Anything for Her

chapter THREE



ALLIE’S MOTHER SMILED perfunctorily when Allie told her the date had gone great and she and Nolan were going to see each other again. Without commenting or asking more about him, she began chattering about the Friends of the Library and how someone had suggested she run for president when elections came around at the end of the year.

“Goodness, I’d never considered it,” she said, “but of course I do organize the book sale, and it seems as if more and more often people are turning to me.”

She sounded really pleased, Allie thought, which made her guess her mother needed more recognition than she’d been receiving. It wasn’t hard to see why; her boss might appreciate her, but her job kept her tucked away in the back room. Who gave a thought to the bookkeeper, unless your paycheck was late? For so many years, Allie’s and her mother’s entire lives had required them to keep a low profile. It had been a long time since Allie had chafed at that, but maybe it had bothered Mom all along.

I never realized. The fact that she was surprised made her feel self-centered. When was the last time she’d wondered what made her mother happy?

“You’d do a great job,” she assured her. “You ought to run.”

Mom had stopped by the store just before closing and suggested dinner, surprising Allie. After all, they’d eaten together the night before last. But she’d agreed even though she really wanted to go home and work on the Burgoyne Surrounded quilt. She’d set it up in the frame but had had very little time to start on it. Sort of like high school, she thought ruefully—I’m such a social butterfly.

Now, if it had been Nolan calling and suggesting they get together...

She would definitely not let her mother know that she’d rather be spending this evening with him.

Allie never did quite figure out why Mom had suggested they get together so soon after the last time. She clearly wasn’t interested in hearing about Nolan, and she didn’t have any significant news of her own beyond the possibility of becoming president of the Friends.

Bemused, Allie escaped as soon as she could after dinner and did manage a peaceful hour of hand-quilting before getting ready for bed. She loved starting on a new—or, in this case, very old—quilt. She used a tiny needle and averaged twelve stitches to an inch despite the thickness of the three layers. It was the quilting that added stiffness and wondrous texture. Admiring the block she’d completed, she remembered the sensual way Nolan had fingered the Lady of the Lake quilt she was working on at the store.

She wished he’d called today. What if he hadn’t had as good a time as she did? Men always said, “I’ll call.” Frequently they didn’t mean it. What if she didn’t see him again until he came to pick up his son’s completed quilt?

Allie rolled her eyes. Oh, for Pete’s sake! They’d had dinner only last night! It had been one day, and she was already despairing.

Laughing at herself, but still aware of a hollow feeling beneath her breastbone, she went to bed.

* * *

NOLAN TRIED TO figure out how soon he could see Allie again without upsetting Sean or making him feel abandoned. A solution occurred to him during the night on Thursday, and he called her store right after ten Friday morning.

After identifying himself, he said, “Do you slow down enough in the middle of the day to take a lunch break?”

“Yes, but I can’t close the store, so I usually just snatch a bite here and there when I have a slow moment.”

“Could I bring lunch by?” he asked.

There was a brief silence. “That would be nice,” she said. “Can you make it one or one-thirty? I get quite a bit of business during the standard lunch hour, then things go dead afterward.”

He’d be starving by then, as early as he had breakfast, but that was okay. He wanted to see her. He could grab a bite midmorning to sustain him.

He picked up deli sandwiches and cookies at the Pea Patch and walked in the door of Allie’s shop at one-fifteen on the nose. His gaze arrowed in on her, back at her quilt frame, before he scanned the store and saw that they were otherwise alone.

She parked the needle and dropped a thimble on the quilt, standing before he reached her. She looked so pretty, her hair looser today than he’d seen it and her eyes somehow even greener than he remembered. She wore an elbow-length, snug-fitting, peach-colored cardigan sweater that was open over something lacy and white. Her smile tightened the strange knot in his chest.

“Nolan.” Her gaze went to the bags in his hand. “Oh, I love the Pea Patch.”

“I should have asked what you like,” he said gruffly.

“I’m not picky.”

They sat at one end of the long table that presumably was used for the classes Allie taught. He took out the sandwiches and gave her first choice, looking around at the completed quilts and quilt blocks that hung on the walls.

“I’d say I stand out as much as a bull in a china shop, but at least your wares aren’t breakable.”

She laughed, the gold in her eyes shimmering. “The store is rather feminine, isn’t it? And I suppose your workshop is masculine to the nth degree.”

“You could say that. There’s nothing pretty about it.”

“Except what comes out of it.”

