A Stitch in Time Read online

  A Stitch in Time:

  A Sewing Circle Romance

  Book One

  by Amelia C. Adams

  With thanks to my beta readers—Amy, Barbara, Bonnie, Dorothy, Joseph, Mary, Meisje, Renee G., Robin, Sandy, Shelby, and Suzy.

  Cover design by Ammon Pinkston

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  Table of Contents:

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  Topeka, Kansas

  1877

  “Jane Henderson, if your shipment of red thread hasn’t come in yet, I’m afraid I’ll have to throw a tizzy.”

  Jane looked up from the box on the counter of her shop as Maude Thomas entered. “It just arrived, Maude. I’m putting it away now.”

  “Thank goodness.” Maude’s skirts rustled against the wooden planks of the floor as she approached. “I don’t know whatever put the idea in my head to sew a ruffled dress for Eliza’s birthday, but here I am, and it’s been the most complicated thing I’ve ever made.”

  “I think it was Eliza herself who put the idea in your head.” Jane smiled, handing Maude two spools of thread. “And you couldn’t say no.”

  “You’re right—I can’t deny that child anything, but she’s my first granddaughter after what seems like a hundred grandsons. She’s bound to be a little spoiled.”

  “There are ways to fix that, you know. Such as telling her no once in a while.”

  “But what’s the fun of that?” Maude pulled some coins out of her bag and handed them to Jane. “Thank you. Now I can die a happy woman.”

  “Are you dying?”

  “Not anytime soon, but when I do, I’ll be happy.” Maude turned and looked at the corner of the shop where the sewing circle met every week. “Am I the first one here?”

  “You are—and for the first time ever, I think.”

  “I was motivated by my need of thread.” Maude sat down in her favorite chair and pulled out yards upon yards of red fabric. “I should have left most of this at home—I’m only doing the sleeves and bodice today—but for some reason, I didn’t think to get that organized.”

  Jane smiled again. Maude never could seem to organize herself the way she wanted, which amused the other ladies of the circle to no end. Jane often thought that Maude should just accept herself as she was instead of berating herself for what she wasn’t, but apparently, things like that didn’t happen in Maude’s world.

  The door opened again to admit Thora Barton and Nola Johnson, who were deep in a conversation about . . . well, that couldn’t be right. Did Jane just hear Nola say something about manure?

  “I told him that was a terrible place to put it, but he didn’t listen. He just laughed and gave me a hug. And believe me, you don’t want a hug from someone who’s been shoveling manure.” Nola shook her head. “I don’t know what to do with that boy. He needs to get himself married and out from under my roof—but at the same time, he’s been so helpful to me since Edward died. I can’t ask him to leave, not after everything he’s done.”

  “Did . . . you say something about manure?” Jane asked as Nola took her seat in the corner.

  “Yes, I did.” Nola shook her head again, clearly exasperated. “Toby went out early this morning to get a load of manure from the farm down the road to fertilize my flowerbeds, and he piled it all right under my kitchen window. He says it’s just there temporarily until he can get it spread around, but in the meantime, my kitchen has the most horrible smell. How am I supposed to cook in there with that stench?”

  “He’s a good boy,” Thora soothed. “He’s just trying to help you.”

  “I know that, but there are days . . .” Nola sighed. “God gave us grandchildren for a reason, did He not?”

  “Yes, He did—and mostly good reasons.” Thora patted Nola’s hand. “Once the manure is spread out and dug under, you’ll never even know it’s there. And think of what it will do for your roses!”

  “Thank you, Thora. I’ll stay focused on that.”

  Jane’s grandchildren had never piled manure outside her kitchen window, but they had done their own share of unusual things in their lives, and she smiled to think about them. She finished sorting through her thread shipment and came around the end of the counter to join her friends. This hour they spent together each week was precious to her—a chance for the widows in town to gather and share their challenges. It was hard for an ordinary person to understand what it was like to be alone, but other widows understood. She didn’t even need to say much—they sensed what she was feeling because they all felt it too.

  “Where are the others?” she asked, glancing around at the vacant chairs.

  “I just saw Bonnie in Appleby’s, so she should be here in a minute,” Maude replied. She turned and glanced out the large pane glass window behind her. “And here come Viola and Esther now. Viola’s hanging on to Esther’s arm—her arthritis must be acting up today.”

  That was too bad—Viola did suffer so. “And just why were you in Appleby’s?” Jane asked, quirking an eyebrow.

  Maude held up a hand. “I promise you, Jane—I wasn’t there to buy sewing goods. You have all my business in that regard. I was picking up a book Mrs. Haight ordered. Her mother is poorly today, so she couldn’t come in herself. You know I’m your faithful customer.”

  Jane narrowed her eyes. “I should hope so,” she said. Her friends knew they were free to shop wherever they liked and her threats were in jest, but when she opened this shop the previous year, they’d each sworn their loyalty to her, and it had become somewhat of a ritual to tease them about it.

  The door opened again, this time swinging backwards a bit faster than Jane liked, and she flinched, relieved when it didn’t hit the wall behind it.

