Another typical morning in the Carmichael household, Brad thought as he faced his closet in frustration. He was ready to bang his head against a wall. No clean shirts—not a one—and none of his socks seemed to have a mate. He’d forgotten to do the laundry over the weekend, and now, Tuesday morning, he had no clean clothes to wear to work.
How on earth could he have been so careless?
It was bad enough to have forgotten to do the laundry over the weekend, but he should have noticed he was getting low on shirts and socks when he’d gotten dressed for work the previous morning. He grimaced and plopped down on the edge of his mattress. Sarah would never have let such a thing happen. When she’d been alive, the laundry had always been done, and the house had been showroom perfect. Now, he realized how much work it must have taken to do it and make it seem so effortless. He wondered if he’d ever thanked her for it. He doubted he had, because truthfully, he had never appreciated how much work it took. His and Jennie’s needs had always been met, and he’d just taken it for granted they always would be. Then a drunk driver had broadsided Sarah’s car the previous winter and changed all their lives.
“Daddy, do you have another headache?”
Brad turned to find his daughter standing in his bedroom doorway. Jennie was dressed in one of her frilly, Sunday outfits complete with white tights and shiny patent leather shoes. She reminded him of an adorable blond-haired doll come to life; however, the fancy outfit wasn’t suitable to wear for school and playground activities.
“Princess, you look beautiful. But today isn’t Sunday. We’re going to school not church.”
“I know today is Tuesday, Daddy,” the solemn little girl informed him. “But I don’t have any clean shirts or socks in my drawer. So I put on one of my dresses. I have lots of them in the closet. Tights, too.”
His daughter’s innocent acceptance of the laundry situation made Brad feel worse about it than he had before.
“I’m very sorry, honey. I should have done the laundry over the weekend, but I got too busy. I’ll make sure to do it tonight. Right after dinner.”
“I can help. I know what button to press to make the dryer start, and afterwards, I can match the pairs of socks. Mommy showed me how to fold them together so they don’t get lost in our drawers. I used to do it when she had to talk to her friend on the phone.”
For a moment, her eyes darkened, and Brad suspected, like him, she was thinking of her mother and missing her. He quickly summoned a smile to cheer her up. “You’re a pretty smart young lady. You know how to help with the laundry, and you figured out what to wear all by yourself this morning. I wish I were half as clever as you because all my shirts and matching socks seem to be in the dirty clothes hamper, too.”
Jennie’s little face scrunched in concentration. “Well, Daddy, you could wear the sweater Grandma Barb gave you for your birthday. You haven’t worn it yet.”
He’d never been the sweater type, so the stylish cable knit his mother had given him two months earlier had remained in its gift box on the closet shelf. Brad weighed the merits of the idea for a moment. A sweater? Oh well, desperate times call for desperate measures.
He crossed to the closet, pulled down the box and peered inside. A navy, V-neck sweater. “This might work, Princess. Now, let me figure out what I have in the closet to wear under the sweater.”
Jennie reached for the box and showed him the shirt nestled beneath the sweater. “Don’t you remember, Daddy? Grandma Barb bought you a shirt, too. And a pair of those socks with the funny diamonds on them like Grandpa wears.”
Sure enough, his mom had sent along a pale blue oxford shirt with a button-down collar and navy socks with a pale blue-and-gray argyle pattern. The clothes were a bit more preppy than what he usually wore – okay, a lot more preppy—and the shirt would be creased, but everything was clean. By far, that was the most important factor this morning. Besides, the creases wouldn’t show beneath the heavy sweater anyway.
“My dear Princess,” he said, giving her a courtly bow, “you are a genius as well as being beautiful.” He took the shirt out of the package, poking himself on one of the straight pins in the process. “Has Her Royal Highness eaten her cereal yet?”
Jennie’s lips quirked at the silly title, but she shook her head. “There isn’t any milk for cereal, Daddy.”
Good grief! He hadn’t done grocery shopping over the weekend either.
“Oh, honey, I am so sorry. I’ll pick up milk on my way home from work tonight. Let’s see,” he said, trying to remember the contents of their refrigerator. “We have leftover Chinese food from our dinners last night. I could warm some of it for an upside-down-day breakfast.”
His daughter wrinkled her button nose. “I don’t feel like eating Chinese food this morning, Daddy. Can I just have some crackers and peanut butter instead?”
Brad considered for a moment. Peanut butter was a protein, and crackers were almost like toast. Close enough, problem solved. “Okay, peanut butter and crackers for breakfast it is. I wonder if there’s enough for both of us. Do you need me to get things down from the cupboard for you?”
