Chapter 13

It was late in the morning on Monday, and Marsha was busily working in her studio, cutting squares of colorful fabric for her next quilt. She was listening to Mozart as she worked—she always found Mozart soothing.

This will look wonderful,she thought, spreading her hands across a patch of light blue fabric that had been printed with white cursive words striped across it. These words are about love. I hope whoever buys this quilt has a home with a lot of love in it.

She sighed and smiled as she set down the patch and reached for her scissors. "Purple next," she murmured, reached for her pre-cut strips of lavender-colored fabric. "I need twenty in this color."

In front of her on her worktable was a hand-drawn sketch of her plan for the quilt. She'd stapled swatches of fabric along the sides of it, and filled in the squares of the drawn quilt with approximations of the colors she was using.

It will look like springtime, she thought. The perfect kind of quilt to snuggle under and drink tea while reading a good book. Maybe I'll display it in here under a cozy mystery book and a teacup.

She smiled and glanced back at her studio shelves behind her. They were tastefully arranged with all her wares. She did a lot of selling online, but customers passing through Whale Harbor were directed by a sign in the front of the house to go to the back door, which led to her studio. It was both her workroom and her giftshop, and she liked to keep it looking as cozy and orderly as possible.

I'll put it over there, on that display table by the window,she thought. Next to the earring display case. It will look lovely there.

She had other quilts hung up on sturdy hangers along a wooden bar on the back wall, but this quilt was special, she decided. She wanted to give it a different spot in the studio, to display it more prominently.

I think the more I do all this, the better I get at everything,she thought, pleased. I'm excited to see what my next quilt will look like.

At that moment, she heard a knock on the door to the studio. She looked up eagerly—she loved getting customers, and one strolling by in the morning on a Monday was a rare occurrence.

"Be right there," she called, setting down her scissors and the strips of fabric. She stood up, ready to give whoever it was a tour of her studio. She hurried over to the door, which was painted a light blue on the inside, and tugged it open.

A young woman with black hair and honey-colored eyes was standing there. Her skin was pale, and her small features were lit up with a big smile.

She looks very excited to be here, Marsha thought, surprised but thrilled. I've never met her before. I hope she finds something here that she likes.

"Come on in," she said to the young woman, smiling broadly. "My name is Marsha Dunlap. I'm the owner of the studio."

"I know," the girl said, her eyes sparkling. She was looking at Marsha intently, which the older woman found a little odd, but still endearing. "My name is Hannah Je—I'm Hannah." She held her hand out for a handshake, and Marsha took it warmly.

"Well, I'm very glad you're here, Hannah." There was something about the young woman that she liked. She almost felt as though there was something familiar about her, but the feeling was vague and she couldn't put her finger on what it was.

I'm sure I've never seen her before,she thought. She must just remind me a little of someone else who I've forgotten.

"Feel free to take a look around the shop," Marsha said. "Anything you see here is available for purchase, and I also do a great deal of commission work. I make earrings and quilts and rugs—well, everything that you see in here. Earrings I can make for you same-day, but quilts and rugs will have a much longer make time." She laughed lightly, and the young woman smiled at her—again looking at her with a spark of interest in her eyes that Marsha didn't quite understand.

"These quilts are beautiful," Hannah said, walking over to the rack where Marsha's quilts were hung. "I love the colors you've chosen." She started to peruse the rack. "And these patterns are so unique!"

"Thank you." Marsha smiled. "How did you hear about my store?"

"Uh, I saw your wares advertised online." The young woman paused in her rummaging and turned to face the store owner. "I spent quite a bit of time on your website, actually. There's a lot on there. It's all beautiful."

"Oh, that's sweet of you to say. Would you like to look at anything in particular?"

"Oh, not necessarily. I'm just curious to see you—your work. The sewing on these quilts is amazing! And you're so creative. You must be good at making costumes too."

Marsha's eyebrows lifted. "My goodness." Her mind rushed immediately to the time that she'd won the Summer Smash costume contest with Willis—she'd been reminded of it so often lately by the news that the Summer Smash was being brought back to Blueberry Bay. "I made some costumes in the past, but I haven't made any for a long time." She felt confused by the girl's remark. "What made you think of that?"

Hannah hesitated for a moment, and then, biting her lip, pulled a piece of paper out of her purse. She handed it to Marsha gently. "I came across this article when a friend of mine and I were looking through old newspapers."

Marsha frowned in confusion and took the paper from the young woman. She unfolded it, and then her heart skipped a beat.

"I—oh my goodness." She stared down at the photograph of herself and Willis Jenkins from years before. Her heart stood still at she stared at his smiling face and saw the way his arm was wrapped protectively around her. She remembered how it had felt to be wrapped in his arms—she had felt safe and secure. "What—how did you realize that I'm the woman in this picture?"

"Well, your name. And you haven't changed all that much." Hannah smiled tentatively, watching the older woman's face carefully. "And my friend who was looking at the articles with me knew about your business here."