“I don’t usually think of anything I make as ‘pretty.’” He pretended to sound insulted. “I go for magnificent.”

“Naturally.” Her expression was merry, her mouth still curved. “Silly of me.”

He asked if all her customers were quilters, and she told him that most were.

“I carry only one hundred percent cotton fabrics that are the right weight and texture for quilts. I debated adding other fabrics, but without having a great deal larger space I wouldn’t have had enough selection to draw a wider clientele. And then I’d also have had to offer patterns, and that would have taken space, too.” She spread her hands in a “what could I do” gesture. “I don’t have any direct competition here in West Fork, but there’s a JoAnn’s Fabric not that far away, and they’re huge. I can’t go head-to-head, and I don’t want to.”

He nodded, understanding. He couldn’t go head-to-head with the kind of place that turned out granite countertops for every subdivision, either, not at a competitive price.

“Mind you,” she said, “JoAnn’s carries quilting fabric, and I know customers sometimes go there because a chain store like that can beat my prices. They have big sales, too. My niche is the dedicated quilter. I find unusual fabrics, ones that will help create a truly distinctive quilt. Also, I can offer a level of service a larger store can’t. Newer quilters need someone to lead them around and show them what works and why. And, of course, the classes are really successful for me.” She grinned at him. “Plus, I have to admit I love converting women into quilters.”

“I suppose quilting is a form of art for women,” he said thoughtfully.

“Yes, and it always has been. There actually are men who quilt, including a few whose work is cutting edge. But fiber arts of all kinds were traditionally a woman’s task, and her way of expressing herself and, probably, impressing other women. It wasn’t just quilting—there’s weaving, of course, hooked and braided rugs, embroidery... Think about medieval tapestries, which like most other fabric arts had a practical purpose—preserving heat in chilly stone castles.”

Enjoying her enthusiasm, Nolan said, “While the men were decorating their armor.”

Allie laughed. “Right.”

She told him that Burgoyne Surrounded, the pattern that made up Sean’s quilt top, was likely copied from a traditional pattern used in woven coverlets—one woman’s art transferred to another. Nolan found the idea intriguing.

With a little urging, he got her to talk some more about the history of quilting, about how older quilts could often be dated within a decade simply by the fabrics used.

“Although it is getting a little harder,” she remarked, “because these days you can buy fabric that looks like it came from the 1930s, for example. And a really well-preserved one from that era actually wouldn’t look that different from a new one made from a pattern common then.”

“How well preserved is an eighty- or ninety-year-old quilt likely to be?”

“Most were made for everyday use, but not all. Sometimes a particularly prized quilt or coverlet was put out once in a while for show, but otherwise kept in a cedar chest for posterity. There are some really spectacular nineteenth-century quilts in beautiful condition.

“If a woman put enough work into a particular quilt, she wasn’t going to be eager to have her husband come in from the fields and sit on it to take off his muddy boots, then get under it when he hadn’t had a bath in a week. Or put it on a kid’s bed. Imagine how painful it would be to have put hundreds of hours into piecing and quilting, then have to subject it to a scrub board and wind and sun when it was laid out to dry.” She made a face at him. “You don’t have to worry about anything like that, do you? Your work is literally rock-solid. Who could abuse it?”

“Now, that’s not entirely true,” he protested. “A granite countertop, for example, takes some care. And even rock can be chipped, scratched and battered.”

Allie and Nolan agreed that they preferred to think their creations always went to the perfect homes, where they would be treated tenderly forevermore. They both laughed, knowing how unlikely that was.

Unfortunately, a pair of women came in the door and rushed, oohing and aahing, toward a display of ocean-themed fabric that had caught Nolan’s eye earlier, too.

“Dinner Saturday night?” he asked hastily, and Allie agreed with seeming pleasure before going to wait on the women. Nolan bundled up the lunch trash, murmured a quiet goodbye to her and left, aware of the women’s curious gazes following him.

* * *

NOLAN SAW ALLIE twice more in the next week: for dinner on Saturday night, and when he stopped by again with lunch on Tuesday. By then he’d become increasingly aware that trying to get together with a woman, even for a purely sexual relationship, was going to be a greater challenge than it would have been before Sean.

This was partly because he could tell he was shaking his foster son’s sense of security. But there were also the practicalities, starting with the fact that Nolan had to keep a sharp eye on the clock whenever he was out. Not going home at all some night was clearly out. Being really late wasn’t good, either.

