He’d never heard of Quilts of Valor prior to being presented with the special gift. But that red, white, and blue quilt had given him something to hang on to—literally and figuratively—while he was recuperating.
Which was why he was in Pine Hill, to thank the quilt’s maker in person.
He owed her more than a simple thank-you could convey, but that’s what he’d come to give.
A thank-you, and then he’d be on his way.
Humming along with the Christmas music playing over the church’s intercom system, Sarah Smith sewed white yarn through a cut piece of plastic canvas. The snowflakes she made each year with the pieces of canvas and yarn were some of her favorite homemade Christmas decorations.
She glanced around the room at the mix of women, teens, and children busily making ornaments to be sold at Pine Hill’s annual On-the-Square Christmas Festival. Many of the twenty or so volunteers were the same smiling faces who had helped with Sarah’s past projects—people she adored.
With her employment as Pine Hill Church’s administrative assistant and special projects planner, Sarah was always organizing something. Often, she believed their projects helped those participating as much as—and sometimes more than—they helped the recipients of their work. Giving truly was better than receiving, which was why Sarah loved Christmas so much.
She enjoyed everything about Christmas. The decorations, the smells, the food, the kindness, and good cheer that prevailed. The get-togethers with family and friends that made everything sweeter. If it were up to her, she’d arrange for Christmas to come way more often than just once a year.
“I couldn’t do this without
you all,” she told the group of women working at her table. The Butterflies, as they referred to themselves, had an assembly line going to make the plastic canvas snowflake ornaments.
Sarah’s projects would be nothing without the Butterflies to see her ideas to fruition. She could always count on them. The four women had been a part of Sarah’s life from the beginning, and she loved them dearly.
“Yeah, yeah.” Maybelle Kirby’s old blue eyes didn’t lift from where she was hot-gluing sparkly white sequins to a finished snowflake. “Use it or lose it, I always say. And these old bones ain’t got much more to lose, so I gotta keep using.”
Maybelle was Sarah’s favorite—possibly because she had been Aunt Jean’s best friend. The two women had bonded over being young military widows, neither of whom had remarried or had children. Although in her early seventies now, and the oldest of the group of volunteers, Maybelle was a firecracker and knew how to do just about anything Sarah took a fancy to learn. As the church’s previous special projects planner, Maybelle had been adopting do-gooders such as Sarah for years and was a fount of knowledge and encouragement. Sometimes Sarah thought Maybelle missed her role as planner. That was why she made sure she kept the woman involved.
“Besides, someone has to keep you in check,” Maybelle muttered, earning a few chuckles from the others at her table. “Don’t know how you think you’re ever going to meet a man if all you do is work, work, work.”
Sometimes, Maybelle’s involvement wasn’t a good thing. Like when it came to Sarah’s love life—or lack thereof. Though to be honest, it wasn’t just Maybelle. All four women thought it their responsibility to marry Sarah off.
“I happen to love my work,” Sarah reminded, smiling at Maybelle as she added, “Besides, who says I want to meet a man? The last man—and I use that term loosely—in my life sure wasn’t worth taking time away from work or you ladies.”
Richard and his big-city dreams were, thankfully, long gone from her beloved Pine Hill. Although memories snuck in from time to time reminding of how her heart had broken when he’d left her, these days, mostly she just bid him good riddance.
Any man who didn’t want a calm, normal, white picket fence, church-going, Christmas-loving life in Pine Hill wasn’t the right man for her. Plain and simple.
Sarah added, “With trying to get the bed and breakfast open by Christmas, I don’t have time for a man.” Renovating the old Victorian ate up all her time and then some. “Fulfilling Aunt Jean’s dream of turning Hamilton House into a B & B is my number one priority outside of church and work.”
Her aunt had belonged with these women—had grown up with them and been a part of everything in Pine Hill. Sarah’s mother had died giving birth to her, but her father’s older sister had stepped up to give her niece a woman’s guidance.
“How’s that going?” Ruby asked. Sarah was especially glad that Ruby seemed to have accepted the subject shift away from Sarah’s love life. Ruby was happily married to the man of her dreams for going on fifty years and would gladly tell anyone who’d listen about her wonderful Charles. It made her a very determined matchmaker, since she wanted everyone to be as happy as she was. Ruby and Charles were a sweet couple, but the Butterflies often teased Ruby about her longtime love affair with her husband.
“Yeah, about that.” Sarah’s shoulders sank. “I placed another handyman ad, if that tells you anything.”
Four concerned faces winced in unison.
“Did you fire another one?” Ruby asked.
Maybelle’s eyes narrowed. “Or did this one quit, too?”
Sarah shrugged. What did it matter? This time, the sloppy handyman had splattered paint on the hardwood floor. When she’d gotten upset, he’d only picked at his teeth with his dirty fingernail, saying it would clean. He hadn’t been the right handyman for Hamilton House, any more than Richard had been the right man for her.
“Girl, your aunt didn’t mean for that house to take over your life,” Rosie Matthews reminded her as she attached ribbons and hooks to Maybelle’s decorated snowflakes. Rosie was a mover and shaker and sometimes made Sarah’s head spin with her crowded social life. Flaunting her energetic, youthful spirit with her bright blue hair, Rosie liked men and they liked her. No doubt the woman had broken more than a few hearts over her sixty-plus years. Although she’d been married three times and had gotten a few proposals since, she’d remained single after her last husband had passed a few years back.
“I listened to Aunt Jean talk about restoring Hamilton House to its former glory those last few weeks before her death,” Sarah said. “She knew what I’d do when she left the house to me, that I’d find a way to bring it back to life even if I can only do so a few rooms at a time.”
If she wanted to keep the sprawling Victorian home, it had to bring in enough income to pay for its upkeep. Not to mention paying back the hefty loan she’d finagled at the bank to make needed repairs and updates.
With her background from old money and lots of it, Maybelle had offered to fund the restoration, but Sarah had refused. She needed to do this, and thankfully, the loan officer had approved the loan.