Until three years ago, when she didnt come back at all. A private plane crash outside of Reno. Both passengers died. Connor hadnt even known the man shed been with.
That day, he became a full-time widower, not just a weekend one. No great change. But Sunnies world had shifted on its axis. That one day, she changed.
Connor lost himself in the order of his repetitive days. He ran the paper his grandfather had started, even if it was little more than a blog, except on holidays. He looked after his daughter and his grandmother. Ruled over the monthly meetings of the city council. Paid the bills. Showed up.
And, now and then, late at night, he wrote his stories. The dream of being a writer slipped further and further away on a tide of daily to-do lists.
He told himself that hiring Jillian hadnt changed anything. She was simply someone passing through, no more. Grams time in the shop would soon be ending, and somehow he had to preserve an ounce of what shed meant to the town.
The short articles about the quilts Jillian penned were smart and well written, and they were drawing attention. The number of hits was up at the free Laurel Springs Daily, and more people were dropping in to see the quilts shed described so beautifully.
Which slowed her cataloging work for the museum, leaving him with hope that shed stay longer. He hadnt thought about how much it meant, talking to an intelligent woman his age for the first time. Now, he was spending time trying to say something, anything, interesting on their walks home. All at once he didnt have to just show up in his life; he had to talk, as well.
Tonight hed ask Jillian all about the tiny houses quilt she had logged. Shed said a lady quilted a two-inch square of a house every day for a year, then put them all together. Every one unique. The discipline would be something to talk about.
Dad, did you get a haircut? Sunnie interrupted his thoughts as he pulled into the high school parking lot.
Connor glanced at his daughter sitting in the passenger seat. I did. What do you think?
She shrugged. Not much change. Better, I guess. Im glad I got Moms straight hair and not your wavy curls. After you scratch your head its usually going every which way.
You have a suggestion?
Yeah, wear a hat. Sunnie glared at him, her substitute for smiling. Derrick says you should slick it down a little, then youd look like one of those newscasters. He said his mother thinks youre handsome in a nutty professor kind of way.
Tell Derricks mother thanks for the compliment, I think. Connor tired to remember what Derricks mother looked like, but all he remembered were the tats covering her arms like black vines.
He studied his beautiful daughter beneath her mask of makeup. The last thing he ever planned to do was take advice from Derrick or his mother. You know, women thought I was good-looking when I was in college.
Dinosaur days. She rolled her eyes.
He nodded. Without reaching his fortieth birthday, hed already become old to someone. Maybe hed talk to Jillian about that on the walk home. She had to be in her early thirties, so surely she wouldnt think of him as old.
No, he decided. People who dont have children dont want to hear what other peoples children say. Correction, what their childrens pimpled-faced, oversexed boyfriends say.
Sunnie was always texting Derrick, even when he sat a few feet away. If she ever glanced up and really looked at him, shed drop the reject from The Walking Dead. Ten years from now Derrick would still be wearing his leather jacket while he worked at the bowling alley.
As soon as Connor pulled up to the curb, Sunnie bolted from the old pickup. He remembered a time when shed lean over and kiss his cheek before she headed to school. Those days were long gone.
A few minutes later he parked behind the quilt shop, walked through the place turning on lights, and unlocked the front door. He was early. It made sense to go across the street to his office and at least go through the mail, but he liked the silence of the shop. Hed known every corner of this place for as long as he could remember. In grade school hed run, not home, but to Grams after school, where shed have warm cookies from the bakery and little milk bottles in her tiny fridge waiting. Hed do his homework on one of the cutting tables until his mother came over from the paper and picked him up.
He knew his parents were just across the street, working on what was then a daily paper filled with local ads, but they were busy. Gram always had time to talk, even when her fingers were busy sewing. Shed ask about his day, and shed tell him who came by the shop. Only, shed never told him the stories about the quilts that Jillian was writing. To him, each one was a treasure and he wished hed thought to ask about them when he was a kid. It would have been nice to have the stories woven into his childhood.
The door chimed and Jillian rushed in with the winter wind. She stopped the moment she saw him and hesitated, as if unsure how he might react to her.
