“With her bedroll still in the dryer, Hilda spent the night in the guest room.She helped wash the breakfast dishes while I made her a sandwich-to-go from the leftover brisket and challah. The sack carrying her clean clothes was now fatter with several pieces of Quincy’s old wardrobe. Her clean bedroll was a little brighter with a pretty red-and-yellow tied Windmill quilt; she asked to keep the rose soap.“Thanks for everything, Wonder Woman. I enjoyed sleeping in a real bed again. That quilt remi...nds me of one my grandma made that I loved so much. Maybe one day you’ll show me how to make one just like it.”“I’d love to. Seriously.” I thought about asking Lucy and Birdie to include Hilda in our weekly group. If there was anything a quilter loved, it was teaching someone new how to quilt.“Your uncle’s such a sweet old man.” Hilda briefly touched my arm. “You’re cut from the same cloth.” She laughed. “Get it? It’s a quilter joke.”I chuckled. “I get it. And you’re right.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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