Quilt or Innocence Read Free Page A

it means to all of us, I’m positive she’ll reconsider raising the rent.”
    Savannah looked cross. “We’re quilting, ladies. This is our time to relax. Let’s move on to a nicer subject.”
    “Yes! Let’s move on,” Meadow said enthusiastically. “And we all should be eating! I knew there was something I was forgetting. Snacks make everything in life better.” In a flash, Meadow was back with a huge platter full of food. “Pimento cheese–stuffed celery, sweet Vidalia onion dip and spicy fried pickles.” She beamed at the happy murmur from the quilters. Beatrice wasn’t sure what to make of the offerings. It was the kind of food that could either be very good or very bad.
    But, apparently, it was all good. Posy leaned over and said in a confiding way, “Meadow is the most fantastic cook. Everything on that platter is to die for! But make sure you try her pimento cheese. It’s creamy-looking, but has a real kick to it with the jalapenos. I think she has a little cream cheese in there, and I’m completely nuts over creamy cheese. And now, Beatrice, tell us a little about you. I want to learn more about our new quilting friend.” Her eyes twinkled at Beatrice as she filled a small plate with fried pickles and celery.
    Beatrice fiddled with her napkin and cleared her throat. “Well, let’s see.” She thought for a moment. “Actually, there’s nothing really interesting to share.” They stared at her in disbelief. “There really isn’t.” It was sad, but true. Her life in recent years had revolved around work.
    “Except that she just moved in yesterday and she’s already a member of the Village Quilters!” bubbled Meadow. “I’ve waited for someone to move into that cottage next to me for ages. Ages! It’s sat empty, and I kept thinking it was going to become a crack house or something else really dire.”
    Posy gave a tinkling laugh. “A crack house? In Dappled Hills? It was more likely to be turned into an art gallery or a church or a charming coffee shop.” Posy was practically consumed by the huge polka-dotted pillows on Meadow’s sofa and hard to see.
    “Or something. Or maybe the house would get rented out to a college student who’d have wild keg parties and stagger drunkenly through my yard. Instead, I’m
blessed
with a lovely older lady who quilts. What could be better?”
    Beatrice opened her mouth to refute her quilting (and possibly her loveliness), but decided it was futile.
    Posy said, “Shouldn’t you amend the
older lady
, Meadow? If
she’s
older, and she must only be in her early sixties, then what am I?”
    “Simply sensational, Posy. Didn’t you know seventy is the new sixty? As for Beatrice, I’m going to try desperately to get over the fact that she has pretty hair that apparently doesn’t even have to be dyed!” Meadow peered closely at Beatrice’s chin-length soft bob, and Beatrice resisted the urge to put a protective hand on it. “That light blond, almost silver, sort of platinum color is way too natural-looking to come from a bottle. Life sure isn’t always fair, is it?” Meadow sadly lifted her own gray braid and stared reproachfully at it.
    “I do have some highlights put in,” said Beatrice, feeling almost guilty.
    “It’s the perfect hairstyle for your heart-shaped face,” said Posy with a sweet smile. “I bet it’s a low-fuss style, too. I have to go to the beauty parlor to get my wash and set every week.”
    “It’s pretty easy to take care of. I didn’t have a lot of time when I was working to worry over my hair, so I chose something simple,” said Beatrice.
    The prettier sister, Georgia, said timidly, “Savannah, Beatrice’s hair is the style I was thinking would look good on you. You have a heart-shaped face, too.”
    Anything would look a lot better than the severe bun that Savannah sported. Savannah’s heavy brows lifted. “You know perfectly well that I’m not preoccupied with my appearance, Georgia. Although I think Beatrice