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My first publishing contract arrived two months after Isabella and I were married. It was a long slog from writing and dreaming to living the dream, and my darling new wife played a vital role. The only other family member who remained confident that this dream would become a reality was my grandmother, my mother’s mother.

Isabella and I were married in England, where she lived and worked, and then she returned with me to Dusseldorf, where I worked as a consultant. Because she was leaving a big job and I was working crazy hours between the day work and the dream work, we decided to put off our honeymoon until December, and add family visits with those who could not make it over to the wedding itself. My grandmother was at the top of that list. 

My first publishing contract arrived in October, and we added a visit to the new center of my professional universe. Then Isabella was accepted to begin making her own dream a reality, by being invited to do a doctorate at Oxford University. So long before we were able to even think about living just from my writing, we were about to begin living off my writing. Which meant adding a visit to my own head office into this already overpacked trip, in order to tell my boss and friend that I was leaving.

Nine weeks before the trip, a package arrived from my grandmother. Despite the fact that her health was a growing concern to all the family, she had decided to sew us a wedding quilt. But her arthritis was really very bad by this point, which meant holding a needle for any length of time was almost impossible. 

Friends at church heard about this quest, which by this point it had become. They offered to help. Gradually news of this effort traveled by way of friends and family back to my grandmother’s hometown on the Crystal Coast, where this new story takes place. Old acquaintances and family members, some of whom my grandmother had never met, offered their help.

So here we were, borderline frantic over everything this trip had ballooned into including, and my grandmother’s quilt arrived. She had played a very important role in bringing Isabella and us together --- not in the sense of, Davis meet this fine and incredibly gifted young woman. Rather, Davis, she is the one for you. Marry her. 

When we opened the package, it was as if my grandmother had entered the room.

The next day, I brought the quilt --- still in the package --- into my little writing cubby and set it under my desk. Every morning I woke up around five so I could have at least an hour of writing time before leaving for the office. And in the weeks that were already so frantically overcrammed between the package’s arrival and our departure, I wrote a homily to my grandmother.

My honeymoon gift to Isabella was the printed version of this story, which I had completed four days before. She read it on the flight to start our honeymoon. The flight attendants were furious with me, thinking I had made my bride cry. They gave her two bottles of champagne when we disembarked and gave me multiple stink-eyes.

At Isabella’s insistence, I sent my grandmother that same manuscript by express (this was in the days before emailing attachments). And we left for two weeks of postponed marital bliss.

What we did not know because the family had decided not to tell us was that my grandmother went into the hospital two days after our honeymoon began. At my grandmother’s request, visiting friends and family were enlisted to read her the story. Over and over and over.

The honeymoon ended, and I called home while waiting for our connecting flight, only to learn that my grandmother’s funeral was the afternoon of our arrival. 

We went straight from the airport to the cemetery.

After the service, dozens of family, relatives and my grandmother’s friends --- many of whom I had never met --- came up and told me what it was like for them and my grandmother, reading her that story in the hospital.

This little story went on to become one of my all-time bestselling novels. THE QUILT has been translated into more than two-dozen languages, including Mandarin Chinese and Turkish. Ten years after it was first published, Hallmark brought out a coffee-table version with original artwork.

Fast forward to the year before last, exactly 24 months from this very week. My editor at Kensington, Wendy McCurdy, wrote and asked if I might be willing to start a new series based on the North Carolina Outer Banks. My current series, Miramar Bay, was drawing to a close, and she loved the area. Would I consider going home?

In September of last year, I traveled back to my grandmother’s birthplace. A SEA GLASS CHRISTMAS became the story through which this particular circle has been unbroken.