“Where did you get the idea for these?”
“I was walking to town one day, past the Methodist churchâit has that big stained glass window in frontâand the next thing I knew, I was running back home to sketch out a pattern.”
“It's beautiful,” she said with a sigh. “I've never seen anything like it.”
“Well, I'm glad you like it because I'm making it for you.”
“Really? Oh, Madelyn, really? But you already gave me the flower basket quilt.”
“No,” I corrected her. “I just helped you with it. That was a collaboration, like our friendship. We each bring something unique to the party and, because of that, the party is a whole lot more interestingâand fun. But this one is just from me to you, because I want to. I've discovered that I like giving gifts.”
“That's funny,” Tessa said with a laugh as she reached down to the floor to pick up her project bag. “So do I.”
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The two boxes were wrapped in lavender paper decorated with purple, blue, and green butterflies and tied with green satin ribbons. Tessa did go to a lot of trouble making presents look pretty.
I untied the ribbons on the first box, removed the wrapping, and lifted the lid. “Oh! How sweet! Quilts for the dollhouse. Just like the ones you made before,” I said, lifting the first, a teeny-tiny blue and white log cabin quilt out of the box. “Well, not quite like you made before. These are much nicer. Goodness, Tessa! The pieces are so little but they came out perfectly even. How were you able to do this?”
“I followed the directions,” she said simply. “And I took my time. I like doing miniatures. It sort of plays to my strengths. Anyway, I'm glad you like them. I started working on them right after we found the dollhouse. And,” she said, handing me the next box, “I ordered these at the same time, but there was a mix-up with the delivery company. They just arrived yesterday. Open it!”
Tearing the paper away, I read the words “Dollhouse Family.”
I laughed aloud. “No way. Tell me you didn't . . .”
Tessa's face lit up. For a moment, she looked about twelve years old. “Let's try them out.”
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The dollhouse was another of my remodeling projects.
The sofa I'd bought at the church fair looked so lonely in there by itself that I'd begun looking for replacement furniture at tag sales and thrift shops. So far, I'd found three beds, a kitchen table, chairs, a stove, a grandfather clock, and a claw-foot bathtub. One of these days, I hope to run across a miniature sewing machine. Of course, I could have ordered one from a catalog, but for me the fun has always come from the finding.
Tessa and I pulled chairs to the open side of the little house and sat down. She placed the new quilts on the beds while I opened the box and pulled out two female dolls, which I immediately dubbed Tessa and Madelyn, and two male dolls, who were harder to name.
“This one can be Lee,” I said. “But I'm not sure what to call this guy.”
“What's wrong with Jake?”
I narrowed my eyes and gave my friend a sideways look. “I don't know. Maybe. But he doesn't live here,” I declared. “He's just come for a visit. He's Lee's friend.”
“And Tessa's,” she insisted as she picked up the Jake doll and posed him on the sofa. “
And
Madelyn's. He's everybody's friend.”
I thought about this for a moment. “Fine. He's everybody's friend. And he's here for a visit.”
Tessa rolled her eyes. “You're crazy,” she said. “And very stubborn. Anyone ever tell you that?”
As she spoke I reached in the box and pulled out one final doll, an old woman with glasses, iron-gray hair, and an expression that looked surprisingly grim for a child's toy. I had no trouble naming this one.
“Indeed, they did,” I said, standing the Edna doll up in the kitchen, near the stove. “And much, much worse.”
Tessa gasped. “It looks just like her, doesn't it?” She turned the Edna doll around to face the Madelyn and Tessa dolls, who were sitting across from each other at the kitchen table and smiling.
“What are you two doing, sitting there like a couple of lumps!” Tessa said in a croaking imitation of Grandma Edna. “Don't you talk to me like that or I'll wash your mouths out with soap, do you hear me? When I was your age, children were seen and not heard! They respected their elders and they went outside to play, or helped around the house instead of sitting around on their backsides like lazy leeches! And another thing, you two are too big to be playing with dolls! Why aren't you . . .”
For a moment there was a bad taste in my mouth, acrid and sharp, like hatred and humiliation.
But only for a moment.
I reached out for my own doll, stood her up on her feet to face the Edna doll, and said, “You know something, Edna? I think you're tired. Heaven knows I'm tired of you. Hush up, Edna.”
I picked Edna up from her place near the stove, laid her on the white iron doll bed in the attic, swallowed back the bitter taste, and said, “It's time for you to go to sleep now, Edna. Rest in peace.”
Tessa reached out, pulled the quilt over the doll, covering its grim countenance, and then rested her hand on top of mine. “I think you're right, my friend. I think that's a very good idea.”
Dear Reading Friend,
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Whether this is your first visit to the village of New Bern or your fourth, I want to thank you for making the journey. I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I have.
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As you may know, when I began work on
A Single Thread,
the first Cobbled Court novel, I had no intention of creating a series. But after completing the manuscript I found myself longing to know more about this place and these characters, and so I invited readers to write and let me know if they, too, wanted to read more about New Bern.
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The thousands of wonderful e-mails and letters you sent in response to that question, and that continue to arrive by computer and post on a daily basis, have been an enormous encouragement and blessing to me. Writing tends to be a solitary pursuit, but your letters have fostered a connection between writer and reader, motivating me to give each story my very best effort. I do read every note personally, and every note receives a response.
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If you'd like to write to me, you can do so at . . .
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Marie Bostwick
PO Box 488
Thomaston, CT 06787
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While you're there you can also read excerpts from my other novels and check out my blog, the Recipe of the Month, my Latest Crush, and an upcoming schedule of appearances. (The only thing I like more than getting letters from readers is meeting them in person!)
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And if you register as one of my official Reading Friends (to get to the registration form, click on the “Become A Reading Friend” box on the left side of the home page), you'll get access to special content: You can register for my monthly book giveaway; receive my quarterly newsletter and invitations to my appearances in your area; connect with other readers in the online forum; and download free goodies like the recipes from my Christmas novellas, the Broken Hearts Mending lap quilt pattern from
A Single Thread,
and the Star-Crossed Love table runner from
A Thread So Thin.
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Speaking of quilt patterns, my dear friend Deb Tucker, of Studio 180 Design (
www.studio180design.net
), has created another gorgeous pattern inspired by the quilts you've read about in this book. We had so many terrific ideas for this new project that, as I'm writing this, we haven't yet settled on the exact pattern that will be offered. However, by the time you read this, my registered Reading Friends will have another beautiful, free pattern available to download.
Please remember: The patterns are only available via computer and only to registered Reading Friends for their personal use.
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Thank you again for joining me on another journey to New Bern. Until we meet again, I wish you all the best.
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Blessings,
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Marie Bostwick