Chapter 15
When Julia returned to the ballroom, she found six of her colleagues stitching away at the quilting frame, another four watching
over their shoulders, and everyone else gathered around the longarm machine, where Sarah was guiding Louis through the rudimentary
steps of free-motion quilting. Paige stood at his side, complimenting him and apparently teasing him too, if his grin was
any indication. Reluctant to kill the happy mood by taking Paige aside and telling her about Stephen Deneford’s unsettlingly
odd phone call, Julia decided to let the matter drop. There was no point in worrying Paige needlessly. If Deneford didn’t
return Julia’s call by the time she left Elm Creek Manor, she’d steel herself, invite him to lunch, and explain the regrettable
uncertainty about Patchwork’s future. She’d even pick up the check afterward. That should make up for her careless talk.
Taking a cleansing breath, acknowledging her uneasy thoughts, one by one, she deliberately let them go.
Then she returned to the company, taking another turn at the quilting frame and even trying her hand at the longarm.
Later, after supper, her lingering misgivings were put to rest when everyone gathered by the fireplace to read a new scene Ellen had written for Sadie, Ben, Jesse, and Anabelle.
Julia and Nigel jousted as magnificently as ever, while Paige and Louis were riveting in an exchange of sharply comic barbs that suggested an undercurrent of desire between the characters, sure to be explored later in the season.
At the end of the scene, as the performers bowed to their colleagues’ applause, Nigel leaned closer to Julia and murmured,
“Is it just me, or are they the new us?”
“It’s not just you,” Julia replied as they returned to their seats. “I see it too. The only difference is that they’re younger
and they’re actually attracted to each other. And Louis isn’t an actor, more’s the pity.”
“That was fantastic,” said Ellen, glancing up long enough to beam at Paige and Louis before bending over her script again,
swiftly jotting notes in the margins, crossing out passages, circling a paragraph and drawing an arrow to indicate where it
should be moved.
“If it was so awesome, why are you changing everything?” teased Paige as she took a seat beside Louis.
“I’m just fine-tuning a few things,” said Ellen, but it certainly looked like much more than that to Julia.
“You’re actually very good at this, Louis,” said Olivia, regarding him speculatively. “Have you ever considered acting?”
“I had the same thought,” Nigel declared. “You have a marvelous speaking voice and a compelling presence.”
As others chimed in with their agreement, Louis shook his head and raised his hands to fend them off. “No, thanks,” he said
emphatically, smiling. “Not interested. I only want to be onstage or on camera if I’m at the piano.”
“Pity,” said Nigel. “Ah, well. More roles for the rest of us.”
In reply, Louis threw him a grin and made his way to the piano, where he let loose with a rendition of John Coltrane’s “Giant
Steps,” clearly intending to prove his point that he shouldn’t change careers. He graciously entertained them for the rest
of the evening, occasionally accompanied by Paige on vocals. They were still at it when Julia, though reluctant to be the
first to leave the gathering, nevertheless bade her friends good night and headed off to bed, tired but content.
The next morning, when Paige didn’t appear for Zumba class, Julia and Olivia exchanged a significant look. “She and Louis must have stayed up late making music together,” Julia speculated as they toweled off after the workout.
“Oh, I have no doubt they did,” Olivia replied archly. “But not at the piano.”
Julia gasped as if scandalized. “What are you suggesting?”
“Exactly what you’re thinking,” Olivia countered, grinning.
Later, when Julia came down to join breakfast already in progress, she noticed that neither Paige nor Louis was there. “Have
our Perdita and Florizel put in an appearance this morning?” she asked Nigel in an undertone as she took the seat beside him.
“I haven’t seen either of them, neither separately nor together,” said Nigel, glancing surreptitiously around the room. “Perhaps
their ‘bud of love, by winter’s ripening breath, may prove a beauteous flower when next’ they appear—if you’ll pardon the
paraphrase of the Bard, and the change of play.”
“I don’t mind the paraphrase,” said Julia, “but let’s not liken our friends to Romeo and Juliet. I’ll take A Winter’s Tale and its happy ending any day.”
“And yet,” murmured Nigel, looking past Julia to the doorway from the foyer, “perhaps, as a tragedy, Romeo and Juliet is more fitting after all.”
“What do you mean?” asked Julia, turning in her chair to look. She drew in a breath at the sight of Paige and Louis entering
the banquet hall, his arm around her shoulders, her face streaked with tears.
Conversations faded as the company became aware of the young woman’s distress. “What’s the matter, honey?” Edna called.
