Chapter 12 #3
As Nigel continued reading, Sarah rose from the desk and came to stand beside Julia. “How is camp going so far?” she asked
softly. If Caroline heard, she was too entranced by the story to look up. “Are you and your friends enjoying the class?”
“Everything has been absolutely perfect,” Julia assured her. “We’re all having a wonderful time. I can’t thank you enough
for accommodating us in the offseason.”
“It’s my pleasure, believe me,” said Sarah. “Your generosity bought us a new roof and then some.”
Julia was very glad to hear it. “All I did was to offer a reasonable fee for the expert education, accommodations, and services
Elm Creek Quilts offers. You could have charged more and I would have paid it willingly.”
Sarah stifled a laugh. “I’ll remember that the next time a group of Hollywood stars wants to book a getaway week.” Then her
smile dimmed. “I’ve wanted to extend our season into the fall for years, and given our current financial issues, it’s almost
a necessity. If this trial run is a success, Sylvia may finally give me her blessing.”
“So you’re saying there’s more at stake than whether our merry band of players quilts flawlessly in season six?” Julia inquired,
smiling to hide a sudden pang of worry.
Sarah hesitated. “I’m saying that I’m very grateful for this opportunity,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “If there’s
anything more I can do to help you and your colleagues make the most of your visit to Elm Creek Quilt Camp, please let me
know.”
“I will, but I honestly can’t think of a thing I’d ask you to do differently. At the end of the week, you’ll hear rave reviews
from our entire company, I’m sure of it.”
Sarah thanked her with a smile, but there was strain around her eyes that Julia hadn’t noticed before.
When Nigel finished the story, Julia invited Sarah and Caroline to join them for lunch. Sarah thanked her but declined, explaining
that she and Matt usually ate together in the kitchen with the twins, whose mealtime behavior was still rather unpredictable.
“Matt and I don’t mind the occasional chaotic meal,” she added, swooping Caroline up in her arms, “but it’s not something
we want to inflict on our guests.”
So Julia and Nigel went down to the banquet hall without them, where they served themselves from the tantalizing buffet and
parted ways. Nigel had spotted a single unoccupied chair at Ellen’s table, and he was determined to claim it, while Julia
was determined to spend time with colleagues other than her closest friends. During the regular season, the Elm Creek Quilters
always dispersed among the campers rather than sitting at a table reserved for the faculty, the better to create a friendlier,
more welcoming, more inclusive atmosphere, or so Donna had said a few years ago, and she had heard it directly from an Elm
Creek Quilter. As the organizer of their quilting adventure, Julia felt more like one of the hosts than one of the campers
when they weren’t in the classroom. If anyone wasn’t perfectly content, she wanted to know so she could resolve whatever problems
there might be.
She was pleased to see an empty seat at Dylan’s table, so she joined him and four other members of the crew. They had been
engrossed in conversation as she approached, but it trailed off awkwardly as she sat down. “What did I interrupt?” she asked,
glancing around the table in mock alarm. “You’re not plotting to nominate me for a Razzie, are you?”
She was rewarded with a few chuckles, but no one rushed to answer. She tasted her salad and waited, eyebrows rising. “It’s
a union matter,” Dylan eventually said. “And you’re a producer. You’re . . . management.”
“Oh, I get it.” Julia sipped her iced tea thoughtfully. “Fair enough, but I’m an actor first and foremost, and a proud union member myself. I bet I’ve walked more picket lines than the rest of you combined. So please, as you were. Carry on.”
Dylan laughed, and others smiled, and a few nodded thoughtfully. Tentatively at first, but then with their former enthusiasm,
they resumed their friendly argument, with Julia occasionally chiming in with relevant information from her own union. They
were so engrossed that they barely noticed the banquet hall emptying, and they might have lingered at the table far longer
if Sylvia hadn’t come by to remind them that class was about to begin. Quickly, laughing at themselves, they hurried to the
classroom and took their seats with not a moment to spare.
“Now that you’ve made your three rows, let’s sew them together,” Maggie said. “First, you’ll pin carefully along the drawn
sewing line and use a running stitch to join the rows together, adding a backstitch at the beginning and the end. So far it
sounds familiar, right?”
“Yes, but it can’t be that easy,” said Olivia. “What’s the catch?”
Maggie smiled. “When you reach a seam where you sewed two squares together to make the row, you have to handle it in a certain
way. But don’t worry. It’s easy once you know the technique.”
She instructed them to pin their top row to the center row and to begin sewing, but to stop before they reached the first
seam. When everyone had caught up, Maggie demonstrated how to abut the opposing seam allowances and sew through them. “If
you’re sewing by machine, you can just sew right over the seam allowances,” she noted, “but a different technique is required
for hand sewing.”
Slowly and carefully, holding her work so it was visible from the front and from above in the overhead mirror, Maggie sewed the top row to the center row right up to where the seam allowances met, where she made a backstitch.
“On my next stitch, I just want to get to the other side of the seam allowance, so I’m not going to sew through both rows,” she emphasized.
“Slip your needle into the sewing line end point of your focus fabric square and out through the end point of the muslin square.” She demonstrated, pulling the thread all the way through and leaving the seam allowance free.
