Matt shrugged, helpless. “It’s not simply a matter of disappointing him. It’s sitting back and watching his livelihood disappear.”
Sarah knew that, and it made what she had to say all the more difficult. “I understand, but if, after the babies are born, you decide to continue working for your father’s business, I’m not coming with you.”
Matt stared at her. “Are you serious?”
She couldn’t speak. She nodded instead.
Matt sighed heavily and ran a hand through his curly blond hair. “Sarah, I’m in an impossible position here. I want to please you, and I don’t want my father to lose his business. I’m trying to figure out a way to keep everyone happy and satisfied. Let me take care of the problem that’s right in front of me before you ask me to tackle problems that won’t come up for months, if ever, all right?”
It was not what Sarah had hoped to hear. She had wanted him to hold her and assure her that she and the babies would always come first, that he would never ask her to give up the life she loved so he could take over his father’s business, that he wouldn’t dream of leaving Elm Creek Manor if she weren’t by his side.
But he couldn’t or wouldn’t tell her that, at least not yet.
“All right,” she said quietly. “We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.”
“And let’s hope we never do.” Matt reached out to turn off the lamp, then lay down and pulled her closer to him. “Everything will work out. You’ll see.”
She hoped he was right.
“OF COURSE I’LLhelp childproof the manor,” said Joe as he settled down in bed next to Gretchen. “But Matt should stick around to help me. He has no business taking off when his wife’s expecting his babies. I thought better of him than that.”
“His father’s relying on him,” said Gretchen. “Don’t blame Matt for trying to take care of both his wife and his father. He’s already torn. Let’s not make things any worse by judging him. We don’t know what we’d do in their place.”
“Always the peacemaker,” Joe said, kissing her on the cheek. “You have enough compassion for the whole world, my dear.”
Smiling, she snuggled into her husband’s embrace, but she lay awake long after he drifted off to sleep. Restless, thoughtful, she quietly stole from bed, put on her slippers, and drew on her robe. Easing the door open and closing it behind her with barely a sound, she left the bedroom and tiptoed down the hallway to the library, where she flicked on the lights, seated herself in the high-backed leather chair at the large oak desk, and tapped on the mouse to start up the computer.
Gretchen opened the web browser, typed “Quilting for good causes” into the search engine—and broke the silence with a laugh of joyful surprise when she was rewarded with almost a quarter million hits.
ANNA SLEPT RESTLESSLY, thinking of Jeremy sleeping only a few rooms away down the hall. He usually slept much closer than that, she berated herself when she finally gave up on sleep a few minutes after five o’clock. She shouldn’t let his presence in the manor rattle her so. She probably wouldn’t have, except they had left so much unsaid the evening before. She was not looking forward to facing him across the breakfast table, so she intended to stay on her feet most of the time, serving the meal. How she could avoid him on the ride back to their apartment building was another matter.
She showered, dressed, and went to the kitchen, where she put on a pot of coffee—and if she had a dime for every pot of coffee she had put on at Elm Creek Manor, she would have, well, a huge stack of dimes, but it was her job and she liked it, and she really needed to collect her wildly scattered thoughts before anyone else came downstairs—
She sat down in the breakfast nook and took a few slow, deep breaths. Jeremy would be coming down to breakfast soon, they would drive back to the apartment building together later, and for the foreseeable future, she would continue to live across the hall from him. She had to pull herself together and get through the initial awkwardness. He seemed willing to still be friends, despite knowing what he knew about her feelings for him, and that was a very good sign. If they both worked at it, their friendship could recover, and perhaps the broken places would knit together stronger than they had been before.
She rose and went to the pantry to collect flour, baking powder, and cinnamon, and by the time Sylvia and Andrew appeared in the kitchen doorway, she had squeezed a pitcher of fresh orange juice and had stacked the first batch of waffles on a platter. The couple set the tables and booths with enough places for all of their guests, who joined them one by one, filling the room with cheerful greetings and praise for the mouthwatering aromas that had enticed them from bed.
