Threaded for Trouble Read Online Free Page B

to be a good mother with only two babies.” I guessed that would be Russ and the scowling older girl.
    With a grunt of disgust, Russ stood, threw the pink-trimmed shirt into the lap of the sister wearing the matching dress, and climbed over the back of his chair, which folded and slammed down onto the floor. He flung himself out the front door. My sea-glass wind chimes banged and clattered.
    Together, the owners of the yarn, notions, and quilting boutiques turned to watch him stride off the porch and out of sight down Lake Street.
    I couldn’t help comparing Darlene Coddlefield to these Threadville colleagues. Opal, Naomi, and Edna had met each other in kindergarten and had immediately become closer than many sets of sisters. By the end of junior high,after reading
Macbeth
, they’d started calling themselves The Three Weird Sisters. Then, at sixteen, Opal had become pregnant, and her folks kicked her out of their home. Edna and Naomi had teamed up to help look after Opal’s fatherless child. The three women had lived together and taken turns working and going to school. They’d all ended up with degrees and professions. They’d also ended up with a clever, polite, kind, and sensible daughter whom they all adored.
    Naturally, that daughter, Haylee, called them The Three Weird Mothers. When I’d moved to Threadville to open In Stitches, The Three Weird Mothers had figured out that my mother was distant in more ways than one. Opal, Naomi, and Edna had adopted me, and Haylee seemed glad to share them.
    Haylee’s mothers didn’t divulge their ages, but Haylee was my age, thirty-three, so the math was easy—her mothers must be nearing or had quietly celebrated their big five-oh. Often, the rambunctious and enthusiastic women acted like they were still seventeen, and Haylee and I had to keep them out of mischief.
    I had a sinking feeling that The Three Weird Mothers were considering ways of helping Darlene Coddlefield with all eight of her children. I would hate to see Haylee’s mothers hurt if their good intentions were rejected. Always tenderhearted, Naomi looked about to cry in sympathy with the twelve-year-old in the baby dress and shoes.
    I was behind the four younger children, close enough to admire Darlene’s careful stitching and neat buttonholes. The girls’ pinafores strained across their backs. The eight-year-old’s wouldn’t button at the waist, and the bow in the sash didn’t hide the gap. Darlene must have planned and cut out these dresses, pinafores, and shirts a while ago. Meanwhile, her children had grown.
    She was obviously an excellent seamstress, but I couldn’t help a teensy bit of jealousy on behalf of some of my customers and students who were every bit as talented but didn’t possess top-of-the-line sewing and embroidery machineslike the one that must have helped Darlene win the Chandler Challenge. Darlene had never shopped in my store, so I didn’t know what kind of machine she already owned, but judging from the outfits she’d made, it was a good one. And now she was going to take home another.
    I gave my speech, following my own impromptu script, not Felicity’s. Although she was a yard away from me, the heat of her fury at my disobedience radiated from her. I concluded with, “I will be privileged to display Darlene’s excellent handiwork, all these dresses and shirts that won her the challenge, in my shop for the rest of you to admire.”
    Felicity elbowed me aside and stepped in front of me. “It certainly would be a
privilege
for Ms.…um”—she consulted her notes—“Ms. Vanderling to display these garments, but they’re scheduled to go on tour throughout the U.S., and after I spend the afternoon in the Coddlefield home, giving Darlene the free lesson she earned as part of her prize, I’m leaving for Cleveland and taking the prize-winning garments with me.” She turned around and gave me a prissy and obviously fake version of an apologetic smile. “So sorry.”
    She was