Chapter 6 #3
“I’d love that,” said Julia. Nigel’s friends were unfailingly witty and fun, and it certainly would feel more like a birthday
party with more guests around the table, even if she’d never met them. “The more the merrier.”
“Excellent. Don’t worry about sending out for dinner either. I’ll bring tapas and sangria.”
“Your sangria?” she teased. “I’d better get both guest rooms ready.”
“A prudent measure,” he replied, and hung up.
Smiling to herself, she phoned into the Cross-Country Quilters’ conference call, only a minute late. She had barely said hello when her friends burst into a rousing if not entirely in tune chorus of “Happy Birthday.” Joyful tears filled her eyes as she thanked them.
“If only we were celebrating at Elm Creek Manor,” Donna said wistfully. “All of us together, one of Anna’s scrumptious cakes
on the table—”
“But no candles on it,” Julia interrupted. “Seventy open flames would be a fire hazard.”
“Seventy?” Vinnie teased. “That’s nothing. You’re still a young woman in the prime of life.”
“Maybe from your perspective,” Grace teased her in return. “But all joking aside, Julia, seventy is quite a milestone. I hope
you’re doing something special to celebrate.”
“I am indeed. I’m spending time with all of you.”
“That’s it?” Megan protested. “Not that we aren’t awesome, but—”
“You should be enjoying a lavish Hollywood soiree with all your celebrity friends,” Vinnie finished for her.
“Don’t worry, I won’t be alone,” Julia assured them. “Nigel’s coming over for dinner later, he’s bringing a couple of friends.
It won’t be a birthday party, but that’s fine with me.”
“But I thought—” Donna began, but abruptly fell silent.
“Thought what?” Grace prompted.
“Nothing,” Donna said. “Never mind. So, how are you all doing on City of Spindles? I’m finished with mine, except for removing
the paper foundation.”
They all chimed in to comically boast about their progress or lament the lack of it.
Grace had been especially busy at the De Young Museum that week setting up a new exhibit, so she hadn’t even begun.
Vinnie had finished her block on Tuesday and had resumed working on her latest jelly roll quilt.
Megan and Donna, like Julia, were about halfway through, still confident of meeting the deadline.
They chatted for a while longer, pinning sections together or removing foundation papers or some other handwork, until Julia noticed the time and realized she’d have to hurry if she hoped to freshen up before Nigel and his friends arrived.
“We shouldn’t keep you any longer, then,” Donna said hastily. “Talk to you all next week. Take care!” She hung up with a clatter.
“That was abrupt,” Vinnie remarked. “Maybe she has something in the oven.”
“She’s right, though. I really should go,” Julia said. “Thank you for the birthday wishes. You’re the best friends I could
ever wish for.”
“We know,” said Vinnie cheerily. “Bye now!”
Still smiling, Julia hung up and hurried off to get ready. The evening was cool, relative to late September in California,
and she had just finished lighting the fire in the great room when a knock sounded on the door. Smoothing her hair as she
hurried to answer, she opened the door—only to gasp at the sight of Nigel not accompanied by two fellows she had never met,
but by Ellen, Lindsay, Olivia, Noah, and Chance, plus Ellen’s longtime boyfriend and the young starlet from the Disney Channel
whom Noah had been dating, off and on, for the past three years. Each one was grinning broadly, clearly pleased with themselves
for so dumbfounding her.
“Surprise, Julia, darling,” Nigel sang, kissing her on the cheek as he swept past her into the house, his arms full of reusable
grocery bags from his favorite Spanish bistro.
Olivia was right behind him, and she kissed Julia’s cheek too. “Happy birthday, Julia,” she said. “May all your birthday wishes
come true.” Julia thanked her with a quick, warm embrace. Although they played fierce rivals on the show, Olivia was one of
the friendliest people Julia had ever met. She was in her mid-thirties, and once, early in their acquaintance, after Julia
had fretted that the age difference between them was so obvious that no one would ever believe Ben would prefer Sadie to Charity,
Olivia had refused to accept that. “You’re gorgeous, and with you playing her, Sadie is compelling and desirable. Of course
Ben prefers her.” That staunch defense had endeared her to Julia forever.
“Happy birthday, Julia,” Noah said, his arm slung with casual affection over the starlet’s shoulders. She echoed his words prettily, wobbling slightly on her platform shoes.
“You remembered my birthday?” Julia asked, her surprise fading as she held open the door wider so they all could troop in.
