The Avalon Ladies Scrapbooking Society Part 41

"Black is the absence of color," he says. "But white is the blending of all colors. It's like sunlight. Sunlight is white light that's made up of all the colors in the spectrum. So while you may have thought you didn't have any color in your life, in truth it was filled with every color of the rainbow."

Isabel thinks about this, then looks at him. "You're kind of a know-it-all, aren't you?"

"Only when I know it all," he says. "Which isn't often. It's just that color is one of those things you know about when you do what I do for a living. Besides, something tells me I may have met my match."

Isabel tilts her head, gazes at Ian Braemer. He's handsome in a simple, rugged way, and she likes that he knows who he is. "I don't know how to thank you for everything you've done for me, for the house."

He smiles. "It was my pleasure, Isabel."

"And you know you never sent me an invoice," she says. "We should probably settle that before you move on to the next job."

Ian plants both feet on the ground, stopping the swing. "Isabel," he says, and his voice is full of amus.e.m.e.nt. "You don't owe me anything. I told you, it was my pleasure."

Isabel had figured as much, but she didn't want Ian to think she was taking advantage. "Can I cover the cost of materials at least?"

He shakes his head. "I'm glad I could help a friend."

A friend? When he says this, Isabel feels her temperature drop. "Oh," she says, standing up. "Well, thanks. Friend." She rubs her nose, like she's about to sneeze.

He watches her. "Uh-oh, you're mad at me."

"What? No, I'm not," she lies. "It's getting late, I should probably go inside." She stands up but Ian reaches for her hand.

"Isabel, stay out here a little longer," he says. He pulls her gently back toward the swing, but she resists.

Her feelings are hurt. Does he see her only as a friend? "Why?"

Ian stands up, still holding her hand. "So I can kiss you." He pulls her toward him and gives her a tender kiss on the lips.

Ohhh. Isabel feels her body tingle at the touch of his lips, smiles at her own foolishness. They kiss again. "I think I could get used to this friends.h.i.+p," she says when they finally break away.

"Or," Ian says. "We could try for something a little more. A proper date, maybe?"

Isabel nods, breathless.

"Still want to go back inside?"

She shakes her head.

They sit on the swing, hand in hand, and drink their coffee while they look out onto Isabel's sleepy street, at the families moving about in their homes, the occasional car hurrying to reach its destination. They sit like this together, quiet and comfortable, but above all, happy.

Epilogue.

The table is set, the napkins folded and tucked into silver napkin rings, acorns and leaves serving as place cards. The tables of the tea salon have been lined up to create a long, generous s.p.a.ce for everyone to sit together with room for last-minute guests to pull up a chair. Heirloom pumpkins provide a simple centerpiece as do sprays of spider mums and dried craspedia in crisp yellows and oranges. Loaves of fresh bread are stacked in baskets, the cranberry sauce already on the table. The turkey is in the oven. Bettie's ham is honeyed and glazed and resting on the cutting board.

It's a guest list that couldn't have existed a year ago because many of the names are new, at least to each other. There's Madeline and Connie, of course, with Connie's guest, Eli. Hannah has brought Jamie. Isabel, Ava, Max, and Bettie; Ian and his son arrived in their own car. Yvonne and Sam will have to leave before dessert to spend the rest of the evening with Sam's mother and sisters in Maine. Madeline's stepson, Ben, will be coming up from Ohio with his wife and daughter. The La.s.siters are here, seated next to the Dohertys.

The tea salon is officially closed but that doesn't discourage people from stopping in. Throughout the day people come and go, friends and neighbors wanting a cup of tea or to drop off a plate of cookies. The items on the dessert buffet seem to grow exponentially. Guests linger in the sitting rooms, the hallways, the kitchen. Max helps toss a platter of roasted vegetables with a pomegranate vinaigrette, Madeline's own recipe. Rayna Doherty has brought an apple tart. Ian's son, Jeremy, is mas.h.i.+ng the potatoes.

No one takes notice when the bra.s.s bell above the door tinkles, heralding another guest. Hannah is the first to see her beneath the bundle of coats and scarves, mittens and woolen hats.

"You're back!" she cries, rus.h.i.+ng forward. There's a hush as everyone turns toward the latest visitor who turns out to be not one, but two people.

