Elm Creek Quilts [06] The Master Quilter

by Jennifer Chiaverini

  “I know.” She promised—or threatened—to see him later, and hung up. A glance at the clock told her she had just enough time to race through a shower and throw some things into a suitcase. And call Sarah. Her elation dimmed for a moment. She had to call Sarah. But first she bounded back into bed to tell Steve the good news he had already guessed.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Diane

  On the first day of March, Diane’s phone rang while she was scrambling to get her husband and youngest son out of the house and on their way to work and school. Her assumption that the morning chaos would lessen by one-third when her eldest son started college had thus far proven to be laughably naïve.

  She snatched the receiver a moment before the answering machine would have picked up. “Hello?”

  “Hello, Diane? It’s Agnes. Sorry to call so early, but I’m afraid there’s an emergency.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s not really an emergency. Let’s call it—a situation.”

  “Call it whatever you like. Just tell me what’s up.” Diane covered the mouthpiece with her hand as Todd passed, selecting items from the kitchen counter and pantry at random and tossing them into a brown paper lunch sack. “Todd, leave one of those bananas for your father.”

  “He said he didn’t want it.”

  “Then leave it for me. You ate both of my oranges for breakfast and there isn’t any more fruit in the house.”

  Todd rolled his eyes, but he returned the banana to the otherwise empty fruit bowl. Diane uncovered the phone. “Sorry, Agnes. Where were we?”

  “Todd’s a growing boy. He needs fruit.”

  Diane sighed. “Todd,” she called. When he turned, she tossed him the banana. “Okay, Agnes. Whatever crisis you called about, it will be over by the time you tell me.”

  “Bonnie can’t make it into work this morning. Are you free to open Grandma’s Attic today?”

  “Why can’t she come in? Is she sick?” Diane paused to kiss her husband, Tim, on his way to the door. “Why didn’t she just call me herself?”

  “It’s a rather long story, and it doesn’t sound as if you have time for a lengthy chat.”

  That was certainly true. Todd waved at her and, with a hopeful expression, held out a pen and a blue piece of paper. Diane scanned it. Oh. Right. That permission slip for the senior trip. She held the phone to her ear with her shoulder and scrawled her signature on the line.

  “Thanks, Mom,” whispered Todd as he carefully folded the form and tucked it into his backpack. “Come on. We’ll be late.”

  “Just a minute.” She glanced at the clock. “I’d be glad to work today, Agnes, but I can’t get there right at nine. I have a dentist appointment and some errands I can’t postpone.”

  “That’s all right. As soon as you can get there will be good enough. I’m sure Bonnie would be grateful.”

  Diane wanted to believe that, but sometimes she wondered if any of her work at Grandma’s Attic was appreciated or even noticed. “I’ll call Bonnie at home when I get in.”

  “Mom, we have to go.”

  “Don’t bother,” said Agnes quickly. “She needs her rest.”

  “Okay, I won’t.” Diane nodded apologetically to her son, bid Agnes good-bye, and hung up. “Can you get another ride home?” she asked Todd as she snatched up her purse and followed him out the side door into the garage. “I might have to work late at Grandma’s Attic.”

  “No problem. Brent will drive me.”

  “Great.” Diane managed not to clench her teeth. Since Todd was a little boy, she had tried to steer him toward other children in the neighborhood, but Brent had been his best friend since the second grade. In her own defense, she didn’t object because Brent was the son of her worst enemy; she disliked him on his own terms. If Todd were a more rebellious, sullen sort—in other words, more like his elder brother—Diane would have suspected him of befriending Brent merely to annoy her, but Todd genuinely liked Brent and often mentioned his many admirable qualities in what he thought was a subtle attempt to win her over. Tim occasionally pointed out that if Brent were anyone else’s son, Diane would be pleased Todd had chosen for his best friend a well-behaved, pleasant, athletic young man who earned good grades. While Diane couldn’t deny the tiny grain of truth in her husband’s mild censure, she had overheard Brent mock her eldest son, then turn around and speak to her with the utmost respect through an innocent grin far too many times. What bothered her most, though, was that Todd never defied Brent to defend his elder brother. She didn’t like to think of Todd as a conformist follower, especially if Mary Beth’s son was the designated leader.

