Chapter 4 #3
“ ‘Desperate’ has unflattering connotations,” said Grace. “Maybe ‘anxious’ is a better word.”
“Well, maybe I am anxious about the future,” said Julia, a bit defiant. “I just found out that I’m going to lose a job I love, working with
people I absolutely adore, with no guarantee that anything else will come along.”
“Something will,” Grace said. “You have an entire year to find it.”
“I’d rather put off that search quite a bit longer.” Inhaling deeply, Julia managed a shaky laugh. “You know, I wasn’t only
looking for sympathy when I spilled the tea. I was hoping you could help me figure out how to convince Ellen and the others
to stay with the show.”
Her friends were silent so long that Julia prompted, “Are you still there?”
“Forgive me,” Grace ventured, “but I’m not convinced that would be the best use of your time and creative energy.”
“I’m with Grace,” said Megan. “They’re adults, and they’re free to make their own decisions. I think you should focus on searching
for your own fantastic new series or movie or whatever.”
“Yes, and with deciding what to do in season six so you can resolve all the storylines and give the audience a satisfying
conclusion,” said Grace.
“That will definitely be important when we finally wrap up the series,” Julia said patiently, “but again, as I said, I’d like
to postpone that a few years. Vinnie? Donna? Any thoughts?”
“Would a raise persuade them?” asked Donna. “If the studio or the network could outbid those other offers, that would be a
good incentive to stay, wouldn’t it?”
“I thought of that too,” said Julia. “Unfortunately, I can’t imagine that the network could match what Nigel is likely getting
from Warner Brothers. Then there’s Noah. He’s willingly forgoing any pay to attend college. I don’t think money will motivate
him.”
“Have you tried simply asking your friends to stay?” Vinnie asked. “Maybe if they knew how much it means to you, they’d stick around for another season or two, as a special favor to you.”
“They know how I feel,” said Julia, remembering the scene at the party. “And I can’t ask them to make major life and career
decisions simply as a favor to me. They have to choose to stay not because it’s what I want, but because it’s what’s best for them too.”
“But what if staying isn’t what’s best for them?” asked Grace.
“I honestly believe that it is.”
“I’m sure you do,” said Megan, “but you’re not exactly an objective observer.”
Julia laughed, forlorn. “No, I’m definitely not.”
“Then I think you have your answer, even though you may not like it,” said Grace. “They have to decide on their own that it’s
in their best interest to stay with the show—if that is, in fact, true.”
“You could remind them what they’d miss if they left,” said Donna.
“But if they do decide that they should move on, you should let them go, willingly and with love,” said Megan. “Don’t let
your personal disappointment ruin the friendship.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” exclaimed Julia.
“Then tread carefully,” Grace warned. “To be honest, I can imagine many ways this could backfire on you spectacularly.”
“I won’t let that happen. If I have to choose between saving the show and preserving the friendship, I’ll always put the friendship
first, front, and center.”
Her friends murmured approvingly, then fell into a contemplative silence. Julia thought she heard the snip of scissors through
fabric.
“Well, I don’t feel like we’ve been especially helpful here,” Vinnie grumbled.
“That’s not so,” said Julia. “I’m feeling much better.”
“I don’t see why. You still don’t know what to do.”
“Maybe not, but you all were willing to listen to my tale of woe, and you offered me sympathy and your honest opinions. I can work with that.”
“I’m glad you’re feeling less anxious,” said Donna, “but as soon as we hang up, I feel like I should call Lindsay and tell
her to start polishing her résumé.”
“Please don’t do that,” Julia begged. “It’s too soon. The show hasn’t been canceled yet—and if I have my way, it won’t be.”
“But if my daughter’s job is in jeopardy—”
“It isn’t. We have an entire season yet to shoot. Lindsay still has a year’s worth of paychecks coming.” Julia thought quickly.
“Obviously Lindsay isn’t worried or she would have called you, right?”
“Well . . .” Donna hesitated. “I suppose that’s true.”
