I laughed. 'Is that a compliment?'
Maggie laughed back. 'Sometimes,' she said, and headed toward her son's house.
'I hear that you've been getting me out of trouble,' my grandmother shouted to me as I walked in the house. 'And getting yourself into it.'
I peered into the living room, but she wasn't there. I walked back to the kitchen. She was hobbling around on her crutches, making sandwiches.
'What trouble am I in?' She pointed to my bandaged hand as she took a slice of bread from the loaf.
'I can do that. You shouldn't even be out of bed.' I took the bread out of her hand. 'What trouble did I get you out of?'
'At the shop. I guess Marc was a little enthusiastic. I hear you smoothed things over with the girls.'
'I did good?' I was not about to let a possible compliment go unnoticed.
'No, you were just happy to see Marc, but you got me out of trouble anyway by putting off the renovation until Saturday. It gives everyone a chance to get used to it.'
For just an instant I felt the need to deny my interest in Marc, then I decided it was better to let the comment pass. My grandmother was right, and she knew it. There wasn't any point in trying to explain something I didn't even understand myself. 'You kind of surprised me too, hiring Marc,' I said as I cut a pat of butter.
'You're doing it wrong.' Eleanor had moved on to my sandwich-making skills.
'How could I be doing it wrong?' I was spreading butter on bread, not exactly a skill requiring an advanced degree.
'Less butter, and do both sides-it keeps the sandwich moister that way.'
'Have you ever stopped to consider that we simply have different, yet equal, sandwich-making techniques?'
'Not really, no.'
I buttered both sides her way, put the turkey and tomato slices on the sandwich, and cut it on the diagonal, as instructed. Eleanor sniffed at it a bit, refused to say anything nice about it, but finished it in seconds.
'I'm dying to hear what you and Marc have planned for the shop,' I finally admitted.
A glint came into her eye. 'We'll cut a hole in the wall, make a doorway to the other side, and add shelves for more fabric.' She started sketching on a napkin. 'And here in the back we'll build an office where the kitchen was, and next to it there will be a small classroom.'
'Is Marc doing all this?'
She made a face at me. 'Don't get too attached.'
'I'm not attached. I just wonder if he's up to the task.'
'Well, when he called me he was so enthusiastic. He really wants the chance to prove his worth, and I like that. No one thought I could run a quilt shop, a widow with two small children and no experience running a business. But I did okay. Sometimes you have to give people a chance.'
'I don't think Maggie likes him. Or Natalie.'
'Well, they have their opinions.' She turned back to the napkin and a subject she clearly preferred. 'I want to put up a whole wall of quilting tools, but I can't decide where.'
'I have some ideas,' I said. Eleanor smiled and handed me the pen, and together we arranged and rearranged the shop until every detail was worked out.
'This is a great plan, but it's a little ambitious, especially for the crew you've got. Marc isn't a real contractor, Nancy's never run a business before and, let's face it, I don't know anything about any of it.'
'I'm not worried about any of you,' she said, and then smiled. 'Well, I'm not worried about Marc or Nancy. Your sandwich-making abilities are a little sad.'
CHAPTER 18
Over the next several days I split my time between doing my grandmother's errands and being her spy at the shop. Nancy complained hourly about the noise Marc was making next door as he pulled old booths and kitchen equipment from the diner. For each regular who came by to express her excitement about the shop expansion, another would predict dire consequences-it was too much work for Eleanor, it would be difficult to make enough money to pay for expansion, it would ruin the coziness of the place.
We closed the shop on Wednesday and I drove Eleanor over to sit in a corner and bark orders while Nancy and I did the inventory. Nancy spread boxes on the floor and began sorting the fabrics into categories from Christmas to children to plaids. When I incorrectly identified a fabric with ducks on it as children's, rather than Easter, I was taken off fabric duty. Instead Eleanor had me sort through the quilting tools. It was amazing to me that despite the seeming chaos, everything was catalogued and accounted for. When the inventory was done, there wasn't one missing pack of needles or thread color anywhere.
'I'll make one more check downstairs,' I said.
'Be careful, Nell,' Eleanor shouted after me. 'I mean it.'
She didn't have to warn me. Not since I'd fallen down the stairs myself, not that Eleanor knew that. Nancy had done an amazing job of bringing all the boxes upstairs and the place was clean and empty. But when I peeked into the little office on the side, I found another story. Boxes were half-packed with old files and binders, and a large box in the corner was filled with cut-up pieces of fabrics and threads. It seemed like a job for Nancy, who would have a better idea which, if any, of this stuff was worth keeping.
'We should start taking stuff to the car,' I said as I came back upstairs.
'Remember to put supplies for the quilt club in a separate box,' Eleanor directed.
'Like what kind of supplies?'
Nancy handed me an empty box, then began pointing out a variety of rulers, rubber mats, and rotary cutters. 'You'll also need a good pair of these,' she said, and handed me heavy metal scissors.
'Thanks,' I said. 'I can use these to cut some poster board and make a CLOSED FOR REMODELING sign.'
'No, you cannot,' Eleanor snapped. 'Cutting paper will dull those scissors, and fabric scissors need to be very, very sharp.'
'Sorry,' I said, and placed the scissors at the top of the box. 'I'll get the hang of all the quilting rules one of these days.'
Nancy and I took as many boxes out to Eleanor's car as could fit, and then filled up the back of her car. But the shop still had a dozen or more boxes left to go, as well as the quilts that hung on the back wall and the junk in the office.
'I'll take a trip over to your place, Eleanor,' Nancy said. 'Then if you two set up the shop there, I'll come back for a second load.'
On the drive to her house, Eleanor hummed to herself cheerily.
'What's up with you?' I finally asked.
'I'm just amazed at how easy this has been so far,' she said.
'Of course it's easy,' I said. 'You'll be happy to be back running the shop, even if it is in your dining room. And Nancy will be happy to be working with you. And I can have some peace and quiet overseeing things at the shop.'
'You enjoy being right,' she said dryly.
'Wait-I'm right about something?' I laughed. 'This has to be a first.'
'I'm just saying that it was a good idea to expand the shop, that's all. And I'm glad you'll be there to make sure it all turns out right.' Her smile made me suspicious, but it left me no room to keep arguing. She was like that, innocence and manipulation with a smile, and I admired the hell out of it.
At the request of all of the members of the Friday Night Quilt Club, my grandmother agreed to open the shop for one last meeting in the old space. We had done a pretty good job of pulling the place apart the last few days, and no one had bothered to sweep up. On Friday morning I walked over to make sure that the place would be clean and safe. One broken leg was all I could handle.
As I got to the door I passed a flustered Carrie on her way out.
She looked embarrassed to see me. 'Forgot the shop was closed?' I asked her.
