Threads of Hope: Quilts of Love Series - Softcover

Allan, Christa

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1426752660 ISBN 13: 9781426752667

Publisher: Abingdon Press, 2013

Synopsis

How do you make the choice between what you want and what you need? Passed over for promotion and dumped by her boyfriend, journalist Nina O’Malley is frustrated with the “soft” stories her editor assigns. Her latest assignment? To cover a gala benefit supporting the AIDS Memorial. More determined than ever to prove she deserves a promotion to the New York office, Nina decides to write a series featuring a local quilting group that is raising money for AIDS research. Reluctantly attending the benefit, Nina unexpectedly runs into her high school nemesis, Greg. Doubting he has changed, Nina is surprised to learn the widowed Greg became involved with the quilting group when he adopted Jazarah, an HIV-positive girl from Ethiopia. Weaving together the stories of the quilt families, Nina learns more about Greg’s faith in a loving God—and begins to question her own lack of belief. Is her drive for success blinding Nina from a different path, a better life? And dare she hope . . . for more?

About this title

About the Author

Christa Allan is a true Southern woman who knows any cook worth her gumbo always starts with a roux and that one never wears white after Labor Day. Christa weaves stories of unscripted grace with threads of hope, humor, and heart. The mother of five and grandmother of three, Christa just retired after more than twenty years as a high school English teacher. She and her husband, Ken, live in Abita Springs, Louisiana, where they play golf, dodge hurricanes, and enjoy retirement. Visit Christa online at ChristaAllan.com.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Threads of Hope

Quilts of Love Series

By Christa Allan

Abingdon Press

Copyright © 2013 Christa Allan
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-4267-5266-7

CHAPTER 1

After three years, it finally happened.

Janie Bettencourt announced her promotion. She would bemoving from Houston to New York to become Senior Editorof Trends magazine.

The promotion Nina O'Malley had hoped would be herown.

And, as if that news wasn't enough to justify Nina addingbanana splits as main dish items on her diet, ice cream becameits own food group after Janie added that joining her would bestaff photographer Brady Lambert.

The Brady who, years ago, promised her the moon. TheBrady who, later, spun out of her orbit and splashed down inJanie's. The Brady Lambert whom Nina had hoped would beher own.

When was she going to learn to wait for the other shoe todrop before assuming she could celebrate?

Earlier that morning, when she'd spotted an email messagefrom Elise Johnson, the Executive Editor, Nina allowed herselfthe luxury of dreaming. Elise's personal emails were infrequent,at least in her in-box, and generally, no frills, as if she'dbe charged by the word count. So, she wasn't at all offendedwhen she read the brief request: "My office. Nine o'clock.Important matter to discuss. EJ." In fact, she was elated. Andshe remained so for the next fifty-four minutes, not countingher elevator time to the seventh floor where she was usheredinto Elise's office.

In less time than it took for Nina to arrive in the starklymodern office of the executive editor, disappointment introduceditself. Later, when the elevator door swished open toreveal Janie, Nina felt like a contestant on a game show who'dguessed wrongly and seen what she might have won.

The weight of Elise's remarks might have pushed Nina to thesecond floor almost as efficiently as the elevator: Structurallycorrect writing, but lacked style and passion. More initiative andless predictability. Network. Move out of your comfort zone. Elisechallenged Nina to convince her that she'd be making a mistakenot to promote her. "We're considering other marketslike Atlanta and Nashville, perhaps Los Angeles. One of thosecould be yours. Show me what you can do."

By the time Janie gathered the staff and squealed her news,Nina had power walked to Starbucks and returned caffeinatedand composed. She smiled in Janie's direction, gratefulJanie couldn't read her thoughts to know her angelic face camefrom imagining a subway door closing on one of her size 6Ferragamo shoes.

Just as the image was becoming crystal clear in Nina's mind,a tidal wave of a voice in her head crashed over that pictureand left behind the sound of her mother's words: "You're beingso petty, my dear. God doesn't like ugly, you know." Nina mentallyshushed her mother who, even more than twenty miles away,could still inject an admonition into her daughter's nerve centerof guilt.

Sheila Hudson O'Malley married Nina's father Patrick notlong after they graduated from high school and then stayedhome to mother two children into semi-adulthood. Whatwould she know about fickle boyfriends and dashed careerdreams? "Sure, mother. Easy for you to say," Nina muttered asshe diverted her attention from the fawning frenzy over Janieto rearrange the clutter on her desk. She hoped to unearth heriPad from underneath what looked like an office supply storeexplosion of paper that had landed there.

