Elm Creek Quilts [09] Circle of Quilters (10 page)

The lesson plans took her two weeks to complete, since she could work only when the boys were asleep and after Nate came home from work. Second-guessing every decision, she edited and revised her portfolio repeatedly and might have continued to do so except she ran out of time. Though not completely satisfied, she made an eleventh-hour sprint to the post office and sent the portfolio next-day express, return receipt requested. If she never heard back from Elm Creek Quilters, she did not want it to be because her portfolio had been lost in the mail.

Nate told her that, having done her best, she should now put the application out of her thoughts. Pacing and worrying would not hasten their response. Karen grit her teeth and promised him she would try. It was so easy for him. He left every morning for a job he enjoyed in a department that seemed eager to grant him tenure. At the end of an interesting day, he returned to the boys’ joyous welcome, their favorite playmate grown even dearer in his absence. He could tell her not to worry because if the Elm Creek Quilters never contacted her, his life would clip jauntily along as it always had, unaffected by her disappointment.

Two weeks passed with no reply except for the postal service’s confirmation that her portfolio had indeed reached the mailroom of Elm Creek Manor. She wished she could vent to Janice about the excruciating wait, but something held her back, even as Janice waxed enthusiastic about how she and her husband were converting the living room into a home office. Karen was unsure why she concealed her own tentative step back into the working world, except, perhaps, because it was so tentative. She had applied for the job at Elm Creek Manor and that job only. She did not peruse the want ads in the
Centre Daily Times
or submit her newly updated résumé to online services. A foray into the safe, nurturing world of quilting was just about all she
could handle, and she wasn’t completely confident she could manage that.

On a Friday morning more than a month after she submitted her portfolio, Karen was trying to coax some oatmeal and bananas into Lucas when the phone rang. “Hello?” she asked, pressing the receiver tightly to one ear. Nate had already left for work or she would have asked him to take the call upstairs.

She could not make out the reply over her children’s clamor. Lucas was cheerfully banging his spoon on the table and exhorting her in language he alone understood, and Ethan was running around the house shouting, “Efan to the rescue!” As he sprinted past, she saw that he wore nothing but the cape to his Superman pajamas and a pair of socks.

“Hello?” she said again, prying the spoon from Lucas’s hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“May I speak with Karen Wise, please?” asked a woman who sounded close to her own age.

“I’m Karen. Sorry for the noise.”

“Don’t worry about it. This is Sarah McClure from Elm Creek Quilt Camp.”

“Oh, hi!” Karen made a frantic gesture for Ethan to quiet down.

He stopped running and strained to reach the phone. “Who is it, Mommy? Can I talk to him?”

“No, sweetie. It’s for Mommy.”

The woman on the other end laughed. “It sounds like you have company. Is this a bad time?”

“No! No, this is great.” Karen desperately did not want her to hang up. “I’m glad you called.”

“Can I talk?” pleaded Ethan. “I’ll use my good manners.”

“My colleagues and I were very impressed with your portfolio,” said Sarah.

“Thank you.” Karen turned her back on Ethan and covered the mouthpiece with her hand. “Honey, please. I can’t hear.”

“Mommy! Mommy!” Ethan punctuated each shout with a leap for the phone. “Please, Mommy! Let me talk, too!”

“We haven’t taught many classes in paper piecing, so your experience would complement us nicely.” Sarah paused. “Would it help if I talked to your son?”

Karen was mortified. “Oh, no. That isn’t necessary. He’s all right.”

“Really. I’d be happy to.”

“Well—” Karen thought quickly. “Okay. Here he is.”

Thrilled, Ethan held the phone to his ear. “Hello? Who’s this?” A pause. “Oh, I thought you were Daddy.” He looked up at Karen. “Efan.” A slight pause. “No, not Efan. E-Fan,” he said, emphasizing each syllable. “My baby brother’s name is Lucas. I use the big boy potty but Lucas still goes in his diaper. Once after his bath Mommy couldn’t get his diaper on fast enough and he peed on the rug.”

“Okay, honey, thank you, that’s enough.” Karen snatched back the phone and took a quick, deep breath before putting it to her ear. “Hi. Sorry about that.”

“That’s all right. Sometimes it’s easier to just give them what they want, so long as it won’t hurt them.”

