An Elm Creek Quilts Sampler (33 page)

“I can’t believe it. I never would have thought it possible,” Mrs. Compson gasped. “It’s as lovely now as it ever was. Even lovelier.”

Just then a small figure stepped out from behind the gazebo.

Mrs. Compson stared.

Sarah’s heart thumped heavily in her chest. She clenched her hands together and swallowed. “Mrs. Compson, this is—”

“Agnes,” Mrs. Compson breathed.

Hesitantly, Mrs. Emberly approached them. “Hello, Sylvia.”

“Mrs. Emberly is one of the Tangled Web Quilters,” Sarah said. “I thought—I thought maybe you two would like to see each other before the rest of the group shows up.”

“It’s been a long time, Sylvia.” Mrs. Emberly stopped a few paces in front of them. She gave Mrs. Compson a slow, sad smile, and clutched her purse like a shield. “We have a lot of catching up to do.”

Mrs. Compson stared at her, her lips pursing then separating slightly as if she struggled to speak.

Sarah willed Mrs. Compson to speak, to say hello, to say something, anything.

Agnes’s lower lip trembled. “I’ve—I’ve missed you. We all did, when you went away.”

“I found the quilt.”

Mrs. Emberly blinked. “The—”

“The memorial quilt. The one you and Claudia were working on for me.”

Mrs. Emberly’s mouth formed an O. “Of course. The Castle Wall quilt.”

“You did well. Both of you. Fine workmanship.”

“Thank you.” She looked grateful, and then her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Sylvia, is there any chance we could ever be friends? I know I wasn’t the sister-in-law you hoped for, but now that everyone else is gone—”

Mrs. Compson strode forward and gripped Mrs. Emberly’s shoulders. “Now, you stop that. We’ll have no crying here today. My behavior all that time ago had nothing to do with you. I was selfish and wanted Richard all to myself. I was wrong to treat you so badly, and I was a fool to leave home.” She took Mrs. Emberly’s hands in her own. “Richard loved you, and if I were any kind of decent sister I would have respected that.”

“You were a decent sister,” Mrs. Emberly insisted. “I was a spoiled, flighty little child concerned for no one but myself. You cared about your family and your home, and I should have been more understanding.”

“You may have been foolish, but that’s not as bad as being deliberately mean.”

“Well, perhaps you were overbearing and bossy and always thought you knew better than everyone else, but at least you didn’t blunder in unwanted only to divide a family and place enmity between sisters.”

“Nonsense. Claudia and I always squabbled, as far back as I can remember. You had nothing to do with that.”

Sarah looked from one tear-stained face to the other. “Mrs. Compson, Mrs. Emberly—”

Mrs. Compson didn’t even turn around. “Remember, Sarah, never interrupt your elders when they’re in the middle of making a point. Will you excuse us for a while? Agnes and I have some matters to discuss. It’s time for me to stop being a self-righteous old bag of wind and make amends while the sun shines.” She gave Mrs. Emberly a small, hesitant smile, which the other woman returned. Then Mrs. Compson gave Sarah a look over her shoulder that said as clearly as if she had spoken,
As for you, young lady, I’ll deal with you later.

Sarah nodded, then turned and hurried back to the house, leaving Mrs. Compson and Mrs. Emberly alone in the garden.

Twenty-Eight

S
arah waited outside on the back stairs for the other guests to arrive. A few minutes before five o’clock, Bonnie and Diane pulled up in Diane’s car.

“How did it go?” Bonnie asked in a stage whisper as they walked toward the manor.

“I don’t know yet. They’re still out in the garden.”

Diane sat down on the steps beside her. “Well, at least they didn’t kill each other. That’s something, anyway.” She nudged Sarah and grinned.

“I think it’s wonderful that you’re trying to bring those two together, Sarah,” Bonnie said. “It couldn’t have been easy, considering how long they’ve been estranged.”

“Bonnie’s right. If you can pull it off, it’ll be a nice thing you’ve done for them.”

Sarah reddened. “It’s no big deal. I’m just trying to save my job, that’s all.”

Diane rolled her eyes. “Do you expect us to believe—”

“Look, Judy’s here,” Sarah interrupted, relieved to be able to change the subject. She stood and waved to Judy as she pulled up in her minivan. Close behind came Gwen and Summer.