“I think there’s plenty for us both, but I can go and check. You don’t need to help me. You put the jar and the crackers in the snack drawer so I can reach them.”
“Then you go ahead and start eating while I finish getting dressed.”
“Okay, Daddy,” she said, heading for the door. As she skipped down the hall to the kitchen, she called back, “I love you.”
The three little words brought a big lump to Brad’s throat. He swallowed hard. His daughter might love him, but he felt as if he was the top contender for the “Worst Father of the Year” title.
****
Anne climbed from bed early on Tuesday morning and hummed as she got ready for work. Mario’s delicious meal, combined with the leisurely evening spent reading and relaxing in a bubble bath, had done her a world of good. She’d slept like a contented baby. Amazing what a good night’s sleep could do for a person. She felt rested and energized, eager to get to the shop and start on the many tasks on her To Do list for the day.
On Tuesdays, their part-time clerk worked, so Anne decided to take full advantage of the opportunity for a little free time. If she headed to The Stitching Post right after breakfast, she’d have time to calculate some costs for Mario before the store opened. Later, when Courtney arrived, Anne planned to slip away and head down to Falcone’s to measure the restaurant windows and show Mario some fabric choices. Making the curtains for him would be a wonderful way for her to repay his many kindnesses. With the thought uppermost in her mind, she wanted to find the perfect colorful but unusual print to make the practical, washable curtains he wanted. She’d include a swatch of traditional red-and-white check material for his consideration, even though she personally found it much too clichéd. Surely, there would be a better choice among the hundreds of bolts in the shop. If not, she’d start browsing fabric catalogues until she found one.
Anne opened her closet door and considered what to wear. Nowadays, her choices were much better than they’d been when she’d arrived in Grandville. All she’d had then were the clothes on her back and the few things she had stuffed in her backpack. Thanks to the generous discount she got on sewing supplies from Myra’s suppliers—and the use of the shop’s sewing machines—Anne had managed to expand her wardrobe quite nicely. Now, her choices included a few skirts and slacks she’d made and an array of oversize blouses and sweaters she’d found in second-hand stores. She also had a couple of dresses for Sundays and two pairs of jeans. A warm coat she’d purchased at a sale last winter also hung in the closet beside her fleece jacket. Since she’d be climbing around to measure Mario’s windows later, Anne chose her favorite jeans and a pink chenille sweater. The sweater’s color flattered her complexion, but its bulk made her feel safely hidden from prying eyes.
After dressing, she quickly made her bed and tidied the room. Her cozy apartment served her needs perfectly. It was small enough to require little cleaning and well within her budget. Best of all, living this close to the shop, Anne didn’t have to worry about how to get to work. She simply crossed the street. A variety of area restaurants and shops, also within walking distance, met most of her needs. When she wanted to go to the mall or to one of the large supermarkets, Anne sometimes borrowed Myra’s car, but most of the time, she caught the bus. Riding the bus might take a little longer to get places, but it was convenient and affordable. Yes, all in all, Anne enjoyed her quiet and content new life.
Carrying the paperback book she’d started the night before, Anne headed for the kitchen. She popped a bagel into the toaster oven then brewed enough coffee to fill a large mug. When the bagel was lightly browned, she put it on a plate and slathered it with a bit of strawberry-flavored cream cheese. The little luxury had been on sale when she’d made her last trip to Meijer, so she’d indulged her sweet tooth. Now, paired with her coffee, the treat made a filling breakfast before the busy day ahead of her. She settled at the table and managed to read another chapter of the romance while she ate.
When she finished her breakfast, she washed her plate and cup then slipped on her jacket and gloves. As always, she paused on the landing outside to lock her door then double-checked it to be certain the deadbolt had engaged. Satisfied the door was secure, Anne carefully made her way down the outside steps. The night’s cool temperatures had again created a thin layer of frost on the wood. She frowned, remembering how slippery they had been in the mornings last winter. So far, the area hadn’t had any snowfall, but their luck couldn’t last, not in Michigan. She made a mental note to add rock salt to the grocery list she’d been compiling for her next trip to the store.
It took next to no time for her to cross from her apartment to The Stitching Post’s back door. Anne unlocked the shop then quickly re-locked the back entrance behind her since customers weren’t allowed to enter that way. Tucking her gloves and keys in her pockets as she walked, she switched on the bright overhead lights then headed to the office to turn on the computer. While it ran its startup protocol, she hung her jacket on the coat hook beside the desk then went back into the shop to open the blinds on the display windows.
Humming a little tune, she lifted the blind on the front door then gasped and jumped back, clutching her throat. A man stood on the doorstep, nose pressed against the glass, trying to peer inside The Stitching Post.