“That’s the truth. Do you have kids?”

“No, but I know many childish adults. Back to the job—if you’re still interested, we’d like to invite you to Elm Creek Manor for an interview.”

“I’m definitely still interested.” Karen ducked as a blob of oatmeal sailed past her ear. Lucas crowed for joy as she scrambled for a pen and paper to take down the date and time of the interview.

“One more thing,” said Sarah after Karen assured her she knew the way to the manor. “We’re asking all of the applicants to create an original block design and bring it to the interview.”

“What sort of design?” Karen’s heart sank a little. Somehow Sarah made “all of the applicants” sound as if there were hundreds.

“A new logo for Elm Creek Quilts. Use whatever techniques showcase your talents best.”

“Any particular size or colors?”

“You know, you’re the first person to ask. Let’s make it a twelve-inch block, and use whatever colors you prefer. I suppose I should call everyone else back and let them know.”

Or not, Karen thought. Then the other two hundred applicants might get it wrong and be disqualified.

After they hung up, Karen gripped the counter, exultant and yet slightly queasy. She had an interview. Even Ethan’s interruption and potty talk had not scared away Sarah McClure from Elm Creek Quilts. She had an interview. Not only that, she had but one week, two days, and four hours from the time she hung up the phone in which to design and make an original quilt block.

Karen knew this quilt block would be the most important pattern she ever designed. She had never taught quilting, published a pattern, or won a ribbon in a national quilt show. It was something of a miracle that Sarah McClure had requested the interview at all, considering how many expert quilters would give their entire fabric stashes for an opportunity to become an Elm Creek Quilter.

Still, Karen knew from her stay at Elm Creek Quilt Camp that the women who worked there were more than close friends. They were a family, and selecting someone to join a family was a far more complex and difficult matter than selecting an employee. They surely had any number of qualified instructors from which to choose, but they would be seeking something more, someone who understood what Elm Creek Quilt Camp meant to quilters worldwide, someone who would cherish Elm Creek Quilts as much as they did.

Karen knew this single quilt block could be her best opportunity to prove she was that person.

She chose bright, cheerful cottons from her fabric stash and stacked them on the kitchen counter for inspiration, hoping a
passing glance as she cooked or hauled laundry upstairs from the basement would encourage an idea to spring forth from her subconscious. As she took the children through their daily routine, a part of her thoughts were elsewhere, sketching, considering, revising. With two days to go, she stayed up late into the night armed with a pencil, a ruler, graph paper, and a pot of coffee. The kitchen table was covered in eraser crumbs by the time she finally went upstairs to bed, but her pattern was finished and, unlike her portfolio, she thought it was well done.

The next morning, she dragged herself from bed for Lucas’s second feeding, deeply regretting her decision to forego sleep the night before. Lucas dozed as he nursed but became suddenly alert as soon as she tried to return him to his crib, so she put on her slippers and carried him downstairs to the kitchen, where Nate was reading a Dr. Seuss book to Ethan over breakfast.

She asked Nate to hold Lucas so she could shower, and as she handed him off, she glanced at the kitchen counter. “Where’s my block?”

“Your what?” asked Nate, settling Lucas on his lap.

“My quilt block.” Karen searched through the pile of mail, glanced at the floor, and opened the dishwasher to check the trashcan. “I left the pattern right here last night.”

“Daddy spilled coffee,” volunteered Ethan, spooning cereal into his mouth.

Karen turned an inquiring look upon Nate, who shook his head. “There weren’t any quilt blocks there, just some papers and junk mail.” His mouth twisted into a sour frown around the last two words. A forest of credit card applications filled their mailbox every week despite Nate’s attempts to remove their address from mailing lists.

“Those papers were my quilt patterns.” Karen checked the trashcan a second time and noticed that a new white plastic bag lined it. “Did you take out the trash?”

