she said, and then smiled. “Well, I’m not worried about Marc or Nancy. Your sandwich-making abilities are a little sad.”
CHAPTER 18
Over the next several days I split my time between doing my grandmother’s errands and being her spy at the shop. Nancy complained hourly about the noise Marc was making next door as he pulled old booths and kitchen equipment from the diner. For each regular who came by to express her excitement about the shop expansion, another would predict dire consequences—it was too much work for Eleanor, it would be difficult to make enough money to pay for expansion, it would ruin the coziness of the place.
We closed the shop on Wednesday and I drove Eleanor over to sit in a corner and bark orders while Nancy and I did the inventory. Nancy spread boxes on the floor and began sorting the fabrics into categories from Christmas to children to plaids. When I incorrectly identified a fabric with ducks on it as children’s, rather than Easter, I was taken off fabric duty. Instead Eleanor had me sort through the quilting tools. It was amazing to me that despite the seeming chaos, everything was catalogued and accounted for. When the inventory was done, there wasn’t one missing pack of needles or thread color anywhere.
“I’ll make one more check downstairs,” I said.
“Be careful, Nell,” Eleanor shouted after me. “I mean it.”
She didn’t have to warn me. Not since I’d fallen down the stairs myself, not that Eleanor knew that. Nancy had done an amazing job of bringing all the boxes upstairs and the place was clean and empty. But when I peeked into the little office on the side, I found another story. Boxes were half-packed with old files and binders, and a large box in the corner was filled with cut-up pieces of fabrics and threads. It seemed like a job for Nancy, who would have a better idea which, if any, of this stuff was worth keeping.
“We should start taking stuff to the car,” I said as I came back upstairs.
“Remember to put supplies for the quilt club in a separate box,” Eleanor directed.
“Like what kind of supplies?”
Nancy handed me an empty box, then began pointing out a variety of rulers, rubber mats, and rotary cutters. “You’ll also need a good pair of these,” she said, and handed me heavy metal scissors.
“Thanks,” I said. “I can use these to cut some poster board and make a CLOSED FOR REMODELING sign.”
“No, you cannot,” Eleanor snapped. “Cutting paper will dull those scissors, and fabric scissors need to be very, very sharp.”
“Sorry,” I said, and placed the scissors at the top of the box. “I’ll get the hang of all the quilting rules one of these days.”
Nancy and I took as many boxes out to Eleanor’s car as could fit, and then filled up the back of her car. But the shop still had a dozen or more boxes left to go, as well as the quilts that hung on the back wall and the junk in the office.
“I’ll take a trip over to your place, Eleanor,” Nancy said. “Then if you two set up the shop there, I’ll come back for a second load.”
On the drive to her house, Eleanor hummed to herself cheerily.
“What’s up with you?” I finally asked.
“I’m just amazed at how easy this has been so far,” she said.
“Of course it’s easy,” I said. “You’ll be happy to be back running the shop, even if it is in your dining room. And Nancy will be happy to be working with you. And I can have some peace and quiet overseeing things at the shop.”
“You enjoy being right,” she said dryly.
“Wait—I’m right about something?” I laughed. “This has to be a first.”
“I’m just saying that it was a good idea to expand the shop, that’s all. And I’m glad you’ll be there to make sure it all turns out right.” Her smile made me suspicious, but it left me no room to keep arguing. She was like that, innocence and manipulation with a smile, and I admired the hell out of it.
At the request of all of the members
CHAPTER 18
Over the next several days I split my time between doing my grandmother’s errands and being her spy at the shop. Nancy complained hourly about the noise Marc was making next door as he pulled old booths and kitchen equipment from the diner. For each regular who came by to express her excitement about the shop expansion, another would predict dire consequences—it was too much work for Eleanor, it would be difficult to make enough money to pay for expansion, it would ruin the coziness of the place.
We closed the shop on Wednesday and I drove Eleanor over to sit in a corner and bark orders while Nancy and I did the inventory. Nancy spread boxes on the floor and began sorting the fabrics into categories from Christmas to children to plaids. When I incorrectly identified a fabric with ducks on it as children’s, rather than Easter, I was taken off fabric duty. Instead Eleanor had me sort through the quilting tools. It was amazing to me that despite the seeming chaos, everything was catalogued and accounted for. When the inventory was done, there wasn’t one missing pack of needles or thread color anywhere.
“I’ll make one more check downstairs,” I said.
“Be careful, Nell,” Eleanor shouted after me. “I mean it.”
She didn’t have to warn me. Not since I’d fallen down the stairs myself, not that Eleanor knew that. Nancy had done an amazing job of bringing all the boxes upstairs and the place was clean and empty. But when I peeked into the little office on the side, I found another story. Boxes were half-packed with old files and binders, and a large box in the corner was filled with cut-up pieces of fabrics and threads. It seemed like a job for Nancy, who would have a better idea which, if any, of this stuff was worth keeping.
“We should start taking stuff to the car,” I said as I came back upstairs.
“Remember to put supplies for the quilt club in a separate box,” Eleanor directed.
“Like what kind of supplies?”
Nancy handed me an empty box, then began pointing out a variety of rulers, rubber mats, and rotary cutters. “You’ll also need a good pair of these,” she said, and handed me heavy metal scissors.
“Thanks,” I said. “I can use these to cut some poster board and make a CLOSED FOR REMODELING sign.”
“No, you cannot,” Eleanor snapped. “Cutting paper will dull those scissors, and fabric scissors need to be very, very sharp.”
“Sorry,” I said, and placed the scissors at the top of the box. “I’ll get the hang of all the quilting rules one of these days.”
Nancy and I took as many boxes out to Eleanor’s car as could fit, and then filled up the back of her car. But the shop still had a dozen or more boxes left to go, as well as the quilts that hung on the back wall and the junk in the office.
“I’ll take a trip over to your place, Eleanor,” Nancy said. “Then if you two set up the shop there, I’ll come back for a second load.”
On the drive to her house, Eleanor hummed to herself cheerily.
“What’s up with you?” I finally asked.
“I’m just amazed at how easy this has been so far,” she said.
“Of course it’s easy,” I said. “You’ll be happy to be back running the shop, even if it is in your dining room. And Nancy will be happy to be working with you. And I can have some peace and quiet overseeing things at the shop.”
“You enjoy being right,” she said dryly.
“Wait—I’m right about something?” I laughed. “This has to be a first.”
“I’m just saying that it was a good idea to expand the shop, that’s all. And I’m glad you’ll be there to make sure it all turns out right.” Her smile made me suspicious, but it left me no room to keep arguing. She was like that, innocence and manipulation with a smile, and I admired the hell out of it.
At the request of all of the members
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