotten all her work done and had left her desk clean. She hoped this morning would start out quiet, with only e-mails to answer and phone calls to return. Most likely it would be that