Page 86 of Wild For You
“John,” he replied, extending an arthritic hand. Knowing that he most likely suffered a lot of pain while crocheting as a way to keep his wife’s memory alive nearly gutted me.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I don’t crochet or knit, but I do love to make quilts. It’s been a while though.”
“Quilts? Well, it’s your lucky day. I just got some new fabrics delivered yesterday.”
“Really? Where?” I asked giddily.
He led me to a small back room with rolls of fabrics in all sorts of playful designs.
I spent the better part of an hour with John as I discussed the shapes and logic that went into creating my quilts. He enthusiastically helped me select some complementary fabrics for a baby blanket.
I didn’t even have a sewing machine at Andrew’s place, but I didn’t care. This was something I could do just for myself.
As John rang me up, I asked if he had a catalog or knew somewhere I could order a new quilting machine from. My last sewing machine had been one I found at a thrift shop for twenty bucks. It wasn’t the best, but it got the job done.
He handed me a thick catalog and opened it to the section I needed. My eyes nearly bulged from their sockets when I saw the prices. The cheapest one was fifteen-hundred dollars. There were even some in the twenty-thousand range.
Closing the catalog, I pushed it back across the counter with a shaking hand. I’d have to wait to purchase one. I could ask Marisol if she had a machine I could borrow until I went back to Nashville for mine.
“Your total is $31.52,” John said as he flipped the digital screen toward me.
I whipped my card out of my wallet and tapped it on the machine, only for John to cancel the transaction.
I glanced up at him skeptically. “John?”
“Sorry, Miss Kelsey. I was given persuasive orders.” He smiled.
“Gah, he got to you too?”
He laughed and explained that the Easterlys were like family to everyone in town, and if they asked for something, most people agreed to help. And he was told if a new customer with my description named Kelsey came in, not to let her use her own credit card but the black one Andrew had given her.
“Sorry, dear. Let the man buy you things. I used to spoil my sweet Agatha with fresh flowers every other day. She fought me tooth and nail, saying the money could be spent on something more useful, like groceries, but I watched her eyes light up each time I handed them to her and she replaced the wilted ones in the vase on our kitchen table.”
“John… tears.” I sighed as I grabbed my tissue again and wiped my eyes. The sobs quickly followed. I was embarrassed by the way I was becoming an emotional basket case while standing in the middle of the store.
“I don’t want to spend his money. Can’t you please use my card this time?”
“Sorry.” He shrugged.
With the tears subsiding, anger blossomed. Yanking my phone from my bag, I pressed the name listed as number one in my favorites.
“Hey, baby,” Andrew greeted.
“Why are you being a jerk right now?” I accused, fighting back the giddiness I felt each time he called me that.
“Because I love you.”
I wanted to stomp my foot to keep the anger alive, because I could already feel it dying out. “Andrew… I want to use my own money.”
“And I want to spend mine on you. Where are you?”
“All Yarn Long.”
“Oh, put John on the phone,” he told me.
Hesitantly, I held the phone out for John, surprised that Andrew seemed to know the man personally. It left me wondering how that happened, since Andrew didn’t move back to live here full time until recently.
The owner carefully took my phone and spoke with my frustrating boyfriend. I watched helplessly as John nodded and started typing numbers into the screen.
