By Marie Bostwick
Marie Bostwick weaves the unforgettable tale of 4 very diverse ladies whose paths pass, altering their lives without end . . . it is a good distance from citadel worthy, Texas, to New Bern, Connecticut, but it in simple terms takes an afternoon within the fascinating Yankee city to make Evelyn Dixon become aware of she's discovered her new domestic. The abrupt finish of her marriage was once Evelyn's warning sign to get busy chasing her dream of commencing a cover store. discovering a storefront is straightforward sufficient; beginning a brand new existence is not. Little does Evelyn think it's going to deliver a trio like Abigail Burgess, her niece Liza, and Margot Matthews via her door . . . and indignant after her mother's demise, Liza threatens to embarrass her Aunt Abigail everywhere city except she joins her for quilting periods. A sufferer of downsizing on the height of her occupation, Margot hopes an occasion hosted via the cover store can be a nice likelihood to network-and preserve from loss of life of boredom . . . As they sew their detailed creations, Evelyn, Abigail, Liza, and Margot shape a sisterhood they by no means sought-but one who they will be glad about while the unforeseen offers a poignant reminder of the one 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 center to hovering" -Debbie Macomber
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Extra resources for A Single Thread
He asked suspiciously. ” “Don’t have one. ” “Oh, that’s too bad,” he said, smiling slightly, the hint of a twinkle returning to his eye. ” Just then, a waitress, the same young woman I remembered from my previous visit, approached carrying two steaming plates. “Thank you, Gina. ” Charlie nodded his head in my direction. The waitress put both plates down on the table and left to tend to other customers. The platters were loaded with a dozen different miniature entrées and appetizers, all beautifully presented.
I adore Abigail, of course—everyone does, and she likes us—but I don’t think she thinks of any of us as friends. ” 30 • Marie Bostwick The sound of rushing water told me that it was time to leave, so I slipped out of the room undetected. It might have been interesting to hear more, but I didn’t really need to. Grace’s revelation to Margot was no surprise to me. She was quite right. I like people. They like me. And I like me too. But I don’t have close friendships, and I see no need to develop any.
She was quite right. I like people. They like me. And I like me too. But I don’t have close friendships, and I see no need to develop any. Friends, in my opinion, are supremely inconvenient; they are people who have a grasp on one’s affections and therefore have the right to call upon one for ﬁnancial or emotional support, usually at the most inopportune moments. I suppose that’s why I’ve always avoided them. The ﬁrst prospect doesn’t distress me too much. I’m certainly in a position to be generous.
A Single Thread by Marie Bostwick
Categories: Womens Fiction