The Tapestry in the Attic

by Mary O'Donnell

  It was Mabel who suggested they should go back up to her office so they could bring up the photos of the Proverbs 31 Woman tapestry on her computer. After Annie put the small tapestry and Lily’s letters back in her tote, they took the elevator back up to the second floor. In Mabel’s office, Annie sat in the wooden chair, and Alice and Kate stood while Mabel plugged in the flash drive and brought up the photos. She was silent as she scanned through the pictures.

  “This is amazing, ladies,” said Mabel when she had finished. “I’ve never seen or heard of this one before. It’s just extraordinary. Nineteen-sixty-six—it must have been the last tapestry she made. Lily Cornette died of cancer in 1968, but she was ill for some time before that.”

  Annie thought of Lily’s letters. The last letter from Lily that Annie had found among her grandmother’s letters was from 1967, and there was no mention of cancer.

  “Do you know what sort of cancer it was?” asked Kate in a quiet voice.

  “Yes,” said Mabel. “It was breast cancer. It wasn’t discovered early, so even though they did a total double mastectomy, afterward they discovered that the cancer had already metastasized to the bone. There was really nothing they could do to save her.”

  Annie, Alice, and Kate were silent for a moment, each buried in thoughts of the fate that might have awaited Mary Beth if her cancer had not been discovered early and feeling sympathy for what Lily must have gone through.

  It was Annie who broke the silence. Speaking to Mabel, she said, “Can you think of any reason why someone would want to steal the tapestry?”

  “Well, yes,” said Mabel. “Lily Cornette tapestries are highly valued. There are tapestries of hers hanging in museums all over the world now. We don’t spread it about, but the college has had an offer of two-hundred-thousand dollars for the one you saw downstairs.”

  “You’re kidding,” said Alice. “So Lily Cornette was rich?”

  “No,” said Mabel. “As often happens with artists, it was only after her death that her tapestries became appreciated and started to be collected by art dealers and sold at auctions. In the 1980s, prices started to rise, and by the early 2000s the bids for them just went through the roof. I would imagine that the little tapestry in your tote bag is worth many thousands of dollars. I wouldn’t be surprised if the tapestry you found in your attic would receive a bid as high as a million dollars if it were to be sold at auction. I think that’s a pretty good motive, don’t you?”

  ****

  The ride home was quiet at first. Annie’s mind was whirling. Not that many people had actually seen the tapestry, besides people that she absolutely trusted—the members of the Hook and Needle Club, Wally Carson, and Molly Williams from Expert Cleaners—and people she didn’t know as well, but who she just couldn’t imagine stealing it—Professor Howell, Dolores and Cyril Fortescue, Stacy Lewis, and Felix Bordman. She refused to believe that any of them could have anything to do with something dishonest. It must have been someone who knew a lot about the art scene, and when they heard about the tapestry and the name of Lily Cornette, they knew that it was extremely valuable and had somehow managed to find out where it was being kept. But who could that be? How would she ever be able to track down some stranger and make him or her return the tapestry? It seemed impossible.

  Annie broke the silence in the car. “I guess I’ll just have to accept that we’ll never set eyes on the Proverbs 31 Woman tapestry again.”

  “What I don’t understand is this,” said Alice. “If someone’s motive is money, how can they collect? Once we give this information to Chief Edwards, and he passes it along to the FBI, or Interpol or whatever, anyone who puts the tapestry up for auction is going to be arrested.”

  “Not if they already know of a private buyer,” said Kate. “I saw it in a movie once. The thief stole a famous statue from a museum, and then he met this rich guy on his private jet and the rich guy gave him a briefcase full of one-thousand-dollar bills for it. The rich guy just wanted it for himself—he had a private gallery in a secret location. I can’t remember what happened at the end of the movie, but the point is, I think that’s possible. Don’t you?”

  “I suppose so,” said Alice. “Or maybe, the person who stole it is an art collector and just wanted it for himself—or herself, and never plans to sell it in any case.”

