The Quilter's Legacy (40 page)

“Maybe next year,” said Andrew.

“Maybe,” said Amy softly, and hung up.

“She's as unhappy about this conflict as we are,” Sylvia told Andrew afterward.

“Then why doesn't she just bury the hatchet?” grumbled Andrew. “Honestly, Sylvia, she's so stubborn, you'd think she was your daughter instead of mine.”

“Who are you calling stubborn?” asked Sylvia indignantly, then added, “Well, I suppose I am—stubborn enough to insist that we have a merry Christmas anyway. I have no intention of altering our plans, as long as you don't.”

“I don't,” Andrew assured her. “I just wish the kids would be here to celebrate with us.”

Sylvia did, too, but what could not be changed had to be endured. On Christmas Eve, at least, they would not be alone. Sarah and Matt as well as all the Elm Creek Quilters and their families would celebrate at Elm Creek Manor, as they did every year.

O
n the morning of Christmas Eve, Sylvia and Sarah rose early to finish their preparations for the party. At times like these, Sylvia was especially grateful for Sarah's business skills; a week before, when Sylvia told her how important this particular party would be, Sarah had made up lists and menus and schedules so that they could accomplish everything and still have a little energy left over to enjoy the party themselves. Only once did Sarah grumble that Sylvia could have given her a little more notice, but she soon got so caught up in organizing and planning that she forgot Sylvia's small offense.

By late afternoon, a light snow had begun to fall, but there was no sign of the roaring blizzard Sylvia had feared would keep their friends at home. A half hour before the first guests were to arrive, Sarah ordered Sylvia out of the kitchen and upstairs to put on the plum suit she had purchased in Sewickley. “Matt and I can take care of the rest,” said Sarah, who had somehow found time to change earlier, and now wore a green-and-red plaid apron over her dress.

Sylvia complied, and as she hurried upstairs, she met Andrew coming down, wearing his new suit. “You look very handsome,” she told him in passing.

He laughed. “No time for a kiss?”

“You'll get your kiss later,” she promised, and hurried off to her room.

Her suit lay on the bed, freshly pressed and waiting. Beside it sat a small bouquet of ivory roses tied with a plum velvet ribbon. “Oh, Andrew,” she said, smiling. He had not left a card, but only Andrew would have thought to give her flowers.

She dressed quickly, but took time for powder and lipstick. She put on earrings and a pearl necklace that had once belonged to her mother, and fussed with her hair longer than usual. She was not vain, but tonight she wanted to look her best. She scrutinized herself in the mirror, frowning critically. “That will have to do,” she said, but she gave her reflection a nod of approval. She thought she looked rather nice, if a trifle flushed from the excitement.

She returned downstairs, smiling with delight when she saw the Christmas tree lit up in all its splendor. Sixteen feet high, it would have seemed enormous in any other room but the grand foyer. Andrew and Matt had needed a day to string the small white lights upon it, and the better part of another to decorate the boughs with ornaments. Ordinarily Sylvia preferred a smaller tree, just the right size for the parlor, but this year called for something special.

At that moment the front door opened. Matt appeared in the doorway, stomping his feet to clear the snow from his boots. He spotted Sylvia and grinned. “There's still time to put up the blinking colored lights if you like.”

“Not on your life,” retorted Sylvia, taking his coat as he came inside. “How's the driveway?”

“It's clear. The snow wasn't too deep,” said Matt. “Don't worry, Sylvia. The weather's fine. Everyone will be here.”

“Not quite everyone,” said Sylvia, rueful. But it could not be helped.

Matt had other chores to attend to before the guests arrived, so Sylvia left his coat in the cloakroom and went alone to the ballroom, where Sarah had just finished lighting the last hurricane lamp centerpiece, blowing out the match as she inspected her work.

Sylvia took a few steps toward her and stopped short, enchanted by the transformation candles, poinsettias, ribbon, and evergreen boughs had wrought on the ballroom. Andrew had built a fire in the large fireplace at the far side of the room, and nearby was the Nativity scene her father had brought back from a visit to the Bergstroms' ancestral home in Baden-Baden, Germany. Earlier that day, Summer had stopped by to set up her CD player at one end of the dance floor, and Christmas carols wafted on air fragrant with the scents of pine and cinnamon and roasted apples. Just across the dance floor, the cook and two assistants—his daughter and her best friend, or so Sylvia had overheard—were placing silver trays of hors d'oeuvres and cookies on a long table, and preparing the buffet for hot dishes still simmering in the kitchen. Someone had opened the curtains covering the floor-to-ceiling windows on the south wall, and snowflakes fell gently against the window panes.

Sarah joined her as Sylvia took in the sight. “What do you think?” she asked.

“It's absolutely splendid,” declared Sylvia, putting her arm around her young friend. “I can't imagine a lovelier or more festive place to spend a Christmas Eve.”

“If you had given me more time, I could have done more.”

“Nonsense. It's perfect the way it is.” Sylvia hugged her. “Thank you, dear.”

Sylvia had Sarah show her to her seat so she could leave her flowers at her place. She wanted to seek out Andrew so they could share a moment alone before the festivities began, but just then, the front bell rang, and a few moments later, their guests began to fill the ballroom. First Summer arrived with her boyfriend and her mother, Gwen, and then Judy entered with her husband and young daughter. Next came Diane, stunning in a black crushed velvet dress, accompanied by her husband and two teenage sons. Bonnie and her husband followed close behind; with them were a number of young men and women Sylvia recognized as their adult children and their spouses. The precious bundle cradled in the pink-and-white Tumbling Blocks quilt was surely Bonnie's new granddaughter, and in her eagerness to meet the baby, Sylvia forgot all about finding Andrew.

