The Wedding Quilt (18 page)

Sarah, Maggie, and Emily had suites ready for Leo's family by the time his mother and stepfather arrived at half past ten along with his two half sisters, one a senior in high school, the other a sophomore, both dark-haired, pretty, and given to sighing and exclaiming that it was all so romantic. Anna waited to serve lunch until after Leo's father and stepmother arrived about two hours later. Sarah watched for animosity between the two couples, but just as Caroline had assured her, they greeted one another cordially and chatted pleasantly throughout the meal.

Soon afterward, other guests arrived, in pairs and in groups—a few aunts, uncles, and cousins of Leo's; Ayana and her husband; Matt's childhood best friend and his wife; and several others who came so quickly one after the other that they must have been on the same flight. Sarah, Caroline, and Emily helped everyone find and settle into their rooms, and after everyone was settled, Sarah corralled the bridesmaids in the parlor and put them to work filling gift bags and tying bows on small boxes of chocolates that would serve as the wedding favors.

Once Sarah stopped by the kitchen to admire the final sketches Gina had made of the wedding cake, which was sure to delight the eyes as well as the taste buds. The bottom tier of the rich, luscious almond cake would be shaped as a square, the second a hexagon, the third a circle, and fourth a small square. Caroline had requested a chocolate-almond filling, and after much testing and sampling, Gina had invented one for her. Gina abhorred the taste of rolled fondant and had recommended a Swiss meringue buttercream flavored with Kahlúa instead. After frosting the entire cake smooth and glossy, Gina planned to adorn each layer with a different piped design: a crosshatch with marzipan dragées placed at the junctions for the bottom layer, elegant swirls for the hexagonal second tier, tessellated diamonds for the third, and vertical stripes for the top. A band of smooth marzipan would encircle the bottom of each tier like a satin ribbon, and a bouquet of gum paste lilies and roses in autumn hues would cascade from the top. The cake would be lovely and unique, just like the bride for whom Gina would create it.

As Gina put her sketches away, Sarah glanced out the window and spotted Matt in the parking lot helping Leo's elderly great-uncle carry luggage indoors. Hurrying outside to assist, Sarah slung a garment bag over her shoulder and led the way to the first-floor suite Leo's great-uncle and great-aunt would share. In the early days of Elm Creek Quilt Camp, all guest rooms had been on the second and third floors, but the building had no elevator, so everyone had to brave the grand oak staircase. Sarah had thought nothing of it until one of their annual campers, a longtime friend of Sylvia's named Grace Daniels, remarked that her MS made it difficult to climb all those stairs, but quilt camp was worth the effort. After that, Sarah began to wonder about the many quilters for whom stairs were not merely difficult but impossible. It troubled her to think that they had been excluded from the enriching experience of quilt camp all because Sarah had not considered their needs. By the next season, Joe had installed a ramp to complement the stairs to the back door, and Matt had remodeled three unused rooms on the first floor into accessible suites. They were available upon request, and during the camp season, they were never empty.

By late afternoon, Caroline and her bridesmaids had finished all the tasks Sarah had assigned them and were relaxing on the verandah, reminiscing and catching up on all that had come to pass since their lives had taken them in different directions. Caroline was in medical school; Ayana worked on Wall Street; Cameron was a barista and part-time musician in Chicago; Rachel was taking time off work to care for her seven-month-old in Boulder, Colorado; Mariah was attending Yale Divinity School; and Gina—Gina, of course, was the assistant chef at Elm Creek Manor, and if she had any other plans for her immediate future, personal or professional, she didn't mention them within Sarah's hearing. When the other young women mentioned their husbands or boyfriends, Gina engaged in the conversation without saying a word about her own affairs of the heart, and Sarah couldn't help wondering why.

By evening, her curiosity got the better of her. After supper, Sarah managed to get her son alone for a few moments as they helped clear the table. “Sweetheart,” she began, “can we talk for a moment?”

“Don't worry, Mom,” he said, smiling knowingly as he stacked plates dangerously high. “I've talked to Leo. He and Caroline have definitely ruled out eloping.”