"So you didn't really find me online?"

The young woman winced. "Well, no. But it is true that I spent a long time on your website."

"But—I'm confused. Why did you come find me? What made you pay attention to this article?"

Hannah took a deep breath. "My last name is Jenkins," she said slowly. "Willis Jenkins is my father."

"Oh." Marsha's heart started to thump in her chest. She smiled at Hannah, but inside, she felt as though there was an ocean of feeling sloshing around in her core. "You're Willis's daughter?"

He must be married, she thought. Of course he is. Well, that's good. I'm glad he's been happy all this time.

"Yes, I am. He's been an amazing dad—he's raised me basically by himself, since my mom ran out on him when I was a kid."

"Oh." Her heart twisted when she heard the words, and also lifted up at the same time. That meant that Willis wasn't married anymore. She hated the idea of him being left like that—how could anyone leave Willis?—and her sympathy went out to both him and Hannah, who'd had to go through something like that. But the news that he wasn't married stirred her more than she would have expected. "I'm so sorry to hear that."

Hannah shrugged. "I think ultimately, we were better off that way, you know? Selfish people are going to hurt other people less from miles away."

Instinctively, Marsha reached out and squeezed Hannah's shoulder. "I'm sorry, though. I wish things hadn't happened that way."

"Thank you."

For a moment, the two women shared a smile.

"How is Willis doing otherwise?" Marsha asked. Curiosity filled her. She wanted to know how he'd been doing all those years. What was he doing for work? Was he still fixing things all the time? What a beautiful daughter he had!

At least he hasn't been completely alone, she thought.

"He's good. He owns a restaurant in Blueberry Bay called The Crab. It's a really popular place, and he's really proud of it."

"I'm so glad to hear that," Marsha said, noting that both she and Willis owned their own businesses. "I always thought he'd do well with whatever he set his mind to."

Hannah was watching her with a gleam in her eyes. "He has done really well. But—" She took a deep breath. "– I don't think I've ever seen him really happy. Not that happy." She tapped the edge of the paper that Marsha was still holding. "He's done so much for me. He was always there for me when he was raising me, and he means the world to me. I believe he deserves to be as happy as he looks in this picture."

Marsha looked up from the photograph, wondering if Hannah was saying what she thought she might be saying. She didn't respond as she waited for the young woman to continue. She could still feel her heart thumping in her chest.

"Are…" Hannah paused, taking another deep breath. "Are you married, Marsha?"

Oh my goodness, I think she's really doing this, Marsha thought. I think she's wondering if Willis and I might get back together.

She felt so lightheaded, a puff of air could have blown her away. "No, I never married. I worked as a therapist for a while, and then when I decided to start my own crafting business, I moved back here."

"Why did you move back here?" Hannah asked. "Why here and not Blueberry Bay?"

Marsha's lips parted. That was a question that she had never really answered for herself. "Well, I have bittersweet memories out here. I wanted to be close to Blueberry Bay, but I think being in Blueberry Bay itself would have brought up too many recollections…" Her voice trailed off.

"Have you ever considered going to look for my dad?"

Marsha shook her head. "No, I haven't. Well, recently my niece Olivia suggested that I look him up, but I thought it was best not to. Everything that happened between us was a very long time ago."

"I wish you'd consider coming to Blueberry Bay for a visit!" Hannah urged. "I'm sure Dad would love to see you again."

"I—I don't think that would be wise, Hannah. Thank you for suggesting it, but—well, I've already thought about it and made my decision."

Hannah nodded, her expression sad. "Okay." For a moment, she watched Marsha's face as if she was considering saying something more, and then she smiled briskly. "Well, I'd love to buy one of your quilts. How about that pink and teal one?"

"Of course." She returned the younger woman's smile, although her heart was heavy. "You can pay for it over here at the card reader or write me a check."

"I'll use the card reader." Hannah started to rummage in her purse with her head tilted downward, and Marsha wondered if she was trying to hide a disappointed expression.

I don't blame her for being disappointed,she thought. And it was a sweet thought, but—well, I just can't.

"I'll wrap the quilt up for you." Marsha stepped over to the rack and pulled off the pink and teal creation that Hannah had picked out. It was one of her best—made with eight pointed stars and a delightful blending of pleasant colors. She decided as she tucked it into a brown paper gift bag that she would give it to Hannah for half off.

"Thank you. I can't wait to use the quilt in my dorm room when I go back to school. It'll look amazing in there."

"Oh, you're in school? What are you studying?"

"Music." Hannah smiled.

"Oh, that's wonderful!" The two women chatted about college while Hannah paid for the quilt. Marsha was struck with how much she felt sure she would get along with Hannah, if they stayed in each other's lives. She felt her heart do a somersault, suddenly wishing it might happen, but she pushed the thought aside.

"Well, I'll be going now." Hannah picked up the bag. "It was nice to meet you, Marsha. It really was. I'll be sure to tell my friends about your store."

"Thank you, please do. And thank you for coming to visit."

