“Then that’s settled.” She decided they’d had enough talk about beds and bedding down. Crossing the room, she examined the armchair and ottoman. The slipcovers, a blue-and-green print that had faded where the sun streamed through the window onto the fabric, would have to be replaced, as would the bedspread. One item in the room, however, was perfect the way it was. Across the chair, tossed there nonchalantly, was a stunning woven blanket in shades of blue.
She laid her pen and legal pad on the chair and fingered the soft tweed pattern. As a designer and a weaver, she marveled at the intricate use of colors. “Your grandmother made this blanket, didn’t she?” She knew the answer.
“Yes.” He left the doorway and came to stand beside her. “As a gift to my grandfather, to wrap up in on cold winter evenings while he was reading in front of the fire. My grandmother died before he did, and this blanket kept her near.”
“For you, too.”
“For me, too.”
“The work is exquisite.” She glanced up at him. “Your grandmother had a real gift for weaving.”
“I think you might have the same gift.”
“I have no idea. I didn’t stay with it long enough to find out. But if I could produce something as fine as this, I’d be very proud.”
“It’s probably the best thing she ever did, but as we go through the house, I’ll show you some others. I dry dishes with the tea towels she wove,” he added.
“You do? How could you bear to?”
“Because that’s what she made them for. They’ll last for years if they’re hand-woven. She never wanted to spend her time on wall hangings. Instead she wove stuff people could use every day, things people would touch and feel the texture of the material.”
“A sensuous woman,” Anna murmured before realizing that might not be the comment a grandson would want to hear. “What I mean is—”
“I know what you mean,” he said. “And you’re right. She was alive to all that life had to offer.”
She understood his implication. “That’s a wonderful trait.” She spoke from nervousness rather than necessity. “She must have been—” His light touch on her hair stopped the flow of words. She gazed at him while he combed gently through the loose curls. “You shouldn’t be doing that.”
“I know.”
In a moment he would kiss her. The emotions generated by the presence of the sleigh bed hadn’t evaporated. They’d only gone underground temporarily. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears, louder than the chirp of birds in the tree outside the window.
The sunlight streaming into the room flecked Sam’s blue eyes with gold as he gazed down at her. “I know you want to take this slow. I keep trying to remember, but when you’re right here, so close….”
She was lost and she knew it. He would kiss her and she would kiss him back. The attraction was too strong, the reasons for waiting easily overshadowed. Slowly he leaned toward her.
Four
The knocking at the front door reached them a moment before his mouth touched hers, and she drew back. “The door,” she said quietly. “Someone’s at the door.”
The knocking continued, and then a voice called out. “Yoo-hoo, Sammy! It’s Estelle Terwiliger, dear.”
Sam closed his eyes. “I should have known when she didn’t call this morning that she’d show up at my door, instead.”
“Go and talk with her.” Anna picked up her pen and legal pad. “I’ll work up here while you—”
“No,” he said, cupping her elbow and steering her toward the bedroom door. “We may as well let her know you’re redecorating the house. This is as good a time as any. By the way, does she know you’re an interior designer?”
“No, at least not as of yesterday. Word spreads so fast around here, she may know my life story by now.”
“Not from me.” He ushered her down the stairs.
“Won’t she be disappointed that she’s not in charge?”
He sighed. “Yeah, she will. I’ll have to come up with some way to mollify her, but I want her to see that I’ve hired a professional for the job.”
Some professional, Anna thought, and straightened the front of her sweat suit as she reached the bottom of the stairs. She smoothed her hair and gave thanks that Estelle hadn’t arrived a few minutes later.
Sam opened the door, and Estelle blocked most of the light coming through it. “Why there you are, Sammy! I was driving by and thought I’d stop in and chat about your house and the TV special. The guild is so excited about this.”
“Come in, Estelle.” He stepped back from the door. “I’m glad you’re here. I guess you’ve met Anna.”
Estelle nodded in her direction. “Just yesterday, at the grocery.”
“You’ll never believe what she does for a living,” Sam continued. “She’s an interior designer.”
