The medium package is the Moonshine family. Which admittedly is growing, with grandbabies for me to adore, but in the beginning, it was a two plus four, and that meant finding new ways to balance happiness, play and work with extra bodies. I’m so grateful that my children have all grown up to be adults I’m not just proud of but want to spend time around. People I can have easy conversations with yet be challenged and supported by.
Which means the big package is the entire Coleman clan. And that’s where the memory I want to share comes from, because otherwise I’ll just gush about my grandkids. Which is good and right, but not what this is about.
When we started the family gatherings on Boxing Day and Canada Day, it made life simpler. Every other year would be our turn to host, once in summer, once in winter. But the year Trevor was born in June, there were two other new babies as well, so Sally said Whiskey Creek would host.
Their house was mostly built by that time, her kitchen a little chaotic and not yet sorted because they were getting married in August and still working on things. Myself and the other sisters-in-law came over early to help each other finish cooking before the actual gathering.
I had offered to make lemon pudding pies. The crusts I’d done ahead of time, so with little Trevor being taken care of in the other room, Sally and I whirled into action, scooping up sugar and mixing vigorously. As soon as the custard started to set, we poured it into the piecrusts and then admired how pretty they looked, all creamy, yellow perfection.
Until Sally decided to lick the spoon.
Her face—dear, Lord—I can picture it now. The sheer horror and the way her mouth puckered before she raced to the sink and spit and spit and spit.
I’d used salt instead of sugar.
Once we figured that out, and Sally had rinsed her mouth and was no longer gagging, that’s when the giggles hit. For the next umpteen minutes, we laughed so hard, we ended up on the floor, stomachs aching.
Sally suggested we scrape the terrible pudding out of the crusts and start again, and in the end, it worked. But to this day, I can’t give that recipe to anyone without enjoying a small snicker.
I learned three important lessons:
1. Sometimes mistakes are the way to learn (i.e., always check that the white, crystal-like substance is sugar).
2. Sometimes we need a bit of laughter to ease past our mistakes.
3. And family is a good place to find both laughter and good advice. Whether you open a small, medium, or large package of Coleman.
[Images: lemon pies. Family gathered around a fire. Big laughing group. Hugging couple.]
Part III
And what is the future, happy one?
‘A sea beneath a cloudless sun;
A mighty, glorious, dazzling sea
Stretching into infinity.’
Past, Present, Future
Emily Brontë
17
Hope turned the sign on the front door from open to closed but left it unlocked. Then she wandered back into the Stitching Post, deep satisfaction rising as she gazed around her neat shop, admiring the sample quilts hung along every available surface above the well-stocked fabric shelves.
After nearly seven years, she could honestly say she was no longer afraid of failing. She had loyal customers and experienced teachers and a place she loved to go every day.
Thumping from the back stairs behind the shop brought a smile to her lips. She moved toward the door and welcomed Colton in with a hug. “Hey, big guy. How did your afternoon go?” This question was directed partly toward her three-year-old son, and partly his caregiver, Mandy, who was now passing over one-year-old Cameron.
“Good,” Colton said even as he made a beeline for the play area Hope had set up for kids in the shop. He stopped, hands snapping to a position behind his back. “Can I play?”
With the daycare Mandy operated out of the room she rented from Hope directly above the quilt shop, Colton didn’t need to spend that much time in the actual store. Which meant the shop toys were a special treat.
Hope grinned. “Sure, kiddo. Your Auntie Becky will be here soon, so you get extra play time today.”
Colton was gone in a flash.
Cameron tugged on Hope’s ears to get her attention.
“Just a minute, sweetie,” Hope said as she grinned at Mandy. “You got the rest of them off early?”
“You know how it is on early dismissal day. Most moms give up and grab the little ones before even heading to school.” Mandy tilted her chin toward Cameron. “That one only had about half an hour to nap, so apologies if he’s cranky.”
“Not a problem. Have a good evening.”
While it wasn’t exactly what her sisters-in-law were doing, Hope and Matt had discussed it a lot. The quilt store was more than just a way to make money—it was something Hope had dreamed about for years. And while raising a family was also a dream, she and Matt were finding a way to make both dreams work.
When Mandy had rented the apartment upstairs from Hope and then asked for permission to do some childcare, it’d been a perfect solution. And if it occasionally sounded as if there was a herd of elephants running around above them, no one in the quilt shop minded. Most of them were moms or grandmas, and the noise just brought amusement.
Colton and Cameron were around other children the few days of the week that Hope and Matt’s work schedule overlapped. A few more days right now since Becky was no longer able to fill in gaps in the schedule.
Hope paused in front of the quilt she’d temporarily hung in the shop. It wasn’t the Six Pack family quilt—the one that Matt had sweet-talked his brothers into helping him sew. That one had been shown off a few times over the years and was well known in the community, considering Matt had attached her engagement ring to it.
No, this quilt was the one that had taken her forever to design. She had finally figured out how to incorporate everything she wanted. Staring up at it, her smile widened into a grin.
It wasn’t a pattern anyone else would ever want to imitate, but for her and Matt, the snowflakes falling against an icy-cold Alberta sky were a reminder of where they started. Below the flakes, a clawfoot bathtub—Hope snickered—was surrounded by reflective pieces of fabric that made the edges glitter like a mirror.
Quilts said a lot to the people who knew how to read them, but this one was readable only to her and Matt. A sweet, intimate reminder of important moments in becoming who they were to each other.
The warning bell at the front door rang, and she turned to see Becky come in, baby seat cradled in front of her. Arabella’s thin baby cry trembled on the air.
Hope hurried to help. “Trevor drop you off?”
“Uncle Mark did. We had a late lunch, but he’s headed back to work. Will you be able to take me home later?”
“Of course.”
It was comfortable and easy, spending time together. Becky had worked in the shop until Arabella had arrived. Hope had missed seeing the other woman the past couple of months.
Becky pulled her crying baby out of the car seat, sheer joy on her face. “Sweet princess. Yes, I know, you’ve been very patient.”
Arabella cried again, the sound bringing Colt running to see what was wrong as Becky unwrapped her little girl then put her into position to nurse. Colt rested a hand on Becky’s arm before very carefully touching the back of Arabella’s head. “Baby ’ella’s hungry.”