"Were you talking to me?"

Nina paused between lifting legal pads to turn toward hercubicle-mate, Daisy Jeffers, who had scooted her desk chairpast her partition, and now stared at her. As usual, her darkhair sprouted from the top of her head like sprinkler arms. Shewas always one strong wind short of being propelled aboveground level.

"No. I was talking to my mother." Nina resumed herexcavation.

"Well, I'm assuming the one in your head since I don't smellChanel No. 5 in the vicinity. And, anyway ..." she bit into herapple.

Now that Nina found her iPad lurking in her desk drawerunder a stack of folders and three expired restaurant coupons,she focused on Daisy. "Are you aware how absolutely annoyingthat is?"

Daisy swallowed. "You mean her?" Still holding her half-eatenapple, Daisy bent her arm over her head and motionedin the general direction of the newly promoted.

Nina flipped open the leather cover to find her interviewnotes. "Not Janie. You. Can you wait until before or after yourthoughts, not between them, to eat? It's so maddening waitingfor you to finish chewing ..." She paused.

Her mother's voice. She heard her mother's voice, the onethat forever seemed marinated in exasperation, spill out of herown mouth. She looked up at Daisy. "You just got a whiff ofChanel No. 5 didn't you?" Nina gave way to the defeat anddisappointment and flopped into her chair.

Daisy pinched her nose for a moment and grimaced. "Aserious overdose." Not an unexpected reply from someonewho smelled as if she'd spritzed herself with bottled springrain, newly mown summer grass, and a hint of an autumnbonfire. She tossed her apple core into her stainless steel eco-lunchbox,wiped her hands with her cotton napkin, and rolledherself closer to Nina. Almost ten years younger than Nina,Daisy exuded a wisdom beyond her age. As a child, she sleptin a car for weeks until her single mother found a homelessshelter for them. Daisy figured living on the streets was poverty'sanswer to accelerated learning. Nina suspected Daisy'sminimalist approach to the externals in her life—clothing,furniture, car—balanced the burden of her emotional life.

"It's just not your time," said Daisy. "There will be a seasonfor you, too."

Nina felt as if she'd just been patted on the head and toldto run along and play. "I'd like to wallow in my pity party a bitlonger before you start breaking it up with your New Age-yphilosophies," she responded.

Daisy smiled. A reaction Nina found more annoying thanthe smattering of applause earlier that followed Janie's news.

"Well, I wouldn't be a worthy friend if I didn't at least try tosave you from yourself. And, anyway, how much of a party isit if you're the only one with an invitation?"

"Speaking of invitations ..."

Nina was as startled to see Janie materialize as Daisyappeared to be when she heard her voice. Daisy slowly swiveledher chair and looked up at the leggy blonde who leanedagainst the gray dividing wall separating their desks from thereceptionist's. "Whoa. How did you do that? Is magically transportingyourself part of the new job description?"

Janie tilted her head, placed her forefinger on her cheek,and became a perfect model for "deep in thought." Exceptfor the smirk. She dropped the pose and looked at Nina. "Isuppose having my finger on the pulse of the magazine is arequisite for effective management. Wouldn't you agree?"

Daisy and Nina exchanged eye contact then stared at Janie.

"So ... anyway ... back to invitations." Janie reached intothe pocket of her flouncy skirt and silenced the pinging on hercell phone. "I'm having a cozy going-away dinner at my condoin two weeks. Of course, you're both invited. Bra and I arehosting it together."

"Bra," which she pronounced like "hey" was her specialname for Brady, used only when not in his presence. The firsttime Janie uttered it in the office, it sliced through any thread ofexpectation Nina held for a future with him. She suspected theaffectation was Janie's unseen electric collar around Brady, butinstead of confining him, it zapped a warning to any womenon the prowl contemplating new territory. Or one like Nina,who hoped for an open gate.

Over time, most of the staff became adept at avoiding eye-rollswhen Janie blathered on about Bra. Though Daisy refusedto abandon the idea that she might one day write a story aboutBra and Janie's relationship. She hoped Victoria's Secret wouldthink it a grand tale of a woman who referred to her lingeriein third person.