  “Which brings us back to my point,” said Annie. “I don’t have a clue how we’re ever going to find the tapestry. It could already be locked away in someone’s secret vault or decorating the wall of someone’s private gallery. I wonder if Gram knew how valuable it had become. Do you think that might be why it was hidden away?”

  “She might have known,” said Alice. “I don’t think Betsy ever did anything without some good reason. I just don’t know if we’ll ever be able to figure out why that tapestry was in her attic.”

  “Well,” said Annie, “it’s all moot now. The tapestry is gone. I wish there was some way I could make everything right. I don’t know what I would have done with the tapestry, but it’s out of my hands now.”

  ****

  That evening, Annie began shutting off the downstairs lights so she could go upstairs to bed, still mulling over the events of the day. It had been her first outing since her accident—she refused to call it anything else—and she had felt energized to be going to Longfellow College for the first time and by the prospect of learning about Lily Cornette. But after processing the information they had gotten from Mabel about Lily and the tapestry, she was almost certain there was nothing there that would help her catch the thief. It was a dead end.

  After Alice and Kate had left Grey Gables, Annie had replaced the Home Song tapestry in its niche in the living room. She didn’t care if it was worth thousands of dollars; it was priceless to her. It was a symbol of a friendship between her grandmother and a dear friend, and she made a vow that she would never part with it.

  Now, before she started her slow trip up the stairs with her crutches at her sides, she grabbed her tote bag with Lily’s letters still inside and slung the strap over her shoulder. Annie decided that instead of putting Lily’s letters back in the boxes with the rest of Gram’s correspondence, they deserved a box of their own. Once she was upstairs, she rummaged through the hall closet and found a small box with a lid. Taking the box into the guest room, she set it on the bed and then took the tote bag off her shoulder. She took the letters out of the bag and put them in the box, but then she decided the box was too plain. She decided to leave it where it was, and the next day, she would look through her collection of decorative papers and find something appropriate to cover the box. Lily’s letters deserved to be kept in something special.

  Annie set the box on the side table. The muslin pocket that had covered the tapestry still lay on the bed. Annie didn’t see any reason to keep it. She thought maybe she would give it to Peggy, who could use the material as a foundation for piecing quilt blocks. It would have to be laundered, so Annie reached out to pick it up, intending to carry it to the hamper she kept in her bedroom, but when she grabbed at the center of the fabric she heard a noise like paper crinkling.

  Annie opened the long edge of the muslin pocket to look inside. There was an envelope that none of them had noticed. When she saw it, she thought her heart would stop. Though the return address was different, the handwriting was familiar, if somewhat shakier than what she had seen before; Annie knew it was a letter from Lily Cornette. She took the letter out of the envelope and read:

  Grace Harbor Hospice

  March 15, 1968

  Dear Betsy,

  It was wonderful to see you this week. I can’t tell you how much your visit meant to me. My strength is waning, and I know that it’s not likely that we’ll ever see each other on this Earth again, but I have the hope of Heaven.

  And now, to the purpose of this letter: I had already decided that I wanted you to be the keeper of my final tapestry when I saw you this week, but I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want you to be able
to refuse it. That is why I had it packaged and sent to you instead.

  I know that there is no place for you to display it in Grey Gables, but that’s not what I want in any case. My request is that you store it, up in your attic, and someday, when the time is right, do some good with it. I’d like to be able to tell you what that “good” is, but frankly, I don’t know. I only know that I have this feeling—no, it’s more than that—I am compelled to make this request. Only God knows what will come of it, and I have faith that He will see it through to its proper conclusion as He will see me through to mine.

  Yours faithfully,

  Lily

  17

  Annie resumed attending the Hook and Needle Club meetings the week following the trip to Longfellow College. She had missed that hour with her friends every Tuesday morning, and it was so much fun to be back in that circle of comfy chairs. Of course, she and Kate and Alice told the others everything they had learned at the college about Lily Cornette and the tapestries she created. Annie brought along the letter that she discovered in the muslin pocket so the others could read it.