As always, everyone had brought a dessert; Sarah guided them to the kitchen, where they set their trays and boxes next to the pile of goodies already awaiting them. Then she led them through the manor and out the front entry to the veranda. The others’ reactions made her smile. She had gawked even more her first days here, and that was a layer of dust or two ago. They still had more to do, Sarah reminded herself. Matt’s work and her own had done much to restore Elm Creek Manor, but they weren’t finished yet.

They waited on the veranda in Adirondack chairs she and Matt had arranged there. Their conversation broke off when Mrs. Compson and Mrs.

Emberly came around the north side of the building walking arm in arm. They hesitated at the foot of the stairs as the others watched them.

“Well?” Mrs. Compson finally barked, glaring up at them. “What are you all looking at?”

After the barest pause, Mrs. Emberly burst into laughter, and the others joined in.

Mrs. Compson smiled sheepishly. “Not much of a welcome, was it? Please accept my apologies. It’s not every day hell freezes over.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “And now I’m cursing. Goodness, what has gotten into me?”

They went inside to the ballroom, where everyone oohed and ahhed appropriately as Sarah showed them her quilt. Then they decided they were hungry, so Judy used her car phone to order pizza. By the time the delivery car pulled up behind the manor, all the women—including Mrs. Compson—were chatting and laughing like old friends.

After a casual supper on the veranda, they got to work. Four people sat quilting on one side of the quilt frame and three on the other while the eighth person threaded needles, fetched quilting tools, or ran for snacks. Every so often the runner would trade places with one of the quilters so that everyone had a chance to rest their fingers. As they worked they talked about themselves, their quilts, their families, and their jobs, and often the ballroom would echo with laughter.

Occasionally everyone would take a break from quilting, and they would hurry to the kitchen for snacks and conversation, giggling like kids at recess, until their fingers felt ready to pick up their needles again. Sarah was delighted to see how quickly eight pairs of hands virtually flew over the fabric. Beside the more experienced hands, Sarah thought her own plodded along clumsily, but she had to admit her stitches were improving.

As the evening waned, one by one the quilters sighed and stretched and pushed their chairs away from the quilting frame—Mrs. Emberly first, then Diane, then Judy, and then the others until only Sarah and Mrs. Compson were left.

“It’s nearly midnight,” Mrs. Compson finally said, straightening and working out the kinks in her shoulders. “Perhaps it’s best to stop for the night.”

Although they were tired, no one wanted to go to bed just yet, so they went out to the veranda to watch the fireflies flickering in a silent dance on the lawn. They chatted more quietly now, and Sarah could feel the gentle sound of the rearing stallion fountain lulling her to sleep.

Her eyes were about to close for good when Mrs. Compson placed a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s show our guests to their rooms, shall we?”

Sarah nodded and pulled herself up from her chair. Carrying Mrs. Emberly’s overnight bag, she led the others inside and upstairs to their rooms. Sleepy though they were, the Tangled Web Quilters were pleased with their suites, with the lovely Amish furniture, the pretty quilts on the beds, and the cut flowers Mrs. Compson had so carefully arranged. Sarah showed them where the bathrooms were and wished them good night.

She carried Mrs. Emberly’s bag into her room for her and placed it in the corner. “I’ll see you in the morning,” she said, closing the door behind her.

“Sarah?” Mrs. Emberly called before the door was completely shut.

Sarah pushed the door open again. “Yes?”

Mrs. Emberly stood in the center of the room, hands clasped at her waist. “Thank you for today.”

Sarah smiled. “It was my pleasure.”

Mrs. Emberly gave her a searching look. “Tell me something, Sarah. Did you select our rooms for us or did I end up with this room by chance?”

“Well, actually—” Sarah hesitated, glancing over her shoulder to see if Mrs. Compson was near. “Originally we picked these rooms because they’re close together and already cleaned, and we were just going to have everyone pick whichever room they liked best. But when you were in the kitchen with Judy, Mrs. Compson told me to make sure you got this one. Why? Is something wrong?”

“Oh, no. Quite the contrary.” She looked around the room, a thoughtful, sad smile on her lips. “This was my first husband’s room when he was young.” She pointed to a desk next to the door. “His initials are on that brass plate right there. We stayed here together before he went into the service.”

“I see.”