Anna’s friends quickly thwarted her plan to busy herself with serving the meal, insisting that she sit down and eat, because they were perfectly capable of helping themselves to seconds and pouring their own coffee. Seated at one of the booths, Jeremy slid over and offered her the place by his side. After a moment’s hesitation, she took it, and when he treated her no differently from any other day, she relaxed and became drawn into the conversation. The storm had passed overnight, and before coming to breakfast Matt had fastened the snowplow to his truck and cleared the parking lot and the back road as far as Diane’s car. It was merely stuck upon a fallen tree, not damaged, he reported, and with Jeremy’s help he was confident they could get it back on the road in no time.
Andrew joined Matt and Jeremy when they set out after breakfast. When the kitchen was restored to order, the Elm Creek Quilters returned once again to the ballroom to stitch a few more seams or press a few more blocks before packing up for home.
“We’ll certainly never forget this quilter’s holiday,” declared Agnes as she swept the floor free of snipped threads and bits of fabric.
“There are parts I’d prefer to forget,” said Diane. Privately Anna agreed. She had resumed working on Jeremy’s Hanukkah quilt since it looked like their friendship might survive the holiday, but the memory of that awful phone conversation still made her flush with embarrassment. She hoped that one day she and Jeremy would be able to joke about it, since forgetting it was unlikely.
It was late morning before the men returned from the woods, Matt and Andrew in the cab of the pickup, Jeremy following in Diane’s car, which, except for a scuffed bumper, seemed none the worse for the accident. Diane hugged her friends good-bye, threw on her coat and boots, and raced outside, jumping into the driver’s seat before anyone could remind her that she had promised Agnes her usual ride home.
“I’ll drive you,” Gwen said, repeating her offer from the previous night as the Elm Creek Quilters watched through the window as Diane’s car crossed the bridge over the creek and disappeared around the barn.
“Let’s leave soon,” said Agnes. “If Diane gets stuck again, she’ll need a ride, too.”
Jeremy and Anna followed close behind. They drove in silence until they entered the woods, where Jeremy pointed out the place where he had picked up Diane the night before, and farther along, the site of the accident. Anna peered through the window at the churned up snow and the remnants of the fallen tree Matt had sawed apart to free the car, and shuddered at the thought of what might have befallen Diane if Jeremy had not passed by.
“Why did you turn around?” Anna asked him. “Were the roads really that bad?”
“They were bad enough.”
“Why did you come to the manor instead of going home?”
He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road. “I thought you might want a ride home.”
In spite of herself, Anna laughed. “You expect me to believe that? You never said a word about heading back out into the storm after you made it safely to the manor.”
“It never occurred to me to leave after I found Diane along the way. Frankly, I think Sylvia and Agnes would have barricaded the door rather than let anyone else leave.”
“Maybe, but that doesn’t explain why you came back.” After an awkward silence, she added, “Maybe it was just because of the storm.”
“No, it wasn’t.” Jeremy shifted in his seat as they left the woods behind them and pulled onto the highway, which had been recently plowed and salted, the crystals sparkling in the bright sunlight. “I didn’t turn around because of the storm. I could have made it to Chicago, but after you hung up on me, I called Summer.”
“I didn’t hang up on you,” Anna said. “I said good-bye, and then I hung up. That’s not hanging up on someone.”
Jeremy threw her a weary glance. “Be that as it may. Summer and I had a short but long overdue chat. We decided it would be best if I didn’t visit her.”
Anna nodded. He had still come to the manor instead of going home.
“I called you to tell you I was on my way,” Jeremy said after the silence had stretched out too long. “You didn’t answer.”
“I’d left my phone in the ballroom when I went to make supper,” said Anna. “By the time I got back to it, you and Diane had already arrived.” He hadn’t left a message.
“There’s something I need you to know.” Jeremy kept his gaze fixed on the road straight ahead. “What happened between me and Summer, the way things ended—you are not the cause. I don’t want you to think you split us up. We’ve been headed in that direction for a long time. I don’t want you to feel any guilt about that.”
Anna watched him. “Okay, I won’t.”
