A Quilter's Holiday: An Elm Creek Quilts Novel Page 4

  Sarah was not the only one to go back for seconds. Before long, not a drop of Anna’s ginger pumpkin soup remained, and only a few bites of her own turkey Tetrazzini clung to the edges of the pan. When everyone had eaten their fill and some had filled their cups with coffee or tea, Sylvia began what she declared she hoped would become a new tradition. She reminded them of her family’s custom, brought the cornucopia to her place at the head of the table, and removed the first quilt block, a pink-and-blue Grandmother’s Delight.

  “Oh, that’s mine,” said Carol, flustered, as Sylvia handed the block to Sarah, seated at her right, and indicated that she should admire it and pass it around the table. “I didn’t think I’d have to go first.”

  “Someone has to,” said Sarah, passing the block on to Matt, but not before noticing that her mother had chosen a more complex pattern than Sarah would have expected and had met the challenge to her sewing skills admirably. “Go on, Mom. Tell us what you’re most thankful for this year because your choice is a little ambiguous, I think.”

  Everyone else around the table grinned, but Carol needed a moment longer to figure out that Sarah was only teasing. Their relationship had been strained for so many years that simple, friendly teasing had long been impossible between them.

  “I’m very thankful that I’m going to become a grandmother soon,” Carol began. “At long last, after years of waiting and almost giving up hope—don’t roll your eyes, Sarah, you and Matt certainly took your sweet time about this. And I’m very thankful that my daughter is in such good health and strong spirits, and I’m very, very glad she has such a wonderful husband by her side every day to support her and encourage her. Matt, you’re blushing.”

  “No, I’m not,” he said, and it was true that he had barely reddened, but the praise must have caught him off guard because he looked uncomfortably startled, almost wary.

  “A lovely thought, Carol,” praised Sylvia as she reached into the cornucopia again. This time she brought out a square of floral print fabric, folded into quarters. “Diane, I know you’re busy, but you were supposed to stitch a block.”

  “Scofflaw,” Gwen teased. “Corner cutter.”

  “I didn’t put that in the cornucopia,” Diane protested. “I sewed a block, and a very nice block, too. Why would you assume that was mine?”

  No one wanted to answer that, but fortunately they didn’t have to because Joe spoke up. “That’s mine,” he said sheepishly. “I can’t sew a stitch so I just scrounged through that bag of scraps you keep in the parlor. I chose this because it reminded me of my wife.” As Sylvia passed the fabric square to Sarah, Joe turned to Gretchen. “Every year I’m more thankful for you and your love and our family. I know it’s a small family, just us, but it’s all I ever needed all these many years. To me you’re everything that’s good and kind and generous in this world. I picked out a piece of fabric that had flowers on it, for all the bouquets that I wish I could give, except there’s no garden with enough flowers to show you how much I adore you, not even at Elm Creek Manor.”

  He kissed his speechless wife on the cheek to a round of applause.

  “Nice going, Joe,” said Matt, with mock annoyance. “Way to set the bar for me and Andrew.”

  “Yeah, thanks a lot.” Andrew tried to scowl, but couldn’t quite pull it off. “For the rest of the year it’s gonna be, ‘Why can’t you be romantic like Joe?’ ”

  “Oh, stop,” scolded Sylvia, but she smiled too. When she reached into the cornucopia for the next block, Sarah recognized her own even before Sylvia unfolded it and held it up. “I don’t know this pattern, but this looks like your handiwork, Sarah.”

  “It’s called Twin Star,” said Sarah, taking it from her and passing it on to Matt. She didn’t need to linger over it and discover mistakes she had missed before. “I found the pattern on the Internet, and I picked it for obvious reasons.” She patted her tummy and one of the twins kicked in response. “I’m going to echo my mom and say that I’m thankful that the babies are healthy, and that everything’s coming along as expected—”

  “Except for that little surprise that you’re having twins,” Diane interjected.