Sean had definitely waited up for him Saturday night. He’d mumbled again that it was “cool” Nolan was seeing a woman, but plainly he felt threatened by the loss of Nolan’s undivided attention. And no wonder, when he’d come to live with him so recently and probably already figured, somewhere deep inside, that Nolan was one more person who would ditch him sooner or later.

Then there was the fact that he’d never be able to bring Allie home to his own bed, unless it was during the day while Sean was in school. Since he didn’t have any friends yet, the kid never went anywhere unless he was with Nolan. Thank God Allie didn’t have a roommate, Nolan thought. He had a suspicion, though, that she wasn’t likely to be inviting him into her apartment anytime soon. He doubted she was casual about sex. In one way, he didn’t want her to be, but...damn, he wanted her. He’d been okay with a long stretch of celibacy until he set eyes on Allie. He seemed now to be in a constant state of edgy discomfort.

Finally, in sheer desperation, he decided he had to introduce her and Sean. If they hit it off, he could spend more time with her. Whether that would forward his goal of getting her into bed, he didn’t know, but, damn it, he was happy being with her, no matter what they were doing.

He’d discovered early on that Sean’s background was devoid of a whole lot of the experiences he thought most kids took for granted. He’d been gradually, without making a big deal of it, trying to fill those in. He had been mildly shocked to learn that Sean had never been to the zoo.

Friday night, while they were eating dinner together, Nolan said, “I thought we’d go to the zoo Sunday.”

His foster son looked at him as if he was crazy. “The what?”

“You heard me.”

“Wow. Will you hold my hand to make sure I don’t get lost? And, hey, you gonna buy me a stuffed monkey while we’re there, too?”

“Even adults enjoy the zoo.”

Sean’s disbelieving stare didn’t moderate.

“I thought I’d ask Allie, too,” Nolan said casually.

Something ugly flashed in the boy’s eyes. “If you have her to go with, why do I have to get dragged along?”

“Because it’s fun.” Pretending he hadn’t noticed Sean’s anger, Nolan took a second helping of green beans. “And you and I are going whether she can join us or not.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“When I’ve suggested doing something together, have I ever bored you silly?”

“I guess not,” he mumbled after a minute.

“Have faith.”

Nolan grinned at the rolled eyes.

When he called Allie the next day and proposed the same expedition, there was a long silence.

“The zoo?”

“You sound like Sean.”

She laughed.

“I go a couple of times a year,” he said. “It’s one of my favorite ways to spend a day.”

“I’m ashamed to say I’ve only been to Woodland Park Zoo once since we moved to Washington.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Ten...no, eleven years.”

“Then you’re past due for another visit,” he said firmly. “What do you say?”

“I say that sounds like fun. And I’ll look forward to meeting Sean.”

“Then we’re on.” Pleased that she was okay with an outing that included his son, he arranged to pick her up by nine. The weather was supposed to be warm this weekend, and he’d learned that morning was best for catching glimpses of some of the more elusive animals.

Come Sunday morning, Sean didn’t want to get his butt out of bed. He moaned and whined when Nolan rousted him, then grumbled all the way to her place about how crowded they’d all be in the pickup.

Nolan liked the idea of being crowded against Allie. It had occurred to him lately, though, that he should maybe think about buying a car. The time would come when he’d have to take turns driving Sean and his yet-to-be-made friends places—not possible with the pickup truck. He could choose something that might also do for Sean in a couple of years when he got his driver’s license.

Once again, he didn’t have to go up to Allie’s door; she came out as soon as he pulled in. He got out to meet her, enjoying the sight of her coming down the stairs. She wore calf-length chinos, sandals and a T-shirt the mossy green color of her eyes. Her legs were sensational, and his groin tightened. On another level, he was glad to see that her hand slid along the railing. So she was being careful.

Sean had climbed out of the truck, too, and stood there looking as lumpish as he could manage.

“You must be Sean,” Allie said with a friendly smile. “I’m so glad to meet you. When we get back later today, why don’t you come upstairs and see what I’m doing with your quilt. I’d like to make sure you approve.”

That stirred a little emotion on his face. “I guess,” he mumbled.

Nolan held out a hand, but she said, “Why don’t we take my car? I get better mileage, and it fits in parking spots for compact cars.”

He didn’t much like being a passenger, but agreed. Sean was relegated to being in the backseat of her Corolla, but he was probably relieved.