  If it were warmer, she would make Todd walk home from school. If Mary Beth had not bought Brent a new car for his sixteenth birthday, Todd would have had no choice. But since Diane could not fairly accuse Brent of poor driving, she could not withhold her permission without seeming unreasonable.

  She dropped off Todd at school with time to spare and headed for the dentist. One routine examination later, she was back in the car en route to the post office and the bank. She hurried through her errands as quickly as she could, wondering about Bonnie’s absence. It was odd that Agnes had called instead of Bonnie, but not surprising that Agnes had called her instead of Summer. Whenever Bonnie needed extra help around the store, she invariably contacted Diane. Although Diane had originally accepted the part-time job because she did not want to work any more than she had to, with all the extra shifts, she had regularly worked a two-thirds schedule for more than a year. She spent more time in a Grandma’s Attic apron than Summer did, but Diane suspected neither Bonnie nor Summer realized that. Diane’s name appeared on the official work schedule posted in the back office less frequently than theirs, and the fact that she worked more often escaped their notice.

  Not that Diane minded the extra shifts; she welcomed them. It was not only to help Bonnie, although Diane was glad to do anything to take some pressure off her friend who, despite her outward optimism, had seemed shadowed by a cloud of gloom and worry for months. It was also not only because she appreciated the extra money, although she did, especially with Todd impatiently awaiting an acceptance letter from Princeton. She simply liked the job. The work was never boring or stressful, since Bonnie handled all the financial matters herself, and the customers were generally pleasant and not too demanding. Diane felt useful there, which was a good feeling considering that her sons seemed to need her less and less each day, and she enjoyed having shoppers ask her opinion about fabric selections or new patterns. When Todd went off to college, Diane hoped to work full-time officially. The next time she caught Bonnie in a good mood, she would suggest it.

  Diane parked in the employee space behind the building and hurried around to the front door. To her surprise it was unlocked, and through the front window she spotted Summer on the phone. Disgruntled, she wondered if Bonnie or Agnes—or both—had called Summer in, doubting Diane’s ability to handle the store by herself. If they had that little faith in her, she would be glad to point to the calendar and show them how many times in the past month she had opened and closed the store on her own.

  Diane pushed open the door just as Summer hung up the phone. “Oh, hi,” she said brightly, shrugging off her coat. “I thought no one else was working today.”

  Summer looked surprised to see her. “I work every Friday when camp isn’t in session. Bonnie should be here, too, but she didn’t show up this morning. I’m worried. No one answered the phone upstairs, either.”

  “She’s not coming in today.” Diane hung up her coat and put her purse in its usual place, on a shelf beneath the cutting table. “Agnes called and asked me to open the store. I guess she didn’t know you would be here.”

  “Agnes? Why would Agnes have called?”

  Diane shrugged. “I have no idea. I imagine Bonnie asked her to.”

  “But Bonnie knew I was working and she would have called you directly.”

  “Well …” Diane mulled it ov
er, but all she could conclude was that the whole situation was a little odd. “I don’t know. But I’m here, so I’m going to work. I need the hours. Todd is still holding out for Princeton. Do you have any idea how expensive that is? Thank goodness Michael decided to go to Waterford College so we could take advantage of the family tuition waiver.”

  She figured Summer would understand that, because she had attended Waterford College for the same reason. Or so Gwen had claimed at the time. In Diane’s opinion, which no one had requested, Summer would have thrived at a larger university with more opportunities. She was certainly bright enough to succeed anywhere, and Gwen could have afforded even private school tuition. Diane had suspected Summer was afraid to leave Waterford and her mother, and that was why she had stayed. Her opinion was confirmed four years later when Summer turned down a generous fellowship to attend graduate school, in favor of Waterford, Grandma’s Attic, and Elm Creek Quilts. At least Summer had those to fall back on; other young people who were too intimidated to leave their small town ended up underemployed in dead-end jobs unless they were fortunate enough to inherit a thriving family business. Diane was relieved her two sons had their sights set outside Waterford but, to be fair, she might not feel that way if she had not already made plans for their bedrooms.