Frances Latham and her daughter, Mei Ling. Both of their noses are red from the cold, their eyes bright and s.h.i.+ning. Mei Ling, twenty months old, doesn't pull back but instead looks around, cautious yet curious.

"We got back yesterday," Frances says as she begins to unravel them. "Reed and the boys are right behind me, parking the car. Thank you so much for having us, Madeline. We're tired, but not as tired as if we'd had to figure out Thanksgiving dinner on our own. I hope it's all right that we're showing up like this."

"Of course it's all right," Madeline a.s.sures her. "It's easy enough to find extra chairs, and we have plenty of food. And you're welcome just to put your feet up and rest, too. If it gets to be too much, we can pack up your food to go."

"Oh no," Frances says with a shake of her head. "We've all been looking forward to this. The trip was so exhausting and emotional, we pa.s.sed out once we boarded the plane to come home. But now we're wanting to be with friends. This is a special homecoming for us-we have so much to be grateful for." She brushes the top of Mei Ling's head, her hair thick and dark, then gives it a kiss. Mei Ling squirms, then looks up at Frances before resting her face against Frances's chest.

There's a murmur and someone gives a sniffle. Isabel offers Bettie a tissue but Bettie bats it away.

"I'm not crying," Bettie informs her curtly, blinking as though something is in her eye. "I'm not." Her eyes look suspiciously damp, there are a few wet eyes in the room. Isabel smiles and puts an arm around Bettie's shoulders.

Reed, Nick, Noah, and Brady appear behind Frances. There's a heartfelt round of congratulations and hugs, introductions. They move to the sitting room where Frances gets down on the floor with her daughter. Mei Ling is unmoving, watchful, her small hand clinging to the hem of Frances's sweater.

"She knows you," Hannah says with a smile.

Frances smiles back. "Yes," she says. "I don't know if she knows what's going on or that we're her family now, but she knows who I am. She knows who all of us are." She gestures to Reed and the boys.

"She likes me best," Noah says.

"She likes all of us," Nick says, giving his younger brother a playful shove.

"Yes, but she likes me best," Noah insists.

"Me too!" Brady chimes in. Everyone laughs.

"It was those sc.r.a.pbooks," Reed tells everyone. "Frances kept sending them over and the foster family would show them to Mei Ling."

"I think the foster family enjoyed looking at the sc.r.a.pbooks as much as I enjoyed making them," Frances tells them. "So they showed them to her all the time. We were lucky with that. She recognized us when we arrived-she couldn't place us right away, but we weren't total strangers to her."

There's the sound of the kitchen timer going off. "Time to take the turkey out," Madeline says. "And I believe we'll be ready to eat soon. Reed, may I impose upon you to slice the turkey for us?"

Reed smiles. "I'd be honored."

"Oh, I wish I'd brought my camera," Frances says. "I think I left it on the dresser at home with our pa.s.sports and everything else."

"I have my camera," Walter La.s.siter says. "I'll make sure to get some nice pictures for you."

"He takes wonderful photographs," Connie says, patting his arm before following Madeline into the kitchen.

Walter turns scarlet, but there's a pleased look on his face.

Mei Ling tugs on Frances's sweater and Frances immediately seems to know what this means. She digs through her purse and produces a small baggie of Cheerios and opens it. Mei Ling dips her hand inside and grabs a handful.

"I know she's still grieving," Frances says in a lower voice. "But she's a spirited child, generally happy and very curious. And she's a regular little chatterbox, mostly to herself and of course in Chinese, but that's okay. We're not in any sort of rush and I know we'll get there, won't we, sweetheart?" She picks up a wayward Cheerio and places it in the center of her palm. Mei Ling reaches for it, a small smile breaking across her face.

"She likes the dollhouse Mom got her," Nick reports. "She almost threw a fit when we had to come over; she didn't want to stop playing."

"I'm going to get her a portable one," Reed says. "So she can take it with her wherever we go. I've seen some that have handles on the roof so they're easy to carry."

Frances beams, touches her husband's arm. "I'd tease you about this if I wasn't so totally in love with you at this moment."