  “Maybe expected was the wrong word. Everything’s coming along well,” Sarah amended, “and I’m hopeful that if anything else unexpected happens, it will be an equally wonderful surprise. Oh, and as my mom said, I’m also very thankful that Matt’s been by my side every day showing me constant support, through morning sickness to attending childbirth classes with me to tying my shoes since I can’t reach to do it myself anymore.” As her friends laughed, Sarah reached for Matt’s hand and squeezed it. “Thank you, honey. I couldn’t manage without you, and the babies aren’t even here yet.”

  He smiled weakly back, perhaps embarrassed by the attention, or Sarah would have gone on praising him.

  Sylvia watched Matt speculatively as she drew another block from the cornucopia, an unusual eight-pointed star design with an octagon in the center, triangles in the corners, and narrow rectangles separating the star points. “Oh, that’s mine,” said Gretchen, with a guilty glance at her husband. “I’m afraid my story isn’t even a tiny fraction as romantic as Joe’s.”

  “That’s all right,” said Joe. “This isn’t Valentine’s Day. It’s Thanksgiving.”

  “Thanksgiving was yesterday,” said Diane, pouring herself another cup of coffee. “We’re celebrating the first day of the quilting season. Am I the only person here who remembers that?”

  “There is no official quilting season,” Gwen reminded her.

  “Killjoy.”

  “It was in the spirit of Thanksgiving that I made my block,” said Gretchen quickly, to forestall an outbreak of bantering. “It’s called Prosperity. I chose it because out of all the blessings I received in the past year, I am most thankful for my wonderful new job with Elm Creek Quilts.” Her fond gaze traveled around the circle of friends. “A year ago, I never could have imagined myself so happy and secure in my livelihood. Thanks to you, Joe and I have a beautiful new home here in the manor, and I can teach and quilt and enjoy the work that I love. In all my life I’ve never felt as prosperous as I do now, blessed by the riches of fulfilling work and precious new friendships.”

  When Gretchen smiled, Sarah detected tears of happiness in her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away.

  “You’ve earned your newfound prosperity, my dear,” said Sylvia, “with your talent and hard work. Don’t thank us. Thank yourself.”

  “I should and I will. Thank you, Self,” said Gretchen so comically that everyone laughed.

  Next Sylvia took another square of fabric from the cornucopia, a theme print of men fishing and trout leaping that Andrew explained represented not only the great trout stream that ran through the estate but all of its bounty, which provided for each of them, Elm Creek Quilters and husbands alike. “I love my wife as much as Joe loves his, and I was going to put a piece of flowery fabric in there and use even more flowery words to talk about Sylvia, but Joe stole my idea, and now anything I say is going to look like I copied him.” Shaking his head in mock dismay, Andrew sat down amidst a ripple of laughter.

  Turning to Matt, Sarah said in an undertone, “When it’s your turn, you really don’t have to go on and on about how thankful you are for me—unless that’s what you really planned to say all along.”

  “You know I’m thankful for you,” protested Matt just as quietly. “Every day, not only Thanksgiving.”

  “I know.” Still, it would be nice to hear it every once in a while, but not now, not when he might be saying it only to keep up with the other men.

  “I made that one,” Diane declared as Sylvia held up a simple red-and-white Nine-Patch block. “See? I didn’t just take the easy way out and stuff a solid piece of fabric in there. No offense, guys.”

  “None taken,” said Joe.

  “Enlighten us, Diane,” Sylvia prompted. “What does this pattern represent to you? What are you thankful for this year?”


  Diane looked genuinely baffled. “It’s obvious, don’t you think?”

  “No,” said Gwen.

  “ ‘A stitch in time saves nine,’ ” quoted Gretchen. “Perhaps she’s grateful for an early action that prevented trouble down the road?”

  “Our resident procrastinator?” Gwen shook her head. “Doubtful.”

  “A cat has nine lives,” said Carol. “Did your cat survive an illness in the past year?”

  “I don’t have a cat,” said Diane.

  “Baseball,” said Andrew, inspired. “Nine players on the field, nine innings.”

  “I’m not thankful for baseball,” said Diane, incredulous. “You really don’t get it?”

  “Perhaps you’re thankful for simplicity?” guessed Agnes. She had baby-sat Diane as a child and had never broken the habit of coming to her rescue. “For the simple things in life?”

