The Quilter's Apprentice

by Jennifer Chiaverini

The library concourse was full of enthusiastic quilt lovers of all ages, and the stands Sarah had helped assemble were now displaying the quilters’ handiwork. They viewed each quilt in turn, reading the program for the artists’ names and thoughts on their work. Guild members wearing white gloves mingled through the crowd, ready to turn over an edge so a quilt’s backing could be examined.

  Mrs. Compson knew so much about block patterns, design elements, and construction techniques that Sarah and Matt felt as if they were enjoying a museum tour with an expert guide. Often Sarah noticed that other spectators were listening in on Mrs. Compson’s analyses of the pieces, nodding occasionally in agreement.

  Sarah was pleased to find that even with a beginner’s eye she could study an unfamiliar block and figure out how the quilt had been constructed. She was able to see how subtle variations in color and contrast made a traditional quilt sparkle, and how other quilts used the traditional as a starting point for devising something truly innovative. Soon the show became a dizzying and enthralling display of color and pattern, inspiring in that she saw so many possibilities, and humbling in that her own handful of simple pieced blocks couldn’t begin to compare.

  “I’ll never be able to make a quilt like this,” she said, gazing at a particularly stunning Dresden Plate variation whose wheel-shaped blocks had pieced “spokes” intensifying in hue as they radiated outward. A pieced border resembling a twisted ribbon spiraled along the outside edges. The quilting stitches were too tiny to be believed.

  “You shouldn’t make a quilt like this. You should make your own quilt,” Mrs. Compson chided.

  “What I meant was I’ll never make a quilt as good as this one.”

  “Not with that attitude you won’t,” Matt said, grinning.

  “My thoughts exactly.” Mrs. Compson gave Sarah a pointed look. “This particular quilter has been working on her skills since before you left high school. If you’ve already decided you’ll never make a quilt so fine, then you never will, and my lessons will be wasted on you. If, however, you’re willing to stick to it and keep in mind that few if any first quilts are as lovely as this one, well, then, perhaps there’s still hope for you.” She turned and moved on to the next quilt.

  “See? Just like I’ve been telling you all along: think positive,” Matt said over his shoulder as he followed her.

  Sarah sighed and went after them.

  The Tangled Web Quilters had done well. Bonnie’s blue-and-gold Celtic knotwork quilt had taken first place in the appliqué/large bed quilt division, and Judy’s log cabin variation had also won a blue ribbon in the pieced/small bed quilt category. Together Gwen and Summer had claimed a second place in the innovative division for a family tree quilt that blended piecing, appliqué, and photo transfer techniques. When Sarah came across Diane’s floral appliqué wall hanging, she was delighted to see a third-place ribbon hanging by its side. Sarah admired Diane’s first ribbon and promised herself that next year she would enter a quilt, too.

  Matt, eager to see how Mrs. Compson’s entry had fared, went on ahead to find it.

  “Mrs. Compson, do you think I’ll be able to finish my quilt in time for my anniversary?” Sarah asked as soon as he was out of earshot.

  “Well, that depends. When is it?”

  “August fifth. I’d like to have my quilt done by then so I can give it to Matt for a present. It’ll be our first anniversary spent in Waterford, so I want to give him something special. What could be more special than my first quilt? I’d like to use a garden maze setting, too, and maybe a pieced border.”

  Mrs. Compson held up her hands, chuckling. “Slow down. You still have a few blocks to go. August fifth, hmm? Even if I help you with the quilting, that might be pushing things a bit.” She thought for a moment. “Perhaps it’s time to teach you how to machine piece. I suppose I could let you use my sewing machine.”

  “Really?”

  “If you promise to be careful.”

  “Of course I’ll be careful.” They rounded the corner and found Matt standing in front of Mrs. Compson’s quilt, grinning from ear to ear. “But don’t say anything to Matt. I want the quilt to be a surprise.”

  Mrs. Compson nodded and wove her way through the onlookers to see her quilt, with Sarah following close behind. She recognized the blue, purple, green, and ivory eight-pointed star quilt immediately. It was the same one she had seen on the sofa the first time she’d visited Elm Creek Manor.

  Beside the quilt hung a blue ribbon for first place in the pieced/large bed quilt category, a purple Judge’s Choice ribbon, another purple ribbon for Best Hand Quilting, and a gold ribbon for Best of Show.

