Page 35 of One Chance to Stay (Bears of Firefly Valley #4)
Grace: Did I hear right? Dad invited Abraham over?
Grace: What have you done to him?
Gace: Keep doing it.
Grace: Ew. That came out wrong.
I snorted. I shot back a text asking if we could talk about college programs. My finger hovered over the send button as I thought about the humor in the situation. Sure, I’m shagging your dad, but let’s hang out and shoot the breeze. Nothing wrong about that?
“You call him dad. I call him daddy.”
I laughed at my own joke. The breeze on my walk would have been welcomed in the summer. Now, it had me zipping my jacket to the neck. Walking from Valhalla toward downtown, I had to admit my step had extra pep. Not even the cold slowed me.
Gladys: Patrick, I have extra batting if you need it.
Gloria: Do you need help with your bindings?
Gladys: Our meeting is today. I’ll save you a seat.
Gloria: Lies! She just wants gossip.
Gladys: We voted. Omission isn’t lying.
They had been going all morning. I don’t know if it was Abraham, but I had also been added to the ‘Scenic Views’ chat. From snowmobilers on the mountain to morning views from the porch, I already had to mute it. Beautiful, but wow, Firefly took loving nature to a whole new level.
I crossed the street, jumping a snow bank before skidding along the sidewalk.
Arms flailed, trying to keep me upright until I smacked into the door to Twice-Told Tales.
It was as if I had never encountered snow or ice before.
Winter in the city had nothing on winter in the mountains. I pulled the door open, sliding inside.
“Hey, Gladys, I was wondering if—” I froze as a dozen pairs of eyes stared at me over their sewing machines. If I had known the Quilting Guild took over her store, I’d have waited until they cleared out.
Gladys’s head shot up over a sewing machine. “Sorry, ladies, business calls.” One by one, their eyes dropped, returning to their projects. The soft thumping of their machines resumed as they fed them fabric.
I gave everybody a slight wave as I braved my way into their circle. “I need a gift for?—”
“Another record? I have the perfect one.”
“No, I was thinking?—”
“A Tiffany lamp?”
“Not really?—”
“A tea bag holder shaped like testicles?”
“Wait, what?”
“A taxidermy squirrel in a cheerleading costume?”
“What kind of store do you run?”
Behind the oversized glasses, she blinked, the smile creeping up her face. “Everybody has a different definition of treasure.”
“Shaped like testicles?”
She nodded, her smile never faltering. “Though, now that I think about it, I should set that aside for Gloria.”
“Hey!” Gloria didn’t look up from her hand stitching. Now that I took a moment, these women were creating some beautiful pieces. Though, I’m pretty sure Gloria’s quilt had tiny naked men on it.
“You’ll have a matching set,” Gladys replied.
“True,” Gloria said. “Can’t have too many tea baggers.”
I coughed so hard my eyes watered.
“Well?” Gladys asked. “Are you going to make me keep guessing?”
“I was hoping you had a vintage flask.” I had barely finished the sentence when she zipped behind her counter. Gladys didn’t run. She hovered as she moved. “Something a little fancy? Still in working order?”
She bent down for a moment. Two hands shot up, one holding a silver flask wrapped in leather, and another covered in rhinestones. As she rose, her eyebrows waggled. “Have a particular style in mind?”
She gently urged the bling-covered flask forward. If Seamus were standing here, he wouldn’t give the shiny flask a second glance. He’d opt for understated and functional. I bet the leather hugging the container smelled like his beard oil.
“Rhinestones,” I said.
She gasped. “Adventurous. I like a man willing to take a risk.”
Seamus might play it safe. I didn’t. I wanted him to reach into his pocket and think of me every time he ran his finger over the audacious flask. He’d never sip bourbon without scoffing, and if I were lucky, finishing with a smile.
“Gladys, as always, you deliver.” I reached into my pocket and handed her my credit card. While she rang up my purchase, I tried yanking off the plastic tie holding the price tag. Despite putting some muscle into it, it only stretched but refused to break.
“Don’t hurt yourself,” Gladys said while punching buttons on her screen. “Let me find you some scissors.”
I wandered toward an old desk she had been using as a work station. I reached for the scissors next to her sewing machine. “What about these?” I froze when the women gasped.
“Agatha, stop him!” Gladys cried.
“Those are fabric scissors.” Agatha swiped them from under my hand, clutching them against her chest. “Never… and I do mean never touch a woman’s fabric scissors.”
Gloria pushed her bifocals up her nose as she peered up at me. Age hadn’t diminished the vibrance of those judging blue eyes. “You’re not really a quilter, are you?”
I had been found out. “No. Not really. It’s Abraham’s fault.” I’d gladly sell him out if it meant a group of ladies with sheers didn’t tackle me. There was no way I’d survive a herd of Nanas with a grudge.
“Ladies,” Gloria said. “It’s time for revenge.”
Is this how Firefly fell? Would my next visit bring me to a town burning to the ground? The only survivors would be the guild as they stood, snug as a bug in their latest creations, as they watched the inferno.
“Ingrid, what do you think? I say we take in all his waistbands,” Agatha said.
“I know where he hides his spare key.” Ingrid got to her feet. I’d have called them a bunch of jolly, well-meaning gals, but Abraham was about to find out they weren’t to be messed with.
Gladys took the flask, pulled a pocket knife from her pocket, and cut the tag. With a shove, she guided me toward the door. “You better get out of here. This is about to get nasty. It’s almost as bad as when he lied about the sale at the Fabric Emporium. You’ll need deniability. Run.”
She opened the door and pushed me out. I stood on the sidewalk as the “Open” sign flipped around and the curtains blocked the view inside. Their definition of revenge seemed playful enough. I doubt Abraham would agree.
Served him right. “I’m not saying you asked for it, Abraham, but…”