“Why, how nice.” Estelle clutched the handle of her appliquéd purse against her stomach while she studied Anna with guarded interest. “I didn’t think you knew Sammy.”
“I—” she began, not sure how to explain.
“She came by yesterday to see if I could help with that red maple that was blocking her driveway,” Sam interjected smoothly. “When I found out she was an interior designer, I immediately thought that’s what we needed, a professional to take care of the inside of the house so that the rest of us can concentrate on the other details. Don’t you think so, Estelle?”
“Well, I don’t know. Naturally, I thought that the guild would redo your house for you.” She glanced around the parlor. “Gertie has a lovely oil painting she did a few years ago that would go nice over the fireplace, and she said she’d even sell it if someone saw it on TV and wanted to have a genuine piece of folk art. And of course, Edwina makes those wooden geese in funny poses—”
“All that would have been fine.” Sam took advantage of the moment when Estelle paused for a breath. “But I don’t see how you ladies would have time, considering all that has to be done in connection with the tree-cutting ceremony. So Anna will handle this little job, and you can concentrate on the other plans.”
Estelle stared at him with her mouth slightly open, and Anna marveled at his diplomacy. She wondered if he had any idea what other “plans” he was talking about.
“Uh, I guess so,” Estelle said. “You’ll have to refresh my memory about what else we’ve planned. My mind’s been so occupied with fixing up this house that I forgot about the rest.”
“Well, there’s the…the town choir, for one thing.”
“What town choir? We don’t have a town choir, just the Congregational choir and the Methodist choir, and of course the high school choir. But no town choir.”
“There, you see? Who’s going to organize all those groups into one unit for the carols? And I would say, when the cameras go out into the woods to film the tree cutting, we ought to have carols by the Sumersbury Town Choir.”
Anna gazed at Sam in wonder and hoped that he knew what he was doing. What if the network didn’t want carolers tramping around drowning out the commentary?
Estelle nodded, a gleam in her eye. “I can see it now, carolers in hats and scarves, carrying candles—”
“This will be in daylight,” he reminded her, “but you’re getting the idea.”
“And an organ! Ernest has that small one in his parlor. We could load it onto the back of a truck, maybe your truck, Sammy, and get a long extension cord. Yes, I can imagine the organ music through the pines.”
Sam’s brow creased and he glanced at Anna, who brought the legal pad up to hide her smile of amusement. He’d jumped into some rough water.
“Maybe not an organ,” he said hesitantly. “An extension cord hasn’t been made that would reach all the way up to—”
“Nonsense! We have to have an organ. Do you think the ‘Hallelujah Chorus’ would be appropriate, right as you begin to cut the tree?”
“Um, I think the noise of the saw might—”
“Quite right. We’ll sing the ‘Halleluj
ah’ right after the tree crashes down. In fact, the high school trumpet section could join the organist for that.”
Sam sent Anna a look of alarm as Estelle rattled on.
“Or maybe a solo would be more effective. The ‘Ave Maria’, perhaps. I’m very good at singing the ‘Ave Maria’. You’ve heard me, haven’t you, Sammy? Tell Anna how impressive that Christmas Eve service was last year at the Congregational Church.”
“It was something, all right.” He looked panic-stricken. “But I wonder if—”
“Leave the details to me,” Estelle said, turning toward the door. “We’ll make Sumersbury the talk of the country!” She whisked out the door. “Nice seeing you again, Anna,” she called over her shoulder as she hurried down the front steps.
Sam closed the door quietly behind her and turned to Anna. “My God, what have I done?”
“Exactly what you wanted to do. You’ve mollified Estelle Terwiliger. Who is she, anyway? She acts as if she’s in charge of the world.”
“She’s in charge of this little corner of it,” he replied. “Estelle is the senior member of the town council, president of the DAR, founder and president of the Sumersbury Craft Guild and chairwoman of every charity drive in town.”
“Wow. That’s impressive.”