  “You won more ribbons than anyone else here,” Sarah exclaimed.

  Mrs. Compson bent forward to examine the ribbons herself. “Hmph. No Viewers’ Choice?” Her voice sounded amused, but Sarah detected how pleased she was.

  “Congratulations, Mrs. Compson.” Matt tipped his baseball cap in her direction.

  “Why thank you, Matthew.” Other viewers who had overheard offered their congratulations, which she graciously accepted.

  “Sarah?” someone called out.

  Sarah spun around and caught a glimpse of red hair in the throng of people behind them. “Oh, hi, you guys. I was hoping I’d run into you. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” She beckoned to Mrs. Compson, and they made their way back through the crowd. “Gwen, Bonnie, and Summer, I’d like you to meet Mrs. Compson. Mrs. Compson, this is Gwen, Bonnie, and Summer, a few of the Tangled Web Quilters.”

  “We’ve met,” Bonnie said.

  Mrs. Compson nodded pleasantly to the others, then turned to Gwen. “Professor, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m looking forward to meeting your students next week.”

  “And they’re looking forward to meeting you, too. They’ll be impressed when they hear about this.” Gwen indicated Mrs. Compson’s awards.

  “Ooh, how did you do?” Summer asked, stepping through the crowd for a closer look. Mrs. Compson went with her, responding to Summer’s stream of eager questions as rapidly as they came.

  Gwen caught Bonnie by the elbow before she could follow. “Where’s Mrs. Emberly?” she whispered, looking around anxiously.

  “She left earlier, with Judy and Emily.” Bonnie turned to Sarah. “Judy raised a stink when they told her she couldn’t bring Emily’s stroller in here. Diane would’ve been proud.”

  Gwen released Bonnie’s arm. “Thank goodness. That was a narrow miss.”

  Sarah’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? What’s wrong?”

  Gwen and Bonnie exchanged a look. “Mrs. Compson and Mrs. Emberly don’t exactly—” Bonnie hesitated. “Well, you know Mrs. Emberly said they had a falling out, but it’s worse than that. It would be very awkward if they happened to run into each other here.”

  “Rumor has it they’ve been feuding for more than fifty years,” Gwen added. “They could just ignore each other while they weren’t living in the same town, but it’s been more difficult ever since Mrs. Compson returned to Waterford.”

  Sarah thought back. “Was Mrs. Emberly one of the people who kicked Mrs. Compson out of the Waterford Quilting Guild?”

  Gwen’s eyes widened and she exchanged a surprised look with Bonnie. “She got kicked out? That’s news to me. We never even knew she had been a member.”

  “That’s not it, though,” Bonnie said. “It’s a family quarrel. Mrs. Emberly and Mrs. Compson are sisters-in-law.”

  Sisters-in-law? “Oh, my God. Mrs. Emberly is the Puzzle.”

  “The what?”

  “Nothing—I mean, her first name is Agnes, right? She married Mrs. Compson’s brother, Richard?”

  Gwen nodded. “That’s right.”

  “Those two.” Bonnie shook her head in exasperation. “It’s such a shame, what with most of the family gone. Honestly—to have to dodge your own sister-in-law at a quilt show, rather than speak to her.”

  “Maybe we should stop running interference for them,” Gwen mused. �
�Maybe if they’re forced to speak to each other they’ll achieve some sort of reconciliation.”

  Bonnie looked dubious. “I don’t know. From what I’ve seen, Sylvia Compson’s temper is as flammable as her quilts.”

  “I think you mean volatile,” Gwen said. “But I know what you mean. What do you think, Sarah? You know Mrs. Compson pretty well.”

  “Apparently there’s still a lot I don’t know.” Sarah’s thoughts were in a whirl. If Mrs. Emberly was the Puzzle, then shouldn’t her name be Agnes Chevalier instead of Agnes Emberly? But no, that wasn’t right, either; her name should be Agnes Bergstrom.

  Just as Sarah was about to press Bonnie and Gwen for more details, Mrs. Compson and Summer returned. “Are you ready to go on and see the rest of the show?” Mrs. Compson asked.

