Read Online The Half-Stitched Amish Quilting Club - 02 - The Tattered Quilt by Wanda E. Brunstetter - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Wanda E. Brunstetter
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base with this gal if she won’t even talk to me
.
“What will we do after our pieces have been sewn onto the quilt top?” the Hispanic woman asked, giving Terry a sideways glance and raising her eyebrows.
“Then the backing, the batting, and the quilt top will be layered, put into a hoop, and quilted by hand,” Emma replied.
Perspiration beaded on Terry’s forehead and upper lip. He really had bitten off more than he could chew. If he tried sewing anything, he was sure he’d look like a fool.
“When that step is done, the binding will be put on and your wall hangings will be done,” Lamar interjected.
Emma nodded. “You should be able to complete the project in six weeks.”
Six whole weeks?
Terry groaned inwardly. Short of a miracle, it would probably take him a year to make a quilted wall hanging—if he could make one at all.
Cheryl tried to concentrate on what Emma was telling the class, but it was hard to focus when the red-haired fellow sitting beside her kept saying things to her, while checking her out. At least she thought that was why he kept staring at her and taking every opportunity to lean in closer. Between the two men sitting at the table, the scruffy-looking fellow beside her was the least appealing. Not that Cheryl was looking for another man. But if she was, the nice-looking guy across the table seemed to be more her type. Of course he hadn’t said or done anything to make Cheryl think he was interested in her. It was just as well. She didn’t need the complications, and she was here for only one reason—to learn from Emma and see that Grandma’s quilt got repaired.
They all worked silently for a while, cutting out their squares and points for the stars. Then, reaching into his shirt pocket, Terry pulled out a pack of cigarettes.
Emma’s mouth dropped open, and Lamar’s bushy gray eyebrows shot straight up.
“Hey, now don’t go lighting up in here. You ought to have more respect for Emma than that.” The clean-cut guy across the table leveled the redheaded man with a look that could have halted a runaway freight train.
Cheryl felt relief. Earlier, when Terry first sat down, she’d noticed a stale cigarette odor on his clothing, and again, on his breath when he’d move in closer to speak to her. With the allergy she had to smoke, the last thing Cheryl needed was someone blowing smoke in her face.
“Sorry. Guess I wasn’t thinking.” Terry rose from his chair. “I’ll go outside for a smoke.”
“Why smoke at all?” Selma asked, wrinkling her nose. “It’s a nasty habit, not to mention bad for your health.”
“Yeah, well, I enjoy smoking. Besides, it’s my health I’ve gotta worry about, not yours,” Terry retorted.
“You don’t have to be so rude,” Selma huffed, crossing her arms. “A guy like you doesn’t even belong in this class.”
Neither does a busybody like you
, Cheryl thought, watching as Terry hurried from the room.
Emma knew she’d have to do something soon with this class, or things would get out of control. She remembered back to her first quilting class, when Jan and Stuart had nearly gotten into a fight because of their hostilities. She couldn’t let that happen again.
After Terry returned, Emma remembered that proper introductions hadn’t yet been made. “Why don’t we start at this end of the table and each of you can share something about yourselves—where you live and anything that might help us get to know you better. After all, we will be spending the next six Saturdays together.” She motioned to Carmen. “Would you like to go first?”
Carmen moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “My name is Carmen Lopez, and I live in Los Angeles.” She hesitated a minute, looking a bit anxious. “I’m visiting my brother-in-law, Paul Ramirez, and his little girl, Sophia. I’m taking the quilt class because it seems—uh—interesting.”
Emma nodded. “Paul was part of my first quilting class, and we’ve
.
“What will we do after our pieces have been sewn onto the quilt top?” the Hispanic woman asked, giving Terry a sideways glance and raising her eyebrows.
“Then the backing, the batting, and the quilt top will be layered, put into a hoop, and quilted by hand,” Emma replied.
Perspiration beaded on Terry’s forehead and upper lip. He really had bitten off more than he could chew. If he tried sewing anything, he was sure he’d look like a fool.
“When that step is done, the binding will be put on and your wall hangings will be done,” Lamar interjected.
Emma nodded. “You should be able to complete the project in six weeks.”
Six whole weeks?
Terry groaned inwardly. Short of a miracle, it would probably take him a year to make a quilted wall hanging—if he could make one at all.
Cheryl tried to concentrate on what Emma was telling the class, but it was hard to focus when the red-haired fellow sitting beside her kept saying things to her, while checking her out. At least she thought that was why he kept staring at her and taking every opportunity to lean in closer. Between the two men sitting at the table, the scruffy-looking fellow beside her was the least appealing. Not that Cheryl was looking for another man. But if she was, the nice-looking guy across the table seemed to be more her type. Of course he hadn’t said or done anything to make Cheryl think he was interested in her. It was just as well. She didn’t need the complications, and she was here for only one reason—to learn from Emma and see that Grandma’s quilt got repaired.
They all worked silently for a while, cutting out their squares and points for the stars. Then, reaching into his shirt pocket, Terry pulled out a pack of cigarettes.
Emma’s mouth dropped open, and Lamar’s bushy gray eyebrows shot straight up.
“Hey, now don’t go lighting up in here. You ought to have more respect for Emma than that.” The clean-cut guy across the table leveled the redheaded man with a look that could have halted a runaway freight train.
Cheryl felt relief. Earlier, when Terry first sat down, she’d noticed a stale cigarette odor on his clothing, and again, on his breath when he’d move in closer to speak to her. With the allergy she had to smoke, the last thing Cheryl needed was someone blowing smoke in her face.
“Sorry. Guess I wasn’t thinking.” Terry rose from his chair. “I’ll go outside for a smoke.”
“Why smoke at all?” Selma asked, wrinkling her nose. “It’s a nasty habit, not to mention bad for your health.”
“Yeah, well, I enjoy smoking. Besides, it’s my health I’ve gotta worry about, not yours,” Terry retorted.
“You don’t have to be so rude,” Selma huffed, crossing her arms. “A guy like you doesn’t even belong in this class.”
Neither does a busybody like you
, Cheryl thought, watching as Terry hurried from the room.
Emma knew she’d have to do something soon with this class, or things would get out of control. She remembered back to her first quilting class, when Jan and Stuart had nearly gotten into a fight because of their hostilities. She couldn’t let that happen again.
After Terry returned, Emma remembered that proper introductions hadn’t yet been made. “Why don’t we start at this end of the table and each of you can share something about yourselves—where you live and anything that might help us get to know you better. After all, we will be spending the next six Saturdays together.” She motioned to Carmen. “Would you like to go first?”
Carmen moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “My name is Carmen Lopez, and I live in Los Angeles.” She hesitated a minute, looking a bit anxious. “I’m visiting my brother-in-law, Paul Ramirez, and his little girl, Sophia. I’m taking the quilt class because it seems—uh—interesting.”
Emma nodded. “Paul was part of my first quilting class, and we’ve
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