“Well, of course they have. I never really thought they would. That's not what I want to talk about.” She hesitated. “I know about you and Gina.”

Startled, he set down the plates on the table with an alarming rattle of china. “Know what about me and Gina?”

“That you two are involved, or seeing each other, or whatever people your age call it these days. In my day, we would have said you're dating.”

“Oh.” He gathered up knives and forks. “You're okay with that?”

“Okay? I'm delighted. I adore Gina, and I can see that you two make each other very happy.” She gripped the back of a chair and steeled herself. “I don't want to pry, but I was hoping you would tell me why you're keeping your relationship a secret.”

He shrugged as if he had assumed their reasons were obvious. “This time should really be about Caroline and Leo. We didn't want to steal their spotlight.”

“You wouldn't have,” Sarah protested. “We would have given you your own spotlight.”

James laughed. “A spotlight, our own or anyone else's, is the last thing we want.” He piled the knives and forks on the stack of plates and hefted the whole thing with a cheerful tinkling of china.

“Careful,” Sarah couldn't resist warning as he left the banquet hall for the kitchen.

“When am I not?” he called as the door swung shut behind him.

Her gaze lingered on the door, but her thoughts were far away. Why would James believe that the revelation that he and Gina were dating, which they all had suspected anyway, would be enough to divert the attention from Caroline and Leo's wedding?

 

 

The friends Sarah most longed to see, her beloved Elm Creek Quilters, arrived within hours of one another the following morning. After putting the bridesmaids and the couple's other willing friends to work clearing the ballroom of quilt camp supplies and equipment, Sarah found herself pacing from window to window, checking the time, unable to focus on any task. At last, while making up more suites for their guests, she spotted a taxi shuttle crossing the bridge over Elm Creek. Immediately she dropped what she was doing, hurried downstairs, and flung open the back door just as the vehicle came to a stop in the parking lot. “Summer,” she cried as her friend emerged from the backseat.

“Sarah,” Summer shouted in reply. She dropped her bag on the ground and ran across the parking lot to embrace her. Her long auburn hair spilled down her back, bearing only a few faint traces of gray, and she was almost as slender as she would always remain in Sarah's memory of those first wonderful years of Elm Creek Quilts, when everything was new, and all their adventures awaited them. Suddenly Summer gasped and remembered her mother, still seated in the back of the cab, and the driver, awaiting the fare. Summer paid him and helped Gwen from the car as the driver removed their luggage from the trunk.

“Kiddo,” Gwen cried, wrapping her arms around Sarah. “Let me look at you. You don't look a day older since I last saw you—well, not many days, anyway. Still running every morning?”

“Walking, mostly.” Sarah closed her eyes, welcoming the feel of Gwen's sturdy arms around her. At seventy-eight, Gwen was stocky and stooped; she walked with a cane and wore her steely gray hair blunt-cut at the chin. But her voice still rang with confidence, as it always had, a faint trace of her Kentucky accent lingered despite decades spent in the north, and she carried with her the scent of curry and cinnamon.

“Tell me something.” Gwen grasped Sarah's shoulders, held her at arms' length, and peered up at her, shaking her head in bemusement. “How can it be possible that your baby girl is old enough to get married?”

“I'm not convinced that she is old enough,” Sarah confessed, just as Matt arrived. He greeted mother and daughter with warm hugs, endured Gwen's teasing about his disappearing hair good-naturedly, and carried their bags inside while Sarah offered her arm to Gwen. Anna met them at the back door and embraced them both, all the old rivalry with Summer long forgotten.

“Enrique sends his love, and his regrets,” Summer said as she, Gwen, Sarah, and Anna sat down at the long wooden table where they had shared countless meals and conversations through the years. “He wanted to be here, but with the new semester just begun and the kids in school, it made more sense for him to stay home.”

“Of course it does,” said Sarah, pouring each of them a glass of iced tea. “We'll miss him, but maybe you can all come to visit another time.”

“When should we get started on the quilt?” Wincing, Gwen quickly glanced over her shoulder and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw no one there. “Sorry. What a fine guest I would be if I spoiled the surprise within five minutes of my arrival.”