“Of course. It’s the same date as last year,” said Ellen, lugging a box of wine bottles and flavored seltzers, appearing slightly
wounded by the suggestion that she would not keep track of such an important occasion.
“My mom reminded me a month ago,” Lindsay confessed, pausing to clasp Julia’s hand and kiss her cheek. “Happy birthday!”
That explained Donna’s haste to end the call. Lindsay must have told her that instead of Nigel and two companions, a crowd
of unexpected guests were planning to descend on Julia’s home.
Soon Nigel was mixing up sangria while Ellen poured seltzers for the teetotalers and the underaged. Julia raced to add a few
more place settings to the table while Noah and Chance unpacked the take-out containers and the starlet searched Julia’s kitchen
drawers for serving utensils. Then they gathered around the table, where they regaled Julia with the birthday song and made
amusing toasts in her honor. Over shared small plates of stuffed olives, gambas al ajillo, a variety of empanadas, albóndigas with mushrooms, patatas bravas with lemon aioli, and berenjenas con miel, they talked and teased and reminisced, until Julia was full and her face ached from smiling.
This, she thought as she gazed affectionately around the table at her friends and the plus-ones. This was everything and all that
mattered. Why would anyone let it slip through their fingers in their eagerness to seize some shiny new trinket?
Afterward, as they headed to the theater room to watch the latest episode of A Patchwork Life, Julia’s hopes soared at such irrefutable evidence of how much they all adored the show and their castmates. One week at
Elm Creek Quilt Camp and they would remember what they had, how precious it was, and why they should hold on to it.
Now everything depended upon convincing Sylvia to give her blessing to their actors’ quilting boot camp.
The next morning, Julia asked her assistant to track down the very best florist shop in the Elm Creek Valley, which, according
to her trusted sources, was Sweet Briar Floral of Summit Pass, Pennsylvania. Julia ordered an arrangement to be delivered
to Elm Creek Manor the following morning, a lovely autumnal bouquet of blue delphiniums, blush and yellow roses, and burgundy
smoke bush leaves in a crystal vase. Next, preferring the personal touch of a handwritten note, she addressed an elegant card
to “My dear friends at Elm Creek Orchards,” saying, “Warm congratulations and all best wishes for your grand opening. Your
friend and admirer, Julia Merchaud.” She added a postscript, especially for Sylvia: “Please call me tonight to let me know
how your premiere went. I’d also like to discuss a small matter of business with you.” She sealed the envelope and overnighted
it to the florist, having obtained his assurances that he would wait until he received the card and deliver it with the bouquet.
Then all Julia could do was wait.
On Saturday, she still had plenty of birthday emails and phone calls to respond to, as well as her daily self-care routine
and a few work-related tasks to complete, but even then she had too much time to fill with clock watching and worst-case-scenario
plotting. She was tempted to phone the manor, but Sarah had urged her not to, and it was very likely that the Elm Creek Quilters
and resident husbands were preoccupied with managing the vast crowds of apple pluckers wandering happily through the orchards
on their grand opening day. Julia hoped they would be much too busy to answer the phone, even if that meant she would have
to wait until Sylvia called her.
When her phone finally rang just as she was sitting down to dinner—farro with blistered cherry tomatoes and spinach, courtesy of her personal chef—her heart thumped to see a familiar area code in the caller ID.
She took a steadying breath and picked up on the second ring.
“Sylvia, darling,” Julia greeted her, her voice warm and mellifluous. “How was your grand premiere?”
“Very grand indeed,” Sylvia replied, “as befitting that gorgeous bouquet you sent. Thank you, dear, on behalf of us all.”
“You’re very welcome. So you had a good turnout? Apples were plucked, fun was had?”
“Oh, absolutely. Attendance well exceeded my most optimistic expectations. We had to stay open twenty minutes past closing
to ring up all the sales. If this keeps up throughout the harvest, we should earn a very handsome profit.”
“That’s wonderful. Congratulations.” Julia sighed wistfully. “I do wish I could have been there. You make it sound like such
fun. Unfortunately, I think the harvest will be over by the time I return to Elm Creek Manor.”
“This year’s harvest will be, but not to worry. The Zestar and Ginger Gold will be ripe and ready for picking when you and
the other Cross-Country Quilters arrive for your annual reunion next August.”
“As a matter of fact,” Julia remarked, teasing out the phrase, “I’m hoping to return much sooner than that, which brings me
to that small matter of business I wanted to discuss with you.”
“Now you’ve piqued my curiosity. What can I do for you?”
“First, the good news. Filming will begin on the sixth season of A Patchwork Life early next year.”