  Sarah nodded. The Tangled Web Quilters joined them as they viewed the remaining quilts. Mrs. Compson chatted pleasantly with the group, especially with Summer, but Sarah barely listened to the conversation. She should have guessed from Mrs. Emberly’s remarks that there was more to her relationship with Elm Creek Manor than she had mentioned.

  After the show, Sarah, Matt, and Mrs. Compson had dinner at an outdoor restaurant, then went to the Waterford College stadium for the fireworks display. As Matt and Mrs. Compson gazed at the brilliant spectacle overhead and let out murmurs of awe and cheers of delight, Sarah watched in silence. When Mrs. Compson eyed her and remarked that she was being rather quiet, Sarah made an effort to seem cheerful and relaxed. Mrs. Compson seemed to accept that, but inside Sarah was troubled. The quiet, pleasant woman she had come to know through the Tangled Web Quilters seemed nothing like the foolish, exasperating girl from Mrs. Compson’s stories. Mrs. Compson was more of a puzzle than Agnes Chevalier had ever been.

  Twenty-Two

  Mrs. Compson began Monday afternoon’s quilt lesson by arranging Sarah’s blocks on the table. She checked over the list of remaining blocks and worked out some problems on a calculator, then jotted down some notes on a pad. “Since you finished the Lancaster Rose block over the weekend, that makes eight. I’m surprised you were able to finish it so fast.”

  “I like appliqué. What are you doing?” Sarah gestured toward the calculator. “I’m good with math. Can I help?”

  “Thank you, dear, but I’m finished. I’m calculating the necessary measurements for your Garden Maze setting.” She frowned. “If I’m going to teach you how to machine piece today, I think we had better select the easiest of your remaining blocks. Let’s go ahead and work on the Sister’s Choice.”

  “Will it make any difference in the finished quilt that some of the blocks are machine pieced and some are hand sewn?”

  “Not enough to matter.” Mrs. Compson produced Sarah’s template-making tools and spread them out on the table.

  When Sarah had finished making her templates and cutting out the block pieces, Mrs. Compson showed her how to use the sewing machine. With the older woman hovering close by, Sarah practiced sewing on a few scraps of cloth before risking her quilt block pieces. It had been a long time since she had used a sewing machine in her junior high Home Ec class, but soon Sarah felt fairly comfortable with the tiny black machine. She pressed a seam open with her fingernail and inspected the neat, even stitches with a smile. This was definitely faster than hand piecing.

  “Where can I get a sewing machine like this?” Sarah asked.

  “Hmph. Depends. How much are you willing to spend?”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “I bought mine new many years ago, but if you can find one, and if the owner can bear to part with it, you might pay three hundred, five hundred dollars, depending upon its condition. Of course, I’ve heard of some people with incredible luck who have managed to snatch them up at garage sales for only a fraction of that.” Mrs. Compson tilted her head to one side. “Of course, there’s always—” She broke off suddenly and smiled, her eyes glinting in merriment.

  “What? There’s always what?”

  “Nothing.” But a faint smile played around the corners of her mouth. Sarah suspected she was up to something, but when she said so, Mrs. Compson merely smiled.

  The next morning Sarah awoke with nervousness gnawing in her stomach. As she went to the bathroom to shower, she ordered herself to stop being so ridiculous. Mrs. Compson was the one who had to stand in front of Gwen’s class and talk, not Sarah. All she had to worry about was running the slide projector.

  She put on her interview suit and carefully arranged her long hair instead of merely pulling it back into a ponytail as she usually did for work. When Sarah and Matt arrived at Elm Creek Manor, Mrs. Compson was waiting in the back hallway with a box of slides and lecture notes. She wore an attractive lightweight pink suit and pearls.

  Matt wished them good luck and strode off for the north gardens as Sarah helped Mrs. Compson into the truck. As they drove to Waterford College, Mrs. Compson gave Sarah some last-minute instructions. Sarah listened and nodded when appropriate, but her stomach was in knots.

  The security guard at the west entrance to the campus gave them a short-term parking permit and a map. Gwen was waiting behind the classroom building when they pulled up.

  “I’m glad you’re here early,” she said, taking the box of slides from Mrs. Compson. “When word got out about your talk, some of the other professors asked if their classes might join us. I said it was okay. Was it?”

  Mrs. Compson shrugged. “Certainly. The more the merrier.”