Mostly, Nolan and Allie carried the conversation on the drive to Seattle, but Sean wasn’t rude enough to ignore direct questions. They were able to park only a couple of rows from the entrance. As they all got out and Allie locked the car, Sean looked at several families with small kids streaming across the parking lot, parents pushing strollers.

“I can’t believe this,” he muttered.

Nolan laid a heavy arm across his shoulders. “I wish I’d had you when you were that age. We’d have come to the zoo a lot.”

That earned him a skittish look he’d seen before. Sean had trouble believing Nolan truly wanted him as a son, or that he’d give a lot to be able to go back in time and save the boy from all the uncertainties and deprivation of his life.

Huh. Maybe if he bought that car now, Sean would understand it was a kind of promise, one that said, You will be staying with me.

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” Allie exclaimed enthusiastically. “Do they have snow cones here? I love snow cones.”

“I think maybe they do.” Nolan bumped his hip against hers. “You’re easy to please.”

She bumped back. “Am not. Usually the only place you can get a snow cone is the fair.”

“You went?”

She gave him a humorous glance. “Are you kidding? I always enter some quilts. Both in the Evergreen State Fair and the Stanwood Fair.”

“And win, I bet.”

“Naturally,” she said with dignity, then spoiled it with that scrunched nose. “Sometimes I get robbed, but then, there are people with no taste wherever you go.”

He laughed. Sean gave her his “what are you” look.

Nolan paid the entrance fees and grabbed a map, steering them all toward the safari enclosure that held zebras and the stately, ungainly giraffes. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sean gaping as he leaned against the railing.

“There’s a baby,” Allie said with delight. “Sean, look!”

By the time they reached the elephants, Sean had shed his teenage cool. He was exclaiming right along with Allie, only taking occasional glances around to make sure no one in his age range was looking.

They got lucky enough to see two otters romping in the extraordinarily natural stream, shooting down over rocks like kids on a playground slide, then scrambling back up to do it again. A lioness snatched a huge fish from the water with brutal speed, making the human audience gasp. A gorilla mother cradled a young one, and when Sean crouched by the glass both stared at him with intelligent dark eyes while he stared back.

“Wow,” he said after that. He sounded awed and uneasy. “They look so human. Not like they should be in the zoo.”

Partway through, Nolan bought everyone hot dogs, sodas and, eventually, snow cones. He was having more fun watching Allie and Sean than the animals. The two of them were as entranced as any pair of five-year-olds, and not hiding it. Allie didn’t leave him out, though. Every so often, she’d grab Nolan’s hand and drag him forward either to make sure he saw something or just to be close to him.

He got to wondering whether she’d had a normal share of satisfying childhood experiences. Maybe she possessed the rare quality of being able to throw herself into the moment without self-consciousness, but he kept noticing the nearly identical expressions of astonishment and even wonder on hers and Sean’s faces. Nolan kept pondering her reactions without arriving at a conclusion.

She sounded as though she was close to her mother. Maybe closer than usual, even, for a woman her age. And there had been a father. She’d said she was seventeen, Nolan thought, when her parents split up. That implied a sort of regular childhood, didn’t it?

But the fact that the father had evidently walked away without compunction bothered Nolan. And then there was the brother, who’d also disappeared from her life.

Yeah, that was strange enough to unsettle Nolan, coupled with today’s childish delight. It made him realize how little she’d really said about her background.

He had to shrug at that, though; he hadn’t exactly been chatty about his own. Their now was a lot more important than what their lives had been like when they were eight years old or ten or fourteen. There was an even more logical explanation, too, it occurred to him. Zoos tended to be in large cities. Her family might have lived far enough from one that they’d never gone.

Still...he was curious. And he knew himself. Curiosity and unease had eaten at him from the first time he set eyes on Sean and his then-foster father. Nolan hadn’t felt satisfied until that phone call this spring when the gruff boy/man voice on the other end said, “You gave me your card a while ago and said to call you if I ever needed anything.”

Mostly, Nolan wasn’t that interested in people. He went out of his way to be sure his curiosity wasn’t aroused. But once it was...he was a stubborn man.

And he liked Allie Wright. He liked her enough that it scared the shit out of him considering how little he knew about her.

* * *

AFTER A TRIP to the grocery store on Tuesday, Nolan was driving past the high school on the way home when he noticed the football team practicing. Some boys were sprinting between cones, others negotiating a row of tires lying on their sides. Half a dozen were taking turns plowing into the blocking tackle. A kicker was setting up for a field goal or extra point try.

