A flicker of movement caught Molly’s eye, and she saw Lilly sitting off to the side on an iron bench. At first Molly thought she was reading, but then she realized she was sewing instead. She thought about Lilly’s coolness toward her and wondered if she were reacting personally or to the bad publicity from the wedding? … the Chicago Stars football heiress who dabbles in writing children’s books … Molly hesitated, then rose and let herself out the back door.

Lilly sat near a small herb garden. Molly found it odd that someone who played the diva so convincingly hadn’t objected to being stuck away in an attic. And despite that Armani sweater tossed so casually around her shoulders, she seemed remarkably content simply sitting by an overgrown garden and sewing. She was a puzzle. It was hard for Molly to warm up to someone who was so cold to her, but she couldn’t quite dislike Lilly and not just because of her old affection for Lace, Inc. It took courage to stick around in the face of Kevin’s hostility.

Marmie lay at Lilly’s feet next to a large sewing basket. Roo ignored the cat to trot over and greet her owner, who leaned down to pat him. Molly realized she was working on a piece of a quilt, but it didn’t look like anything she’d ever seen. The design wasn’t a neatly arranged geometric, but a subtly shaded medley of curves and swirls in various patterns and shades of green, with touches of lavender and a surprising dab of sky blue.

“That’s beautiful. I didn’t know you were an artist.”

The familiar hostility that formed in Lilly’s eyes gave the summer afternoon a January chill. “This is just a hobby.”

Molly decided to ignore the freeze-out. “You’re very good. What’s it going to be?”

“Probably a real quilt,” she said reluctantly. “Usually I do smaller pieces like pillows, but this garden seems to demand something more dramatic.”

“You’re doing a quilt of the garden?”

Lilly’s inherent good manners forced her to respond. “Just the herb garden. I started experimenting with it yesterday.”

“Do you work from a drawing?”

Lilly shook her head, attempting to put an end to the conversation. Molly considered letting her do it, but she didn’t want to. “How can you make something this complicated without a drawing?”

Lilly took her time responding. “I start putting scraps together that appeal to me, and then I pull out my scissors and see what happens. Sometimes the results are disastrous.”

Molly understood. She created from bits and pieces, too—a few lines of dialogue, random sketches. She never knew what her books were about until she was well into them. “Where do you get your fabrics?”