“Then why stress her out about something that might be nothing, especially with the Emmys coming up?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to do that,” said Donna. “Okay, I won’t say anything. Lindsay should enjoy the ceremony and the parties
without worrying about unemployment looming on the horizon.”
“It isn’t looming,” Julia insisted, but she doubted Donna believed her.
Three days later, when her phone rang on the morning of the Emmys and she glimpsed Lindsay’s number in the caller ID, she
felt a frisson of dread. What if Donna’s worries had gotten the better of her, and she had passed on her anxiety to her daughter?
But to Julia’s relief, her young friend greeted her cheerfully, thanking her again for the invitation and chatting happily
about her gown, the expensive jewelry she had borrowed from a friend, and her upcoming appointment at the salon so she would
look red carpet ready. “Anyway,” Lindsay eventually said, “I’m actually calling about a work thing.”
“The Emmys are a work thing when your show is nominated,” Julia reminded her.
“True. But this question comes from production design. In episode four, when Sadie is stuck overnight at Ben’s ranch, he offers her his bed while he takes a quilt on the floor in front of the fireplace in the other room—”
“And neither Sadie nor Ben can sleep, kept awake by longing. Yes, I remember the scene.”
“The question is about Ben’s quilt. It isn’t vintage. The prop master had it made using reproduction fabrics.”
“That’s what I assumed, given its good condition. I think I mentioned that I saw an antique quilt using the same block in
an exhibit at the Waterford Historical Society last August.”
“Yes, I remembered that, which is why I’m calling. Production design wants us to confirm that the pattern definitely would
have existed in Sadie’s day. I don’t know the block name, so I couldn’t look it up.”
Julia closed her eyes and thought. She could picture the quilt hanging on the Union Hall gallery wall vividly, but her memory
of the description offered on the object placard was a bit vague. “I know it was called the Sugar Camp Quilt, but I can’t
remember the block name.”
“Do you remember when it was made?”
“Not off the top of my head, but I brought home an exhibit program.” Pressing the phone to her ear with her shoulder, she
began opening desk drawers and leafing through papers. “Let me look for it and I’ll get back to you. We won’t have to cut
those scenes if the quilt pattern turns out to be a historical anomaly, will we?”
“That’ll be up to the director, but personally I think the scenes are too good to lose. We’ll just have to brace ourselves
for an onslaught of corrections from sharp-eyed viewers.”
“Great. Well, maybe we’ll get lucky. I’ll do my best to have an answer for you before I swing by in the limo to pick you up
for the Emmys.”
Lindsay squealed. “I’m sorry,” she said, laughing at herself. “I know I should be able to play it cool by now, but I will
never not be excited to be whisked off to the Emmys in a limo.”
“I sincerely hope not,” said Julia. The world was already overfull with the bored and the cynical. She hoped Lindsay would always retain her sense of wonder and delight.
Julia was certain she had saved a program, but she also had a vague memory of autographing it for a grateful fan as she and
Vinnie left the gallery. When after a good twenty minutes neither she nor her assistant nor her housekeeper could find it,
and with her stylist reminding her with increasing urgency of her appointments for hair, makeup, and mani-pedi, Julia abandoned
the search. While her stylist paced the length of her study, stealing increasingly frantic glances at her watch, Julia composed
a quick email to Summer Sullivan, the exhibit’s curator and the youngest founding Elm Creek Quilter. Explaining their hope
to avoid historical anachronism, she asked for the date the Sugar Camp Quilt had been made, the name of the block that figured
most prominently in it, and the year the block had been invented or its earliest known appearance in existing quilts or in
print. Julia closed by asking Summer to give her best to all the Elm Creek Quilters, and almost as a postscript, asked how
things were going at Elm Creek Manor now that quilt camp was over for the year. She honestly had no idea how the Elm Creek
Quilters filled their hours during the offseason. Quilting and planning for the next year of camp, probably, she mused as
she clicked send and put her computer to sleep.
“I’m all yours for the next few hours,” she promised her stylist as she rose. Julia knew well that it was as important to
look fabulous when losing an award as when she won, perhaps even more so.
But maybe she ought to jot down a quick acceptance speech, just in case.