people got when they stepped inside.
The Hansens had lost heart. That had been apparent outwardly, in the carelessly arranged shelves, the lack of any interesting displays, the sometimes dirty floors. It was also revealed in the attitude the Hansens brought to their work. Whenever Lindsay had come into the store, she’d been subjected to a litany of everything that was wrong with the community, the country and the world in general. After five minutes of listening to doom and gloom, she always left feeling depressed and annoyed.
Maddy was lighthearted and friendly, and most people were drawn to her. Her beauty was undeniable, but she’d never bothered much with makeup or worried about style, which she thought of as trivial concerns. Once, in college, Lindsay had accused her of downplaying her attractiveness and Maddy had vehemently denied it. Not until years later did Lindsay really understand or appreciate her friend’s uniqueness. Beauty, natural or otherwise, meant little to Maddy. She accepted people exactly as they were—herself included.
Lindsay hoped fervently that Maddy would find the same happiness she had. There’d never been a long-standing relationship for Maddy. Once she’d started her job as a social worker for the state, her clients had dominated her time and her life. There simply hadn’t been room for a man.
Now that Maddy was living in Buffalo Valley, Lindsay felt confident all of that was about to change. The shortage of available women was at a record high. Apparently, Dave Stafford, a local farmer, had recently advertised for a wife—and found one. As soon as word got out about Maddy, she was sure to have more opportunities to date than at any time since she’d turned sixteen.
Lindsay glanced at her list. Almost finished. She grabbed a box of oatmeal and then a package of dog treats from the next aisle and steered her cart toward the check-out counter where Maddy waited. “I see you’ve been busy,” she told her friend. “That’s great!”
Maddy nodded. “This week has been my best so far.”
Lindsay knew Maddy was determined to make this business a success. She’d invested everything she’d managed to save, plus a small inheritance she’d gotten from her grandfather’s estate. This store, and its success or failure, was her future.
Setting her groceries on the counter, Lindsay looked around and noticed Bert Loomis stacking canned tomato soup on a shelf. The Loomis family farmed 1200 acres near Bellmont. The twins, Larry and Bert, were the youngest of six boys. Neither one showed much inclination toward farming, nor any great intelligence, at least of the academic kind. Lindsay knew the expenses involved in sending them to college made it out of the question. Like so many others, they had few options after graduation—either look for work in the big cities or join the military. Both Larry and Bert were notorious troublemakers, and it was just like Maddy to take them under her wing, Lindsay reflected.
“I thought you hired Larry?” Yet Bert was the Loomis twin busy stocking the shelf.
“I did, but it seems I got two boys for the price of one.”
“They’re a real handful,” Lindsay warned, and she should know. She remembered her first day of teaching and the trouble those two had given her with their fighting and constant bickering. Not only that, they couldn’t sit still for more than five minutes. She marveled that Maddy had the courage to hire one of them, let alone both.
“They’ve been a real blessing to me,” Maddy insisted.
Lindsay didn’t know what it was about Maddy, but she seemed to bring out the best in other people. That was her gift. “I have an idea I want to talk to you about when you’ve got a chance,” Lindsay said, once she’d finished writing out her check. “How about lunch tomorrow? Come over to our place, okay? It’s been a while since we’ve had a chance to sit down and chat.”
“That’d be wonderful.” Maddy waved at Rachel Fischer, owner of The Pizza Parlor, as she came into the store.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Lindsay said, mulling over her idea. This was going to work out so well, discussing ideas with Maddy and not having to pay long-distance telephone rates to do it!
An afternoon with Lindsay was exactly what she needed, Maddy thought as she drove out of Buffalo Valley early Sunday afternoon. They’d barely had time to do more than greet each other in passing since Maddy had moved to town.
So much had happened during the first few weeks. As soon as the store was officially hers, Maddy had painted the outside and spruced up the grocery’s interior—scrubbing and waxing floors, dusting shelves, washing windows. She would’ve liked to change the sign out front, but that meant laying down money needed elsewhere. Working seven days a week, although the grocery was closed on Sundays, Maddy was definitely ready for a break.
Lindsay was waiting for her on the porch steps, with Mutt and Jeff, her dogs. “I made us a Cobb salad,” she said as Maddy climbed out of her Bronco. The dogs, who knew Maddy well, greeted her with ecstatic barking and wagging tails.
“Hi, guys!” Maddy crouched to give them both some enthusiastic ear-scratching and tummy-rubbing, then got up to throw her arms around Lindsay in a hug. “Hi, you.”
“Come on inside.” Lindsay held open the door and Maddie entered the house as the dogs dashed past her. Lindsay grinned. “They never change, do they? Now sit down before the salad gets warm and the bread gets cold.”
Maddy had never seen Lindsay happier and wished she could find that kind of contentment, too.
“You made the bread yourself?” Maddy asked. “I’m impressed.”
“I’ll have you know I’m turning into a halfway decent cook. And baker. I bought the butter from you, though.”
Maddy bowed in mock acknowledgement. “Hey, where’s Gage?”
“He’s off visiting Brandon Wyatt,” Lindsay answered. “He said he didn’t want to get stuck in the middle of a female gabfest.”
Maddy pretended to be insulted, but she didn’t really mind. And even if she had felt slighted, she could forgive Gage just about anything. She’d liked him from the moment they’d met, and couldn’t be happier that Lindsay had married such a good man. Gage was hardworking, decent, honorable. And Maddy had recognised the attraction between them immediately. She’d had a feeling that first afternoon that this was only the beginning. And she’d been right.
“Okay,” Maddy said once they were sitting at the table over their salads and warm, crusty slices of sourdough bread. “What’s your idea?”
“It has to do with Sarah Stern.” Lindsay clasped her hands in front of her and her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. “I was thinking about having my uncle Mike display her quilts in his furniture store.”
“That’s a stroke of genius!”
“Thank you, thank you.” Lindsay nodded regally and stabbed a slice of avocado with her fork. “You and I both know how beautiful Sarah’s quilts are, but Uncle Mike doesn’t. Not yet, anyway. He’s particular about the store and the displays. Mom showed him the gifts I brought last Christmas—the quilted table runners—and he liked them, but he hasn’t seen an actual full-size quilt yet.”
Lindsay’s uncle owned one of the more upscale furniture stores in Savannah. Anything purchased at Mike’s was quality. He wouldn’t be an easy sell.
“I hope this works out,” Lindsay added,
