Besides the business and the quilting group, the other focus of my time is, of course, Luke. With two businesses growing by leaps and bounds, it’s very hard for us to make time for each other. We really have to work at it. That’s been the biggest challenge in our sixteen months of marriage. Part of the reason we decided to take the leap and buy the warehouse is because we thought being able to live where we work would make it easier to spend time together.
So far, it’s working out, but some of that is Luke’s doing. When we first moved in, he said, “I have an idea for a project. Let’s make love in every single room of this building.”
“All twelve hundred square feet?” I asked.
“All twelve hundred square feet. Including this stairwell,” he said, then sat on the bottom step and pulled me down on top of him.
It’s gotten to be our little joke—every time we make love, we talk about The Project. Sometimes, when we’re out to dinner with friends or visiting their house, Luke will say, “Well, we’d better get going. Grace and I have this project we’re working on.” It’s really kind of cute and also kind of sexy. It’s fun sneaking off like that, having people think we’re going off to work, but knowing that the second we get back to the house, we’re going to jump on each other.
It’s our inside joke, but to tell the truth, I think people are catching on. A few weeks ago, Monica said, “Boy, Luke sure has a lot of projects in the works,” then winked at me.
Well, what can I say? It’s a big building.
* * *
Billie, Janet, and Ed, one of Luke’s carpenters, came early to help us set up. The guests started arriving promptly at five. Nan, Malcolm, and their clan, including kids and grandkids, showed up first. Nan immediately pulled me aside to share the good news about Dani.
“Oh, Nan. That is wonderful,” I said, and gave her an enormous hug.
“It is,” she said. “But pray for her, will you? It won’t be easy.”
“I will,” I promised. “Every day.”
The kids were running all over the place, bouncing with energy. We didn’t mind; we’d put the sewing machines in the storage room, so there really wasn’t anything they could break. James, Nan’s oldest son, organized a game of sardines so that kept them busy. Once things settled down, I asked Chrissy if I could hold baby Ellie.
“She’s gorgeous,” I said, cooing over Ellie’s tiny fingernails and breathing in that sweet milk and baby shampoo smell.
“She is,” Chrissy agreed. “Really, I thought Bill and I were done with kids, but, you know.” She shrugged. “Sometimes life has other plans. She’s the best surprise we ever got.”
I’ll say. I could have held that little sweetheart all night. But when I heard a booming voice from the door yelling, “Grace! Ciao, Bella!” I handed the baby back to Chrissy and ran to give Monica a hug.
“Ciao! How was the honeymoon? Was Italy all you hoped for and more?”
“So much more,” Monica gushed. “Rome was great, but oh, Grace! Venice and Verona! Portofino! So romantic. And the food! Grace, the food was just phenomenal. You have never in your life had pasta this good. And the sauces! I don’t know what it is—either the tomatoes, or the olive oil, or the atmosphere—but you haven’t eaten marinara until you’ve eaten it in Italy. Wait until we show you the pictures. We only took about a thousand.”
“All of food,” Bob joked, putting his arm around Monica’s waist. “We really did have a great time. We’ve already decided to go back for our third anniversary and bring the kids.”
“Oh, and we came home to some very good news,” Monica said. “One of the coaches from U of O pulled Alex aside at his cross-country camp and invited him for a campus visit in the fall.”
“Really,” I said. “You think they might offer him a scholarship?”
“Well, first he has to get in,” Monica said practically. “But you never know. Oh, and Zoe wanted me to ask you—could you use an intern this summer? Unpaid, of course. She’s thinking about studying fashion—at least this week,” Monica laughed. “I thought working with you might help her figure out if she’s serious about it or not.”
“Sure,” I said. “Have her call me. I can always use an extra pair of hands.”
My mom and Aunt Rickie were next to arrive. I flew them out for the opening and booked them into a nice hotel downtown for the weekend, to be followed by a tour of the Oregon wine country and two more days at the beach. They hadn’t had a sisters’ getaway in years and seemed to be having a terrific time. Mom couldn’t wait to tell me about their visit to Blue Star Doughnuts.
“Gracie, they were so delicious, but they had the strangest flavors. Blueberry Bourbon Basil. Would you believe it? Bourbon! In a doughnut!”
“Personally,” Aunt Rickie said, “I’ve always preferred my bourbon in a highball glass. That’s why I’m in charge of tomorrow’s field trip. We’re going to the Multnomah Whiskey Library. It’s right near the doughnut place. Want to come?”
“Thanks, Aunt Rickie, but I’ve given up drinking. How about Luke and I take you and Mom for an early dinner. Tasty and Alder doesn’t take reservations, but it’s worth the wait. I’ve actually had dreams about their skillet corn cake and the radicchio with bacon lardons and egg is so good, I’ve been known to order one as an appetizer and then order it again for dessert.”
“You always