Nolan saw that Sean, slumped in the passenger seat, was looking that way, too.

“You’ve got the size,” Nolan commented. “Too bad you didn’t try out for the team.”

Sean’s head snapped back around, as if he didn’t want to admit he had been interested. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Sure it does.” Nolan mulled it over. With no experience raising a kid, it hadn’t occurred to him when Sean first came that they needed to be looking into things like that. Football practice had probably started in August, before school opened. “Won’t be too long until basketball starts.”

“I’m not that good.”

“I doubt many freshmen are that good.”

“I wouldn’t be able to ride the bus home.”

“You know I’d make time to pick you up,” Nolan said mildly.

The kid’s shrug was just this side of disagreeable.

“You interested at all?”

Obviously conflicted, Sean took his time answering. “Maybe.”

“I could put up a hoop above the garage door. You could practice shooting.”

“Really?” Something like hope shone in Sean’s gray eyes. “That would be cool. If they’re not too expensive.”

Nolan didn’t care how much basketball hoops cost. He wished he’d thought of putting one up sooner. Sean needed to get involved in some activities if he was to make friends. Sports made sense, given that he was tall for his age. He needed a physical outlet for his restlessness, too.

“The concrete pad in front of the garage is flat.” When he bought the house, the driveway had been gravel, but Nolan had had it paved leading both to the garage and the workshop. He wasn’t about to have a valuable slice of granite or—God forbid—a finished piece break when he hit a pothole in his truck. He nodded. “Should be ideal. We’ll do it.”

“Cool!” Sean declared.

Good thing, Nolan reflected, that he had an equable temperament himself. Could be the last foster parents hadn’t known teenagers’ emotions were all over the map, especially one who’d suffered as much loss as Sean had. Ebullience to angry sullenness could happen between one heartbeat and the next. The couple might have gone into it with good intentions but been battered by all the ups and downs.

If anything had tried Nolan’s patience, it was the bureaucracy of getting approved as a foster parent. The frustrating part was that everyone knew Sean had no other even half-decent possibilities.

For Sean, Nolan hadn’t had any trouble staying patient.

So far, he reminded himself.

He glanced sidelong. “You haven’t said whether you liked Allie.” On Sunday, after they took her home and admired the beginnings she’d made on the quilt, Sean had been rather quiet. Nolan hadn’t wanted to push it.

“She’s okay,” he said now. “I can see why you like her,” he added, more grudgingly. “She’s really little, though.”

Nolan grunted agreement. Even Sean had towered over her.

The boy continued to ponder. “She moves different than most people. Like...like she’s thinking about where she puts her feet or the way she turns her head. You know?”

“Yeah.” Nolan hadn’t thought of it that way, but there was a deliberate quality in her every movement. It made her extra graceful, but he didn’t like the idea of that word: deliberate. As if she was posing, trying to create an effect.

The strange thing was he’d swear she didn’t give a whole lot of thought to her appearance. She wore little makeup, wasn’t constantly flipping the ends of her hair the way some women did, listened with gravity when he or Sean talked and didn’t jump to regain center stage.

No, he decided—the graceful lines she formed with every lift of her hand, every step or tip of her head, they were just her. Beautiful.

He relaxed. You’re paranoid, he told himself, and knew it was true. He had good reason, though. He’d grown up with a master—or should he say, a mistress?—of presenting a pretty facade to hide an uglier reality. His very own mother.

He and Allie had time to uncover each other’s reality. There was no hurry.

Braking in front of the house, he hid a grin from his son. No hurry, except for the getting-her-into-bed part. His body was getting damned impatient.

Not getting out yet, he gazed at the garage with its peaked roof. “Yep, a hoop’ll look great up there,” he said. He held up one hand, palm first, and Sean slapped it in an exuberant high five.

“Yeah!”

In total accord, they hopped out and went around back to let down the tailgate and collect the groceries.

Nolan hoped he wasn’t trying to buy his foster son’s affection, but he didn’t think so. Deep inside him was rooted the belief that parents should do their best to give their kids what they needed. Whatever else he could say about his own parents, they’d done that.

He, Jed and Anna had worn the right clothes to fit in. They’d been given bikes and even cars—albeit beaters—when the time came for each. And, yes, Dad had hung a basketball hoop above the garage. Anna hadn’t been interested, but Jed and Nolan had enjoyed some good times with that hoop. He wanted the same for Sean.

There was nothing wrong with that, was there?