Mornings on Main Book Blog Tour and #Giveaway #LoneStarLit

Connor hires Jillian to work in Gram’s shop

EXCERPT FROM

MORNINGS ON MAIN

By Jodi Thomas

“Wait.” He hadn’t had a single bite for the job at the quilt shop in weeks. Everyone in town knew what it was and no one wanted it. But this outsider just might be dumb enough to take it. “It’s only a short-term job. Three or four months at the most, but it pays fifteen dollars an hour if you have the right skills.”

“What skills?”

She wasn’t running at the thought of working in a quilt shop. That was a good sign. “My grandmother has owned the town’s quilt shop for over fifty years. She’s closing down, but what we need done has to be accomplished carefully. Every quilt in the place has to be cataloged for the county museum. She holds the history of this town in there.”

Connor had no idea how to say what he needed to say, but he had to be honest. “Gram’s slipping a little. Beginning to forget things. Over the years she’s collected and made quilts that mean a great deal to the people of Laurel Springs. They’ll have to be treated with care. The history of each one logged and photographed.”

“Museum-quality preservation. I understand. I worked at the Southwest Collection on the Texas Tech campus while I was in college. My salary will be twenty an hour for that detailed kind of work.”

She stood her ground and he had no doubt she knew what to do. Which was more than he knew about the process. The county curator had been excited about the collection but of­fered no time or advice.

Now Connor was sure he was the one afraid of her. “All right. I’ll walk you over and let you meet my grandmother. If you last an hour, you’re on the payroll. She’ll be the boss. Some days you’ll be working at her pace.”

Nodding, she passed through the front door he held open. When they started across the street, she hesitated. “Aren’t you going to lock your office door?”

“What, and hamper anyone trying to steal my copier? No way.”

The woman was giving him that look again. She’d obvi­ously decided he was missing critical brain cells.

“I’m Jillian James.” She held out her hand, palm up as if to say, your turn next.

“Connor Larady.” He grinned. “I’m the town mayor.”

She didn’t look impressed. She’d probably heard he’d run unopposed.

Without another word, they stepped inside the quilt shop. He didn’t miss her slight gasp as she looked up at the size of the place. It widened out from the small storefront windows in a pie-slice shape, with two stories opening to an antique tin ceiling. Massive fans turned slowly, so far above he couldn’t feel the air move.