  “I’m glad you feel that way. We had to move into the auditorium.”

  “The auditorium?” Sarah’s voice quavered.

  Mrs. Compson looked surprised. “Classroom, auditorium—what’s the difference? Why are you so pale?”

  Gwen peered at her. “Are you okay, Sarah?”

  “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt.

  She did feel better when she learned that she would be working at the top of the auditorium in the projection booth where no one would see her. Gwen showed her where the various light switches and controls were, then left to take Mrs. Compson backstage while Sarah set up the equipment. Almost all of the seats were full, and Sarah could hear the students buzzing noisily below. Before long a crackle of static came over an intercom to her left. “Sarah, are you there?”

  She fumbled for the white button next to the speaker. “Yes, Gwen. I’m here and I’m all set.”

  “We’re ready, too. House lights down, stage lights up.”

  Sarah glanced at the control panel and found the switches. “Okay, I’ve got them. Uh . . . over and out.”

  The students quieted as the lights went down and Gwen came out to introduce Mrs. Compson. Sarah clutched her hands in her lap, glad to see that Mrs. Compson was greeted with a smattering of applause as she came onstage and approached the podium. She tilted her head in Sarah’s direction and smiled, though Sarah was sure Mrs. Compson couldn’t see her. Mrs. Compson greeted the audience, and at that Sarah took a deep breath and turned on the slide projector.

  At first Sarah sensed skepticism from the students, but to her relief, Mrs. Compson’s wry humor quickly won them over. After discussing quilting’s origins in ancient times through its use as padding for knights’ armor in the Middle Ages, Mrs. Compson moved on to a discussion of quilting in colonial America and in the days of westward expansion. She concluded by describing contemporary quilting from the upsurge in interest sparked by the Bicentennial to present-day quilt artists who incorporate everything from traditional patterns to computer-aided design in their craft. Sarah found the discussion so fascinating that she almost missed a few cues, but she didn’t think anyone noticed.

  When it was over, the students gave Mrs. Compson an enthusiastic round of applause, and she inclined her head and smiled graciously. As class ended and Sarah switched on the house lights, a few listeners approached the stage with questions as the others left the auditorium. Sarah glanced at the stage and, finding Mrs. Compson surrounded by stude
nts, decided to use the time to pack up the slides. When she finished she left the projection booth and carried the box of slides to the stage, where Mrs. Compson and Gwen were saying good-bye to one lingering student.

  “That was really interesting, Mrs. Compson,” Sarah said. “You did a great job.”

  “Who would’ve thought that young people would find quilt jokes so amusing?” Mrs. Compson shook her head as if amazed, but she looked pleased.

  Gwen looked pleased as well. “I can’t thank you enough, Mrs. Compson. I think my students got a lot out of your lecture.”

  Mrs. Compson patted her on the arm. “Any time you want me to come back, I’d be delighted to. I thoroughly enjoyed myself.”

  Sarah noted the remark and tried to keep her features smooth and nonchalant. Inside she felt like shouting with triumph. She couldn’t wait to tell Matt.

  “I’m going to take you up on that,” Gwen said. She walked them to the truck, and as they were about to drive away, she approached the passenger side window and peeked in. She gave Sarah a knowing glance and turned to Mrs. Compson. “Maybe Sarah can talk you into joining the Tangled Web Quilters at our meeting this week?”

  “I’ve tried, believe me,” Sarah said.

  Mrs. Compson pursed her lips. “It’s not the Waterford Quilting Guild?”

  “No. We defected a long time ago.”

  “Very well, then. Perhaps I’ll consider it.”

  Gwen grinned. “Hope to see you there.” She backed away from the window and waved before returning inside.

  Sarah drove them home to Elm Creek Manor.

  “I think that went quite well, don’t you?” Mrs. Compson asked.

  “Oh, definitely. You had them in the palm of your hand.”

  “Well, I was an art teacher once, you know.”

  “No, I didn’t, although I remember you mentioned studying to be one. But I thought you left college.”

  “I did, but I returned to school later and earned my degree. Not at Waterford College, though.”

  Sarah nodded. Mrs. Emberly had mentioned something like that at one of their quilting bees, but she didn’t think she should tell Mrs. Compson that. Not yet.