“It’s at the curb,” he said, but, having guessed the answer, she was already hurrying past him to the front door. Grass clippings stuck to her bare feet as she padded down the driveway and lifted the lid of the nearest garbage can, recoiling at the stench. Grimacing, Karen pulled out one bag, unfastened the tie, and peered inside. A man passed walking a pair of black labs, who sniffed the trash and then Karen before continuing on. The man deliberately averted his eyes, and Karen suddenly remembered she wore nothing but panties and Nate’s extra-large Cornhuskers T-shirt, shrunken and faded from many washings. She tugged the shirt down as far as it would stretch and continued digging through the bag with her free hand. After a while she abandoned the first bag and tried the second, then frantically reached for the third when she heard the garbage truck shifting gears down the block. She had almost given up hope when she spotted a few pieces of paper, now wadded into a ball and soaked through with coffee. She shook off an orange peel and a few soggy Annie’s Cheddar Bunnies only to discover that she held a crumpled piece of waxed paper. Her drawings were nowhere to be found.

She returned the trash bags to the can just as the garbage truck came into view. A low whistle followed her as she scurried up the driveway back to the house. It occurred to her that, aside from Sarah’s praise for her portfolio, it was the first compliment she had received in months.

Nate was feeding Lucas in his highchair when Karen entered, trailing grass clippings and coffee grounds. “I couldn’t find them, and now the garbage truck has come and gone, so that’s that.”

Nate looked as if he knew that whatever he said next was bound to get him in trouble, but he had no choice. “Did you check the recycling bin?”

“The recycling bin?”

“It was paper,” he explained carefully. “I always recycle paper.”

She knew that, but somehow coffee-soaked paper did not seem
to qualify for recycling. “Why didn’t you tell me that before I dug through the trash on the curb?”

“I thought you were going upstairs to shower. I didn’t think you’d go outside dressed like that.”

Karen yanked open the dishwasher and found her drawings buried under bottles and cans in the recycling bin. “Great,” she said, as the pages dripped coffee.

“I’m sorry,” said Nate. “I thought they were your rough drafts or I wouldn’t have thrown them away.”

Karen spread paper towels on the counter and lay the ruined pages upon them. She would have to do them over, but at least she could refer to her original drawings rather than working from memory. Sighing, she went to the sink and scrubbed her arms from fingertips to biceps using hot water and antibacterial soap. “I suppose once they absorbed all that coffee, they probably did look like rough drafts.”

“I really am sorry.”

“He’s sorry, Mommy,” said Ethan, and Lucas babbled out a few earnest syllables in agreement.

“Okay. Fine. He’s sorry.” Relenting, Karen added, “I’ll just do them over after supper. You’re still planning to take the boys to the park, right?”

Nate took a sip of coffee and shook his head. “I can’t. I have a meeting at five-thirty.”

“But you said you’d be home at five so we could eat early and I could have the evening to sew my quilt block.”

“I’m sorry, honey. The department chair dropped a curriculum review on us at the last minute.”

Karen shut off the water and snatched up a towel. “But I was counting on you. I need the time more than ever now that I also have to redo my drawings.”

“Can you wait until Saturday? I’m sorry, Karen, but I can’t come home early. I don’t have a choice. You remember what it’s like to work.”

Karen stiffened. “Yes, actually, I do.”

“Mommy’s mad at Daddy,” observed Ethan to no one in particular.

“I’m not mad,” said Karen, though she was.

“I’ll redo the drawings for you this weekend,” offered Nate.

“No, you can’t.” Karen flung the towel onto the counter, but picked it up, folded it, and hung it on its usual wall hook when she remembered Ethan watching her. “It’s a test for the job interview. I have to do it myself.”

Just like everything else around here
, she thought.

On the morning of her interview, Karen showered and tried on some of her suits from her Office of University Development days. With some effort, she managed to fit into her loosest, most forgiving suit. The skirt was a bit too snug around the hips and thighs and the jacket was surprisingly snug at the bosom, thanks to Lucas’s sustained nursing. If she got the job and convinced Lucas to wean, she would shrink back to B cups in a matter of days. She studied her transiently ample profile in the mirror and decided the suit fit well enough for the interview. It had to, since her only other options were yoga pants or maternity jeans.

She hung up the suit, making a mental note to iron it later, pulled on her sweats, and went downstairs to have breakfast and kiss Nate before he bicycled off to work. “I have to leave by two,” she reminded him, following him out to the garage with Lucas riding her hip.

“I’ll leave campus no later than twelve-thirty,” he promised, strapping on his helmet.