Morning, he said, as he did every morning.
Morning. She relaxed. I know Im a little early, but I wrote another three articles last night and couldnt wait to give them to you.
Ill take them with me and let you know if I can use them. Everyone is talking about the last one I put on the blog.
Good. She smiled and he took a moment to study her mouth before looking away.
Not something he should notice. They werent even friends. Might never be, but it might be worth a try. He could handle friends with a woman. For a short time anyway.
Youre welcome to come with Gram and me for lunch. He always asked. Were headed a few miles out of town to a Mexican place she loves, though all she ever eats is quesadillas.
Thanks, but Ill work through lunch.
He tried not to look disappointed. The Autumn Acres bus pulled up out front and their conversation ended.
After lunch, any chance to talk was quickly forgotten. By the time Connor had Gram back in the shop and helped her strip off a few layers of coats, Joe Dunaway had slipped through the unlocked shop door. He stopped long enough to turn the closed sign over to open, as if he thought of himself as the designated flipper.
Connor greeted the retired teacher. He had the feeling the old guy thought the quilt store was really a Starbucks in disguise. He rarely went a day without Grams coffee. He even had his own mug in her tiny kitchen.
Got any coffee, Jeanie? he asked Gram as he leaned on the counter like it was a bar.
Of course, Joe. She made no move for the cups in the kitchen. Did you tell my Connor about your new invention?
Joe lowered his voice. No. Havent had a chance. Have to be careful, Jeanie. Make sure no one is around to steal it. Loose lips sink ships, you know.
What invention? Connor doubted it could be any dumber than the last twenty inventions Joe had come up with since he retired. A few months ago hed invented a birdfeeder that attached to a telephone pole. Said since everyone was using cell phones they wouldnt be needing phone lines so hed thought of a use for them. Only hitch was getting seed that high.
Youre going to like this one, boy. Joe had known Eugenia long enough to call her Jeanie. And Connor, no matter how old he was, would always be boy.
Gram lost interest in Joes great invention and followed Jillian as she disappeared into the tiny kitchen to put coffee on.
Connor waited. If he was going to listen to details of one of Joes inventions, hed need caffeine to stay awake.
The little man was developing a kind of hobbit look. Hair seemed to be growing in every direction from every exposed square of skin. Everything he wore was at least two decades out of style but intelligence, or maybe mischief, still sparkled in his eyes.
Joe cleared his throat and straightened. Ive been thinking. You know how hard it is to sleep on your back with your feet sticking up?
No. I sleep on my side. Connor held little hope that his answer would earn him a get-out-of-one-invention-lecture free pass.
Well, if you did, youd know how the blankets cramp your toes when youve got them pointed straight up. Colder it gets, more blankets and more cramped toes. So I got this idea. Doesnt take much in materials or time. Just canvas and some eight-inch poles, maybe longer for those with big feet.
Connor nodded as if following a logic that long ago had gone rogue.
Joe lowered his voice. Im calling them Toe Tents. You put them under the covers at the bottom of the bed. Slip your feet in and your toes can wiggle all night without being cramped.
Brilliant! Connor shouted. Joe had finally come up with an invention dumber than Tele-Birdfeeders.
Joe smiled, scratching his beard. I knew youd like it. I figured Id cut you in for a share, son, if youd let me set up in one of those old barns on the other side of the creek. If I remember right, your family owns them and a few are still solid enough to be of use.
No one ever goes over there. Connors family did own the worthless piece of town. From the thirties to the early sixties there had been several small businesses. A barrel shop. A furniture store that made rockers and coffins. A repair shop that could fix anything from toasters to TVs and a small winery that shipped as far as a hundred miles away. One small storage shed had even been used to weave Angora rabbit fur into yarn. But that was long ago, before Connor was born.
His dad had told him the businesses died one by one when the chain stores came in. Folks could buy another radio or toaster cheaper than having one repaired. If Joe wanted to use one of the buildings, hed be the one man in town whod know if it was safe. Joe Dunaway knew everything about the building industry. Hed spent his summers in manual labor. Said it kept his mind sharp to work with his hands. He could have been a big-time contractor, but hed chosen to teach.
