Gwen went into the kitchen to put on the kettle to make a pot of tea, and Alice walked beside Annie as she slowly hobbled into the living room. As soon as Annie sat down on the sofa, Boots leapt up to sit on her lap. Annie laughed and scratched the purring cat’s back. “Oh, I missed you too, Boots.” Her homecoming was complete.
Looking up at Alice, Annie said, “You and Gwen don’t have to stay here. I can manage.”
Alice said, “If you think we’re just going off and leaving you here alone, you can forget that. I’ll have to leave in a little bit for a Princessa party, but Gwen is going to stay to keep you company this afternoon, and I’m staying over the next few nights, until you feel a little more at ease with your crutches.”
Annie was grateful. She thought she probably would have been all right alone, but it was a comfort to have good friends she could depend on. The members of the Hook and Needle Club had made arrangements to come and spend time with her over the next several days, fixing her lunch and dinner, and doing some general cleaning and dusting around Grey Gables. They also ran errands to the grocery store and the post office, and picked up books and magazines at the library for her to read—it was like having a fully staffed manor house. Annie felt like she’d won some version of the old “Queen for a Day” game show.
Her friends talked to her about what was happening in town and how the rehearsals were going, but no one ever mentioned the accident, or hurriedly changed the subject if Annie started talking about it.
As much as she appreciated all their help, Annie knew she had to try to get into a routine of activity. The first few days after she got home, Annie felt like all she did was sleep. She was getting better with her crutches and felt steadier on her feet every day. She habitually made a circuit around all the rooms of the house on the lower level just for some exercise. After a week, she told Alice that she didn’t need to continue to sleep at Grey Gables, and that she was sure she could manage going up and down the staircase by herself just fine. Slowly, her friends allowed her to be independent again.
Annie hadn’t forgotten about the tapestry. She decided she would spend part of each day going through the two boxes of her grandmother’s letters that she had brought down to the living room weeks before. When Ian stopped by one day, she asked him to carry down the letter boxes for the intervening years—there were only four, but they were some of the largest among the boxes of letters that her grandmother had saved.
Since Annie knew what to look for now, she didn’t have to read each letter. She found several more letters from Lily Cornette, but none of them mentioned the tapestry. She came to the conclusion that she needed to go to the college to investigate further.
After two weeks inside, Annie was starting to get cabin fever. The first day of spring would soon arrive, and though the weather was cold and there was still plenty of snow on the ground, it just felt different to Annie, and she wanted to get outside. She approached Alice with the idea of going over to Longfellow College.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Alice.
“Why not?” asked Annie. “I thought everyone was for finding out what we could about Lily. That was part of the plan.”
Alice looked uncomfortable. “That was before. Now I don’t think you should pursue it.”
“Everyone’s been acting very odd whenever I bring up the tapestry since my accident,” said Annie. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed. Every time I bring it up, or anything to do with it, you all change the subject. What gives?”
Alice sighed. “I guess it’s time you knew. Your ‘accident’—it wasn’t an accident. Someone cut the cable that was holding up the counterweight, or at least severed it enough that it eventually gave way.”
“What?” said Annie. “No. That can’t be. The police would have wanted to talk to me.”
“Chief Edwards did want to talk to you,” said Alice. “But Ian talked Reed into letting him ‘interrogate’ you instead.”
Annie thought back to the hospital. Ian had been the only one who had asked her what she remembered. Her mind raced. She still couldn’t remember those few moments before she was injured. Was the falling counterweight meant for her? How could someone plan something like that?
“Alice, I appreciate that you were all just trying to protect me, but don’t you see that this makes it all the more urgent for us to learn what we can? If you won’t go with me, I’ll just drive myself. My right foot is fully functional,” Annie threatened, “and there’s no reason I can’t do it.” She knew that Alice would never consider letting her go to Longfellow by herself. And she was right.