More guests arrived, including the rest of the Elm Creek Quilts staff and faculty and their families, other friends from Waterford, college students Sylvia had befriended while participating in various research projects, and Katherine Quigley, a prominent local judge. As soon as Katherine and her husband arrived, Sylvia made a point of welcoming them to Elm Creek Manor and thanking them for coming. Since the Quigleys were not a usual part of Sylvia's circle of friends, Sylvia had been concerned about making them feel comfortable, but when nearly a dozen people called out greetings the moment Katherine entered, Sylvia had to laugh at her worries.

Cocktails were served, and then a delicious meal of roasted Cornish game hen with cranberry walnut dressing that reminded Sylvia all over again why some quilters claimed they came to Elm Creek Quilt camp for the food alone. Afterward, Summer put some big band tunes on the CD player and led her boyfriend, Jeremy, onto the dance floor. Other couples joined them, and soon the room was alive with laughter, music, and the warmth of friendship.

As the first notes of “Moon River” played, Andrew found Sylvia chatting with a few of the Elm Creek Quilters and asked her to dance. “You're so popular, I've hardly had a moment alone with you,” he teased.

Sylvia laughed. “You've never been the jealous type. I certainly hope you don't plan to start now.”

He promised he wouldn't, and she closed her eyes and touched her cheek to his as they danced. He had become quite a fine dancer since the previous summer, when he had promised to learn to dance if she would learn how to fish. She still hadn't caught anything, but Andrew said, “Fishing isn't just about having a trout on the fire at the end of the day.” She replied that she felt exactly the same about quilting.

“I don't think I've ever had a happier Christmas Eve,” said Sylvia. “I hate to see it end.”

“Is that so?” He regarded her, eyebrows raised. “Does that mean you've changed your mind?”

“Of course not,” she said, lowering her voice as the song ended. “In fact, I was just about to suggest we get started.”

He brought her hands to his lips. “I was hoping you'd say that.”

Sylvia signaled to Sarah, and while her young friend found Judge Quigley in the crowd, Sylvia picked up her bouquet and met Andrew at the opposite end of the dance floor from where the judge waited with Sarah and Matt. Sylvia took a deep breath and swallowed.

“Nervous?” asked Andrew, smiling.

“Not at all,” she said, and cleared her throat. “I just hope our friends will forgive us.”

Andrew chuckled. “They'll have to, once we remind them that you and I never said anything about waiting until June.”

“May I have everyone's attention, please?” called Sarah over the noise of the crowd. Summer turned down the volume on the stereo. “On behalf of Sylvia and Andrew and everyone who considers Elm Creek Manor a home away from home, thank you for joining us on this very special Christmas Eve.”

Everyone applauded, except Andrew, who straightened his tie, and Sylvia, who took his arm.

“It is also my honor and great pleasure,” said Sarah, “to inform you that you are here not only to celebrate Christmas, but also the wedding of our two dear friends, Sylvia Compson and Andrew Cooper.”

Gasps of surprise and excitement quickly gave way to cheers. Sylvia felt her cheeks growing hot as their many friends turned to them, applauding and calling their names.

“You said June,” said Diane, her voice carrying over the celebration.

“No,
you
said June,” retorted Sylvia.

“But I already bought my dress,” wailed Diane, “and picked out your gown!”

The gathering of friends burst into laughter, and, joining in as loud as anyone, Sarah held up her hands for quiet. “If you would all gather around, Andrew would like to escort his beautiful bride down the aisle.”

The crowd parted to make way for them, and Summer slipped away to the stereo. As the first strains of Bach's “Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring” filled the air, Sylvia nodded to Andrew, and they walked among their friends to where the judge waited.

To Sylvia, every moment of the simple ceremony rang as true as a crystal chime. They pledged to be true, faithful, respectful, and loving to each other until the end of their days. They listened, hand in hand, as the judge reminded them of the significance and irrevocability of their promises. They exchanged rings, and when they kissed, the room erupted in cheers and applause. As Sarah and Matt came forward to sign the marriage license, Sylvia looked out upon the gathered friends wiping their eyes and smiling and knew that she and Andrew had wed surrounded by love, exactly as they knew they should.

If only Andrew's children and grandchildren were there to share this moment. If only they were as happy for Sylvia and Andrew as their friends were. Sylvia looked up at her new husband and saw in his eyes that he shared her wistful thoughts.

She reached up to touch his cheek. He put his hand over hers and smiled.

S
ylvia woke Christmas morning in the arms of her new husband.

She watched him as he slept, reminiscing about the previous night. It had truly been a marvelous wedding, exactly the sort of celebration she and Andrew had wanted. Even the Elm Creek Quilters had enjoyed themselves too much to complain that their own plans for the wedding would now have to be abandoned. “I feel sorry for Judy's daughter,” Summer had confided to Sylvia as the celebration wound down. “The Elm Creek Quilters are going to do the same thing to her that they did to you, and they won't be fooled by a surprise early wedding twice.”

“Emily?” echoed Sylvia. “I'd be more concerned about yourself.”

“I think I'll elope,” said Summer, blanching. “Or stay single.”

“Good luck, dear,” Sylvia had told her, knowing Summer was unlikely to escape that easily.

Sylvia muffled a laugh at the memory and carefully sat up in bed. Andrew slept on, undisturbed, warm and snug beneath her old Lone Star quilt. It suited the master suite perfectly, just as Sarah had assured her it would. Except for moving their clothing and other personal items into the suite they would share, Sylvia and Andrew had decided to keep their old rooms as they were. Everyone needed a private retreat every now and then, even newly married sweethearts.