thump came from just above their heads.
“The ghost?” he whispered.
“Probably. Mrs. K is in the kitchen. I hear old Willie now and then. He likes to move around about the time the clock strikes midnight.”
They both laughed.
Reluctantly, he let go of her hand and walked to the door. “There are always strange sounds in a house this old. See you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow,” she answered.
To his surprise, she followed him to the porch, and he didn’t have to turn around to know that she watched him as he walked away. She had been standing in the same spot every night as he glanced back, just before he turned the corner.
He closed his hand tightly as if trying to hold the warmth of her fingers for one more moment.
In his thirty-seven years, he’d never learned to weigh his feelings. The important ones, the unimportant ones. Not for women anyway. He could be polite, even funny sometimes. He could pretend to notice they were flirting, but he was never sure how to react.
But with Jillian, it was different. If she stayed around long enough, he might start to feel something for her, and it was his experience anytime his heart got involved, even slightly, it was bad news.
Sunnie Larady glared at the woman who had invaded Gram’s shop for the past few weeks. Jillian James looked nice enough, but she had to be up to something. No one under forty spends all day in a quilt shop. Jillian was almost as old as her father. She was tall, a few inches less than six feet, and she looked intelligent.
So if she wasn’t crazy, she must be up to something.
Sunnie knew her height because she measured everyone by her own height, hoping one day that all the people in the world would all grow half a dozen inches, then she’d be normal. The school counselor said she reached her elevation early, but how did she know? At sixteen, she might still be heading up.
Forget that worry. Right now Sunnie saw her mission clearly. She needed to keep an eye on the stranger.
Why had Dad hired someone to go through the dusty old inventory anyway? Maybe Gram was forgetting things. All old people do. That didn’t mean Gram needed a keeper.
The woman couldn’t be planning to rob the place. No one in their right mind would steal from a quilt shop.
Jillian looked up from her notes and smiled at Sunnie. “Shall we begin?” she asked, as if they were going on a great adventure and not simply counting quilts.
“I want to help, but I don’t want to bother any of Gram’s things.” She was Eugenia Larady’s only great-grandchild. It was her duty to protect Gram’s stuff. “This place is like the cemetery. It’s okay to clean up, but I don’t think we should be moving the quilts around, or Gram might think she’s lost something.” It was ten after nine and Sunnie was already bored.
Jumping up onto the counter, she decided she’d wait until Jillian told her what to do. No sense giving her ideas. After all, she was just the assistant. Her dad had made that clear. If Jillian told her to do something she didn’t like, she’d just call Dad. Until then, she’d follow orders.
Jillian smiled at her again and leaned against the counter, too. She must be working by the hour also. “Your comment reminds me of a graveyard outside of Hamm, Luxembourg. General Patton is buried there. He died in a car crash in 1945 just after the war was over, but he wanted to be buried with his men who died in the Battle of the Bulge. It’s a peaceful place in the countryside now, but once, they say the spot ran red with blood.”
“Any reason you’re giving me this history lesson?” Sunnie picked at the hole in her jeans, making it bigger. “I’ve had enough history. My dad writes books about tribes in Texas who died off before the Pilgrims landed. He writes mysteries too, but none of them get published, and he wrote a time-travel series he doesn’t even try to sell to anyone. To me, all those people are dead and might as well be forgotten. He also writes children’s stories about battles. You two should have a long talk.”
“I have no reason for bringing Patton up, except I just remembered that when Patton’s wife came to visit her husband’s grave, she had him moved in front of the other graves. Like he was still leading his men. Some said maybe he would have been happier being with them.”
“I get it. Moving things in a cemetery.” Sunnie rolled her eyes. She hated people who thought conversation was a connect-the-dots hunt. Doze off for two sentences and you’re lost.
While she was on the hating things subject, she hated Jillian’s straight black hair. It was too shiny and seemed to flow down her back when she moved. Witches, if there really were any, probably had hair like that.
As if Jillian could read her thoughts, she picked up a rubber band and tied her hair into a messy bun. Even that looked good.
Jillian got very professional all at once. “I’m here to log your Gram’s things, not relocate them. I promise I’ll be very careful with the quilts and I’m very happy to have your help.”
Sunnie was glad when Gram came back from the kitchen. This new lady didn’t make much more sense than her dad, always spouting facts of no use in the real world. Between Gram repeating herself and Jillian talking about cemeteries, Saturdays were going to be double boring.
But if Sunnie was being honest, at least Jillian James tried to talk to her, and that was more than most people over twenty bothered to do. Sunnie had thought of claiming to be sick this morning, but then Dad might not let her go out with Derrick and she’d been counting the hours since Wednesday when he’d ask her to hang out with him Saturday night. It didn’t matter what they did tonight; just being with him was all she’d been thinking about for a month. He was so perfect.
Dad didn’t seem to understand how lucky she was. Just turned sixteen and already dating the most talked-about boy in school. She was a sophomore and he was a senior. Even when she told Dad that Derrick had the best baby blue eyes in the world, he wasn’t impressed.
Of course, it was Derrick’s second senior year. He had missed some school because of a few car wrecks, but he was the hottest guy at Laurel Springs High. He’d played football last year, had the letter jacket to prove it. But he didn’t wear it much. Claimed this year was strictly for partying. He’d said his new leather jacket was much cooler.
“I thought we’d start by taking down a few of the wall quilts.” Jillian interrupted Sunnie’s R-rated prediction of what might happen tonight. They’d been together during school several times, lunch, assemblies, but never for a date. But tonight, something was going to happen. They’d have time to talk, to be alone.
“Can’t you just take pictures of them on the wall?” Sunnie hoped to rest at work; after all, she didn’t want to be tired tonight.
“I could,” Jillian seemed to be considering the alternate plan, “but the shadows of the fans and the angles from window light would not reflect each block to its best advantage.”
Sunnie gave in. No point in arguing. She had to do something while she was here or her dad wouldn’t pay her eight bucks an hour. He was such a pain. He thought she should earn money. Didn’t he understand most of her friends didn’t have to work; passing grades should be enough work? Besides, everyone knew the Laradys owned land in town and out. She shouldn’t have to work.
Plus, this job wasn’t turning out to be as simple as she’d thought. They had to carefully remove each tack, or brace, or cotton rope strapped to the back of the quilt. Once they got it down, it had to be dusted and spread out exactly right before Jillian took about a dozen shots. Then they did it all in reverse.
Sunnie decided she’d die of boredom before noon.
The only break she got was when Jillian asked Gram questions about the