“Nobody in Sumersbury wants to tangle with her. Besides, she’s a sweet gal, really. The town wouldn’t function without her. But now she’s gonna have the whole blasted population trampling through my Christmas tree farm singing the ‘Hallelujah Chorus’. With trumpets!”
“Maybe not.” She knew she shouldn’t laugh at his distress, but she couldn’t help it. “Maybe she’ll go with the ‘Ave Maria’ solo, instead.”
He groaned. “That would be worse. Estelle’s singing has been compared to raccoons mating. Ever hear that?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
“Well, if she sings at the tree cutting ceremony, you’ll think you’re in the middle of Wild Kingdom, believe me.”
“Oh, Sam.” She couldn’t contain her laughter any longer. “All this so that the Sumersbury Craft Guild won’t put wooden geese in your living room.”
“Yeah.” He began to chuckle. “Well, you haven’t seen the geese, either.”
She laughed harder. “What does she mean, in funny poses?”
“Don’t ask.” His laughter joined hers. “But I’ll take the ‘Hallelujah Chorus’ and the ‘Ave Maria’ if it means you’ll be decorating the house instead of Estelle Terwiliger.”
She wiped her eyes. “You know, we haven’t made much progress in that regard. We’ve only covered the hall and one bedroom.”
“Ask me if I care. The longer it takes, the more I can be with you.”
She gazed at him and her smile faded. “Sam, we’ve got to slow down. When Estelle was here I was shocked to realize that I’d met you yesterday. Yesterday.”
“Time isn’t always the crucial factor.”
“Maybe not, but I need more of it.”
“Okay,” he said softly. “I won’t push.”
“Let’s cover the downstairs now. We can save the other two bedrooms for next weekend. Everything doesn’t have to be decided today.”
“Look, I can go back upstairs with you without causing any problems, if that’s what you’re worried about. I can control myself.”
“It’s not you I’m worried about,” she said.
“That gives me hope.”
“Please don’t pin your hopes on me. Not yet. I need to figure some things out, first.”
“I understand.” His gaze was warm, belying the acceptance in his words. Then he frowned. “But speaking of hope, I just hope my suggestion to Estelle doesn’t wreak havoc on the entire situation. I have single-handedly turned that woman into a runaway train.”
“Maybe not. The network might love what she’s cooking up.”
He eyed her dubiously. “Yeah, and I’m the Prince of Wales.”
“Let’s just say you’re a prince.” Before he could respond, she walked into the parlor and began making notes on her pad. “Now, the sofa can stay, but it needs reupholstering.”
“You’re the boss.”
She had a feeling he wasn’t referring to interior design.
* * *
They were interrupted by several phone calls, and they’d barely completed their survey of the downstairs when a friend of Sam’s arrived. The man asked if Sam would help him cart home a riding lawn mower he’d bought that morning. Anna was amazed that he would buy the lawn mower and then ask Sam to transport it in his truck, but Sam appeared perfectly happy to do the favor.
She realized that despite his impatience with all the phone calls, he liked this small-town attitude of give-and-take. His behavior was very different from the private, independent postures adopted by the people she knew in the city. When she’d bought the farmhouse, she’d imagined that it would give her more privacy, but if she became involved with Sam Garrison, she’d probably have far less. The concept made her uncomfortable. Good thing she’d told him she needed more time. Time and space.
Sam left with his friend and Anna drove into town. After stopping at Sumersbury’s only lunch counter for a sandwich and a cup of coffee, she headed for Tessie Johanson’s yarn shop. Her fingers itched to begin weaving.
A bell jangled when she opened the door, and a tall, handsome woman in her fifties came out of the back room wiping her mouth with a cloth napkin. She looked like someone who should be named Tessie Johanson with her Slavic cheekbones and her blond-gray hair swept into a coil on top of her head.
“I’ve interrupted your lunch,” Anna apologized. “I can come back later.”
“Heavens no, don’t do that.” The woman’s mouth curved into a smile. “I need the customers more than I need the lunch.”