  After Alice read the letter, she asked Annie, “Did you notice the letter was written just five days before she died?”

  “Yes,” said Annie.

  “What do you think she meant by ‘do some good with it’?” asked Alice.

  “I don’t know,” said Annie. “I don’t think she really knew either. I hope whoever has it does something ‘good’ with it. I guess I’ll have to have faith, like Lily did, that God will see it through to its proper purpose, whatever that is.”

  After that meeting, the tapestry ceased to be a topic of conversation among them. It wasn’t that they had forgotten about it; they just didn’t know what else they could do to try to recover it.

  The fact that Mary Beth had finished with her radiation treatments was a cause of celebration at that same meeting, and though they usually avoided bringing food to snack on since that really didn’t mesh well with doing needlework, Kate thought the occasion called for something special, so she brought Mary Beth’s favorite kind of cake—Boston Cream Pie—explaining that Vanessa had made it from scratch using the recipe from Kate’s grandmother’s old Fannie Farmer Cookbook.

  After Mary Beth took a bite of the cake, she said, “Yum! I haven’t had this in ages, and the prepackaged ones you buy at the store are never as good as one you make at home. I just don’t take the time to make something like this for myself. Please thank Vanessa for me, and tell her how much I enjoyed it.” She paused and took another bite of cake, and then another. After a few more bites, she said, “By the way, I wanted to tell you all that I have resumed going to the music rehearsals at the college, so I will be joining the ensemble that is performing before the play begins and during intermission. A couple of people from Stony Point who are part of the ensemble actually came over to my house during my treatments, once or twice a week, so that we could practice together, and that really helped when I rejoined the larger group. I can report that we sound really good. For us musicians from Stony Point, it’s very different music than our usual fare, but Professor Torres is a great conductor, and I think it will add a nice layer of entertainment to the evening.”

  “I’m looking forward to hearing the ensemble,” said Annie. She told the others about the CDs of medieval music she had purchased and how lovely the songs were.

  “I can’t wait to see the dress rehearsals,” said Kate. “It’s going to be interesting to see how all the elements that we’ve been working on separately come together—the music, the costumes, the set—just everything. It’s so exciting!”

  ****

  Two dress rehearsals were scheduled for King Lemuel’s Treasure during the third week of April. The first was to be on Friday of that week, and family and friends of all the citizens of Stony Point who had volunteered their time and talents to the production were invited to see the performance that evening. Considering how many people had volunteered to help in one way or another, it was expected the theater would be filled to capacity that Friday.

  The second dress rehearsal was to be held the following evening for a smaller group. Professor Howell, the Fortescues, and Jacob Martin had invited a few friends and colleagues from New York and Boston, and even farther afield, who were involved in theater. Gwen invited a few key people from various newspapers in the surrounding area as well. It was hoped favorable articles and reviews would be written about the play in order to bring outsiders to Stony Point for the main performances set to begin Friday of the following week. The goal was as it had ever been—to put on the best production possible, but foremost, to raise money for breast cancer research.

  Annie had resumed her duties as prompter a couple of weeks before. Though her leg was still in a cast, someone—usually Ian, who had taken to coming to the rehearsals—would see her to and from her “little box” under the stage, and she was under strict orders not to make the trek alone. Annie suspected that when Ian couldn’t be there, he appointed someone to be her guardian—often Wally. Annie didn’t really mind; she was grateful to have friends who were concerned about her welfare. The truth was, every time she approached the stairs that led from backstage down to the area under the stage, she felt a twinge of panic. She suppressed it, but she knew it was there.

  She wondered if the police were still investigating the “accident.” When she relayed to Chief Edwards the information she had learned about the tapestry and how much it was worth, he wouldn’t give her any information, except to tell her it was still under investigation.

  At the Hook and Needle Club meeting just before the weekend of the dress rehearsals, Peggy was a bundle of nerves. Mary Beth tried to soothe her. “You are going to be great!”

