The person on the line said, “We don’t actually complete projects outside of the company, but one of our employees, who happens to know how to quilt, is looking for additional part-time work. She could possibly be interested in taking on the job. Let me put you on hold and ask her.”
Ava put her hand on the receiver and mouthed to her mom, “They might have someone.”
When the person returned, she said their part-time employee would be happy to take the project and then passed the phone to her.
“Hello, this is Cammy Schwartz. I heard you have a quilting project?”
Ava offered Cammy details about the work and they agreed on a price for a sample to make sure the quality was in line with her mother’s work. Thrilled, Ava arranged for her mom to drop off the fabric at the shop in Nashville, along with the dimensions and pattern, later that day.
When Ava got off the phone, she giggled, giddy, and stood up, grabbing her mother’s hands and spinning around, inwardly tightening her muscles to avoid the dull pain, but too blissful to worry too much about it.
Martha gave a little squeal. “I wouldn’t have even known to do that. It wouldn’t have occurred to me to call anyone.”
“As part of my job, I’ve had to help start-ups with pulling in subcontractors who can carry their branding.”
“You’re invaluable.”
Ava had been able to use her talents to benefit her mom. She’d never been able to do that before. She was so thankful for this new bond with her mother.
“Tell me you’ll still help me with all this after you go back to New York,” her mom said.
“Definitely.”
Ava made a promise to herself that, no matter what her work schedule became once she was healed, she’d take an houra day to find out how her mom was doing and help her with anything she needed.
By evening,when her mother returned home from dropping off the pattern and materials at Seam & Stitch, Ava had organized all the supplies they’d need to fulfill the large order, and she’d cut more squares to allow her mother to get started on sewing the first few bags. As the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving a trail of bright orange in the sky, her mother showed her how to sew them.
“You pair the two squares together, with the batting in the center, and pin them,” her mother explained. “Once you’ve got them all pinned, you lay them out to determine your pattern, like so.” She arranged the squares on the coffee table. “I use about a one-fourth seam allowance and hand-stitch them together—just tacking them lightly—until I can use the machine to make a perfect seam.” Martha demonstrated how to hand-stitch the squares.
Ava slipped the thimble onto her finger and followed her mother’s lead, driving the threaded needle into the fabric and back out. “Like this?”
“That’s perfect,” her mother said. “Take it all the way down the side like that.”
They’d settled into a routine and were finishing up, working on the floor, their supplies spread out around them and on the coffee table, when there was a knock.
Ava got up and stretched her sore body. “Who’s that?” she asked.
Martha shrugged as Ava went to find out.
She opened the door.
Lucas dangled an old pair of keys in front of her, a strange grin on his face.
“What are those?” she asked.
He stepped aside, revealing an old, faded green farm truck.
Ava stepped onto the porch to get a better glimpse of the vintage paint. “That looks like the one from your farm.”
“I thought so too. I took a drive to clear my head and saw a ‘For Sale By Owner’ sign on it. I bought it on the spot. I still had my car, so the guy had to drive the truck to my apartment.”
She laughed. “What are you going to do with it?”
“Well, right now, I’m going to give you a ride in it. You busy?”
“I’m never too busy to go for a spin in a farm truck. Let me tell Mom.” She went into the living room. “Lucas just bought a truck and wants to take me for a ride.” She shrugged and shook her head with a chuckle.
Her mother’s eyebrows bounced in interest.