By Marie Bostwick
Marie Bostwick weaves the unforgettable tale of 4 very diversified ladies whose paths go, altering their lives perpetually . . . it is a good way from castle worthy, Texas, to New Bern, Connecticut, but it simply takes an afternoon within the fascinating Yankee city to make Evelyn Dixon notice she's came upon her new domestic. The abrupt finish of her marriage was once Evelyn's take-heed call to get busy chasing her dream of starting a duvet store. discovering a storefront is straightforward adequate; beginning a brand new existence is not. Little does Evelyn think it's going to carry a trio like Abigail Burgess, her niece Liza, and Margot Matthews via her door . . . afflicted and offended after her mother's demise, Liza threatens to embarrass her Aunt Abigail in every single place city except she joins her for quilting periods. A sufferer of downsizing on the height of her occupation, Margot hopes an occasion hosted by means of the cover store can be a nice probability to network-and preserve from demise of boredom . . . As they sew their certain creations, Evelyn, Abigail, Liza, and Margot shape a sisterhood they by no means sought-but one who they will be glad about whilst the unforeseen presents a poignant reminder of the only thread that binds us all . . . compliment for the Novels of Marie Bostwick Fields of Gold "A touching story"-Patricia Gaffney "Gripping, heartwarming"-Dorothy Garlock On Wings of the Morning "Will set your middle to hovering" -Debbie Macomber
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Additional resources for A Single Thread
Snort! ” Snort! I smiled. “No, I’m afraid not. I’m a quilter. Years ago, when I was ﬁrst married, I dreamed of opening a quilt shop of my own back in Wisconsin. That’s where my husband and I grew up. At one point, I actually inquired about getting a loan and started working on a business plan, thinking I’d do it as soon as my son was in school and I had a little more time. But you know how things go. My husband got a job offer in Texas for a lot more money. It was too good an opportunity to pass up.
Charlie shook his head. “Not at all. This is our house chardonnay. It’s French and very affordable for the quality. Most people think domestic wines are cheaper, but lately the California vintages have gotten ridiculously overpriced. Many of the European wines are a much better value, if you know what to look for. Of course, we carry wines that cost as much as two or three hundred dollars a bottle for those who want it, but, by and large, our wine list is very accessible. You’ve got to know what your customers want,” he said.
Though it was after hours when I called the real estate ofﬁce, someone answered the phone. Wendy Perkins said she’d just been getting ready to leave, but, seeing as I was only a couple of blocks away, she’d be willing to wait if I came right over. “But,” she asked doubtfully, “are you sure we’re talking about the same building? That great big space in Cobbled Court? ” “Yes,” I assured her. “I’m standing in front of it right now. Red door and a bowfront window. ” “Honestly, I don’t remember. ” When I walked through the door of the ofﬁce I was enthusiastically greeted by an older woman with a white beehive hairdo.
A Single Thread by Marie Bostwick