Chapter 7 #3
himself with shoving the ring in his pocket and snarling, “Fine. You were never good enough for me, anyway.”
Lindsay wasted no more words on him. She rose, walked to her car without looking back, and drove home to visit her father
and sister before catching an evening flight to LAX.
Julia had invited Donna and Lindsay to stay with her while they were in Southern California.
By day, they worked together at the Culver City back lot or on the outdoor set in Malibu Creek State Park in Calabasas.
On weekends Julia escorted them around to the iconic tourist destinations they were most eager to see—the Hollywood sign, the Chinese Theatre, and the Walk of Fame—or to her own favorite scenic places known only to locals.
In the evenings they might relax by Julia’s pool, or Julia and Donna would work on their challenge quilt blocks while Lindsay read, chatted with her friends on the phone, or watched classic films in the theater room.
Lindsay smiled indulgently whenever she came upon Julia and Donna reminiscing fondly about Elm Creek Quilt Camp.
“I think you two would move in permanently if you could,” she teased, and neither denied it.
Julia was forlorn when shooting wrapped, the film went into post-production, and Donna and Lindsay returned to Minnesota.
Except for her housekeeper and gardener, a widow and her son who resided in the guesthouse, Julia had lived alone since her
second divorce, and she had forgotten how pleasant companionship could be. Thoughts of her upcoming reunion with the Cross-Country
Quilters at Elm Creek Quilt Camp offered some consolation, and she rewarded herself for surviving Deneford and Rowan with
a week at Aurora Borealis, her favorite spa. But when she returned home, pampered and refreshed, awaiting her was a curt,
cryptic note from Deneford summoning her and Ares to a meeting.
Ellen had been called in too, Julia discovered when she and Ares arrived at the studio two days later, along with the other
lead actors, their agents, and an excessive number of assistants. Deneford wasted no time in pleasantries before breaking
the bad news: A test audience of men aged eighteen to thirty-five had viewed an early cut, and they didn’t like it.
“Since when is our intended audience eighteen-to-thirty-five-year-old men?” asked Ellen, bewildered.
“Excellent question,” said Julia.
“Obviously we had hoped for a better response, but I’m confident that the film is salvageable. Sorry, people, but that means we reshoot.” Ignoring the groans, Deneford looked to Ellen, slouching unhappily in her chair at the far end of the table. “Is your calendar clear for rewrites?”
“Clear enough,” she said. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but what sort of changes did you have in mind?”
“I’ve decided to ax all the quilting stuff.”
Julia started. “I beg your pardon?”
“We’re going to lose the quilting.” Deneford regarded her, brow furrowed. “Surely you don’t have a problem with that. Now
you won’t have to admit to the world you hired a stunt quilter for your scenes.”
“I could live with that,” Julia said. “Stephen, do you really think such a drastic change is necessary? Quilting is the metaphor
that binds the entire story together.”
“Not to mention that it’s how Sadie supports her family and saves her farm,” Ellen added.
“I had some thoughts about that, too,” Deneford said. “Our test audience thought earning money from quilting was, well, a
little tame. I decided she’ll run a bordello instead.”
Deneford’s assistant held up his hands as if framing a sign. “Think Little House on the Prairie meets Die Hard meets Pretty Woman.”
Ellen blanched. “You’re going to make Sadie Henderson a prostitute?”
“At least at first,” Deneford said. “Later, when the money starts rolling in, she’ll become the madam.”
That proved to be too much for Ellen, who couldn’t bear to see her great-grandmother’s life story so distorted. Julia knew
her only options were to cooperate with Deneford or quit, so she followed Ellen out the door.
Afterward, Julia’s role was entirely recast and only a few glimpses of Donna’s quilting made it to the final cut, but Lindsay’s name still appeared in the credits.
More important, time and distance had given Lindsay perspective, rekindling her creative aspirations as well as her confidence.
In August, when the Cross-Country Quilters reunited at Elm Creek Quilt Camp, Julia was thrilled when Donna announced that Lindsay had decided to return to college.
Not only that, she was transferring to the University of Southern California, where she had been accepted into the School of Cinematic Arts.
Lindsay’s training at USC included internships on other feature films. After she earned her degree, Julia was all too happy
to take her on as a production assistant for A Patchwork Life. Before long Lindsay worked her way up to assistant director, which led to other opportunities in television and movies.
The gig with America’s Back Roads was only the most recent, and Julia was certain Lindsay would soar even higher in the years to come.
But that didn’t mean it was time to leave A Patchwork Life behind.
Julia reached the café five minutes late thanks to the traffic on the 101, but she still arrived before Lindsay. It was such
a beautiful day that she asked for a table in the courtyard, where a pergola offered just the right amount of shade. A tall,
encircling hedge of bougainvillea reminded Julia fondly of the cornerstone patio at Elm Creek Manor.
She was sipping a cup of honey chamomile tea when Lindsay arrived in a rush. “Sorry I’m late,” she said breathlessly, dropping
into the chair opposite Julia’s. “You know how it is when you plan a day’s shoot.”
“All too well. You stay on schedule for the first five minutes, but then you’re at the mercy of the weather, the performers,
technical difficulties—” Julia waved a hand airily. “Believe me, I get it.”
“In this case, the interview had just taken a very interesting turn and I couldn’t bear to cut him off. Did you order yet?”