“I thought we should wait for the rest of our friends,” said Sarah. “But I don't suppose they'll feel left out if we start without them.”

“We can wait,” Summer said to Sarah, and then turned to Gwen. “You've been traveling all day. Just relax for a while.”

Gwen's eyebrows rose as she stirred two heaping teaspoonfuls of sugar into her glass. “You say that like I hiked all the way from California. I'm seventy-eight, not one hundred and eight, and thanks to reform laws I myself championed in Congress, I've benefited from the excellent care of skilled physicians without ever fearing that illness, injury, or unemployment would leave me the devastating choice of treatment or bankruptcy. Thank you, and you're welcome.”

“You're absolutely right.” Summer raised her palms in a gesture of appeasement. “My mistake. Feel free to run laps around the manor if you like.”

“Don't think I couldn't,” countered Gwen, grinning as she brandished her cane, evoking laughter from her friends. “Now tell us, Sarah, how many blocks do you need each of us to make?”

“I've already sewn the blocks,” Sarah explained. “I'll need your help collecting the signatures.”

Her friends cheerfully replied that they would be happy to help however Sarah needed them. She knew they felt as she did, that it was a rare and wonderful treat to be working together on a quilt again, as they had done so often in years long past. They were especially happy to collaborate on a wedding gift for their beloved Caroline, especially one they knew she would cherish as a precious memento of her wedding day. Sarah had pieced dozens of Memory Album blocks in Caroline's wedding colors of blue, sage green, ivory, and dusty pink, choosing elegant florals and rich tone-on-tones to give the quilt visual depth and texture. In the corners of each block were four right triangles, two large and two small, their vertices framing and drawing the eye toward a large, symmetrical cross at the center. Pieced from a creamy ivory solid, the central crosses were the natural focal point of each block, and it was there that Sarah would ask the wedding guests to sign their names and write a few words of love and warm wishes for the bride and groom. She had ironed freezer paper to the back of each block to stabilize the fabric, making them much easier to write upon, and she had purchased several new permanent-ink pens made especially for cloth. She planned to divide the blocks among the Elm Creek Quilters and have them surreptitiously collect signatures from the other guests at the reception. With any luck, Caroline and Leo would be too distracted by their friends, their family, and the joy of the occasion to notice the Elm Creek Quilters strolling from table to table, pens in hand, their handbags stuffed with fabric that suspiciously resembled quilt blocks. Then again, what could be any less suspicious than an Elm Creek Quilter toting fabric around the manor, even at a wedding?

On Sunday morning after the bride and groom embarked on their Hawaiian honeymoon, Sarah and her friends would bring together all of the Memory Album blocks, admire the signatures, read the heartfelt messages, and unite them in a single, beautiful quilt, a chorus of loving voices wishing the newlyweds a future blessed with happiness, joy, and love. A quilt such as this, a future treasured family heirloom, required nothing less than their most exquisite hand quilting, so after the top was complete, Sarah would layer it with soft bamboo batting and backing, and together she and her friends would quilt it, working their needles in feathered plumes and crosshatches through the three layers, adding dimension and texture with every stitch. They might not be able to finish the entire quilt before her friends' visit ended, but that was fine, because Sarah intended to present the quilt as a gift to the newlyweds at Christmas, and she would have plenty of time to add the last stitches and bind the edges before then. Even so, it wouldn't hurt to begin earlier than she had intended.

Sipping her iced tea, Sarah said, “I suppose we don't have to wait until the reception to start collecting signatures. A good third of the guests are staying right here at the manor, and many of them have already arrived. We could begin going from room to room whenever we like. Of course, we'll have to make sure Caroline is busy elsewhere and won't suddenly turn the corner and see us.”

“I'll be in charge of keeping her occupied,” offered Gwen. “The prospect of distracting Caroline while the rest of you scurry up and down the halls with your quilt blocks and pens is rich with comedic possibilities.”

“Try to be subtle about it, though,” said Sarah. “She'll know something's up if you aren't acting naturally.”