Elm Creek Quilts [09] Circle of Quilters (18 page)

Over the next week, she planned the double date and assembled her application for Elm Creek Quilts. Her old résumé was so outdated that she started over from the beginning, wishing that she had more quilting-related qualifications to mention. Although she had quilted for more than fifteen years and had worked part-time in her aunt’s Pittsburgh quilt shop during high school, she had never taught quilting. She was not quite sure what to do about the ad’s requirement for three letters of recommendations from former students. The ad didn’t say they had to be
her
students. Maybe any former students of quilting would do.

Anna gave away almost all of her quilts as soon as she sewed on the bindings, but fortunately, she had taken photos of each to send to her aunt, who had retired to Arizona with her second husband after the overwhelming success of a local competitor, Quilts ’n Things, put her out of business. Anna found the negatives buried in a box at the back of her closet and had five-by-seven reprints made at a camera shop next door to Chuck’s Diner. She did have to take new snapshots of her more recent, abstract “food” quilts, which she had not yet photographed since she did not really consider them complete. Still, she thought it only fair to show the Elm Creek Quilters the direction her quilts seemed to be taking, since they were so different from the traditional patterns with which she had begun. She also thought it wouldn’t hurt to show as many quilts as possible, a little padding to compensate for the areas where her qualifications were a bit thin.

Arranging the double date proved to be more difficult. At first Gordon balked, claiming that he was uncomfortable socializing with people he did not know, but when she pointed out that he knew everyone but Jeremy and that she had attended that awful English department Holiday Gathering in December, where everyone brooded into their cocktails and hardly anyone spoke to her, he relented. Recalling that event, Anna wondered briefly if Gordon would have asked her to come had Theresa not stayed
home with a bad cold that night. He had, after all, invited her at lunch on the same day, claiming that he had forgotten about it until a fellow student had mentioned it in the mailroom that morning. Everyone was supposed to bring an international hors d’oeuvre to share, but Gordon had told her not to trouble herself; he would heat up a couple of boxes of frozen egg rolls. He would have brought chips and salsa, but the student from the mailroom was bringing that. Appalled, Anna had insisted upon bringing her own Thai chicken peanut satays, which turned out to be the hit of the buffet table. For Anna, the diffident praise of her cooking was the only pleasant note of the entire discordant evening.

But this night out with just the two couples would be nothing like that. After several days of phone tag and trips across the hall to Jeremy’s, Anna finally found an evening that accommodated everyone’s schedules. The four would dine out at a popular chain restaurant two weeks from Friday.

In the meantime, Anna finished her application portfolio and sent it off to Elm Creek Manor. In lieu of the letters from former quilting students, Anna included three letters from supervisors at College Food Services and three additional letters from work-study students, including Callie, to give the interviewers a sense of her teaching abilities in the kitchen.

For the next few days, work kept her too busy to worry about Gordon or the job at Elm Creek Quilts. With the new school year approaching, College Food Services had begun preparing for the usual frenzy of welcome banquets and new faculty orientation luncheons. Anna had been assigned to the Freshman Orientation banquet—a stressful event requiring the college to reassure worried parents and impress their bored progeny, who always felt oriented enough by that time and would much prefer for their parents to be on the road home so they could sneak off for a little underage drinking at a fraternity party somewhere. She didn’t see Gordon until the weekend, and that was only for a few short hours
on Saturday night. He said both he and Theresa were looking forward to going out on the upcoming Friday.

Late Friday afternoon, after Anna rushed home from work to dress for the date, Summer Sullivan called from Elm Creek Quilts. She sounded so genuinely pleased that Anna had applied for the job that Anna was immediately seized by guilt and almost blurted out a confession. Fortunately she managed to restrain herself, as it was highly unlikely that Summer would have invited her to Elm Creek Manor the next week for a job interview if Anna told her of her plot to use Summer’s boyfriend to distract another woman from her own boyfriend. The more Summer talked, the more Anna realized that her plan was actually a very bad idea. It was underhanded and unlikely to succeed. It was a wonder Jeremy had agreed to be any part of it.

But it was too late to back out now.

