“Oh! Goodness! Thank-you, Jenneke! I must’ve bundled it up with the shift and skirt, and never even thought about it yesterday.” Angelica reached for her pocket, the straps now dangling from Jenneke’s hand. “What was I thinking?”
“I hope you don’t mind,” the young wife said, “but I looked at your patches. I adore the calico bluebirds! And that bit of Chinese silk is like a spring sky!”
“Yes.” Angelica smiled as she remembered.
Pieces from sophisticated New York, unexpected silk from a jumble at Tarrytown, pieces from some unfortunate person’s trunk in the middle of the uncertainty, terror and passion at the Clove! This quilt, if I live to finish it, will chronicle a time of danger-a time of newborn love.
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