"I thought it would help for the long car rides to the medical center," Reed says. "And for those long doctor appointments we have coming up. She'll always be able to have it with her all the time. Like us."

"c.r.a.p, now I'm going to cry," Bettie says, fanning her eyes. "What did you do with those tissues, Isabel?"

"I used them," Isabel says, showing her the damp wad in her palm. Her own eyes are s.h.i.+ning, but she's smiling.

"I've got some right here," Ava says, sniffling, handing some to Bettie. She beckons for Max to join her and pulls her son in close, kisses him. Yvonne and Sam are sitting on the couch, content, Sam's arms wrapped around her. Yvonne leans back and sighs, happy.

They all watch as Mei Ling finishes the Cheerios and then brings her fingers to her lips.

"She's thirsty," Noah says. Frances smiles and nods.

"Dinner!" Madeline calls.

Smiles are exchanged as people help one another up, the men clapping each other on the back, the women leaning into one another, grateful for this day, this time, these people. It's not quite the end of the year but it's a new beginning for all of them. On this day their hearts are filled with grat.i.tude, each detail leaving a gentle imprint in their minds, their hearts. It's a day of sharing and togetherness, of family and friends, of memories being made and not easily forgotten.

A Taste of Avalon

Sc.r.a.pbooking Recipes and Tips

In Avalon, Illinois, food is what brings family and friends together. It's how neighbors show their appreciation and support for each other, how one community comforts another in times of difficulty or loss. In particular, Amish Friends.h.i.+p Bread has made its way into the homes of many an Avalonian, which means that new recipes and variations based on this simple sugar-cinnamon bread are always being featured at church or school potlucks, left on doorsteps, or-of course-brought to meetings of the Avalon Ladies Sc.r.a.pbooking Society. Because these recipes are at the heart of this small town, some favorites are included here, along with ideas for hosting a sc.r.a.pbooking crop of your own.

The Amish Friends.h.i.+p Bread recipes use one cup of Amish Friends.h.i.+p Bread starter. Detailed instructions about the starter, FAQs, and over two hundred fifty Amish Friends.h.i.+p Bread recipes can be found at www.friends.h.i.+pbreadkitchen.com, home of the first Avalon novel, Friends.h.i.+p Bread.

Amish Friends.h.i.+p Bread Starter

Amish Friends.h.i.+p Bread starter is pa.s.sed from one friend or neighbor to another, usually in a gallon-sized Ziploc bag or ceramic container. It's an actual sourdough starter, meaning that if you continue to feed it over time, it will become more flavorful and distinct. You can use the starter for loaves, m.u.f.fins, brownies, even pancakes. If you haven't received a bag of Amish Friends.h.i.+p Bread starter but would like to experiment, here is the recipe for creating a starter. It will take ten days before you are able to bake with it.

Ingredients 1 package ( ounce) active dry yeast cup warm water (110 F/40 C) 1 cup all-purpose flour 1 cup white sugar 1 cup room temperature milk Directions 1. In a small bowl, dissolve the yeast in the water. Let stand ten minutes.

2. In a nonmetal container, combine flour and sugar. Mix thoroughly.

3. Slowly add in milk and dissolved yeast mixture. Cover loosely and let stand at room temperature until bubbly. This is Day One of the ten-day cycle. You can leave it in the container or transfer to a Ziploc bag.

4. On Days Two through Five, mash the bag daily (if your starter is in a container, give it a good stir with a wooden spoon). If the bag gets puffy with air, let the air out.

5. On Day Six, add 1 cup flour, 1 cup sugar, 1 cup milk. Mash the bag.

6. On Days Seven through Nine, mash the bag daily.

7. On Day Ten, pour entire contents into a nonmetal bowl.

8. Add 1 cups flour, 1 cups sugar, 1 cups milk. Mix well.

9. Measure out four separate batters into four one-gallon Ziploc bags.

10. Keep one of the bags for yourself and give the other bags to three friends along with the recipe for Amish Friends.h.i.+p Bread (a printable copy can be found at www.friends.h.i.+pbreadkitchen.com).

Lorna's Hazelnut Cappuccino

Amish Friends.h.i.+p Bread Cake

MAKES 1 4-LAYER CAKE.