“And Sylvia wanted me to have this suite. What do you suppose she intended?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you should ask her.”

“No. That won’t be necessary. I think I know.”

Sarah smiled, then nodded and left.

Her own room was two doors down and across the hall. After changing into a short cotton nightgown, she padded down the hall in her slippers to the nearest bathroom. When she returned, she found Mrs. Compson sitting on the bed.

“Well, young lady, you certainly had a busy day full of surprises, didn’t you?”

“You aren’t angry, are you?”

“Of course not.” She rose and gave Sarah a hug. “You forced me to do something I should have done on my own a long time ago. I suppose I just needed a push.”

“How did it go? In the garden, I mean, talking with Mrs. Emberly.”

“Better than I could have expected or hoped.” Mrs. Compson sighed. “But we have a long way to go until we’re as close as sisters ought to be. As you know from my stories, we were never friends, and we’ve both changed so much since we knew each other last. Who can say? Perhaps those changes will allow us to be friends in a way that simply wasn’t possible then.” She gave Sarah an affectionate smile. “As I said, we have a long way to go, but at least we’ve finally begun a journey we should have made fifty years ago.” She turned and stepped through the open doorway. “Good night, Sarah.”

“Good night.”

Sarah shut the door behind her and switched off the light. She climbed into bed and inhaled the fragrance of the freshly washed, smooth cotton sheets. The room was cool and comfortable for a warm summer’s night. Moonlight spilled in through the open window, and a soft wind stirred the curtains. Sarah rolled over onto her side and ran her hand along the empty space in the bed beside her. This was the first time she had slept without Matt since they were married, and it felt strange. She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling wide-eyed, memories of the day crowding into her thoughts. She knew she would never fall asleep with so much to think about.

Then sunlight was dancing on the braided rug and someone was knocking on the door. Sarah leaped out of bed and fumbled on the bedside table for her watch.

“Get up, sleepyhead,” Summer’s voice rang out on the other side of the door.

“Come on in,” Sarah called.

Summer entered, grinning. “Are you going to sleep all day while the rest of us work on your quilt?”

“Is everyone else up already?” Sarah ran a comb through her long hair and snatched up her shower bag.

Summer nodded. “Mom and I got up and went running early. She always does, rain or shine. The grounds are awesome. Mrs. Compson said to let you sleep until one of the showers was open. She said, and I quote, ‘All of that mischief Sarah’s been up to lately must have taken a lot out of her.’ ”

“That sounds like her.” Sarah laughed. She hurried off to the shower while Summer joined the others downstairs.

As quickly as she could, Sarah showered, dressed, and went down to the kitchen, where the other quilters were talking and laughing over coffee, bagels, and fruit. After breakfast they returned to the ballroom to finish the quilt.

After they had been quilting and chatting for a while, Sarah looked around the quilt frame to Diane, Judy, Mrs. Emberly, and Gwen. “So,” she said, changing the subject. “Did you guys have fun at quilt camp the other week?”

“Go on, tell us,” Bonnie urged. “Mrs. Compson didn’t get to hear you talk about it before.”

Gwen launched into a vivid description of quilt camp, with the others occasionally speaking up to add a detail or share an anecdote. Sarah noted that Mrs. Compson seemed interested in the discussion, especially when Judy and Mrs. Emberly gushed about the new techniques they had learned in the different classes they had been able to take.

“Sounds like fun, doesn’t it, Mrs. Compson?” Sarah asked when they had finished. To her satisfaction, Mrs. Compson agreed.

At noon they broke for a picnic lunch in the north gardens. Matt met them there, and after pulling Sarah aside for a kiss and murmuring “I missed you last night” in her ear, he proceeded to badger the quilters with questions about this mysterious surprise for which an overnight party was necessary. He pretended to be crushed when they refused to divulge the secret, but they knew he was only teasing them. After a lunch of chicken salad sandwiches, fruit, and iced tea, Matt led them on a tour of the gardens, explaining the restorations he and his coworkers had completed so successfully.

Before long Matt left for the orchards and the quilters returned to the ballroom. While the others put the last quilting stitches in Sarah’s sampler, Gwen and Summer created a long strip of binding for the raw edges of the quilt by cutting a large square of the cream fabric into two triangles, then seaming them together so that they formed an offset tube from which they cut the narrow bias strip.