****
The drive to Longfellow College took about thirty minutes from Stony Point. Mary Beth had finished her radiation treatments and was awaiting the next round of tests, so she insisted that she would stay at A Stitch in Time so that Kate could go with Annie and Alice to the campus after so many weeks of coming in to work at the store every day. Alice drove Annie’s Malibu since it was a little roomier than Alice’s Mustang. Kate sat in the front seat and acted as the navigator. She had been to the college many times over the last few weeks to confer with the girls who were helping with the costumes for the play. Annie was in the backseat, sitting at a slight angle so she could prop up her broken leg, which was difficult since she was also wearing her seatbelt. She wiggled her toes inside her new “cast protector”—as Annie called it—that she had crocheted using the ball of yarn and one of the new crochet hooks that Mary Beth had given her in the hospital. She was pleased with the result. It completely covered the cast and had the advantage of staying in place when she moved around a lot. Her crutches were lying across the backseat floor.
A few days before, Annie had looked up the phone number for the main office of the college. She asked the lady who answered if there was someone with whom she could make an appointment to talk about Lily Cornette, explaining that Lily had corresponded with Annie’s grandmother and that many of the letters she wrote had the return address of Wilson Hall at Longfellow. The receptionist told her that Professor Mabel Pettit was head of the folk arts department and that her office was in Wilson Hall, the building that housed the school of fine arts and crafts. She thought Professor Pettit might be able to help her and transferred Annie to the administrative assistant of the department. The assistant was efficient, but not chatty, so Annie just made an appointment.
In the car, Annie had brought along the small “Home Song” tapestry and the letters she had found that Lily had written to Betsy. She had also asked Cyril for copies of the photographs he had taken of the Proverbs 31 Woman tapestry. He sent them to her via her email, and Annie had copied them to a flash drive so she could take them to the college and show them to Professor Pettit on a computer screen. It was LeeAnn who had recommended that Annie should start backing up her computer files with the little devices that she could just plug into the side of her laptop. It still amazed her that such a small thing, no larger than a key chain, could contain so much information.
It was a weekday, so the campus was busy and parking places weren’t easy to find. Most parking spots near the buildings were reserved for faculty, but there were a couple of handicap spaces. Unfortunately, it hadn’t occurred to Annie to think of asking for a permit for that purpose. In the interest of saving time, Alice and Kate decided to drop off Annie as near to the entrance of Wilson Hall as they could get, so she wouldn’t have to walk so far, and then Kate would help Alice find the visitor’s parking area.
It was somewhat chilly out, but Annie had dressed for it, so she didn’t mind. The snow had begun to melt away though there were still many patches on the ground and large heaps of it where the snow had been pushed aside to clear streets and walkways. Annie took a moment to look around at the buildings and the grounds of the campus. It was charming, even at that time of the year when the grass was hay-colored, the trees were still bare of leaves, and the snow that remained had lost its luster.
The large buildings on the campus were al
l made of red brick, connected by pathways made of the same-color brick. The walks were crowded with students, some alone, some in groups, but all carrying backpacks or book bags. In the center of the grounds was a large three-story building that seemed to be the heart of the campus. From the center of its roof arose a tall bell tower with a domed roof. Annie wondered if the bell in the tower was ever rung.
She turned to look at Wilson Hall. Even though the brick matched the other buildings, the style of this one was different. The front of the building was decorated with four white columns, and between the columns were tall entry doors. Concrete steps led up to the doors, but thankfully, at some point an access ramp had been added to one side of the stairs. Annie made her way toward the ramp.
Once she was inside, she was equally impressed with the interior of the building. The ceilings were very high and covered with ornate copper-color tin panels; the woodwork was the color of dark honey. She walked further into the lobby and looked into a large room that was off to one side. It had a fireplace and groups of comfy chairs scattered around with coffee tables between them. Annie could imagine students finding their way here between classes to study or socialize. She found herself wondering if it had been like this when Gram took classes here. She tried to imagine her grandmother as a young woman, sitting in this room, perhaps reading a book, or talking and laughing with friends. The thought made Annie smile.
