Festive Fling with the Single Dad

An hour later they’d filled the shopping bags that Flora had brought with her, and Aksel was laden down with them.

He peered over her shoulder as Flora consulted the list he’d torn from his notebook, ticking off what they already had and putting a star next to the more specialised home-support items that the clinic could supply him with. That left the bedspread.

‘I saw a shop in the village that sells quilts. They looked nice.’ He ventured a suggestion.

‘Mary Monroe’s quilts are gorgeous. But they’re handmade so they’re expensive. You can get a nice bedspread for much less at one of the big stores here...’

Aksel shook his head. ‘I liked the look of the place in the village.’

‘Right. We’ll try that first, then.’

Aksel was shaping up to be the perfect shopping companion, patient and decisive. He didn’t need to sit down for coffee every twenty minutes, and he was able to carry any number of bags. Maybe if she thought of him that way, the nagging thump of her heart

would subside a little. It was a known fact that women had lovers and shopping companions, and that the two territories never overlapped.

It wasn’t easy to hold the line, though. When he loaded the bags into the boot of the car, Flora couldn’t help noticing those shoulders. Again. And the fifteen-minute drive back to the village gave her plenty of time to feel the scent of fresh air and pine cones do its work. By the time they drew up outside Village Quilts she felt almost dizzy with desire.

A little more shopping would sort that out. Shopping beat sex every time. And this was the kind of shop where you had to bring all your concentration to bear on the matter in hand. Mary Monroe prided herself on making sure that she was on first-name terms with all her customers, and if they could be persuaded to sit on one of the rickety chairs while she sorted through her entire stock to come up with the perfect quilt, then all the better.

But Aksel wasn’t going to be confined to a chair. The introductions were made and he sat down but then sprang to his feet again. ‘Let me help you with that, Mary.’

Mary was over a foot shorter than him, slight and grey-haired. But she was agile enough on the ladder that she needed to reach the top shelves, and never accepted help.

‘Thank you.’ Mary capitulated suddenly. Maybe she’d decided that sixty was a good age to slow down a bit, but she’d never shown any sign of doing so. And when Flora rose from her chair to assist, Mary gave her a stern glare that implied no further help was needed.

Aksel lifted the pile of heavy quilts down from the top shelf and Mary stood back. Maybe she was admiring his shoulders, too.

‘Your little girl is partially blind...’ Mary surveyed the pile thoughtfully.

‘Yes. Something that’s textured might be good for her.’ Flora decided that this didn’t really fall into the category of help, it was just volunteering some information.

‘What about a raw-edged quilt?’ Mary pulled a couple from the pile, unfolding them. ‘You see the raw edges of each piece of fabric are left on the top, and form a pattern.’

The quilts were rich and thick, and each square was surrounded by frayed edges of fabric and padding. Aksel ran his fingers across the surface of one and smiled. ‘This will do her very nicely. Do you have something a bit more colourful? Mette can see strong colours better.’

‘That pile, up there.’ Mary didn’t even move, and Aksel lifted the quilts down from the shelf. Flora rose, unfolding some of the quilts.

‘This one’s beautiful, Mary!’ The quilt had twelve square sections, each one appliquéd with flowers. Mary beamed.

‘I made that one myself. It’s a calendar quilt...’

Flora could see now that the flowers in each square corresponded to a month in the year. December was a group of Christmas trees on snowy white ground, the dark blue sky scattered with stars.

‘Not really what you’re looking for.’ Mary tugged at a raw-edged quilt that was made from fabrics in a variety of reds and greens. ‘How about this one?’

Aksel nodded, turning to Flora. ‘What do you think.’

‘Do you like it?’

‘Very much.’ He ran his fingers over the quilt, smiling. ‘I’ll take this one.’

‘I have more to show you.’ Mary liked her customers to see her full stock before making any decisions, but Aksel’s smile and the quick shake of his head convinced her that, in this instance, they didn’t need to go through that process.

‘I like this one, too.’ He turned his attention back to the calendar quilt, examining the different squares. ‘These are all Scottish plants and flowers?’

‘Yes, that’s right. I design my quilts to reflect what I see around me. But this one doesn’t have the texture that your daughter might like.’

‘It would be something to remind us of our trip to Scotland. Perhaps I could hang it on the wall in her room. May I take this one too?’