A Drunkard's Path by Clare O'Donohue Read Free Book Online

in this class with all these eager wannabes.
    In doing so, I realized that it had only been two hours since his annoying opening speech and I had already fallen for it. When there were only a few students left, I made my way over to Oliver, but it was almost too late. He was already heading out the door. I followed him and quickly realized I wasn’t his only stalker. Sandra was closing in as he reached his office. I held back and watched as the two stopped and talked quietly for a second before Oliver let her into his office and closed the door behind them.
    “He’s amazing, isn’t he?” Kennette was behind me, staring at the door to Oliver’s office the way a puppy stares at a chew toy.
    “He’s interesting,” I replied. “I wonder why he’s talking to that woman Sandra.”
    “She’s a weird one, huh? Who dresses her?”
    I glanced over at Kennette’s mismatched outfit and smiled. On second look, it had a kind of charm to it. “I think she has an ulterior motive for being in the class,” I said. “She was desperate to get in.”
    “We were all desperate to get in.” Kennette shrugged. “And she probably has the same ulterior motive as half the class—she’s hoping Oliver will discover her.”
    “I guess.” I nodded. “Still . . .” I let the sentence trail off because I didn’t actually have anything to add. I just didn’t like Sandra, and I wondered if I was jealous of the impression she was obviously making on Oliver.
    “Where are you going from here?” Kennette said as we walked out of the building into a bitter cold January day.
    “Work. I work at my grandmother’s quilt shop in Archers Rest.”
    “If she’s hiring, let me know. I need a part-time job.” I nodded a good-bye and headed toward my car. After a few steps, I realized Kennette was following.
    “Do you quilt?” I asked.
    “I’m a fast learner.” She bit her lip and looked at me hopefully.
    Before I had a chance to think about it, I spoke. “Well, if you want to follow me to Archers Rest, you can meet her,” I said. “I’m pretty sure she can use an extra hand. I’m only there part time.”
    “I’ll just go with you,” she said. “I walked here.”
    “Where do you live?” I asked.
    “Nearby,” she said and hopped into my passenger seat.

CHAPTER 7
     
     
     
     
    E leanor was in the classroom area of the shop, leaning over a quilt that had been stretched across a table. Susanne was with her, and they were busy putting pins through the layers.
    “What are they doing?” Kennette whispered as she stood behind me.
    “Pin basting,” I said. “It’s when you layer the three parts of a quilt—top, batting, and the back—and get it ready for quilting. You have to temporarily hold the layers together so when you quilt them they don’t shift.
    “They’re doing it with safety pins,” she said.
    “Yeah, you can do it with thread or little plastic thingies, but for machine quilting, safety pins work fine.” I was a little proud of myself for being so knowledgeable.
    Kennette tiptoed over and examined the work reverently. My grandmother looked up and smiled.
    “I remember you. How are you . . . ?” my grandmother’s voice trailed off into a question.
    “Kennette. I’m great.”
    “What a lovely name, dear,” Susanne said. “What’s your last name?”
    Kennette looked down for a moment then smiled. “Green,” she said.
    “It goes with your outfit.” Susanne smiled. “It’s lovely to have you here.”
    Kennette dropped her tote bag and moved closer to the quilt. “Can I watch? I don’t want to be in the way.”
    “You’re not in the way,” Susanne said. “We’re just prepping this big old thing for quilting.”
    “You’re pin basting.” Kennette smiled.
    Eleanor’s smile widened. “You’re a quilter.”
    “Not really,” Kennette answered. “But I’ve always loved quilts. They’re such an amazing combination of utility and art.”
    “Would you like to help me baste this?”