“Good.”
They drove along without speaking. Few other drivers had ventured out that morning, but they encountered more as they approached Waterford. As they reached downtown, Jeremy held out his hand to her. After a moment’s hesitation, Anna took it.
He laced his fingers through hers and drove on.
DIANE HAD BARELYpulled into the garage when the door to the mudroom opened and Tim, Michael, and Todd rushed out to greet her. She endured their teasing reprimands for allowing them to believe she was safe at the manor when she was actually in mortal peril—a charge she denied since she was never more than a mile from the manor—and for letting her cell phone run out of power yet again. They wanted her to promise she’d never leave the house without a full charge again, and although she rolled her eyes and said that a three-quarters charge would be good enough, she was secretly delighted by the attention. The boys hadn’t come running to meet her since they were in elementary school.
The boys insisted upon carrying her things inside for her, although she didn’t need the help since she hadn’t planned for an overnight stay and had no luggage, only her purse and her quilting tote bag. Tim escorted her to the sofa, tucked a quilt around her, and brought her a mug of hot coffee as if she had come straight from the chilly, snowbound car rather than a comfortable suite at Elm Creek Manor. To her surprise, all three seated themselves nearby and asked her to tell them exactly what had happened. She agreed, but made an editorial decision to begin with pulling out of the parking lot rather than with the frustration that had compelled her to leave the manor.
Michael noticed the omission. “I still don’t understand why you tried to drive in that storm. You’ve spent the night at the manor plenty of times. Why the rush to leave last night?”
Diane reached out, roughed his hair, and smoothed it down again. “I wanted to get home to my guys.”
“You wouldn’t have missed much time with us,” Todd pointed out. “You’re here now, and we’ll still have most of the weekend together.”
“I hadn’t packed a bag,” Diane made an excuse. “I didn’t have my pajamas, my toothbrush, a change of clothes … Speaking of which, I need to change.” She had showered at the manor, but putting on the clothes she’d worn the day before always left her feeling uncomfortably grungy.
She rose, and as she hefted her tote bag to her shoulder, intending to leave it in her sewing room on the way upstairs, one of the straps slipped and a few of the appliqués fell upon the coffee table.
“What’s this?” asked Tim, who had a charming habit of always expressing interest in her quilting projects even though he still didn’t grasp the difference between piecing and appliqué.
“This was a very welcome distraction while I was awaiting rescue yesterday afternoon. Honestly, I bet my friends still haven’t checked the voicemail. When camp’s not in session and there aren’t dozens of calls to make …” Diane shook her head.
Todd picked up a piece of brown fabric that was meant to be the side of a log cabin. He found a few others and quickly assembled the cabin and the red, snow-covered barn beside it. Michael found a green piece cut in the shape of a pine tree, matched it to a brown trunk, and slid it in place beside the cabin. “This looks like that Advent calendar we used to have,” he said, studying the scene. “Remember, Mom? You’d put candy or money in the pockets and we’d open one for each day of December leading up to Christmas.”
Diane felt a thrill of delight. “You remember that?”
Michael shrugged. “Well, yeah. You never let us have candy except for Halloween, Easter, and Christmas. It was kind of a big deal.”
“We used to argue over the prizes,” Todd recalled. “Even though we took turns, Michael always ended up with the candy and I got the quarters.”
“I did not,” Michael retorted mildly. “You just thought I did. Anyway, back then, a quarter could buy more candy than I got in those pockets.”
Todd grinned. “What did I know? I was a kid.”
“Why did we stop using the Advent calendar?” asked Tim.
“It was cardstock,” Diane reminded him. “It was falling apart. Half the pockets had fallen off.”
“We still have it, though, don’t we?” asked Todd.
Diane nodded. “It’s tucked away with the rest of the Christmas decorations.”
“Don’t throw it out,” said Todd, relieved. “It’s an heirloom.”
“Really,” said Diane, staring at him. Had one of the Elm Creek Quilters phoned as she was driving home and put him up to this? “You think so?”
