Confessions from the Quilting Circle by Maisey Yates (ebook reader color screen txt) 📕

the sense Hannah was busy. She didn’t say that, but her manner was brusque and she would stand rather than sitting, like she had half her body in the next room.

“Is Avery coming? She said that she was feeling a little bit under the weather the last few days. I haven’t seen her.” It was unusual. She saw Avery most days, even if was just to share a half a large carton of eggs or some other farmers market find, plant starts or just a quick visit with her and the kids.

“She said she was. She texted me earlier.”

“Well. I barely made any progress.”

“I’m sure it looks great, Mom.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“Let’s see.”

Lark leaned over the bar, and Mary reluctantly put her squares on the counter. “I don’t want to sew them on. I’m afraid I’m going to ruin the fabric.”

“You won’t. And anyway, there’s plenty of it.”

The door pushed in, and Hannah breezed into the room, holding a stack of squares in her hand. “I sat down today and finished a couple of them,” she said. “For your inspection.”

She set them on the counter, right next to Mary’s.

Hannah’s were precise and perfect, the blue fabric, and the beautiful, glittering beads looked wonderful on the cream colored fabric. Each neatly sewn diamond looked brilliant, next to some of the accents that she had done in triangular shapes right next to it.

“Wow,” Lark said. “I didn’t expect you to come with that much done.”

“Well, I had some time today.”

“You did all this today?” Mary asked.

“Yep. Hey, do you have some wine, or something?” Hannah asked Lark.

Mary did her best not to take a lot of notice of the smell of nicotine on her daughter. It reminded her of her mother, a piece of her that Mary would have rather Hannah hadn’t picked up. The artistic gene was preferable. But that smell of cigarettes with a slight sweet scent layered over the top of it was stronger than usual. Hannah was dressed in all black, a stark contrast to her sister’s ethereal white dress. In spite of the heat outside, she was wearing formfitting leggings and a tight top.

Of her three daughters, Hannah was the slimmest, and Mary sometimes worried that she replaced meals with cigarettes and coffee.

Mary was too like Hannah to pry, and they were both like oysters that were sealed shut tight and couldn’t find a way to connect. Joe could. But then, Joe could reach Mary too. He was the only one.

It made her feel better for Hannah, that she had Joe at least.

“Yes. What do you want?” Lark asked.

“I dunno. What’s open?”

“I have a rosé.”

“Basic. Sounds great.”

There was an edge to Hannah tonight, that was always present, but it was definitely a little bit more out in force than usual.

If Lark noticed, she didn’t acknowledge it, and instead produced a wineglass, and then poured some rosy liquid inside of it. “Some for me too?” Mary asked.

“Of course,” Lark said, waving her hand and pouring a measure for Mary too. “Shall we retire to the circle?”

Lark went through a door behind the counter, while Hannah and Mary walked around, to the little sitting room. Lark had lit candles at varying heights, and instead of flower crowns, there were flower decorations, garlands hanging from the wall, and some blossoms hanging from the doorway that connected the sitting room they were in with the next.

“There’s a local artist who does these dried flower decorations,” Lark said. “I absolutely fell in love with them.”

“Very cheerful,” Hannah said, though her tone was slightly scathing.

“Very,” Mary said, only she made sure to keep her voice sincere.

“I’ve actually had customers this week,” Lark said, taking her seat in the chair and fussing with things. “I might have some profits to split sooner than anticipated!”

“Well, that’s good,” Mary said.

Hannah snorted. “You don’t need to share your profits, Lark.”

Lark ignored Hannah’s scathing tone. “I had done a lot of research on all of this but...you never really know. You can’t really expect to make a profit for a while in a town like this—everyone says. But I’m surprised by how excited people are to have something new to do here.”

Hannah rolled her eyes. “In my opinion, there is nothing to do here. No offense. But if I’m going to go out, it’s not going to be to craft.” She stabbed at her quilt square with no irony.

“Except you did come out to craft.”

“Because you’re my sister and you’re making me.”

“I,” Lark said, eyes wide, “cannot make any of you do anything you don’t want to do.”

“You used to scream until you turned blue and got your way.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“You did,” Mary confirmed.

Lark was a sunshine girl. Unless she’d been a thunderstorm. And when her mood had turned, heaven help everyone. She’d worn her every emotion out in the open for the world to see.

“Well, I guess when I was little,” she said, grumpily.

“Pretty much until you were fourteen,” Hannah said.

“I am not fourteen now, Hannah. And have had nary a tantrum in your presence in the last week. Anyway, you used to lock me out of our room and not talk to me.”

“Also not true. Sometimes I locked myself outside.”

“Unless you were too lazy to go outside and then you smoked cigarettes hanging halfway out the window.”

A reflexive pang reverberated in Mary’s chest. “You did not smoke in my house.”

“No,” Hannah said, measured. “I did not smoke in your house. I smoked with my ass in your house and my head hanging out the window.”

Mary frowned. “Can you not swear?”

Lark grinned. “Yeah. Don’t swear, Hannah.”

“This is not me swearing,” Hannah said. “Trust me.”

It was strange to see them like this. So like they had been, and so different too. Because they were beyond her reach now. She couldn’t actually get mad at Hannah for smoking. Well, she could, but she had no jurisdiction in her life. She couldn’t really yell at her for swearing either.

Or at Lark for having a tattoo.

Just another way she both