Now, faced with the prospect of swallowing food whileenduring Brady and Janie, Nina rifled through her mental fileof excuses. She barely had time to consider the choices whenDaisy said, "We wouldn't dream of missing an opportunity tosend you off on your new adventure." She glanced at Nina."Would we?"

What Nina wanted to do at that moment was send Daisytwirling back across the partition. Instead, she mumbledsomething about making sure she'd be free, grabbed her iPad,and hoped when she swiped her calendar she'd find an eventso monumental it would be impossible to attend the dinner.But no. No White House interview, no late night talkshow appearance, and no undercover expose planned. Just areminder to drop off her clothes at the cleaner and buy a caseof dog food. Pathetic. My life needs a makeover. She stared atthe socially vacant month of April. "Well, I do have two thingsI'm committed to that day ..." Nina avoided looking at Daisyand told Janie she didn't see any reason why she shouldn't beable to finish in time to attend the dinner.

Janie clapped her hands. "Wonderful! Check your emailsbecause I'm sending e-vites with all the information and directions—"A piano riff sounded from her pocket. She pulled outher cell phone, then excused herself with an, "I have to answerthis one." The rhythm of her stiletto heels click-clacking onthe wood floors accompanied her departure.

"Commitments? Since when did you have commitments?"Daisy could have replaced "commitments" with "children" andsounded no less surprised.

It was, after all, a word Nina had iced, figuratively speaking,along with others like engagement, marriage, wedding gown, andhoneymoon. If only Nina could remember to forget some commitmentsin her life as much as she forgot to remember others,she wouldn't have to place her dreams in the freezer.

"I consider feeding Manny and wearing clean clothes importantresponsibilities. Especially since they both cost more thanI ever anticipated." She had adopted her hybrid dog with thedachshund body and poodle hair from the local animal shelteralmost a year ago. When she brought him home, she namedhim Manhattan and thought it clever and optimistic. Today, itjust seemed ridiculous. The little runt developed severe foodallergies and now required a special diet. She didn't expecthim to be so high maintenance. Expectations did not seem tobe working in her favor lately.

"If that works for you, then stay with it," said Daisy as shescooted her chair back to her desk. She closed her laptop, gatheredher environmentally-safe assortment of bags, and wiggledher metro-nylon backpack out of the bottom drawer. "I havetwo more people to interview for the yoga feature, so I'll letyou get back to that one-woman pity party I interrupted."

"Thanks." Nina clapped, Janie-like. "It saves me from sendingan e-vite."

"You actually smiled. One small step—"

Nina grabbed a sheet of paper out of her printer and wavedit in front of her. "I surrender. I surrender. No more words ofwisdom."

Daisy laughed. "Okay, but the terms of surrender includewalking to the stairs with me. You've been sitting so long I'msurprised you're not numb. But, the bonus is you'll make sureI actually leave. And leave you alone."

"That, my dear, is motivation enough," said Nina. She waiteduntil the glass doors of the office shut behind them before sheasked Daisy if she noted Brady's conspicuous absence from theJanie show.

"Probably not as much as you did." Daisy's eyes sweptover Nina's face, and Nina knew desperation hovered there."You need to let go of him in both places," Daisy said as shepressed her hand first to her forehead and then to her heart."Remember, `There's a season for everything.'"

Nina sighed. "Is that some mantra you chant?"

Daisy pushed open the door to the stairwell. "No, but that'snot a bad idea." She paused, shifted her backpack, and said,"By the way, it's not new age-y talk. It's old age-y. Very old, asin Old Testament. King Solomon."

"So, you're telling me I'm in a very long line of people whoknow what it's like not to get what they want? I suppose that'ssome comfort," said Nina drily. Comfort and God hadn't beensynonymous for her since before her brother was hospitalized.It wasn't so much that she gave up on God. She just chose notto give in to Him.

"The real comfort is, the line didn't end there," said Daisy."See you tomorrow. Take care of yourself."

Nina watched Daisy and couldn't help but notice that,despite the baggage she carried, Daisy floated down the stairsas if she carried no weight at all.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Threads of Hope by Christa Allan. Copyright © 2013 Christa Allan. Excerpted by permission of Abingdon Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Edition details

• Publisher: Abingdon Press
• Publication date: 2013
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 1426752660
• ISBN 13: 9781426752667
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 240