“Make another backstitch to secure it, then continue your running stitch along the sewing line until you reach another one of those seam allowance junctions. Handle that one the same as you did the first.” She looked around the room expectantly. “Are you ready to give it a try?”
Most of the class had already begun, following along throughout Maggie’s demonstration. Julia deftly sewed through her first
seam allowance and was well on her way to the second when Edna finished.
“Show off,” Julia teased.
“Jealous?”
“Very.”
They laughed together, and Maggie, curious, paused by their table. “You two are making excellent progress,” she praised, smiling.
“In fact, you’re so far ahead that I’m going to ask you to make another Nine-Patch block together.”
“Will we get extra credit?” Julia asked.
“Oh, absolutely. You’ll each receive an automatic A-plus.”
From the row in front of them, Paige turned around in her seat, eyes wide. “We’re not seriously being graded for this, are
we?”
“No, not at all,” Maggie quickly assured her, and Paige turned back around, relieved. “But I really would like you to make
another block,” Maggie told Julia and Edna, lowering her voice. “We’ll need twenty to complete our quilt top, but even with
my sample block, we’re one block short.”
“We’re on it,” Edna said. Maggie thanked them and brought them another two fat quarters.
The afternoon passed pleasantly as the Patchwork Players finished their Nine-Patch blocks.
After everyone finished sewing their top and center rows together, Maggie demonstrated how to attach the bottom row.
Even though she had urged them to make sure they were sewing the rows together in the proper order, several students had to pick out stitches, move the bottom row to the correct orientation, and try again.
The last step was to press their blocks and hold them up for the rest of the class to admire.
Maggie encouraged them to work at their own pace and to take breaks whenever they wished, whether to stretch their legs with
a walk on the verandah or to enjoy a cup of coffee or tea in the banquet hall. Conversation filled the classroom—industry
gossip, fond reminiscences about favorite moments from past seasons of A Patchwork Life, and wildly exaggerated descriptions of the hazards of filming on location in wintery rural Kansas, for the benefit of the
cast and crew who had never enjoyed that dubious pleasure. It was all so convivial and entertaining that nearly everyone lingered
until the very last aspiring quilter finished their last seam, and all twenty Nine-Patch blocks were neatly pressed and ready
to be sewn into a quilt.
“But not tonight,” Gretchen said, smiling. “Tomorrow morning will be soon enough, especially since I’ve been told that Anna
is about to serve dinner.”
The company happily returned to the banquet hall, where the conversation and camaraderie proved to be as delightful and satisfying
as Anna’s delectable cuisine. Afterward, a few left the gathering to spend time on their own, but most returned to the ballroom,
where someone had built a fire and the kitchen staff had set up the evening’s carafes of coffee, tea, and mulled apple cider
and plates of autumn desserts—mini apple tarts, pumpkin cookies, sweet potato petit fours. Paige asked Louis to play the piano
for them, so sweetly and persistently that he downed an apple tart in a single bite, brushed off his hands, and took the stage.
After entertaining them for twenty minutes with music from classic film scores, he played a dramatic glissando. “Enough of
the solo act,” he called to his audience. “I need a vocalist.” He shaded his eyes with his hand. “Is that you, Paige, raising
your hand? Fantastic, thanks for volunteering.”
“It wasn’t me,” Paige called back, shaking her head. “I think it was Miss Julia.”
“It definitely wasn’t me,” Julia said. “Go on, kid. Take the stage.”
Lindsay began chanting her name, and as everyone else joined in, Paige blushed furiously and stepped onto the dais to cheers
and applause. She and Louis conferred briefly, and as he played the opening measures of “Someone to Watch Over Me,” Paige
drew a deep, steadying breath and took center stage. She had a sweet, pure, enchanting voice, and as the young pair moved
from one jazz standard to another, Julia could not miss the smiles and swift glances they exchanged.
“Is it just me,” Nigel murmured to Julia as the delighted audience applauded between songs, “or are there sparks lighting
up that stage?”
“It isn’t just you,” Julia replied thoughtfully. Showmances could be a messy business. Julia had seen more than one successful
series go down in flames after a rancorous breakup destroyed the stars’ on-screen chemistry, but Louis wasn’t an actor so
Patchwork was in no danger of that. If nothing else, at least Paige wasn’t pining over the unavailable Noah anymore.
After Louis and Paige took their bows, Julia herself was cheerfully ordered to take over at the piano. She willingly went,
but she dragged Nigel onstage with her, he feigning reluctance so comically that everyone laughed until tears came to their
eyes. Nigel would have sung his entire repertoire of baritone show tunes except Julia’s hands were tired by the time he finished
his fifth piece. As they bowed and left the stage, Louis was persuaded to return to the piano, his audience’s cheers and applause
so loud that Julia wondered whether Sarah and Matt were struggling to put their toddler twins to bed with all that racket.
But her fleeting concern really was quickly forgotten as she gazed fondly around the room at her friends and colleagues, their
faces aglow with happiness and firelight. They were the found family she had always wanted. How could anyone expect her to
give up, bow out, and watch them go their separate ways?