  Once Diane knew Summer had not come in to supervise her, she was able to enjoy the day. Business was brisk in the morning, more like the old days before the Fabric Warehouse opened. She and Summer even found an interval between customers to look through the carton of blocks for Sylvia’s bridal quilt. The only unpleasantness—Mary Beth Callahan—arrived in the afternoon. The Neighbor from Hell apparently had nothing better to do than to complain about the letter Sarah had sent the Waterford Quilting Guild inviting members to participate in Sylvia’s bridal quilt. Diane happened to know that quilters enjoyed making blocks for projects like this and were far more likely to be hurt if they were not asked to help than to be annoyed by “block begging” or whatever Mary Beth had called it.

  Everything from Mary Beth’s gleeful tone to the fact that she had waited two months to respond to the invitation told Diane she was determined to ruin Sylvia’s quilt. And Diane knew why. Mary Beth wanted to be Waterford’s best known and most respected quilter and, until Sylvia’s return to Waterford, only Bonnie and perhaps Gwen had given her any competition. It was not Mary Beth’s quilting that set her apart, of course; although she could count on collecting a ribbon at her guild’s own quilt show each summer, she had either never aspired to enter the more competitive national shows, or they had rejected her entries. Her role as perpetual guild president, however, had lent her a certain local notoriety for years. Now all the Elm Creek Quilters were better known in the quilting world than Mary Beth—even Diane herself, the least able quilter among them.

  Mary Beth couldn’t stand it.

  Diane usually enjoyed watching her neighbor stew in her jealousy, but she knew that concealed behind Mary Beth’s impeccable makeup and designer clothes and perpetual, if insincere, perky smile lay a heart capable of plotting the most malicious vengeance. Diane would never forgive Mary Beth for complaining to the Zoning Commission and forcing the Sonnenbergs to demolish the skateboard ramp they had built in their backyard for Michael, just as she would never forgive her if she ruined Sylvia’s quilt. Diane would not allow Mary Beth to ruin it.

  After Summer left for the day, Diane fished Mary Beth’s discarded invitation out of the trash. She had not received one herself, so once she figured out how to infiltrate the Waterford Quilting Guild, she would read from Mary Beth’s. She rather liked the irony.

  She unfolded the letter and was about to rehearse reading it aloud when her own name jumped out at her. “‘Diane says Sylvia deserves to go without’?” she read, aghast. She had never said that! She had thought it, but not said it, and that didn’t count, certainly not enough to be included in a letter sent out to hundreds of people!

  She was going to have a little chat with Sarah as soon as she finished with Mary Beth.

  When Diane returned home at six, Todd and Brent were watching music videos in the living room, open books and papers strewn on the coffee table before them. “No television during homework,” she called out as she set her purse on the kitchen counter.

  Todd, who knew the rule and usually obeyed it, turned off the television without complaint, but Brent grinned at her over his shoulder and said, “We’re second-semester seniors. Homework doesn’t really count anymore.”

  She returned his grin with a tight smile. “Homework always counts in this house. And yes, I realize colleges won’t see your second-semester grades until after they’ve accepted you.”

  Brent shrugged and began closing books and collecting papers. “You should just be glad we’re doing it at all. Most kids in our class just blow it off.”

  “If that’s true, which I doubt, I’m thrilled you two have a better work ethic.” Diane would have added something about wondering what his mother thought of his smart mouth, but just then the phone rang and she snatched it up. “Hello?”

  “Hi,” a young woman responded. “Is, um, is Todd Sonnenberg there?”

  “Yes.” She glanced at the clock. Right on schedule. Ever since word got out that Todd and his girlfriend had broken up soon after she received an acceptance letter to a West Coast university to which Todd had not applied, the Sonnenberg phone had rung almost continuously from the end of the school day until ten o’clock at night, when Tim switched off the ringer on each extension. An unusual day of silence meant they had forgotten to turn the ringers back on in the morning. “May I tell him who’s calling?”

  “Um, it’s Shelley from Calculus class.”

