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straighten up after one of her visits. Sophie, the daughter of Elmer and Dorcas Wittenbauer, was a young woman with a bad attitude. It was hard to get angry at her though. Her parents showed very little interest in their daughter. Elmer had once been an elder in the church but had withdrawn when Lizzie’s father and John Lapp resigned. In my opinion, Elmer should never have been elected in the first place.
    I sighed as I dusted the shelf, and then I neatly restacked the hoops. When I was done, I gazed around the large room and sighed contentedly. Kingdom Quilts was like my second home, and I couldn’t imagine not having it in my life.
    After I put the duster away, I carefully wiped down the large cutting table that sat in the middle of the room. I’d just cleaned the large quilting frame in the back room yesterday and knew it didn’t need attention today. It was almost time to schedule another group quilting party. I so enjoyed those times when some of our women gathered to sew quilts, to fellowship and laugh together. Lizzie always provided cookies and coffee for these unique social events, especially sinceher mother usually joined our group. Most of the time the quilts we made went to a new mother in our community or to someone in the hospital.
    As I went through and sorted out the week’s receipts, I struggled to put the terrifying confrontation on the road out of my mind, but it was impossible. How could someone who didn’t even know me be so careless with God’s precious gift of life? Could a fellow human being’s heart really be that dark? It didn’t make sense. Nor did Papa’s attitude toward Jonathon. Basically, Papa agreed with almost all the changes going on in our church. He’d even painted the outside of our store a beautiful cornflower blue after Pastor Mendenhall pointed out that God must like colors since he used so many of them in nature. That was all it took for Papa. Once he had a clear picture of something, he had no trouble following his heart. Jonathon was exactly the same way. As far as I could remember, he had never said anything that didn’t agree with Papa’s views. The situation on the road and Papa’s attitude toward Jonathon bothered me the rest of the afternoon.
    Avery Menninger, who owned the saddle and tack store, stopped by around three thirty. “How are you this afternoon, Sister Kauffman?” he said as he came in the door.
    â€œI’m fine. And you?” This was the same greeting we exchanged every afternoon. It never varied. A kind man who’d lost his wife many years ago and whose daughter had moved away to get married, Avery spent quite a bit of time visiting folks in town before going home to his lonely house.
    â€œWell, fair to middlin’. Just fair to middlin’. Bursitis is kickin’ up a bit, but that’s to be expected, I guess. Gettin’ old ain’t a lotta fun.”
    â€œI’ll keep you in my prayers, Brother Menninger.” Sometimes his personality seemed a little gruff, but when you got to know him, you could clearly see his soft heart. Whenever anyone needed help, Avery was the first person on the scene.
    â€œI appreciate that, Sister.” He cleared his throat and held out a paper bag. “Sister Hobson dropped off a whole load of oatmeal cookies this morning. I thought you might like a few.”
    Sister Hobson had set her cap for Avery years ago, believing the way to his heart was through his stomach. So far it hadn’t worked, but she persisted and Avery allowed it, probably because she was an incredible cook. Her oatmeal cookies almost melted in your mouth. Someone might have pointed out to Avery that stringing her along wasn’t completely ethical, but they both seemed happy. Sister Hobson had hope, and Avery had lots of home cooking. We shared a couple of cookies together, visited for a while, and then he left.
    I decided to take Papa’s advice and close the