Page 17 of Christmas at Pine Ridge Inn
“I’m fine,” Lila said quickly, though she felt anything but fine. “Thank you so much for looking into this. It’s more than I had before.”
“I wish I could tell you more. I know how important this must be to you.” Cynthia closed the journal carefully. “I hope you’re able to find what you’re looking for.”
As she walked back toward the inn, Lila’s mind churned with new possibilities. The quilt had been delivered to Pine Ridge Inn in December 1991. She knew from one of their dinner conversations that Tom and Carol started dating several years after Carol began working at the inn as a front desk clerk back when Tom’s parents ran things. Maybe they would remember a guest who was pregnant that year and went into labor on Christmas Day? Surely that would be hard to forget.
Lila suddenly stopped walking. She remembered Tom saying he fell in love with Carol the first time he saw her but that she’d been with the local “bad boy” when she first came to work at the inn. And Carol had mentioned at one point how much she’d always wanted children but that it hadn’t been in the cards.
Could it have been Carol who ordered the quilt for a baby she was planning to give up for adoption? Had she gotten pregnant by a boyfriend who hadn’t stuck around and decided to give the baby up before eventually settling down with Tom?
The swirling thoughts made Lila’s chest tight with a mixture of hope and terror. It was a long shot, but she couldn’t help picturing it. Carol seemed so wonderful. After all, look what she’d done for Brady when he’d lost his mother.
Lost in thought, Lila climbed the stairs to the inn’s front door. Through the windows, she could see the group gathered around a table, their heads bent over what appeared to be craft supplies. She’d missed the start of ornament making while she was at the yarn shop.
The lobby was quiet when she entered, but voices and laughter drifted from the dining room. She stood in the doorway for a moment, watching the scene unfold. Brady was helping Sophie thread a needle while Tom demonstrated how to make a paper snowflake. The sisters were deep in debate over whether silver or gold ribbon looked better on their pinecone ornaments. Sarahsat beside Carol, carefully stitching what looked like a tiny felt star.
Lila found herself studying Carol with new intensity. Carol’s reddish-blonde hair caught the light as she leaned over her work, her expression focused but peaceful. Lila’s hair was blonde, but it had red undertones her stylist was always having to combat so her blonde highlights didn’t turn brassy.
Carol had kind eyes with laugh lines that made her look wise—and dare Lila say, maternal. Could this warm, caring woman really be the one who’d carried Lila for nine months and then made the impossible choice to let her go?
“Lila!” Kimberly called out, looking up from a half-finished ornament that appeared to involve entirely too much glitter. “Perfect timing. We saved you a spot.”
“And some supplies,” added Kendall, gesturing to an empty chair beside Sarah. “Though I’d avoid the glitter if you don’t want to sparkle for the next six months. I swear, it sticks to everything.” Indeed, Kendall’s cheek sparkled from a swipe of stray glitter.
“Don’t listen to her,” Kimberly protested. “Glitter makes everything better.”
“You say that now,” Brady said with amusement, “but wait until you find it in your coffee tomorrow morning.”
Despite her racing thoughts, Lila found herself smiling as she took the empty seat. Sarah handed her a basket filled with felt scraps, ribbons, and various craft supplies.
“I was just starting a little angel,” Sarah said, showing Lila her work in progress. “Though I’m not sure my sewing skills are up to the task.”
“It’s beautiful,” Lila said, admiring the delicate stitching. “I’m not sure I have any artistic ability at all.”
“Nonsense,” Carol said from across the table, looking up from her own project. “Everyone has creativity in them. Sometimes it just takes the right project to bring it out.”
Lila selected a piece of deep green felt and began cutting out a simple tree shape, but her attention kept drifting to Carol. Every gesture, every expression, every word felt loaded with new meaning. When Carol laughed at one of Tom’s jokes, Lila found herself analyzing the sound, looking for some echo of familiarity. When Carol offered to help Ali with a complicated folding technique, Lila watched her hands, searching for some genetic similarity. Were her fingers long like Lila’s? Lila’s mother always said she should have taken up playing the piano because of her long, graceful fingers.
“That’s coming along nicely,” Carol said, moving around the table to check on everyone’s progress. When she reached Lila, she paused, her eyes warm with approval. Lila was just beginning to add a yellow star she’d cut out. “I love the simplicity of it. Sometimes the most beautiful ornaments are the ones that don’t try too hard.”
The compliment made Lila’s chest flutter with an emotion she couldn’t quite name. “Thank you. I’m not much of a crafter, but there’s something soothing about it.”
“My mother always said that working with your hands quiets the mind,” Carol said, settling back into her chair. “She taught me to sew when I was young, and I’ve always found it meditative.”
“Did you make quilts too?” Lila asked,
“No, but my mother did.” Carol’s expression grew fond. “She loved making quilts for wedding gifts to celebrate the newlyweds. It’s probably part of the reason I gravitated to Emily and Cynthia when I moved here. I used to just go stand in their shop and study the quilts. Emily tried to teach me how to make a baby quilt one time, but I couldn’t quite get the hang of it.She always said those baby quilts were her favorite because they carried so much hope.”
Lila’s hand stilled on her ornament. “Baby quilts?”
“Mm-hmm.” She looked at Brady. “You have one your mother commissioned from Emily, right?”
Brady nodded. “Yeah, it’s somewhere in all my stuff. I think maybe it would cover the bottom half of my legs these days. All the kids I knew in town had one though. It’s a rite of passage around here, I guess.”
“That sounds like a lovely legacy,” Lila managed.
“I heard her say one time that each stitch held a prayer for the baby who would use it,” Carol said. “I always thought that was a really beautiful sentiment.”
A soft clatter interrupted the moment as Sarah’s scissors slipped from her fingers and hit the table. “Oh, sorry,” she murmured, quickly retrieving them. “How clumsy of me.”