“She’s had some bad news,” Louis said as he led Paige to a seat at the nearest table. She sat down woodenly, and when her
gaze fell on the napkin at her place, she picked it up and dabbed at her eyes.
“How bad?” asked Jason, brow furrowing. “Is your family okay?”
“Yes,” Paige said, nodding, and then shaking her head. “Yes, everybody’s fine.”
“Even so, a cup of tea wouldn’t go amiss,” said Nigel, touching Julia’s shoulder in passing as he went to fetch Paige a cup.
The gesture roused Julia from her paralysis. “What happened, kiddo?” she asked, hurrying over to take a seat by her side.
“It’s—well, I had a call from—” Paige’s gaze traveled from Julia to the rest of the company as they gathered around. “I’m
sorry, guys. I didn’t mean to scare y’all. I’m just—sad. And disappointed. And confused.”
“Why?” asked Julia. “What happened?”
“Maybe we can help,” said Dylan, folding his arms over his broad chest.
“Don’t I wish. I just got off the phone with my agent.” Paige took a deep, tremulous breath. “I probably mentioned that she’s
been trying to line up a new project for me for after Patchwork wraps.”
Everyone nodded—except for Julia, who froze.
“All week she’s been super busy working out the details for this fantastic movie role I really wanted. It’s a lead in a big,
sweeping, historical epic—lots of drama and romance, gorgeous costumes, on-location shoots in real castles, you know.”
“We know,” said Olivia, wincing slightly as if bracing herself for the reveal, which they all had guessed by then.
“I totally thought I had the part.” Paige shook her head, bewildered. “Then, just this morning, my agent got an email from
the director’s assistant withdrawing the offer. My agent called the director right away, but all he would say is that he’s
going in another direction, whatever that’s supposed to mean.”
A murmur of dismay went up from the company. “That’s a dreadful blow, my dear,” said Nigel, handing her a cup of tea, which
was no doubt well fortified with milk and sugar. “This ill-mannered director will rue the day he squandered the chance to
cast you, of that I’ve no doubt.”
“Thank you, Nigel.” Paige took a careful sip of the tea. “I just really wanted this part. I needed this part. It was going to be my breakthrough role.”
“You’ll have another chance,” Julia said. “We’ve all been passed over for roles we thought were in our grasp. It’s painful
and demoralizing, but something else always comes along.”
“Julia’s right,” said Olivia, offering Paige a commiserating smile. “Unfortunately, rejection is a part of the industry. It’s
never fun, but we all have to learn to deal with it.”
“Stiff upper lip, my dear,” said Nigel, his baritone rumble kind and consoling. “Julia is right: Something better is certain
to come along soon. When that happens, you’ll be glad you’re not committed to this other picture.”
“Maybe,” said Paige, clearly dubious. But as her fellow actors chimed in with stories of their own dream roles that got away,
and Ellen and Jason threw in tales of beloved scripts that were optioned and never produced, the doubt clouding her expression
began to lift.
Julia shared a story of her own, one she had confided to only a small circle of close friends. Nigel and Maury knew, of course,
and the Cross-Country Quilters, but very few others. “When I first came to Hollywood right out of college, where I’d been
the star of every theater department production, I struggled for about five years, waiting tables, auditioning like mad, and
being grateful for every bit part I was given,” she said. “Somehow I managed to get an agent, which led to better roles and
some critical acclaim, but that breakthrough role still eluded me. Then the day I had longed for finally came. My agent told
me I was in the running for the part of Marian Paroo in The Music Man.”
“But Shirley Jones played Marian,” said Jason, puzzled.
Julia gave him a look. “Yes, thank you, Jason. I was there. I remember.”
“No spoilers, please,” said Paige, her gaze fixed on Julia.
“So, no, I didn’t get the part. Shirley Jones was a full-fledged star, after all, and I was not. What can I say? I was crushed.
My parents were begging me to come home to Iowa, help run the farm, and settle for community theater.”
“Good heavens,” said Nigel, appalled. “You never told me you had considered abandoning Hollywood for am-dram.”
“That’s because I never did. Maury believed in me, and when I told him I would take any respectable job if it meant I could
pay my rent before my roommates threw me out, he found me a voice-over role for a documentary about the Triangle Shirtwaist
Factory disaster.”
“Threads and Ashes,” said Lindsay.
“Yes, that’s right.” Julia smiled wistfully, remembering. “I didn’t meet the director in person until recording had already
begun. One afternoon, when I was reading my lines—headset on, microphone before me—Charles Bryson himself walked into the