She looked at her watch. It was nearly time for her appointment, but there was no sign of Kate and Alice. As she was debating whether to take the elevator to the second floor where she had been told that Professor Pettit’s office was located, she heard the outer door open. Looking up, she expected to see Kate and Alice, but she was surprised. It was Professor Howell instead.
16
When Professor Howell saw Annie standing in the lobby of Wilson Hall, his face registered momentary surprise too, but he recovered quickly. “Mrs. Dawson! How lovely to see you out and about. What brings you to Longfellow?”
“Good afternoon, Professor,” said Annie. “I have an appointment with Professor Pettit to talk about Lily Cornette—the person we think made both of the tapestries from Grey Gables.”
“How interesting,” said Professor Howell. “I would love to stay and chat, but I have to conduct a class shortly.”
“Is the theater department in this building?” asked Annie.
“No,” said the professor. “The theater department is in a new facility. It’s located on the Wadsworth campus.”
Annie looked puzzled. “Where’s that?”
“It’s just on the other side of the woods to the west of this campus. There’s a road and a walkway through the center of the woods that bridges the two campuses,” said the professor. “You see, Wilson Hall and all the other buildings in this section are the original campus. When the board of governors decided to enlarge the college, they didn’t want to detract from the historical flavor of it by incorporating modern styles of buildings here, so they planned a second campus, named after Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s grandfather, Peleg Wadsworth.”
Annie smiled. “I’m glad they did that. I was thinking earlier how charming these old buildings are.”
“I agree,” said the professor. “But you must take a drive through the new campus before you leave Longfellow today, and if you have time, stop in to see our theater—the Maxine Elliot Theater; it’s named after the famous stage actress from Maine. Now, I really must go. I teach a class on historical costuming in this building twice a week. Again, it’s lovely to see you. I hope your leg continues to heal and that we’ll see you back at your duties as prompter soon. Believe me when I say that we miss you!”
With that, the professor made for the staircase, and for a man of his age and build, Annie was surprised to see him spring up the steps two at a time. It was then that Alice and Kate entered the building. They were slightly out of breath.
“You just missed Professor Howell,” said Annie. “He teaches a class in this building.”
“Professor Howell? What a coincidence,” said Alice. “Aren’t we running a little late for our appointment? We got here as fast as we could.”
Annie looked at her watch. “Yikes! Yes, we’d better get going.”
Annie, Alice, and Kate took the elevator to the second floor. Annie had written down the office number, and the three women walked down the hallway checking the small plaques on doors. There were also classrooms with classes in session, so they walked quietly down the hallway, speaking in low voices as they looked for Professor Pettit’s office. Finally they reached the door with the correct number, and Annie knocked on the door. A woman’s voice said, “Come in.”
The office was tiny and packed to the gills with books and papers and a small desk that faced a narrow window. Professor Pettit sat in an office chair facing the laptop on her desk, but then she swiveled around to face them after they stepped inside. There was a single extra wooden chair in the room, but there was barely enough room for Annie, Alice, and Kate to stand.
Annie reached out to shake Professor Pettit’s hand. “Professor Pettit? I’m Annie Dawson. Sorry we’re late. This is Alice MacFarlane and Kate Stevens. We’re here to talk to you about Lily Cornette.”
“It’s very nice to meet you all,” said Professor Pettit in a broad New England accent. “I’m Mabel Pettit—please call me Mabel. I was just grading some essays. I think the four of us will be a little crowded in here. Perhaps we should go down to the Emerson Room on the main floor.”
It turned out that the Emerson Room was the room that Annie had looked into with the upholstered chairs. The four ladies sat down to face one another around one of the coffee tables.
“How may I help you?” asked Mabel. “Why are you researching Miss Cornette?”
