“I don’t have to do that,” Nessa said. “When I was a kid, I came here every summer for a couple of weeks and usually cried myself to sleep every night for weeks when I went back to the Texas Panhandle.”
“Miz Lucy said you’re a teacher,” Jackson said. “Are you planning to look for a job around here?”
“Maybe, but what I’d like to do is make quilts and pick up Nanny Lucy’s business where she left it off,” Nessa said.
“She made a great living that way. We used to go to craft shows together, and we always had a really good time. She would sell whatever she had made up, and she always took along boxes of patterns and quilt pieces already cut out so folks could make their own,” Jackson said.
“When are the fairs?” Nessa asked. “I’m totally new to this thing, but I love to quilt. There’s something both soothing and satisfying about the job.”
“Starting in September, there will be several each weekend. Miz Lucy, Uncle D. J., and I went to the ones closest to home, for the most part, but we always had good sales at one down near Waxahachie, so we tended to go there, even though it meant staying in a hotel overnight,” he said. “Get a couple of quilts made up and some boxes ready, and you can go with me. I’ll show you the ropes.”
“You’d do that for me?” Nessa was amazed.
“Sure, we’re neighbors.” Jackson’s smile lit up the whole porch. “Besides, I’ve never been to a fair by myself, and I’d appreciate the company. I’ve got an enclosed trailer that we use to transport our wares.”
“How many quilts should I have ready to go by the first fair?” Nessa was already doing the math in her head. She had three weeks left in June and the whole months of July and August to work. If she used the time to make a simple pattern and had a few of the more complicated quilts cut out and ready to sell as do-it-yourself projects, she might have a few things to show. She and her mother had made quilted throws for shut-ins and for the members of her dad’s congregation who had moved to nursing homes, and she’d always loved the work.
“That’s up to you,” Jackson said. “Miz Lucy seldom brought anything home from a fair. She sold her quilts for anywhere from six hundred to two thousand, depending on how much detail was in them, and the kits started at two hundred.”
If she sold just two quilts a week and the kits, Nessa thought, she’d be making far more than she ever had teaching.
“Kind of makes you wonder why you didn’t start quilting when you were younger, doesn’t it?” Jackson asked, but went on before she could answer. “My dad and mom are both lawyers. My older brother and his wife are both lawyers in the Devereaux firm, and my older sister is a lawyer. Her husband is a surgeon. I make almost as much as they do with my woodworking projects. I sure wish I’d come to Blossom right out of high school and gone to work with Uncle D. J.”
“What did they think when you decided to build furniture?” Nessa asked as she sipped her coffee. She could already hear her father preaching at her, and without closing her eyes, she could see the aggravated expression on her mother’s face.
“Being a lawyer was what was expected of me, so that’s what I did. Dad says I was good at my job, but I wasn’t happy,” Jackson said. “So I took a two-week vacation and came to Blossom to think. They were fine with that since all my cases were settled and I had the time to take. But they weren’t happy when I told them I was staying here and not coming back.”
“I don’t imagine my folks are going to be happy if I tell them I’m resigning my teaching job, either.” Nessa’s voice sounded tense to her own ears.
“It’s been five years. I talk to them on Sunday mornings, and they’re still trying to convince me that I need to come back to the firm.” He chuckled. “Don’t expect your folks to support you in what they’ll think is a crazy decision. Your father is the preacher, right?”
“Yes.” Nessa nodded. “The apple of Nanny Lucy’s eye. He’s the only one that grew up to be what she wanted. We were all surprised when she didn’t leave her place to him.”
“From what little she said about her family, I think she was disappointed in all of her kids in some part,” Jackson said. “She didn’t go into detail, but she did say that she regretted the way she’d raised all of them.”
“It’s strange how I thought I knew her so well, and I didn’t really know her at all,” Nessa said.
“Does anyone ever really know another human being? I thought I knew Uncle D. J., but I find out new things about him every day—even since he passed away. Little things, like once I found an old newspaper tucked away in the patterns that had an article in it about him making a hope chest for the daughter of the Texas governor.” Jackson finished off his coffee. “Want a refill?”
“No, I should be getting on back to the house, but thanks for the coffee and the visit. Want to join us for Sunday dinner about noon today?” she asked. “I’ve got a big pot roast in the oven.” And then she wondered if maybe she should have asked April and Flynn about inviting someone to dinner.
Why would I think that? It’s my home as much as theirs, she scolded herself.
“I’d love to. I’ll bring dessert,” he said. “Did you say noon?”
“That’s the plan, but I’ve already got an apple pie ready to go in the oven, so just bring a healthy appetite.” She handed him her empty coffee cup and stood up. “See you then.”
“I’ll be there, and thanks,” he said.
She could feel his eyes watching her as she rounded the end of the porch. April would tease her terribly if she knew that Nessa threw an extra swing into her walk.
Chapter Ten
Jackson had been to lots of Sunday dinners at Miz Lucy’s place, both when his uncle D. J. was still alive and even after he had passed on. That first Sunday he’d gone over there after Uncle D. J. died was tough. He and Miz Lucy had played checkers rather than dominoes that afternoon, because they couldn’t bear the memories of D. J.’s love of the game.
“Never been in that house when four people were gathered around the table,” he told Tex as the two of them started down the path. The clouds from the past couple of days had moved on, and there was nothing but clear blue sky above him. A slight breeze ruffled the leaves in the gnarly oak trees on either side of the well-rutted pathway. Over to his left, he could hear the waterfall bubbling over the rocks. All in all, a beautiful day with, most likely, a good Sunday dinner waiting, so why did he feel so antsy about going?
They turned off the trail into the backyard, and Tex ran on ahead. When Jackson got closer, he could see the dog on the front porch with April, his head in her lap. “Traitor,” he mumbled. “You were supposed to stay with me.”
“Hello!” April waved with her free hand. “Is this your dog? If not, I’m going to adopt him.”
Jackson stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “I reckon I’ll claim the mutt. I inherited him when Uncle D. J. passed away. He usually doesn’t take to people so quickly.”
“I like animals,” April said. “D. J. must have gotten him after I left Blossom. I don’t remember him having pets.”