  “I’ve just gotten a letter from Miriam,” Esther said, waving a sheet of paper in the air.

  “Sit down and tell us about it,” Thora urged. Miriam had grown up in their neighborhood, and they all considered her their granddaughter too.

  Esther took a seat, and the others crowded around. Bonnie entered just in time to join them.

  “‘Dear Grandma . . .” Esther looked up, her eyes shining. “She says that she’s missed Topeka so much, she’s decided to come home!”

  The ladies each gasped or exclaimed. This was good news indeed.

  “Does she say when she’ll be here?” Maude asked.

  Esther was reading as fast as she could. “Here it is—she’s taking the train on Monday morning. She’s not sure how long the journey will last, but she’s sure Mr. Hoover can give us her exact arrival time, being the stationmaster and all. Of course, it took a few days for the letter to get here, so she’s on the train now, most likely—oh, this is so exciting.”

  “Where is she coming from this time?” Thora asked.

  “New York City.”

  “I thought she was in San Francisco,” Bonnie said.

  “That was before New York.” Esther laid the paper on her lap, her eyes shining. “I can’t believe it. She’s finally coming home. Now if she’ll only stay . . .”

  “She certainly travels more than I did when I was a girl,” Maude said. “In my day, you were lucky to get a wedding trip and that was the extent of it.”

  “Things were different when we were young,” Jane reminded her. “Today’s girls are so independent and forward-thinking. They’re becoming doctors now, for goodness’ sake.”

  Maude looked appalled. “
I don’t think I’d trust myself to be seen by a female doctor,” she replied. “There’s so much that could go wrong . . .”

  “Let’s not get distracted from Esther’s letter,” Thora said. “We should be sharing in her good news.”

  “I’m sorry, Esther.” Jane nodded at her. “Please tell us more.”

  “She says she’ll stay at least through the end of summer while she decides where to go next, and she’s looking forward to seeing me.” Esther gave a happy sigh. “My girl . . . all the way until the end of summer. Oh, I wish her parents were still alive. They’d be so proud of her.”

  “Yes, they would be.” Nola put her hand on Esther’s shoulder. “She’s a wonderful girl.”

  “Is it selfish of me to want her to stay longer? Summer will be here before we know it, and then she’ll be gone again.”

  “What she needs is a good incentive to stay,” Maude replied. “Maybe if she got a job she enjoyed . . . is the Brody Hotel hiring?”

  “They’re always hiring,” Jane answered.

  “She wouldn’t give up her travels for a waitressing job,” Esther said. “It would have to be something much larger than that.”

  “Perhaps if you had an illness,” Bonnie suggested. “She wouldn’t leave you if you were sick.”

  “I’m as fit as a fiddle.”

  “You could pretend . . .” Bonnie looked hopeful.

  “Dr. Wayment would spot the lie in an instant. No, we need something more.” Esther shook her head. “I just don’t know. She’s always been so free-spirited—I never knew what would catch her interest.”

  “A man,” Viola proclaimed from the corner, her gray curls quivering. “She needs a man.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea!” Maude turned back to Esther. “Do you think she’d stay if she fell in love?”

  “She might—or she might just take him with her,” Esther replied. “I wonder what sort of man it would take to keep her here. He’d have to be dashing, of course—she’d never settle for someone uninteresting.”

  “I always thought she and Toby might make a match,” Nola said. “They got along well enough in school.”

  “I’d wondered about that myself, but then her pride got in the way and she refused to speak with him after they graduated.” Esther shook her head. “I don’t even remember what she was so angry about, but Toby did something to offend her, and she never got over it.”

  “He didn’t mention anything about it to me,” Nola said. “I’m sorry on his behalf for whatever it was.”

  Esther waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “I’m sure it was nothing. Miriam has a way of carrying grudges long past their time, and they’re often rooted in something completely inconsequential.”

  “Whatever it was, it would be nice if they could patch things up,” Jane said. She glanced around at the thread and the fabric and yarn that surrounded them and chuckled. “We certainly know a thing or two about patching things up here, don’t we?”

  “Yes, we do,” Thora said. “Not only do we sew, but we’ve got hundreds of years of experience between the lot of us, and we can share that experience with them.” She paused at everyone’s aghast faces. “Oh, come now, ladies. Haven’t you ever thought to do the math? There are seven of us, not one younger than sixty. That’s at least four hundred and twenty years of wisdom sitting right here in this room. We should know a thing or two about forgiveness after all that living.”

  “Four hundred and twenty?” Bonnie looked a little pale. “My goodness. How did we get so old?”

  “Day after day of waking up every morning,” Jane said cheerfully. “Age isn’t anything to fear—I’d be more afraid to live without really living. I want to have plenty of adventures before I die—if Miriam does leave again, maybe I’ll go with her. See the world.”

  “But who would run your shop?” Thora asked.

  “I don’t think she’s serious,” Nola explained.

  “Who knows? Maybe I am.” Jane grinned. “I can see myself standing on Egyptian sands, staring up at the pyramids. Or walking along the Great Wall of China.”

