Elm Creek Quilts [09] Circle of Quilters (20 page)

“Oh,” said Anna, embarrassed by her mistake. “I guess I’m early.”

“And I’m late.”

That seemed to be the least of the young mother’s problems.

The kids were cute, but it turned out the other woman had not intended to bring them along; when Anna asked if her baby-sitter had canceled, the mother implied that her husband had backed out at the last minute. Anna felt immediate sympathy. She tried to help, holding the baby when milk squirted all over his mother’s clothes, making polite chat, and offering them all cookies. She avoided looking too directly at the other woman rather than have her curious glance be misinterpreted as a critical glare. It came as no surprise, though, when her efforts made little apparent difference to the young mother’s stress level.

Anna wondered what the mother planned to do with her boys during her interview but was reluctant to ask. She considered offering to watch them, but they didn’t know each other and the last thing this mother needed was some strange woman acting overly eager to watch her kids.

Not long after one of the Elm Creek Quilters dashed past them and disappeared inside the room, the door opened again and a
woman around Anna’s age peered out. “Hi. I’m Sarah McClure,” she said. “Thanks for coming. Sorry for the delay.” She glanced down at the file folder in her hand and looked at the mother. “Karen Wise?”

The mother rose, collected her belongings and children, and followed Sarah into the room. Anna leaned her head back and closed her eyes, her sigh echoing in the suddenly silent foyer. She wondered how many other quilters had applied for the job, and whether knowing Jeremy and Summer would give her an advantage. Perhaps their acquaintance had helped her land the interview, but she doubted it would mean much when the final selection process arrived. For all she knew, the Elm Creek Quilters had already eliminated her and had only agreed to see her as a courtesy to Jeremy.

Anna took a deep breath to settle her anxiety and rehearsed responses to potential questions. After less than an hour, the door opened and Karen ushered her boys down the hallway in the opposite direction. From the corner of her eye, Anna watched them go and wondered if they had gotten lost, but they soon reappeared and headed to the front door. The boys seemed happy enough, but Karen looked miserable and defeated.

“I hope your interview went well,” said Anna, meaning it, but doubting it.

“I hope yours goes better,” said Karen, leading the boys outside without waiting for a reply.

A few minutes later, Sarah McClure opened the door. “You must be Anna Del Maso.”

“That’s right.” Anna rose and shook Sarah’s hand before picking up her belongings. “Thank you so much for granting me this interview.”

“It’s our pleasure. I loved your quilts.”

“Really?” Anna was pleased. “I know they’ve become a little unusual in recent years.”

“They’re brilliant. The photos you sent truly revealed your development as an artist.”

An artist. Anna had never thought of herself as an artist. She wished Gordon and Theresa had been there to hear it. Of course, Gordon and Theresa’s presence would have been so wildly unsettling that Anna surely would have made a mess of the interview. Sarah escorted her into a parlor decorated in the Victorian style, but comfortable rather than fussy. Summer and five other women sat facing one lone armchair on the opposite side of a coffee table. Sarah invited Anna to sit there before taking her own place upon a loveseat closest to the door. Anna glanced at Summer and was heartened to see her smiling encouragingly.

Sarah introduced her fellow Elm Creek Quilters and began with a few questions about Anna’s quilting history. Anna was glad to see a few nods when she mentioned that she had been quilting since her aunt had taught her at age fifteen. One dark-haired, ruddy-cheeked woman sighed wistfully as Anna spoke of her experiences working in her aunt’s quilt shop, completing sample projects for her classes, assisting customers, and helping her aunt select new notions, books, and fabric lines at Quilt Market each fall in Houston.

“But lately you’ve been working in a different profession entirely,” remarked Sylvia, studying her résumé.

“That’s true. I have.” Anna told them about her experience with College Food Services, and perhaps influenced by Theresa’s derisive comments, she focused much more on her banquet work than on the daily tasks of the dining halls.