“Just the tea so far. But I know what I want.”
Lindsay quickly skimmed the menu, and when the server approached, they both ordered salads and a plate of goat cheese and
arugula flatbread to share, and Lindsay asked for a cappuccino. “So what’s going on?” she asked, lowering her voice confidentially,
her smile suggesting concern as well as curiosity. “Why do you need my help?”
“First, the bad news. Nigel, Ellen, Noah, and Chance are all planning to leave the show.”
“Oh, so it’s official?”
“You mean you knew?”
“Sure. It came up at the full-cast meeting. And Nigel wouldn’t have said he was leaving in front of those studio execs at
the Christmas party unless he meant it.”
“I thought it was a ploy for more money.”
“I can see why you might have.” Lindsay shook her head. “Wow. Four leads bowing out. It’s hard to imagine how the show could
continue without them.”
Julia studied her. “I thought you’d be more upset. I’m upset. Why am I the only one upset?”
“Julia, what do you—” Lindsay fell silent for a moment as the server returned with her cappuccino. “Of course this is sad,”
she continued when he had walked away. “I’ll be sorry to say goodbye to everyone too, but isn’t that the nature of this business?
We come together, we create something wonderful, and then we move on to something new, each of us better for the time spent
in good company.”
“You’re remarkably philosophical for someone so young,” said Julia wryly. “As for me, I don’t want the series to end. I’ve
put my heart and soul into it, and trust me when I say the camaraderie we’ve enjoyed on this set is a rare and precious thing.”
“That’s a fair point.” Lindsay sipped her cappuccino pensively. “What’s the good news?”
“What do you mean?”
“You said, ‘First, the bad news.’ What’s the good news?”
“There is no good news, only more bad news. Elm Creek Quilts is in trouble.”
Lindsay set down her cup. “Oh, no. Really? What sort of trouble?”
“Financial. From the sound of it, operating expenses are up sharply, revenues are flat, and some major remodeling projects
might just push them over the edge.”
“Over the edge into bankruptcy?”
“No one used that word, but—”
“But that would be terrible,” Lindsay exclaimed. “My mom absolutely loves quilt camp. She’d be heartbroken if they closed—”
She drew in a breath sharply. “They aren’t going to close, are they?”
“Not if we can help it. I think it’s possible to solve both of these problems with the same solution.”
Lindsay shook her head, uncomprehending. “I don’t see the connection.”
The server arrived with their meal, forcing another pause in their conversation. Julia smiled and thanked him, watching from
the corner of her eye as Lindsay tried to puzzle it out.
When they were alone again, Julia said, “We take the cast and crew on a road trip to Elm Creek Quilt Camp to refresh our quilting
skills, or to learn for the first time, as the case may be. We’ll have such a wonderful time together that everyone will want
to give Patchwork another few seasons. Our fees will give Elm Creek Quilts a much-needed cash infusion, enough for them to fix their roof and
set something aside for the next disaster. It’ll work. Trust me.”
“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” Lindsay said carefully, picking up her fork. “It’s just—”
“What?”
“Well, as far as schemes go, this is less Ocean’s Eleven and more . . . A Simple Plan. Not to imply that you’re an aspiring criminal mastermind or anything.”
“Maybe it isn’t a foolproof plan, but I have to try,” said Julia, impassioned. “Let’s say for the sake of argument that we
convince the cast and crew to join us at quilt camp—or rather, to spend a marvelous week at a luxurious nineteenth-century
mansion amid the autumnal splendor of rural central Pennsylvania, for a restful yet productive working vacation they’ll never
forget.”
Lindsay laughed. “Wow, Julia. Way to spin it. You should write advertising copy.”
“I’ll keep my day job, thanks.” With Lindsay’s help, she just might.
“Look, if nothing else, we’ll enjoy a wonderful time together and return to the set with improved quilting skills and a greater understanding of quilting heritage, all of which will help us make season six our best yet.
If things go as I hope, those who are planning to leave might have second thoughts, which would help the rest of us remain employed a little while longer. ”
“Employment is good,” Lindsay admitted.
“Plus, we’ll help Elm Creek Quilts stay in business.”
“Also a very good thing.” Lindsay toyed with her fork, thinking. “All right. I suppose it wouldn’t do any harm, and I can’t
think of a better plan. If nothing else, we’ll be supporting Elm Creek Quilts, and I’ll gladly do that, for my mom’s sake.”
She hesitated. “What exactly do you need me to do?”
“You can be the first to sign up for our quilting retreat—well, second, after me—and you can encourage others to join us.”
“I’d be happy to spend a week at Elm Creek Manor, but I wish we were going to quilt camp to improve our skills, without any
other agenda. I don’t like inviting our friends under false pretenses.”
“Then don’t,” said Julia airily as she sprinkled balsamic vinaigrette on her salad. “Invite them for the quilt camp experience
alone. I’ll be the one with the ulterior motives. Your conscience is clear.”
Lindsay eyed her, skeptical, and helped herself to a piece of flatbread. Yet by the time they finished lunch, Lindsay had
agreed to attend quilt camp and to recruit other campers from among the production crew. Julia would see to the cast. “And
I’ll talk to Ellen as well,” she added as they were walking to their cars. “She’s in production, not in the cast, but we have
a history.”
They all had a history, and if Julia’s scheme worked—when it worked—they would make more of it together.