She finished the call, thanking Summer and promising to see her at Elm Creek Manor the following Wednesday. Then she quickly showered and dressed in a pink, short-sleeved mock turtleneck and an A-line denim jumper that fell just below the knee. It was not fancy, but it happened to be the most flattering item in her wardrobe. She considered putting her hair into the usual French braid, but decided to wear it down instead. The ends curled in a gentle wave where they brushed her shoulders, and although her chef’s instinct was to tuck her hair out of sight beneath a tall white toque, she thought she looked surprisingly pretty. If only she didn’t have those extra twenty pounds. Unfortunately, weight gain was an all-too-present occupational hazard. If she were any less careful, she could put on five pounds a year.

Jeremy knocked on her door about ten minutes before they were due at the restaurant. He wore a navy oxford shirt and light tan slacks, and although he did not seem his usual, easygoing self, he told her she looked beautiful and that he was looking forward to the evening. She thanked him with misgivings, suspecting that he was really looking forward to having the evening end.

“Summer called,” Anna told him as they walked to the restaurant, and immediately regretted it when he shot her a look of guilty alarm. “To ask me to come for an interview at Elm Creek Manor, I mean. I’m also supposed to design an original quilt block, something to represent Elm Creek Quilt Camp.”

“That’s great. I’m sure you’ll impress them.”

“So you didn’t tell Summer about tonight?”

“No.” He paused. “Did you?”

“No.”

“Good.” Then he caught himself. “I don’t mean that I’m concealing this from her, and I definitely don’t mean that I’ll ever ask Theresa out, but … some things just defy explanation. I thought the less I said, the better it would be.”

Anna nodded, feeling terrible. She almost told him to forget the whole thing, that she would tell Gordon and Theresa that he had fallen ill and had to cancel, but they had come within half a block of the restaurant. Gordon and Theresa, waiting outside while Theresa finished a cigarette, had already spotted them.

“I didn’t know she smoked,” murmured Anna, knowing how Jeremy hated the smell. He often placed the assignments of his chain-smoking students in the apartment hallway to air out overnight before grading them.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jeremy replied, but his smile was strained. “It’s just one dinner with friends.”

They joined Gordon and Theresa, who wore black corduroys, a black turtleneck, and a black wool felt vest embellished with intersecting lines of white rickrack. Gordon, Anna was pleased to see, had dressed up in his one pair of navy dress slacks and a white shirt with a tie, an actual tie. She made introductions, everyone shook hands, and they entered the restaurant, where Anna was quick to request the nonsmoking section. They made small talk as they waited to be led to their table for four. It soon came out that each of them had eaten there before; in a town the size of Waterford, there were not many choices. Anna had chosen the
restaurant because of its reputation as a nice place to take a date: pleasant atmosphere, moderate prices, typical American cuisine. If the quality of the food had been her primary concern, she would have cooked for them at home.

She was pleased to see that Jeremy and Theresa seemed to be getting along well. He talked about his research for the history department, Theresa talked about her poetry, Gordon talked about Theresa, and Anna said hardly anything. She didn’t need to. The others were all liberal arts grad students and had plenty in common. Though Anna was the person who had brought them together, they didn’t need her to guide the conversation.

Even the food was fairly tolerable, although even without tasting them Anna could list at least a dozen improvements she could make to each dish that was set before them. Her mind wandered as Gordon, with a couple of beers in him, began reciting Irish poetry and Theresa chimed in with explanations of the metaphors. Jeremy, to his credit, asked a few questions about the historical context of the poems, but Anna was not sure if he was genuinely interested or merely being polite. She supposed if she, who knew Jeremy was there under false pretenses, could not tell, Gordon and Theresa were unlikely to become suspicious.

The evening passed better than Anna could have anticipated until Theresa mentioned that Gordon would be taking his candidacy exam soon.

“I don’t envy you,” Jeremy said, grinning. “I’m glad that’s behind me.”

“Hear, hear,” Theresa said. “No more exams for me, either.” “You still have to finish your dissertation and defend it,” said Gordon. “You too, Jeremy.”

As the others commiserated, Anna smiled and took a sip of water.

“We’re all so overworked.” Theresa sighed in mock despair. “I suppose the only one of us who has any leisure time is Anna.”