  “Shelley from Calculus,” said Diane, holding out the phone to Todd. Brent shook his head and smirked as Todd ran a hand through his hair and straightened his shirt on his way to the phone.

  “Hullo,” said Todd into the receiver. “Uh-huh … Uh-huh … Yeah … I’m already going. Sorry … Okay. Bye.” He hung up.

  “I hope that conversation was more articulate on her end,” remarked Diane as she searched the pantry for the extra box of pasta she was certain she had hidden in the back.

  “It would have been more interesting here, too, if you weren’t listening.” But Todd smiled and patted her on the shoulder as he passed.

  “Another invitation to the prom?” asked Brent.

  “Yeah.”

  Surprised, Diane looked up from her search. “I didn’t know you already had a date.”

  “He doesn’t,” said Brent before Todd could answer. “But he doesn’t want to go with Shelley.”

  Diane kept her gaze fixed on her son. “I distinctly heard you tell that young lady you were already going.”

  Todd opened his mouth to speak, but once again Brent beat him to it. “You must not know Shelley or you’d get it.”

  This time Diane was too annoyed to ignore him. “If she’s in Calculus, she must be fairly bright.”

  Brent began to laugh. “Yeah, but she’s a dog.”

  Todd had the decency to look embarrassed, but Diane was nonetheless displeased with him. “Shelley’s not so bad, but I want to ask this girl from Physics,” he quickly explained, sensing her mood. “She’s just as smart as Shelley, and she’s on the soccer team. If she says no—”

  “She won’t,” Brent interjected.

  “—I’m going to ask Lisa.”

  Diane’s eyebrows rose. “I thought you two broke up.”

  Todd shrugged. “We did, but we’re still friends.”

  “If Lisa turns you down, can I ask her?” Brent inquired. Todd grinned and shoved him.

  Brent finished packing up his things, none too soon as far as Diane was concerned, and before the door closed behind him, the phone rang again. The caller was a young woman from Physics class but not, judging from Todd’s expression, the prospective prom date. She claimed to need the homework assignment, a transparent ruse Diane recognized from her own high school days. Only back
then the boys did the calling; a girl never phoned a boy unless they were going steady.

  Diane flipped through the mail while Todd carried out another brief, monosyllabic conversation. “You got a letter from Waterford College,” she exclaimed, withdrawing the thick envelope from the stack as he hung up the phone. “Why didn’t you open it?”

  “You can, if you want.”

  She quickly did so. “Todd, this is great news! You got into Waterford College!”

  He looked wounded. “You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

  “I’m not surprised you got in.” Not with his 4.0 GPA and 1520 SATs. “Just that you don’t seem to care.”

  “You know it’s just my safety school. I already got into Penn State, and I’d go there before I’d go to Waterford College.”

  “Before you stick your nose too far into the air, allow me to remind you that your father teaches at Waterford College.”

  “Yeah, but that’s not where he got his degrees. It’s probably a great place to work, but it’s not where I want to go to school. Mom, no offense, but I really have to get out of Waterford.”

  “It’s good enough for your brother.” That was both feeble and defensive, and they both knew it. Michael would have gone elsewhere if he’d had the grades.

  “It’s fine for him since they have a good Computer Science department. But if I want to get into a top law school, I have to, you know, aim high. Like you and Dad are always telling me to do.”

  The argument was stupid and one-sided, so Diane dropped it. “Please don’t complain about the college in front of your father or brother. They have their pride, you know.”

  “I know,” he said, and he kissed her on the cheek.

  That evening after supper, Agnes called to ask if Diane could work all day Saturday, because Bonnie most likely wouldn’t be able to come in. Diane readily agreed and couldn’t resist inquiring why Bonnie had not phoned herself, but Agnes promptly found an excuse to end the call. Ignoring Agnes’s earlier admonitions not to bother Bonnie at home, Diane dialed her number, but hung up without leaving a message when the answering machine picked up. She didn’t care for their new outgoing recording, which, thanks to Craig’s brusque delivery, sounded like a suspicious demand for information and would lead a stranger to believe he lived alone.