  “I think she’s lost her mind,” Bonnie said, attempting to whisper, but failing.

  “She needs a distraction,” Nola replied.

  “I most likely do need a distraction, and I know just the thing,” Jane said. “Ladies, I have a proposition. Toby needs something better to do than making Nola’s kitchen smell like manure, and Miriam needs a reason to stay in Topeka. I say we find out why they stopped speaking to each other and help them reconnect.”

  “Are you saying that we should be their matchmakers?” Bonnie asked.

  Jane gave a decided nod. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. If they’re still angry with each other after all this time, it’s obvious they need a little help when it comes to sorting out their feelings, and with our advanced age comes the wisdom they need. If nothing romantic develops, perhaps they’ll at least apologize and become friends again. What do you say?”

  One by one, the women nodded.

  “I don’t know how to be a matchmaker, though,” Bonnie said.

  “I’m not sure that any of us actually knows. We’ll figure it out as we go,” Jane assured her. “I think the first order of business is to find out exactly when Miriam’s train is arriving.”

  “I’ll talk to Mr. Hoover this afternoon,” Esther promised.

  “Should I tell Toby that she’s coming, or should we let it be a surprise?” Nola asked.

  Jane considered that for a moment. “I think a surprise would be nice,” she said at last, and the others nodded.

  “This is so exciting,” Thora said, clasping her hands together. “I confess, I’ve been having a hard time this week, but I suddenly feel a bit better. Maybe I just needed something new to think about.”

  “With any luck, we’ll be helping ourselves while we’re helping them,” Jane replied. This might not be the adventure she’d been craving, but it certainly was something out of the usual, and that was a treat.

  Chapter Two

  Miriam Brown tried to settle into her seat and relax, but it seemed impossible. The train had just left the Kansas City train station, and the next large stop was Topeka—her destination. They’d stop here and there to take on more water, but for all intents and purposes, there was only one station remaining, and she would be home.

  Home. She sighed and rested her head against the window, gazing out at the fields they were passing. She’d struggled with that word, that concept, nearly her whole life. Her parents had been killed in a house fire when she was six. She’d been raised by her grandparents, who took her in and loved her fiercely, but nothing truly felt like home without her mother and father.

  As soon as she could, she’d left Topeka in search of belonging, but she hadn’t fit in anywhere. She’d gotten some higher education and taken a few jobs, all the while feeling as though she was pretending. She could make polite conversation and she could discuss the news of the day as astutely as anyone around her, but at the core of it, she was a shell—a body walking around without a soul. If there was one thing she should thank Gerald for, it was for showing her where she really was wanted, and now she felt silly for not seeing it all along.

  And that was enough about Gerald. She shoved him into the back of her mind again, determined to concentrate on her homecoming and making restitution with her grandmother. She knew she broke Esther Brown’s heart every time she left, but leaving was the only way to fix the aching restlessness inside her. When her grandfather passed away two years before, she’d come home and stayed a few months to make sure Esther would be all right, but then she left again. She should have stayed—any good granddaughter would have stayed.

  Even with all her regrets and realizations, she was still unsettled. Yes, she was going back to Topeka, but when she wrote her grandmother to tell her, she’d found it impossible to promise to stay. She’d meant to say it, but her pen just wouldn’t create the words. She wanted to leave herself a back door,
a way to escape again if necessary, and that didn’t feel like she’d changed or learned anything at all. That was disappointing, considering how much she knew she needed to change.

  “Tickets? Tickets, please.” The conductor coming down the aisle stopped at each row, giving the passengers a smile before moving on. It was the same thing on every train—and Miriam had been on plenty. She pulled out her ticket and had it ready when the man approached.

  “And where are you off to?” he asked.

  “Topeka,” she replied.

  “You’re almost there, then. Have you been traveling long?”

  “Since New York.”

  He gave a whistle, and the ends of his mustache twitched. “That’s a long time to spend cooped up on a train. You should treat yourself to some cherry pie at the Brody Hotel when you get off in Topeka. You deserve it.”

  Miriam smiled. “Sounds like you have a favorite.”

  “I do. I actually married the general manager of the hotel because I enjoyed the pie so much.” He gave a wink, took her ticket, and continued down the aisle, greeting the passengers on the next row.

  Miriam smiled again as she turned back to the window. Marrying someone because of pie . . . that was such a delightful idea. It sounded so sweet and innocent. What would it be like to have a relationship based on such genuine fundamentals? She didn’t know, and she wondered if she’d ever have the chance to find out. Such things didn’t seem to exist anymore, and she didn’t know how to make pie.

  Of course it wasn’t really about pie. It was about trust and integrity and honesty—all the things that should be present in a marriage. She’d seen it between her father and mother, even though she was young enough at the time they died that she couldn’t have named the traits she was seeing. Her grandparents had demonstrated that kind of devotion too—her grandfather brought home a small bundle of wildflowers every Friday, and her grandmother made his favorite cake for Monday night dessert. Those little rituals, those little acts that reflected their deeper feelings—they made Miriam sigh.