Annie started at the beginning and explained everything to Mabel, ending with the theft of the tapestry.
“That’s extraordinary,” said Mabel. “You have pictures of what you call the Proverbs 31 Woman tapestry?”
“Yes,” said Annie. “I have it on a flash drive. Oh! And I almost forgot.” Annie reached into her tote bag and took out the “Home Song” tapestry and laid it out on the coffee table. “This is the one that has been hanging in my grandmother’s living room for years and years.” She once again reached into her bag and pulled out a stack of letters Lily had written to Betsy Holden, that Annie had tied together with a length of lavender satin ribbon. She handed the stack to Mabel, explaining what they were.
Mabel looked at the tapestry on the table for a long time, and then untied the packet of letters and shuffled through the envelopes. “Well, Annie,” she finally said, “this is an amazing find.”
“Does that mean that Lily Cornette was the person who made the tapestries?” asked Alice.
“I’ll have to see the photographs of the other tapestry, but if it is as you say, and it has the same signature panel as this tapestry, then, yes, I would have to say that both are Lily Cornette tapestries.”
“What can you tell us about her?” asked Annie.
“Let me show you something first,” said Mabel. She got up from her chair and walked toward a corner of the room that was adjacent to the doorway. The others followed suit. When Annie turned around to follow Mabel, it was only then that she saw the tapestry on the wall. This tapestry wasn’t as big as the Proverbs 31 Woman tapestry, but it was still quite large. It was mounted on a frame much the same way as Annie and Molly had done, but with the additional protection of a glassed-in cover over the top of it, the surface of the glass about an inch away from the tapestry with air vents along the sides.
It was similar in layout to the “Home Song” tapestry that Annie was so familiar with. At the top of it was a scene, though this one showed a room filled with women in seventeenth-century clothing instead of a cabin. Each woman in the scene was engaged in something to do with needlework—carding, spinning, winding yarn, and embroidering. In the area below there was a stanza from a poem by one John Taylor, and dated 1
631:
“Flower, Plants, and Fishes, Beasts, Birds, Flyes, and Bees,
Hills, Dales, Plaines, Pastures, Skies, Seas, Rivers, Trees;
There’s nothing neere at hand, or farthest sought,
But with the Needle may be shap’d and wrought.”
Annie looked at the bottom of the tapestry for the signature panel, and she was not disappointed. This one read, “L.C.~MCMLII~L.C.”—this tapestry was from 1952.
“Wow,” said Kate. “This is so cool, Annie! I’d have never believed that we’d ever have found out who made the tapestries from Grey Gables; I can’t wait to tell the others!”
Annie agreed and smiled, but then her attention was drawn to a framed black-and-white photograph of a woman next to the tapestry. The woman was posed, holding a threaded tapestry needle in one hand, a small partially embroidered piece of cloth spread across her lap with a corner of it grasped in her other hand. Her hair was dark, but streaked with gray, and was pulled back and up, but not severely—several strands were loose, as if she had just taken a moment from a busy schedule to sit for the portrait. Her expression was pleasant, but unsmiling. She was wearing a pair of pince-nez clipped to the bridge of her nose, and she looked through the unframed eyeglasses, not at the camera, but at some point distant, with a look of deep thought.
Beneath the portrait was a plaque that read:
LILY CORNETTE
Sept. 18, 1901–March 20, 1968
Friend, educator, needleworker, and preserver of the traditions of the fiber arts. Thirty-five years she spent at Longfellow College, teaching and encouraging her students to carry on those traditions. In life, she was energetic and modest. In death, we remember her with respect and affection, and offer her the praise she refused when she was among us.
Annie couldn’t speak for moment. Now, she not only knew who made the tapestries from Grey Gables, but she had a face to go with the person she had learned about in the letters that had been written to her grandmother. Lily Cornette had obviously been an extraordinary woman to receive such a tribute.
The Tapestry in the Attic Page 15