“We should start using it again,” said Michael. “I can fix the pockets, and instead of candies and quarters, you can put tens and twenties in them.”
“Inflation,” added Todd, feigning regret. “You know how it is.”
“Yes, I think I’m catching on,” said Diane, smiling.
GWEN PULLED INTOAgnes’s driveway, which was remarkably clear of snow. “Who shoveled your driveway?” she asked. “Magical yuletide elves? And can you send them to my house next?”
“My next-door neighbor has a snow blower,” Agnes explained, gathering her things. “He’s such a dear. He clears my driveway and sidewalk anytime we get more than an inch. I make it up to him with blueberry cobbler.”
“Nice arrangement,” Gwen remarked, noting that the neighbor had apparently salted Agnes’s front walk, too. She waited until Agnes let herself in the house before pulling out of the driveway and continuing home.
Her own driveway was a mess, but Gwen managed to make it up the slope and into the garage. She carried her empty glass cake pan and purse inside, left them on the kitchen counter, and returned to the car for her sewing kit and Victoria’s quilt, which she had removed from the hoop back at the manor, rolled into a neat bundle, and tucked into a pillowcase for ease of transport. Thanks to the storm that had kept Gwen at Elm Creek Manor—away from her books and computer—she had finished quilting all but a small corner section. She intended to finish the hand-quilting by Saturday afternoon and begin the hanging sleeve and binding on Sunday. If she stayed on schedule, she should be able to complete the entire quilt in time to send it to Kathryn for Christmas. She had promised Victoria she would, and she wouldn’t let anything—exams, student conferences, or grading papers—stand in her way.
But first, she had to dig out her driveway.
She lugged the quilt, her sewing kit, and the slender bamboo hoops into the house and left them in the living room until she could resume her work. On her way to the hall closet for more appropriate winter outerwear, she passed her answering machine and noticed that the light was blinking. Summer proba
bly hadn’t left the message, since she usually called Gwen’s cell. It was probably from a frantic student begging for an extension on a paper, she guessed, reaching for the button to play back the message.
“Good morning,” an unfamiliar voice greeted her. “I’m calling on behalf of the National Bone Marrow Registry with an important message for Dr. Gwendolyn Sullivan. I’m pleased to inform you that you are a match for a patient in Arizona, and we’re hoping that you’re still willing and able to offer this gift of life. Please contact us as soon as possible so we can discuss the details, because as I’m sure you know, time is of the essence.”
Gwen snatched up a pen and scrap of paper and jotted down the contact information, her heart soaring with thankfulness and hope. She knew that somewhere, Victoria was celebrating the match. Perhaps she had even had a hand in it.
A CONTEMPLATIVE PEACEsettled over the manor after their guests departed and all traces of the quilter’s holiday were swept away from the ballroom. Gretchen had finished her Swamp Patch quilt, bright and cheerful in primary colors, and thanks to her late-night investigation on the Internet, she knew exactly what to do with it. And if Sylvia agreed to her plan, Elm Creek Quilts could contribute even more.
She waited until evening, when the day’s work was finished and Sylvia had settled down in the formal parlor to relax with a book and a cup of tea. “How is your Star of the Magi quilt coming along?” Gretchen asked, lingering in the doorway, holding her own cup of tea. If Sylvia seemed to prefer her solitude, Gretchen would wait for a better occasion.
But Sylvia smiled and beckoned her inside. “I should have it finished in time for the Holiday Boutique, especially since my friend offered to machine quilt it for me. Sarah’s been after me for months to purchase a longarm quilting machine for Elm Creek Quilts, and at times like these when a deadline is fast approaching, the idea has a certain appeal.”
“We had a longarm machine at Quilts ‘N Things,” Gretchen said. “Customers would rent it by the hour to quilt their tops, and my partner taught classes on how to use it. I resisted the purchase at first since I prefer hand-quilting, but soon I realized that my partner was right. The machine paid for itself within a year, and we were able to complete sample quilts to display in the shop much faster.”
A Quilter's Holiday: An Elm Creek Quilts Novel Page 20