The Beach Quilt by Holly Chamberlin Page A

restaurants that stayed open all winter. They didn’t go out often, but they both believed in what Jack called the “restorative power” of a good, old-fashioned date. After more than fifteen years together, their sex life was still vibrant. The biggest fight they had ever had had been over tying up the garbage bags. Jack had insisted that knotting the ends of the bag was the way to go. Adelaide had argued that using a twist tie was safer. Afterward they had both laughingly admitted to having been really, really hungry when the argument broke out.
    Adelaide wasn’t entirely sure why they got along as swimmingly as they did (she loved that expression), but she wasn’t about to waste time analyzing the relationship. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, that was her motto, at least when it came to her marriage.
    She chose a navy silk blouse to wear with a tan wool skirt. Classic, elegant, and if she left the top buttons of the blouse unbuttoned, a wee bit provocative. A memory of her mother wearing a navy silk wrap dress popped into her head. She remembered feeling in awe of her attractive mother, and a bit shocked at the sexy figure the dress had shown her mother to have. Her parents must have been going out somewhere very special.
    Nancy and Tom Morgan had often gone out alone together in the evenings. They had taken vacations alone, too, leaving the teenage Adelaide at home with a neighbor. From the time she had been old enough to be conscious of her role in the family, Adelaide had felt like an afterthought. Not unloved, just—unnecessary. She supposed that she had been a “mistake,” or, if not, that soon after her birth her mother and father had realized that she was a sort of third wheel, a sometimes cumbersome part of what had been a smoothly functioning unit of two. It explained the fact of Adelaide’s being an only child.
    For Adelaide and Jack, having only one child had come down to a financial decision. They had wanted a certain lifestyle for their family and though all sorts of unexpected things might happen along the way to undermine that level of comfort, by choosing to limit the size of their family they could exercise some small control over the future. One education, one person to feed, clothe, and indulge, one wedding, maybe even one trip to Europe—it would all cost a lot less than providing for two or three people. The principal of a small-town high school and the owner of a small, seasonal shop were never going to bring in the big bucks.
    Adelaide finished dressing and went over to the jewelry box on her dresser. She chose the pearl stud earrings Jack had given her for an anniversary, her favorite long gold chain, and a gold link bracelet her parents had given her when she graduated from college. The black pumps would have to stay home; winter boots were the only logical choice. Adelaide smiled when she thought of how Cordelia grumbled so loudly about being forced to live in big ugly boots for four months a year. She wouldn’t be surprised if someday her daughter moved to Los Angeles just so she could wear sandals and heels year round.
    So unlike Sarah! Since the age of three, Cordelia and Sarah had been inseparable, opposites who seemed to thrive on their differences. Cordelia had been a chubby, cherubic toddler and had never entirely lost that air of cuteness and innocence. Sarah, on the other hand, had always been spare and lean and serious, an old soul in a child’s body. At sixteen she carried herself with the air of a much older person. Standing next to Cordelia, she looked years older, rather than only months.
    It would be wonderful, Adelaide thought, if the girls always remained friends. Things would change over time and maybe drastically, but that didn’t mean they would have to abandon the relationship. Of course, that happened so often in life. Adelaide couldn’t even remember the name of her best friend from grammar school and they had