Also by Marie Bostwick
Threading the Needle (Cobbled Court Quilts #4)
A Thread So Thin (Cobbled Court Quilts #3)
A Thread of Truth (Cobbled Court Quilts #2)
A Single Thread (Cobbled Court Quilts #1)
On Wings of the Morning
River’s Edge
Fields of Gold
“The Presents of Angels” in Snow Angels
“A High-Kicking Christmas” in Comfort and Joy
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
Ties That Bind
MARIE BOSTWICK
KENSINGTON BOOKS
Contents
Prologue
1 Margot
2 Margot
3 Margot
4 Margot
5 Margot
6 Philippa Clarkson
7 Margot
8 Margot
9 Margot
10 Philippa
11 Margot
12 Philippa
13 Margot
14 Philippa
15 Philippa
16 Margot
17 Margot
18 Philippa
19 Margot
20 Margot
21 Margot
22 Margot
23 Philippa
24 Philippa
25 Margot
26 Philippa
27 Philippa
28 Philippa
29 Margot
30 Margot
31 Philippa
32 Margot
33 Margot
34 Margot
35 Margot
36 Philippa
37 Margot
38 Philippa
39 Margot
40 Philippa
41 Margot
42 Margot
43 Philippa
44 Margot
45 Margot
46 Margot
47 Philippa
48 Margot
49 Philippa
50 Margot
51 Margot
52 Margot
53 Margot
54 Margot
55 Margot
56 Margot
57 Philippa
58 Margot
59 Margot
60 Margot
61 Philippa
62 Margot
A Reading Group Guide
Discussion Questions
With thanks …
To my editor, Audrey LaFehr, and my agent, Liza Dawson, who never allow me to settle for less than my best; to my husband and family, for putting up with my crazy schedule and many moods; to my sister, Betty, who offers encouragement with liberality and criticism with grace; to my Very Sparkly Assistant, Molly, who keeps my books, calendar, and life pretty balanced, considering; and to Anne Dranginis, whose friendship I value and whose insights regarding courtroom drama and family law made this book more interesting; and to the readers whose appreciation and encouragement are the greatest rewards of writing.
Prologue
Margot Matthews
“People are like stained-glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within.”
Elisabeth Kübler-Ross said that, and I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. Maybe that surprises you. Most of the people I know, apart from my close friends, would be surprised to know I can quote from Kübler-Ross, and for one simple reason: I am nice.
I am. That’s how people describe me, as a nice person, a nice girl. That wasn’t so bad when I was a girl, but when you move beyond girlhood into womanhood, people tend to confuse niceness with lack of intellectual depth. And if that nice person is also a person of faith, they think you’re as shallow as a shower, incapable of introspection or academic curiosity. But mine is an examined faith, composed of inquisitiveness, discovery, and introspection. However, it didn’t begin with me.
I have known and loved God for as long as I can remember. It was as natural to me as breathing. As I’ve grown older and met so many people who struggle with the meaning and means of finding God, I have sometimes wondered about the validity of my faith. Could something so precious truly come as a gift?
I can’t answer for anyone else and don’t presume to, but, for myself, over and over again, the answer has been yes. I don’t understand why the searching and finding should be so simple for some and so arduous for others. I only know that I have been blessed beyond measure or reason. But while peace with God came easily to me, peace with myself has been elusive.
From adolescence onward and with increasing anxiety as the minutes and years of my biological clock ticked on, I waited for the missing piece of myself to arrive, the better half who would make me whole: a husband. And with him, children, a family. That’s what I’d always wanted, and that, I was sure, was what would make me happy. But after reading and meditating on Kübler-Ross, Brother Lawrence, the apostle Paul (“I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation”), I finally realized that I was not happy with myself because I had never learned to be happy by myself.
And so, more than a year ago, I broke it off with my boyfriend, Arnie Kinsella. It was hard, but it was for the best. I like Arnie, but I wasn’t in love with him any more than he was in love with me. Even so, if he’d asked me to marry him, I’d have said yes in a heartbeat. I know how terrible that sounds, but it’s the truth.
My friends—Evelyn, Abigail, Ivy, Virginia, everybody from my Friday night quilt circle—applauded my decision. They said I deserved the real thing—head-over-heels, candy-and-flowers, heart-throbbing, heart-stopping L-O-V-E.
A nice thought, but it’s never going to happen, not to me. And if finally acknowledging that didn’t quite make my windows blaze with light, at least it saved me from further humiliation and the weight of impossible dreams. I was over all that and I was over Arnie Kinsella.
Or so I thought. Until today.
1
Margot