Chapter 3 #2
“Thank you.” Julia followed the woman inside to a splendid foyer with a gleaming black marble floor and a high ceiling open to the third story.
Camp registration appeared to be taking place in the center of the room, judging by the long folding tables arranged there and the three name-tagged women assisting new arrivals with various forms, maps, and room keys.
Beyond the busy scene, Julia spotted a pair of closed doors on the far wall, but to her left, an open doorway revealed glimpses of what appeared to be a large, elegant room divided into smaller spaces by movable partitions.
A grand oak staircase in the corner climbed gracefully to the second story, which, like the floor above it, was open to the foyer below.
Colorful quilts in an assortment of patterns and styles hung from the high balustrades, offering an enchanting display of antique and modern pieces intermingled.
It was all so artistically striking and yet warm and comfortable that Julia felt anxiety slipping off her shoulders as easily as removing a heavy wool coat in fair weather.
“You must be tired after such a long trip,” said Sylvia. “Let’s take care of your registration and show you to your room.
Matthew will help you with your bags.” She signaled to a young man with curly blond hair, who smiled as he approached and
reached to take Julia’s luggage from the driver.
Ares put out an arm to stop him. “It’s under control, thanks.” In an undertone, he added to Sylvia, “We don’t need the entire
staff knowing where Miss Merchaud will be staying. Security. You understand.” He shrugged at Matthew. “No hard feelings, buddy.”
“Sure,” the other man replied. Julia had the distinct impression he was trying hard not to laugh.
“Matthew is our caretaker,” said Sylvia. “I assure you, he’s quite harmless.”
Julia removed her sunglasses and pretended not to notice the hush that had fallen over the other guests, who were no doubt
astonished to see wise Grandma Wilson from Family Tree going full prima donna. “Give him the bags,” she murmured to the driver. He looked from her to Ares, uncertain. “I said,
give him the bags.” At last the driver complied, and she smiled an apology to Matthew.
To her relief, the registration process went quickly, and soon she, Ares, and the caretaker with her bags were following Sylvia upstairs. “Your suite is in the west wing,” Sylvia said as they reached the second-floor landing. “You’ll have your own bath. I trust you’ll be quite comfortable.”
“Thank you,” Julia said, watching as other women went from room to room introducing themselves, as excited and happy as children
at summer camp. A few greeted Julia as she passed. She smiled guardedly in response, wondering if they recognized her out
of costume, and without all the makeup and flattering lighting.
Sylvia ushered them into a large suite with a four-poster bed covered with a blue-and-red quilt pieced of homespun plaids.
“It’s lovely,” Julia said. “Thank you, Sylvia.”
“You’re quite welcome. Now, I’ll let you settle in while I welcome our other guests.”
Ares held up a hand. “Before you go, let’s establish some ground rules.”
The older woman’s eyebrows rose.
“Miss Merchaud’s status may cause some excitement,” Ares went on. “Ordinarily Miss Merchaud goes out of her way to please
her fans, but this week, we can’t allow her to be disturbed. To that end, she’ll take her meals in her room rather than the
common dining area, and she won’t participate in any of the camp activities other than classroom instruction.”
Sylvia folded her hands. “All of our activities are voluntary, Mr. Ares.”
“Just Ares. Also, is there any way Miss Merchaud could have private instruction rather than attending classes?”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
“Then at the very least, she’ll need a table to herself at the front of the classroom.”
“I’m sure that can be arranged.”
“Ares,” Julia interjected, “I don’t think—”
“You’ll also inform your staff and other guests that they are not to address Miss Merchaud or trouble her in any way.”
Sylvia regarded him, bemused. “Do I understand you correctly? You wish me to announce that no one may speak with her?”
“Unless she speaks to them first, yes.”
“That’s absurd, and I won’t do it.” Sylvia fixed Julia with a level gaze. “And I’m tired of talking about you as if you aren’t
in the room. If you wish to ignore people who speak to you, that’s your decision, but I won’t offend my other guests by clamping
muzzles on them.”
“I never wanted that,” Julia protested. “This wasn’t my idea.”
