When he hadn’t shown at her place prior to church services, she’d consoled herself that she’d see him later that afternoon.

Coming home to an empty space where he usually parked his truck had disappointed her.

Surely, he’d be by in a few? Not that there was much left to be done on the specific jobs she’d hired him to do.

He’d stayed well under her budget, which meant she could afford some of the projects she’d planned to put off. If he was willing, she’d ask him to start on renovating the upstairs or at least as much as he could get done prior to his leaving for his job in the new year.

The advertisements she’d purchased were set to start running this week, but she’d been actively promoting on social media for months and had visitors lined up for the new year. Soon, Hamilton House would be filled with guests, she hoped and prayed.

She sighed. If only Hamilton House opening didn’t mean Bodie would be gone.

If only he wasn’t leaving, then she could allow herself to think on their kiss, could allow herself to think about him, and dream of what might be.

She didn’t want him to leave, but he would. And soon.

Trying to change the course of her thoughts, she went to her bedroom. After programming her phone to play Christmas music, she flipped on her sewing machine and pulled out the fabric she was making into quilt blocks.

If anything could give her peace, it was sewing. She’d always found taking pieces of material and transforming them into something beautiful, something useful, to be cathartic. An added benefit was that it was something that made her feel closer to Aunt Jean. As she ran the material through the machine, she could hear her aunt’s voice telling her to make sure she kept the seams at a quarter inch.

Oh, how she wished Aunt Jean was there, so she could’ve met Bodie.

After completing several pieces, Sarah stood, set up her ironing board, and turned on the iron so it could heat while she placed a sewn section of fabric on her ironing board.

Although pressed for time with the B & B, she planned to complete another Quilt of Valor in the upcoming year, and at least one annually for all her years to follow. Doing so was yet another legacy to her aunt. And to her mother.

Sarah smiled at thoughts of the quilt she always gravitated toward at her father’s house. The quilt her mother had made him while he’d been away in the service, that she had given him upon his return.

Had Aunt Jean fantasized that each Quilt of Valor she so lovingly made was for Roy? Had those fantasies fueled her constant need to make and then donate the beautiful patriotic quilts?