  “Thanks for saying that, Mary Beth,” said Peggy, “but I get butterflies every time I think about it. It’s been so long since I’ve been on the stage in front of a big audience. I don’t mind the Friday night performance so much—that will be in front of people I know—but it’s the Saturday performance that’s on my mind. It’s going to be those people from New York and Boston. Jacob said there will even be some people from California. ”

  “Look, Peggy,” said Alice, “you really are wonderful in your role as Abigail. Just focus on doing what I’ve seen you do for the past two months at rehearsals, and you’ll be just fine.”

  “Professor Howell says you are a most promising amateur,” said Stella, “and that’s no faint praise. He wouldn’t have given you the part if he didn’t think you were up to it. Remember that, Peggy. And remember that your friends are going to be there to support you.”

  “Thank you, guys,” said Peggy, seemingly a little less flustered. “I will remember, and I’ll do my very best so that you’ll all be proud of me.”

  Annie reached over and gave Peggy a hug across the shoulders. “You don’t have to prove anything to us, Peggy. We already know you’ve got the right stuff. I can see the headlines now: ‘King Lemuel’s Treasure Breaks Box-Office Records—Newcomer Peggy Carson Steals the Show!’”

  ****

  A couple of days before the Friday night dress rehearsal, Annie’s original cast had been removed, and the doctor replaced it with one that he called an “Aircast.” It was great! For one thing, she could take it off and actually get into her bathtub. After weeks of “sink baths” it had felt heavenly to be able to soak in the tub again. The other great thing about the cast was that it was a walking cast, so she could finally get rid of her crutches.

  The Friday night performance was a smash with the local audience that packed the house that evening. The cast and crew were rewarded with a standing ovation that lasted several minutes. Yes, there were a few hiccups in the performance, but everyone who was there understood that that was the purpose of the dress rehearsal—to find weaknesses in what Professor Howell had called the “flow” of the production in order to fix them, and to provide the actors with an audience response so they could adjust their performances as needed.


  Even though Friday night provided the company a great deal of confidence, on Saturday night, the atmosphere backstage felt quite different from the previous night. The audience that was waiting in the house seats to watch the play was different too—there were fewer people, and they were much quieter. The “butterflies” that had plagued Peggy returned, and Annie saw her doing deep-breathing exercises when she stopped by the ladies’ dressing room.

  Peggy was in her costume and her stage makeup, which made her look like some otherworldly creature close up. “I just stopped by to wish you good luck tonight,” said Annie.

  “Annie! Don’t you know you aren’t supposed to say that to an actor before a performance?” asked Peggy with mock indignation. “I think you know what you’re supposed to say.”

  Annie smiled, “Yes, but I was trying to avoid it. Oh, all right—break a leg, Peggy!”

  Peggy laughed, “And don’t you break another leg, Annie Dawson!”

  “That’s a deal,” said Annie, laughing too. Then Annie said seriously, “You are wonderful in this role, Peggy. We’re all so proud of you.”

  “Thanks, Annie,” Peggy said with a smile. “Now, not to be rude or anything, but please go away before you make me cry—that’s all I need!”

  Annie smiled. “OK, I’ll see you later.”

  Kate and Vanessa were in the dressing room too, helping with costumes, but they were busy, so Annie just waved to them. Annie had seen Alice, Gwen, and Stella seated with the audience. She knew that Mary Beth was in the orchestra pit with her fellow musicians from Stony Point and Longfellow College because she could hear the plaintive strains of some ancient melody setting a solemn mood for the beginning of the play.

  It was time for Annie to make her way to the prompter’s box. Normally Ian was Johnny-on-the-spot, but he was nowhere to be seen this evening. She imagined that with all the VIPs in town, the mayor of Stony Point had to be out in the audience representing his city. She knew she could manage on her own, especially since she had her new walking cast, so she wasn’t concerned. She carried her script, a bottle of water, and a pack of tissues in a messenger-type bag with a long strap she could put across her body and over her shoulder.