Quilt Maker

Momma wasn't looking at him, but above him, towards the valley and the river. I was about to say something when she finally said, "I say all right." Well, Mr. Van Fleet's face cracked into the biggest smile I'd ever seen on anybody and he made a funny little sound like hah, and came bounding up the stairs like he was going to grab Momma and the chair she was sitting in. I stood up real fast. "My momma has given you the wrong impression ," I said, putting myself between him and Momma. "We have decided not to sell Widow's Mite. In fact, we have decided not to sell any more quilts at all." He craned around me trying to see Momma and saying "Molly, will you—Molly, wha— Molly?" "You are welcome to come and visit us anytime you're in these parts, but don't be asking for more quilts." Mr. Van Fleet kept on spluttering away, saying things about having come to a decision, about being reasonable, and such like. And Momma the whole time wasn't saying nothing. Finally I heard her stand up. She put her hand on my shoulder and sort of turned me around. She stood there staring at me in the twilight, her face poked up right next to mine. "Molly, let's try to keep this between you and me," Mr. Van Fleet said. One thing's for sure, he wasn't too happy by this time. He even tugged at her sleeve a little, like a whiny little boy might do. But Momma paid him no heed, just kept looking at me until at last she smiled like I hadn't seen her smile in a long time. Mr. Van Fleet saw it too, and backed down the stairs a little bit. He stopped talking too. "Mr. Van Fleet," Momma said, drawing herself up, "my daughter is right. I am sorry I misled you. Old women sometimes do foolish things." She set back down in her chair and stared out above his head again. "You drive safely tomorrow. You've got a long trip ahead of you." He kept going but, but, but, but, sounding like a little motorboat, and flapping his hands around in the air. I felt sorry for him, I did. It seemed like he was more than just a long way from home. He finally walked on down the stairs and out to his car. He slammed the door so hard it left a little echo in the air. I have to admire him for waiting to get good and angry. Momma and me went on rocking. The evening star was up in the west, and the katydids were setting up their racket all around us. If Momma'd said anything she'd a had to a shouted almost to have herself heard. So she set there not saying a word, because there's times, it seems to me, when it's best to just set. Billy Walkingstick would agree. He hisself says sometimes he sets and thinks, and sometimes he just sets. And so we just set. A couple of old women looking out at the darkness and listening to the summer sounds, and grateful for a big old house with a good view. Quilt Maker Over under In out Round about Little wonder Granny's savvy fingers know Swatches' riches Just right Held tight Tiny stitches Stitch a jolly squared rainbow. -Sallie Odum 42 ...