“I always wanted to be able to make a gourmet meal,” said Sarah.

“Let me guess,” said Anna. “You’re too busy to cook.”

“No, I just don’t have the skills. Or the terminology. What’s the difference between folding and braising and blending? When I see so many unfamiliar terms in a recipe, I panic and slam the
cookbook shut.” Sarah shook her head. “I wish I had a talent like yours. Ledgers I understand. Payroll taxes give me no trouble. Food? Forget it. It’s a wonder I haven’t starved to death or poisoned myself.”

“You can’t be that bad,” said Anna.

“No, she really is,” interjected the pretty blonde woman Sarah had called Diane.

“I could teach you a few things,” said Anna, quickly adding, “I mean, if I get the job. Not that I wouldn’t anyway, but if I get the job, I’ll be around. Not that I would take time away from teaching quilting to cook.”

Summer came to her rescue. “Did you bring your Elm Creek Quilts block to show us?”

Anna reached for her tote bag, and the sight of the plastic container reminded her of the cookies. “I brought these, too,” she said, removing the lid. She handed the cookies to Sarah and placed the quilt block flat upon the coffee table. She told them about the evolution of her design as they passed the cookies around. Each Elm Creek Quilter took one, except for Gwen, who took two, and Diane, who handed off the container without looking inside to admire the cookies as the others had done. Anna did not take offense, guessing from Diane’s trim figure that she had not allowed sweets to pass her lips in more than twenty years.

“These are elm leaves drifting on the breeze,” continued Anna after describing her raw-edged appliqué method. “This is Elm Creek splashing over some pebbles, and this is the sun, or the warmth of sisterhood, or the light of illumination teachers pass on to their students. I thought I would leave that open to your interpretation.”

Most of the Elm Creek Quilters chuckled, but Diane frowned and leaned closer for a better look. “It looks like a tossed salad.”

“Diane,” admonished Sylvia.

“You’ll have to excuse her,” said Gwen. “She has absolutely no
appreciation for anything other than traditional blocks pieced by hand.”

“I see the elm leaves,” said Summer. “And that’s definitely a creek.”

“No, she’s right,” said Anna, suddenly seeing it. “It looks exactly like a tossed salad.”

Diane gave Anna a sharp look, and Anna suddenly realized that the last thing Diane had expected was for her to agree.

“It’s a lovely block,” said the dark-haired woman who had seemed so engrossed by Anna’s stories of her aunt’s quilt shop.

Diane had composed herself as she paged through Anna’s portfolio. “Looking through your material, I wondered … Have you ever taught quilting?”

Anna had been expecting the question. “No, I haven’t.”

“I see.” Diane made a check mark on her notes. “You realize, of course, that all of the other applicants have taught at least a few classes.”

“Not all of them,” said Summer.

“I’ve never led a quilt class, but I have taught,” said Anna. “In my current job, I’ve taught many student workers how to prepare food, how to follow safe kitchen practices, and other things. Years ago, I also assisted my aunt in classes at her quilt shop.”

“But it’s not the same, wouldn’t you agree?” said Diane.

Anna hesitated. “It’s not exactly the same, but I think it’s relevant.”

Diane’s slight frown deepened. “I’m reluctant to suggest that the only reason you were granted this interview was because you’re Summer’s boyfriend’s neighbor—”

“That is absolutely not true,” said Summer.

“That’s reassuring,” said Diane. She studied Anna’s résumé and shook her head. “I’m curious. When did you decide to become a quilting teacher? Based upon your education and employment history, I never would have guessed you were interested in quilting as a career.”

“Well, actually …” Anna knew she would stumble if she wriggled out of the question with an evasive lie, so she decided to give Diane the truth. “Someday I want to own my own restaurant. That’s why I’m looking for a second job, so I can save up the money faster.”

“So this would be your second priority, not your first,” said Diane, with a glance at Sylvia.