  “You’re close,” said Diane. “The Nine-Patch is a traditional block. I’m thankful for tradition. Traditions hold a family together and guide us when we leave home and step out into a dangerous world. Now that both of my boys are in college, I’m grateful for the traditions that will keep them safe.”

  “Safe in the dangerous worlds of the campuses of Princeton and Waterford College,” said Sarah, suppressing a smile.

  “When your twins head off to school, you won’t treat those dangers so lightly,” Diane retorted, and Sarah—who was already sufficiently anxious about baby proofing the manor and entirely unprepared to contemplate binge drinking and unsafe sex—raised her palms in an appeasing gesture, deferring to her friend’s superior experience.

  “I don’t recognize this quilter’s handiwork,” said Sylvia, holding up another block, a five-patch in blue and gold reminiscent of a Bear’s Paw but with subtle alterations. “By the process of elimination, I deduce it must be the work of one of our newer quilters, and since Gretchen and Carol have already taken their turns, it must be Anna’s, although it doesn’t look like her usual work either.”

  “It could be Matt’s,” said Gwen. “You’ve never seen his quilting.”

  “And you never will,” said Matt.

  “It’s mine,” said Anna. “And you’re right—I’m not one for quilt block style quilts.” Anna preferred abstract, whole-quilt appliqué designs that despite her original artistic vision always ended up resembling food. Sarah would never forget how, as the Elm Creek Quilters had passed around Anna’s sample quilt block during her job interview, Diane had loudly declared that it looked like a tossed salad.

  “Let’s give Anna a round of applause for stretching her boundaries,” said Sarah.

  As everyone clapped, Anna rose and waved them to silence. “Oh, come on, it’s not like I’ve never made a regular quilt block before. This is a new pattern for me, though. I found it in Sylvia’s huge book of quilt blocks and I thought the name suited me, or rather, what I’m most thankful for this year.”

  “And that name is?” Diane prompted, sipping her coffee.

  “The Best Friend.” Anna seemed to blush ever so slightly, but perhaps it was the candlelight. “Without Jeremy, I never would have heard about the job opening at Elm Creek Quilts, and without his encouragement and the fact that his girlfriend worked here, I might not have applied. Since I took the job, he’s given me countless rides to work to save me time and bus fare, and although he’ll say otherwise, the trips weren’t always on his way. He’s been a true friend to me, and his kindness and generosity brought me into this wonderful circle of quilters and friends. I just hope I can be half as good a friend to him and to all of you as he’s been to me.”

  As Anna sat down, Agnes remarked, “It’s a shame he’s not here to hear himself praised so highly.”

  “You should tell him how you feel, Anna,” said Carol.

  Anna, who had just sipped from her water glass, coughed, pressed a hand to her lips, and shook her head. “Oh, I don’t think so,” she said, after clearing her throat. “I’m sure he knows.”

  “Make him a quilt, then,” said Gwen. “That’s the standard quilter’s response to any situation meriting praise, comfort, or commemoration. Wrap ‘em in a quilt.”

  “I’m sure Summer’s made Jeremy lots of quilts. He wouldn’t have room for one of mine.”

  Gwen frowned thoughtfully and shook her head. “I don’t think she’s made him any. She’s been very busy with work, and grad school applications, and then the move to Chicago, ever since they met.”

  “Well—” Anna seemed to search for something to say. “I’d be surprised if she hasn’t, and if she hasn’t she probably will eventually.”

  “You can’t have too many quilts,” said Gretchen.

  “Not if you live in a place with as much space as Elm Creek Manor, but if you have a small apartment—” Anna shrugged and pulled a face to suggest that it was hopeless. “Who’s next, Sylvia?”

  Sylvia reached into the cornucopia and held up another block, a pastel green-and-rose four-pointed star with split squares in the corners that Agnes identified as her rendition of the Signs of Spring pattern. “Even with winter upon us, there are signs of the coming spring,” she said, glancing out the window at the falling snow. “What I’m most thankful for is hope in difficult times.”

