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That got Isabelle’s attention. “You do? But he’s former military. I thought you would—”

“What does his being former military have to do with anything?” Their mother seemed genuinely surprised that Isabelle considered that to be an issue.

“Dad—”

“Goodness, Isabelle, Sophie’s friend has nothing to do with your father.”

“But—”

“Some of the best people I know were in the military,” Darlene continued. “There’s that sweet Mr. Johnson who lives over on Baker. I do his hair once a month. He served in the Vietnam War and the things that man has seen.” She paused, then took a deep breath. “Then there’s Ella Stewart. Did you know she was a nurse in the Army back in the day? I bet she turned all the boys' heads, because even in her eighties, she’s a looker.”

Sophie and Isabelle exchanged looks. The wedding must have done something to loosen their mother’s tongue, because she didn’t usually talk about their father or the military unless Sophie was discussing her quilts.

“Sophie, you should make them both quilts. I can’t believe I haven’t thought to mention them to you before.” Darlene smiled at them. “Now, let’s head toward the reception. You know how much I love wedding cake.”

Their mother linked her arms with them, much as she might have done when they were younger, and led them out of the church sanctuary.

Christmas morning with her mom and Isabelle had been perfect. Sarah’s wedding had been perfect. But after arriving back home that afternoon, a nervous energy buzzed inside Sophie that she couldn’t ease.

She knew why.

Cole’s quilt. She stared at where it sat on the dresser, only lacking a small area of binding to be finished—yet she hadn’t done the final few stitches.

It wouldn’t take her five minutes to finish. Why hadn’t she?

Because when she finished the quilt, she’d have to make a decision on what to do with it.

She’d made the quilt for Cole. It had been his from the start, even if she hadn’t realized that right away. He didn’t want to be awarded a quilt, but that didn’t make it any less his. Every stitch had been placed with him in mind. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, give it to anyone else, not when it belonged to Cole.

Walking over to the dresser, she picked up the quilt, eyed the ten-inch section needing bound, set down on her bed, and went to work.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Meow.”

“Hello there, traitor,” she teased the cat who’d started tapping on her window when he wanted inside. Sophie sat the quilt down long enough to open her window so the cat could take its place at the foot of her bed.

As expected, the cat came in and settled in his usual spot.

Sophie closed the window, then sat back on the bed, picked the quilt back up, and worked on the binding.

The cat meowed, stood, moved to where Sophie sat, giving her an expectant look.

“What?”

He meowed again.

When Sophie held out her hand, he rubbed up against it, moving back and forth so Sophie stroked him from head to tip of the tail.

Wow. Excitement filled her.

“About time, don’t you think?” she asked, as she grew bolder in petting the cat. He continued to allow Sophie to pet him until he decided to nestle in next to her to go to sleep.

“Merry Christmas to me,” she murmured, reaching for her phone so she could take a photo to commemorate the moment.

Once she’d gotten a couple of shots, smiling, Sophie went back to sewing, finished the binding, then hugged the quilt to her.

Cole’s quilt. She wanted him to have it. Needed him to have it. Today. On Christmas.