Page 9 of Christmas at Pine Ridge Inn
“Are you joining us for snow shoeing?” asked Sarah as she took the seat beside Lila.
“I think I might explore the town a bit instead,” Lila said. “Get my bearings.”
“Smart choice on a day like this,” Sarah said, glancing toward the windows. “The shops on Main Street are lovely, and you can duck inside if the snow gets too heavy.”
An hour later, bundled in her warmest coat, Lila stepped out into the falling snow, clutching the quilt under her arm. The cold bit at her cheeks, but it was only a short walk into town. Brady had gone out to shovel the walk from the inn to the street, and the sidewalk into town had already been cleared as well.
In the first block of businesses, Lila passed a bakery with steamed windows and the rich scent of fresh bread, a bookstore with displays of holiday novels, and a small general store. Everyone she encountered smiled and nodded, the kind of friendly acknowledgment that didn’t always exist in larger cities.
Emily’s Yarn & Quilts sat halfway down the block, its hand-painted sign dusted with snow. Through the windows, Lila couldsee colorful displays of yarn, fabric, and quilts hanging on the walls like works of art. Her heart beat faster as she pushed open the door.
A bell chimed softly, and a woman emerged from behind a display of holiday-themed fabric. She was perhaps sixty, with silver-streaked brown hair pulled back in a loose bun and kind eyes behind black-rimmed glasses.
“Welcome,” the woman said. “Is there anything I can help you find?”
“Are you Cynthia? I called the other day about a quilt I believe came from your store.”
“I am, and you must be Lila! I’ve been hoping you’d stop by this week.”
“It’s so nice to meet you in person,” Lila said, feeling some of her nervousness ease at Cynthia’s warm welcome.
“I have to admit, I’ve been thinking about your quilt ever since you called.” Cynthia moved closer, her expression thoughtful. “My mother was very particular about her baby quilts. She always said they carried extra love since they were meant to comfort little ones. They usually included some little touches that were specific to each individual child.”
Lila perked up. Was there something on the quilt that might unlock more information about her past? “I know it’s a long shot, but do you think you might remember anything about this particular one?” Lila held the quilt out to Cynthia.
“I wish I could say yes, but that was so long ago, and my mother made so many beautiful pieces.” Cynthia’s eyes were kind but apologetic. “But she did keep journals of her work, especially the commissioned pieces and special orders. I haven’t looked through them in years, but if you could leave the quilt with me for a few days, I can take a look. You said you know what year it was made? That would help me find the right journal.”
Lila felt a flutter of hope mixed with nervousness. “I believe it would have been made in 1991 because the baby was born Christmas Day that year.”
“Oh, a Christmas baby. How wonderful.” Cynthia shot Lila a knowing smile. “Was that baby you, by chance?”
Lila hadn’t planned on telling Cynthia her whole life story, but maybe some details would help her find the right journal entries. “Yes, so you’re probably wondering why I don’t know more about it. I was adopted.” Cynthia’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “I’ve always known I was born in Colorado, but the quilt is the only other clue I have about my birth. It was a closed adoption, but the quilt was sent with me by my birth mother.”
“Oh my,” Cynthia said, clutching a hand over her heart as tears gleamed in her eyes. “It seems this quilt is indeed a special one. I’m not sure if I’ll find anything, or what would even be appropriate to pass along to you, but I’d be happy to take a look, and we can cross that bridge when we get there.”
“Thank you. I really would appreciate anything you can tell me. Even a small detail might help.”
“Of course, dear.” Cynthia’s smile was encouraging. “My mother always believed that quilts had their own stories to tell. Maybe yours is ready to share its story.”
Hope fluttered in Lila’s chest. “That would be incredible. Thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure. It’s one of the most human things in the world to want to know more about where you came from.” She patted the quilt like it was a precious treasure she’d keep safe while in her possession. “How long will you be in town?”
“Until Christmas Eve. I’m staying at Pine Ridge Inn.”
“You’re not staying for Christmas? Tom and Carol might as well be Mr. and Mrs. Claus for the production they make out of the holiday season.”
Lila didn’t want to reveal she was opting to spend Christmas alone. “No, I need to get back home.” It wasn’t a lie. She did need to get back home, lest she ruin Christmas for everyone with her moping.
Cynthia promised to start looking through the journals that evening, and Lila left her cell phone number. Buoyed by the possibility that she might be one step closer, Lila stopped to browse in a couple of the other stores on Main Street, buying a candle holder made from an aspen tree for Jenna and an engraved cutting board for her neighbor, Mrs. Marbry, who always kept an eye on her condo while she was away.
Lila headed back to the inn feeling lighter than she had since arriving in Pine Ridge. Soon, she might finally have some concrete information about where she came from.
Five
Back at the inn, Lila found the lobby empty except for the soft crackling of the fire. The snowshoeing group hadn’t returned yet, and the inn was eerily quiet in their absence. She settled into one of the armchairs with a book but found herself watching the snow fall instead of reading.
“How was your exploration?”