“I suppose it might be hard to keep a business going in a town as small as Sumersbury.” Anna admired the rainbow of yarns arranged in diamond-shaped bins on the wall. “You’re the owner, right?”
“Right. I’m Tessie.” She held out her hand.
“I’m Anna Tilford.” She grasped the woman’s hand firmly. “I bought the McCormick place.” She was learning people in Sumersbury related better to a name than an address.
“Oh, so you’re the one. Nobody seemed to know.”
“I’m the one,” she said with a smile. “And on top of that, I’ve borrowed my neighbor’s loom. I’m here to buy yarn and hopefully get some advice.”
Tessie’s eyebrows shot up. “Sam Garrison is letting you use his grandmother’s loom?”
“That’s right.”
“I’m impressed. I tried to buy that loom from him, and he wouldn’t sell. He said it would be like selling off a memory, and I could understand that. A lot of Hilary Schute’s personality was tied in with her loom.”
Hilary, Anna thought, liking the name. “You knew her?”
“Very well. She was the only serious weaver in town besides me. She’s the one who encouraged me to open this shop, and she was my best customer until the cancer got so bad that weaving was impossible.”
“From what you and Sam have told me, she must have been quite a lady. I’ve seen some of her work.”
Tessie nodded. “You’re lucky to be using her loom. You’ll get good vibes from it.”
“I believe you.”
“Tell me if this is too personal, but how did this come about, that you have use of it? Did you know Sam before you bought the McCormick place?”
Anna considered her answer. She’d been right – there weren’t many secrets in a small town.
“Never mind,” Tessie said when she hesitated. “Bad habit of mine. I dig into the personal history of everyone who buys yarn or takes lessons from me. It doesn’t matter why you have the loom. What sort of yarn and advice do you need?”
Anna decided to tell her story anyway. Tessie would find out soon enough that her new customer was redecorating Sam’s house for the television special. “The loom is part of some Yankee trading,” she
said. “I’m an interior designer, and I’m trading my skills fixing up Sam’s house in exchange for use of the loom.”
“But I thought Estelle Terwiliger and her gang were doing Sam’s house.”
“They’ll be doing…other things, instead,” she said, trying not to smile.
“Like what?”
“Um, I think they’ll organize a town choir, and—”
“A what?”
“For the tree cutting ceremony,” Anna said, struggling to keep a straight face. “You know, to sing carols, and maybe the ‘Hallelujah Chorus’, or maybe Mrs. Terwiliger will sing a solo.”
“Saints preserve us.” Tessie looked at her with wide eyes. “Whose idea was that?”
“I—uh—think it was Sam’s.”
The dazed look slowly cleared from Tessie’s face. “That sly dog. He diverted Estelle and her cronies away from his house and hired you. The trouble is, he’s turned that woman loose on the entire town.”
“Maybe it won’t be so—”
“You don’t know Estelle Terwiliger like I do. We’ll have a Cecil B. de Mille production organized by the first week in December, with all of us appointed to play our respective parts. I figured the house would keep her busy, but now that you’re doing that, she’s going to run amok.” Tessie began to smile. “You know, it’ll be hysterical, if I can keep my sense of humor and ignore what the rest of the nation thinks of Sumersbury after this. My, my.” She shook her head and chuckled. “But this discussion isn’t getting you started on your first project, is it?”
“I guess not, and I’m only here on weekends, so—”
“Heavens! You should have said so immediately. Do you think you remember how to thread a loom?”
“Pretty much.”
Tessie fished for a stack of papers under the counter. “Here’s a handout I use when I teach weaving, although I’ve only had a few classes and nobody’s stayed with it except Hilary. Most of the women in town, or even surrounding towns, for that matter, would rather knit or crochet. The initial outlay is less, and needles don’t take up floor space.”
Anna glanced at the step-by-step diagram of threading a loom, and the technique came back to her as if she’d been weaving only yesterday. “Yes, yes, I remember,” she said, growing excited. “And the counting and measuring and deciding on a pattern, and tying up the treadles. I had a full semester’s course in college.”
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