For the first time that evening, everyone turned to look at her. It startled her so much that she almost choked on her water. She coughed and tried to speak, then set down the glass.

“I’m not exactly free,” she said, managing a smile. “I’m gainfully employed, full-time. During our busy seasons, I might work up to sixty hours a week.”

Jeremy nodded, but Theresa said, “That’s a quantitative response to a comment that required a more qualitative analysis.”

This time Gordon nodded. Annoyed, Anna said coolly, “If you speak to anyone who’s dined at one of my banquets, I’m sure they’ll tell you my work is of the highest quality.”

“I said ‘qualitative,’ not ‘quality.’” In an aside to Gordon, Theresa added, “A garbage man can work sixty hours a week, but it’s still just tossing trash into the back of a truck no matter how well he does it. It’s not exactly intellectually demanding.”

“Working as a chef is intellectually demanding,” said Jeremy. “Physically demanding, too. You’re on your feet in a hot kitchen, directing cooks and servers, and racing to meet one deadline after another.” The smile he offered Theresa was a pleasant mask. “If you have any doubts, you should try it yourself.”

“Me?” She laughed. “I’m too busy. Who has time to cook anymore?”

“I have time to cook because it’s my job,” Anna pointed out. Again. For all her education, Theresa seemed unable to grasp the obvious.

“True,” Theresa shot back. “But you can’t seriously argue that you’re as busy as a graduate student. I mean, come on. You have time for hobbies.”

“Hobbies?”

“You know. That embroidery or whatever it is you do. Gordon says you’ve made some cute little crafts for your apartment.” Theresa laughed. “You’re going to make someone a great housewife someday.”

She said housewife as if she considered it only a few steps above lunch lady on the rank of human endeavor. Anna refused to look at Gordon, which she supposed relieved him. He sat so stiff and wide-eyed in his chair it was as if he believed stillness would allow him to blend in to the background, camouflaged by his cowardice.

“Are you talking about Anna’s quilts?” asked Jeremy.

“Quilts! That’s what it was.” Theresa rested her arms on the table and smiled indulgently at Anna. “You know, my grandmother made quilts.”

Anna managed a tight-lipped nod. “Mine, too.”

“Anna’s quilts are true works of art,” said Jeremy. “She won’t brag about them, but she should.”

Anna threw him a grateful look, but he might not have seen it because Theresa suddenly regarded him with new interest. “You know how to quilt? That’s fascinating, a man pursuing the domestic arts.”

Anna could not resist rolling her eyes. Suddenly, when practiced by a man, quilting was elevated from cute little craft to domestic art.

As Jeremy struggled to explain how he knew so much about quilting without mentioning that he was dating a founding member of Elm Creek Quilts, Anna fixed her gaze on Gordon. He simultaneously developed an urgent need for the waiter, or so his craning of the neck, shifting in his chair, and looking in every direction but Anna’s suggested. Finally she caught his eye, but when she raised her eyebrows at him, he offered only a meek shrug. She picked up her wineglass and took a sip, shooting him a more pointed look over the rim, willing him to say something, anything, in her defense.

At last he caught the hint and spoke. “Anna’s not planning to stay in the kitchen forever. She’ll find out what busy really means when she goes back to grad school for her MBA.”

An inch above the table, the glass slipped from her hand and hit the surface with a loud clunk. Somehow it stayed upright.

Puzzled, Jeremy said, “You’re going to open your own restaurant
and
return to grad school?”

“Not all in the same week,” Anna said, forcing a shaky laugh.

“This is an interesting turn of events.” Theresa interlaced her fingers and rested them on the table. “So tell us the whole story. Where are you going? When do you start?”

Anna looked daggers at Gordon, who was studying his ribeye intently. “Let’s just say I don’t have any definite plans yet.”

“Oh,” Theresa said, drawing the word out, conveying in one syllable comprehension and pity, perhaps scorn. “And I suppose this plan to own your own restaurant is in a similar state of flux?”

“Those plans are actually a little further along.” It would be difficult for them to be otherwise.

Jeremy looked from Anna to Gordon and back, but said nothing.