"I'm really glad I did." Hannah smiled at Marsha one more time, and then slipped out through the door. The older woman watched her go, feeling a sadness that she couldn't ignore.

* * *

Alissa pushed open the back door of the house, biting her lip. She'd just finished up a long day of work at The Outlet and had returned home by herself. Dane was at the grocery store, picking up a few ingredients that they needed to make beef bourguignon for dinner that night. She appreciated him running the errand, but she didn't like returning to the house by herself.

I'm nervous,she realized with a wry chuckle. I feel like I'm just waiting for something else to go wrong—like the ceiling falling in or something.

She grimaced at the thought, reminding herself that no such thing was going to happen. She needed to stay relaxed and keep her spirits up. It was very likely that they'd reached the end of their house troubles, at least for a while. There was no point in getting jittery every time she walked through her own front door.

She took off her shoes with a sigh and set them on the shoe rack. She wiggled her toes in her socks as she looked around the kitchen, appreciating how truly charming it was. She and Dane had been keeping it neat and tidy, and the addition of their own decorations and colored dishes had made the pleasant room look more inviting than ever.

"I like you, house," she said to the empty building. "You're very cute. Please be nice and don't give us any more surprises, huh? No more things breaking, okay? Please? We'll be nice back, I promise."

She was looking up at the ceiling when the kitchen door opened behind her, and Dane stepped inside the house.

"Hey!" She hurried over to him for a kiss. "That was fast."

He was looking at her with his eyebrows lifted and an amused smile on his face. "Alissa… were you just talking to the house?"

"Oh no!" She burst out laughing, covering her face with her hands. "Did you hear that?"

He started laughing too. "Well, I didn't hear anything, no, but I saw you talking and looking around the room. You trying to get it to have mercy on us, huh?"

She leaned her forehead against his shoulder and groaned. "Yes. I was literally talking to it and asking it to be nice to us."

She could feel him start shaking with laughter under her head. She lifted her face and he kissed her, still chuckling.

"Hey, house!" he called. "You heard my wife! Behave yourself or else!"

"Shh," she teased. "Be nice to it. We don't want it to get mad at us."

They laughed together again. She took the bag of groceries that he'd brought inside and, still laughing, started to put them into the refrigerator while he took off his shoes.

"Oh, leave the beef out, sweetheart, would you? We're going to use it in a second."

"You're right." She clapped a hand to her forehead. "I'm still pretty distracted, I guess."

"You're all good."

A couple of minutes later, they started the preparations for their meal together. She poured them a couple of glasses of red wine to drink while they cooked, and she sighed happily over the taste.

"Ooh, this Pinot Noir has got to be one of my favorite wedding presents," she said, leaning against the counter and closing her eyes to savor the taste. "It's divine."

He took a gulp of his and nodded. "Incredible."

"I'm horrified," she told him, pretending to look aghast. "You just guzzled that down like it was Gatorade or something. You have to savor it."

"Oh, oh, I'm sorry. Like this?" He teased her by taking the tiniest sip of wine and then smacking his lips obnoxiously. "Mm, tastes like roses," he said in a comically nasal voice.

She laughed, shaking her head, and went back to chopping up potatoes. A few minutes later, the kitchen was filled with the savory aromas of the simmering sauce and juicy beef.

"I can't wait to eat this," he said, peering down at the bubbling sauce. "I'm so glad you've made this before. I would have been too scared to attempt it without you."

She laughed and kissed his cheek. "Hey. Speaking of things we're scared of, we should talk about those estimates we got from the contractors."

"Oh," he groaned. "Yeah, we should. What are you thinking?"

She leaned against the counter and took another sip of her wine. "I don't like it. I guess we have to spend it at some point, so maybe we should just go ahead and spend it now? But it's going to take such a bite out of our savings, and—well, I don't know. I just didn't expect us to have to spend this much right after buying the house. What if something else goes wrong?"

He nodded and wrapped an arm around her. "It's definitely a pretty high estimate, but it wouldn't totally deplete our savings. We'd still have enough. And remember, we're a two-income household now. It should be a little easier for us both to save more out of every paycheck."

"That's true." She sighed. "I just—I don't know. I don't feel the same way about this house that I used to. I don't see the same possibility in it that I did before we moved in and all these things started going wrong."

"Don't say that, sweetheart." He brushed a strand of hair back from her face. "It's still our dream house. It's going to be our dream home. I admit, it looks like it's going to take longer than we expected for that to happen, but these repairs aren't the end of the world. We've just got to pay for them, then they'll be done, and then this house really will be everything we thought it would be."

She looked up at the ceiling. "You hear that, house? You going to be chill and start behaving after this?"

He laughed and pulled her in for a kiss. "It'll behave." He winked, and then his tone grew more serious. "I mean it, sweetheart. It'll be our dream home."

She smiled up at him adoringly. "Okay. Thank you for encouraging me, sweetheart."

"Of course."

They shared a smile for a few moments, and then turned back to cooking their dinner.