The Double Wedding Ring

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Authors: Clare O' Donohue
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could either paint or embroider, something that would add color and texture without being too fussy. When would I find the time with the wedding now less than two weeks away? That was another thing I could think about later.
    Something loud crashed in the back of the shop; Patch hissed and ran toward me. I grabbed her, tucked her under my arm, and went in search of whatever it was that had been knocked down by our little furry helper.
    It was a pattern rack—a heavy round spinning rack that had withstood countless years—through sales and customers and renovations, but somehow a kitten weighing a couple of pounds had gotten the better of it. The yarn was tangled up at the bottom, and in the fall the rack had broken.
    â€œYou are trouble,” I scolded her. She meowed in response and I smiled. It’s hard to stay mad at a ball of purring fur.
    I picked up the patterns and brought them over to the checkout table. I’d figure out a display later. In the meantime, I found myself not just organizing the patterns but looking at the photos on the cover, the font size for the pattern names, and the companies that made them. When I had a minute maybe I’d go through them just to see what exactly it would involve to actually make a pattern of one of my quilts. Maybe if the shop closed I would design patterns . . . But as soon as the thought entered my mind, I crushed it. Someday Quilts had been a part of my life since I was a child, when my parents, sister, and I would visit Archers Rest. I would run my hand across the fabrics, make piles with the books, nap under the sample quilts, and get in trouble anytime I went near sharp scissors. I could not imagine it closing, but I didn’t see any realistic way for it to stay open.
    Eleanor came into the shop with three full bags just as I put the pile of patterns on the table next to the kitten. “Okay, you’re free to go across the street to your super-secret quilt meeting.”
    â€œWhich you don’t know about.”
    â€œNot a blessed thing. Can’t wait to see the quilt you girls are putting together, though.”
    â€œAssuming it is a quilt.” I gathered my own fabrics off the cutting table before that surprise went out the window as well. “Did you buy out the town?” I nodded toward her bags.
    â€œNearly,” she said. “I bought a few things for the house, to make Oliver more comfortable. It’s been so long since a man lived in that house, I wasn’t sure what to get.”
    â€œShaving lotion and spittoons?”
    â€œNearly. But then I bought navy towels—plain, boring navy. The ones I have in my bathroom have flowers on them. I didn’t think he’d like those.” She held up a bag. “And I got new sheets for the bed and a few plaid pillows for the couch in the living room.”
    Another change I knew was coming but wasn’t quite prepared for. “When’s he moving in?”
    â€œRight after the wedding, I suppose. He wants us to take a few days and go to Montreal on a honeymoon. Can you imagine—a honeymoon? At our age.”
    â€œBut that’s what you do when you get married.”
    She looked flustered. “I imagine the whole town is whispering about how foolish we look.”
    â€œThe whole town is happy for you.”
    â€œI got an e-mail from your uncle Henry. He’s not able to make it. Said he’ll meet Oliver after the wedding.” Eleanor’s voice was full of disappointment. “And your parents . . .”
    â€œI haven’t heard,” I admitted. “They’re traveling. I know Mom is excited for you. . . .”
    Eleanor rolled her eyes.
    â€œWell,
I’m
excited,” I said, then resolved to give the speech I’d been planning since the engagement. “Grandma, I’m going to look for my own place. I know you’ll be gone for months at a time, but when you’re in town,

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