  Another solid piece of fabric followed, a landscape print of green trees on rolling hills that everyone easily guessed Matt had contributed. “I’m most thankful for my wonderful, beautiful wife, Sarah,” he began emphatically and not unexpectedly, to a chorus of laughter and friendly jeers. “Since I didn’t want it to look like I was copying the other guys, I thought I would expand my answer to include my whole family. I’m thankful for their support, their loyalty, their understanding, and most of all, their love. I owe my family everything, and it’s a debt I doubt I’ll ever be able to repay in full, but that doesn’t mean I won’t stop trying.”

  “I don’t get it,” said Diane.

  “What don’t you get?” said Matt, lacing his fingers through Sarah’s and kissing the back of her hand.

  “That fabric. What’s it supposed to symbolize, the landscape of your loyalty?”

  “Trees,” said Matt. “You know, family trees. Family.”

  “That’s a bit of a stretch,” remarked Gwen. “Oh, wait, did I just accidentally agree with Diane? On second thought, that’s an excellent choice, Matt, especially on such short notice. Very creative.”

  Matt accepted her praise with a grin as Sylvia took another block from the cornucopia. The vivid colors and dramatic prints told Sarah at once that this was Gwen’s handiwork. “A Guiding Star block?” said Sylvia, holding up the unequal nine-patch block for all to see. Triangles of different sizes combined to form kites that together created a four-pointed star on the horizontal and vertical axes. In each corner square, two dark triangles flanked a lighter kite, giving the illusion that the star threw off radiant beams.

  “That’s right,” said Gwen. “Recently I’ve been reflecting upon the teachers and mentors I’ve had throughout my life, and how indebted I am to them. They pushed me when I thought I couldn’t take another step, led me by the hand when I didn’t know the way, and sent me on alone when they knew I was ready, even when I didn’t.”

  “What a lovely tribute,” said Gretchen, who had once been a middle school teacher. “I’m sure your former teachers would be pleased to know that you’ve become the mentor to so many young people at Waterford College.”

  “Not to mention all the quilters you’ve taught,” Anna added. “The roles have been reversed.”

  “I don’t know if they’ve been entirely reversed,” said Gwen. “In many ways I’m still a student.”

  “And there she goes, dancing off into the land of metaphor,” said Diane.

  “The last block is mine,” said Sylvia, reaching into the cornucopia. She inspected her work with a critical eye and removed a stray thread. To Sarah the green-and-red patchwork pattern resembled a Sawtooth Star overlaying a cross. “This is a traditional block, Providence, and I thought i
t summed up my feelings best. This year I’m particularly thankful for the Lord’s protective care, even though I confess I don’t always recognize it for what it is.”

  “We’ve all been very blessed,” Gretchen said.

  “Yes, but sometimes I’m so preoccupied with what I don’t have that I neglect to properly appreciate what I do have.” Sylvia looked around the table, her gaze warm and affectionate. “You’re my family and my dearest friends, and I’m ever thankful that you’ve enriched my life by allowing me to be a part of yours.”

  “You’ve enriched our lives, too,” said Sarah, wondering why Sylvia thought she ever neglected them even for a moment. No one was more generous or staunchly supportive than Sylvia, although Matt ran a close second.

  “As the best of friends do.” Sylvia glanced into the cornucopia, but they all knew it was empty. “Unless anyone wants more dessert, should we ladies return to our quilting, and you men to your puttering in the barn or whatever it is you were doing?”

  All agreed, and after the blocks and fabric squares had made their way around the table and back to Sylvia, everyone pitched in to clear away the dishes and tidy the kitchen. As Sarah was leaving the banquet hall with an armload of carefully stacked plates, Matt caught up to her. “Let me help you with that,” he said, taking the plates. “You shouldn’t be carrying so much weight.”

  “You’re sounding like my mother again,” Sarah teased, but she stopped short as she took in Matt’s worried frown and furrowed brow. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “Can we talk for a minute? In private?”

  She nodded and waited in the hallway as he hurried to the kitchen with the plates, then returned and guided her to the laundry room, where they could speak without being overheard. “What’s going on?” she asked him as he shut the door. “You’re starting to scare me.”