“I’m pleased to hear that, because otherwise you’ll have a dreadful time this week. What an idea—to come to quilt camp and
refuse to make any new friends.” Sylvia shook her head in disapproval and frowned at Ares. “You see, I have a few ground rules
of my own. If they don’t suit you, I’d be happy to return your agency’s check.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Ares said tightly. “I’m sure Miss Merchaud will be able to adapt to the circumstances.”
“Good.” Sylvia returned her attention to Julia, her voice noticeably warmer. “Please inform someone on the staff if there’s
anything we can do to make your stay more enjoyable.” Her eyes flicked to Ares as if getting rid of him would be a step in
the right direction. With that, she and the caretaker left the room, closing the door behind them.
“What a crazy old bat,” Ares muttered.
“I found her quite pleasant,” Julia said. “And I do wish you had consulted me before deciding I should isolate myself in my
room all week. Maybe I would have enjoyed—”
“You’re not here to enjoy yourself. You’re here to work.”
“Observing quilters would help me prepare for my role.”
“You can observe them during your classes. The less you interact with these quilters, the less likely you’ll reveal the truth.
The press releases for the film will promote you as an expert quilter. Do you want these old biddies running to the media
with the real story?”
“I doubt the tabloids would be interested,” Julia retorted, scornful. “As secrets go, it’s not very sexy.”
“You can’t afford the risk. Maury didn’t want to tell you, but Deneford agreed to give you this part only because he thinks
you already know how to quilt. If he discovers Maury misled him, you’re out of a job, and I don’t think I need to tell you
how difficult it will be to find you another role this good.”
“I appreciate your honesty,” she said crisply, though she would have preferred a bit more tact.
It was a relief when Ares finally left her to settle into her suite, although the room felt oddly still when she was alone,
the silence broken only by the little noises she made unfastening her suitcases and opening and closing bureau drawers. From
the hallway came the sounds of the other women talking and laughing, and of quick footsteps going from room to room. Why did
all the other guests seem to know one another already, though quilt camp had barely begun?
Julia had just finished unpacking when she was startled by a knock on her own door. When she answered, a young woman with
shoulder-length reddish-brown hair smiled tentatively and introduced herself as Sarah McClure, one of the founding Elm Creek
Quilters. “The Welcome Banquet will begin in fifteen minutes,” she said. “I understand you’d prefer your meal to be brought
to your room?”
It was Ares’s preference, not hers, but Julia nodded anyway. “Yes, please.”
“Are you sure? The Welcome Banquet is one of our most beloved traditions. Aside from the delicious food and beautiful ambiance,
it’s also a chance to get to know your fellow campers before classes begin. Our Candlelight welcome ceremony will take place
afterward, outside on the cornerstone patio.” Sarah gestured to one of the windows. “It’s almost directly below your room.
If you’ve looked outside, you may have noticed the gray flagstones surrounded by evergreens and lilac bushes. The lilacs aren’t
blooming now, of course, but the late summer flowers are, and the weather this evening should be lovely.”
For a moment Julia was tempted, but then she remembered the other campers staring while Ares made a scene at registration. “Thanks, but it’s been a long day. I’d rather have dinner in my room and turn in early, if that won’t inconvenience anyone.”
“It’s no trouble at all,” Sarah assured her, but something in her voice made Julia suspect that no one in the history of Elm
Creek Quilt Camp had ever willingly skipped the Welcome Banquet and Candlelight ceremony.
After asking if Julia had any dietary restrictions or preferences, Sarah left and returned about twenty minutes later with
a sturdy wooden tray, which she placed on the small desk in the corner. “I’ll come back for the tray later,” she said, regarding
Julia hopefully, “unless you’d like to bring it down on your way to the Candlelight ceremony?”
But Julia declined a second time, pleading fatigue. Sarah smiled understandingly and wished her a good evening.
Julia had expected a club sandwich on a paper plate, but she was pleasantly surprised to discover that the chicken piccata
was perfectly seasoned, the rosemary roll flaky and warm, the mixed greens salad crisp and flavorful. The delicious food was
enhanced by the elegant china, delicate antiques Julia wouldn’t have wanted to carry up that grand oak staircase. In the center
of the plate was an emblem of a rearing horse, reminiscent of the fountain in front of the manor. Julia couldn’t help wondering
what other unexpected pleasures she had missed by not attending the banquet.
When she finished eating, Julia set her tray in the hallway outside her door, freshened up, and changed into more comfortable