On the bright side, Connor had gone from being called boy to son, so he was moving up. Maybe he could listen at least until the coffee arrived.
Joe didnt seem to notice Connor was only half listening. People will go over there when the big orders start coming in for my Toe Tents. You might want to tell the city to repair the roads. Ill put a big sign out so the locals dont have to pay postage. Once it takes off, I thought Id reopen one of the factories and hire some of my friends whove been sitting around for years.
Connor patted the old man on the back. When the orders start, I want in. Tell you what. You pick what place you want, and Ill lease it to you free for six months.
Im not asking for anything free. I got this niece whos got a houseful of kids, and she buys everything online. She says shell help me get set up with a website next week. Ill cut you and her in for ten percent right from the start. Joe thumped his fist on the counter letting Connor know he wouldnt budge on the deal.
Connor agreed. Ten percent of nothing was still nothing.
Jillian brought out two cups of coffee and seemed interested in Joes idea. Shed probably heard every word from the kitchen. She also called the old guy by name, so this must not be Joes first time to stop by.
When she started asking if the Toe Tents came in different colors, Connor slipped out the door and carried his coffee and her short articles across the street. If he was lucky, hed have a few hours to work on a short story explaining history through a time-traveling warriors eyes. Kids would probably like that.
Since Sunnie was a baby, hed been compiling a collection of stories about famous battles that changed history. His main characters were the Roman warrior and his dog. They saw the fighting and how each battle changed the world. They were searching for the secret to end all wars.
Of course, it occurred to Connor that if they found it in the series, it would end his series. Then hed have to come up with another idea.
His stories were about as likely to get published as Joes Toe Tents were to be stocked on the shelf at Walmart, but his writing gave him direction. A mission. A small doorway he could step through and out of his life, if only for a few hours a day.
After lunch he always dropped Gram back at the shop, then drove to his house already thinking about the walk with Jillian that evening. On the days Gram didnt leave for lunch, hed walk to work or drive the pickup. Shed finally reached the age that she had trouble climbing into the old Ford. If Connor had his choice, hed walk everywhere, but the pickup was for hauling and the Audi was for Gram, so he owned two vehicles he didnt really want.
When he wandered back to Main, he took the creek route. He liked stomping through tall grass. Getting his boots muddy. Enjoying the escape. The World War II battle hed been writing about danced in his mind as he worked off a few calories from the three-enchilada plate hed finished off at Lennies Tacos and More.
He thought of telling Jillian about how much he loved the wild nature park that ran though town, but he figured shed just lump him in with Joeanother crazy person in the stop-off town for her. So he went back to his office and tried to concentrate on work.
After four hours of struggling with paperwork on several small farms the family business leased out, he closed the office. If he increased the rent, the farmers would suffer. If he didnt, taxes would eat him alive. Somehow in the past fifteen years since he took over the Larady family books, hed managed to keep the balance relatively even, but that wouldnt be possible in the future.
At five, he ignored the chill in the air and darted across the street with a biography of Patton under his arm and an empty coffee cup in hand.
Jillian laughed when he walked in. Its too late for a refill; Ive washed the pot.
Too bad. I could use another cup. He walked past her, set the cup in the kitchen sink and returned. Is Gram about ready? The Autumn Acres bus will be here soon.
Of course Im ready, Danny, its closing time. Gram stepped from the office.
He met Jillians glance and shook his head slightly, silently telling her not to mention that Gram had called him by his fathers name. She does that sometimes, he whispered when Gram was busy turning the sign over for the night. It doesnt matter.
Connor didnt miss the understanding in those blue-gray eyes. There was a wisdom there, as well. A knowledge of living many lives, maybe, or simply the loneliness of living one.
Jillian helped Gram with her coat. Paulina came in for a few more purple fat quarters for that new quilt. She told us that tonight, after dinner, the high school choir is putting on a 50s songs concert at the Acres. She wanted to make sure Gram would be there.
Gram nodded. And weve got good seats. I told Joe that if he wanted a seat in the front row with us, hed better manage to show up on time.