“I said second job, not second priority.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Anna taking on teaching responsibilities here as a second job,” said Summer. “Our ad did mention that seasonal work and flexible hours were available. In fact, Anna’s schedule could work to our advantage.”

“We can discuss that later,” said Sarah, meaning not in front of Anna. “Let’s move along. Anna, I was intrigued by your lesson plan for the machine appliqué class. Would you tell us more about how you would run the class?”

Anna did, eager to switch to a safer topic. She answered the Elm Creek Quilters’ other questions as best she could, but it was still a relief when Sarah rose and thanked her for coming.

“Thanks for the cookies, too,” added Gwen.

“Yes, indeed,” said Sylvia. “They were scrumptious.”

“Here, have some more,” said Anna, passing around the container again. “So I have fewer to carry home.”

All but Diane gladly helped themselves to more cookies. Sarah offered to give her a tour of the grounds, but Anna assured her that she had already shown herself around.

The metal folding chairs were empty as Anna crossed the foyer, and the white-haired woman had left the veranda. Anna walked down the front drive toward the woods, going over the interview in her mind just as she always ran through the highlights and missteps of a banquet as she cleaned the kitchen afterward. She wished she had responded more articulately to Diane’s queries. With just a few, pointed questions, Diane had dug out
Anna’s weaknesses for the position, and Anna had not defended herself well. She should have said more about the teaching role she assumed with her student workers in the kitchen, her experience helping shoppers at her aunt’s quilt shop, her creative inspiration. Thanks to Diane, the Elm Creek Quilters probably had no idea how badly Anna really wanted the job, not just as a source of revenue for her restaurant fund.

She made her way back down the gravel road to the main highway, arriving twenty minutes before the bus was due. She leaned against a small wooden sign and set her tote bag and cookie container on the ground at her feet, looking up every time a car passed. A blue midsized four-door car, so shiny it had to be nearly new, passed her once, disappeared around a bend, then returned and stopped on the shoulder, motor idling.

“Excuse me,” the driver called. His dark hair and beard were sprinkled with gray, and he looked to be in his midforties, handsome except for a deep sadness in his eyes. He did not look like a salesman, at least not a prosperous one; his blue suit seemed a few years too old and his hair, though neatly trimmed, lacked the shiny, coiffed appearance Anna associated with salesmen. Likely he was one of the Elm Creek Quilters’ husbands.

“I’m looking for the road to Elm Creek Manor,” the man said, disproving her theory. “Do you know where it is?”

Guiltily, Anna jumped away from the sign and pointed into the woods. “It’s that way. Sorry for blocking the sign.”

The man smiled, and all trace of sadness disappeared. “It’s not your fault. This isn’t the first time I’ve missed it. Thanks.”

He waved, turned onto the gravel road, and drove off into the woods. Anna watched his car disappear into the trees.
What a novelty
, she thought.
A man who asks for directions
.

While she was gone, Gordon had left a message on her answering machine. Anna changed out of her suit and called him back.

“Where were you?” he asked. “I stopped by after my eleven o’clock class but you weren’t home. You said you were taking the day off.”

“I took the day off to go to a job interview.”

“Oh. Right.” He paused. “I walked all the way over there and had to settle for calling your answering machine on my cell.”

Anna wanted to point out that he could have used that same cell phone to call before dropping by if the walk was too much for him, but when that petulant, spoiled child tone crept into his voice, she had to handle him carefully. “I’m sorry. I should have reminded you.”

“Or left a note on the counter.”

“Or that.” She was suddenly uncomfortable at the thought of Gordon wandering about her apartment when she was not home. She had given him a key so he could let himself in when she was expecting him, and it had never occurred to her that he might use it at other times. But that was unfair; she had never told him the key came with restrictions. “I’m sorry,” she repeated.

“I guess it’s all right.”

“My interview went well,” she said, wishing he had asked. “Maybe we could do something to celebrate.”