Chapter 18 #2
with them. “Our Nine-Patch quilt isn’t yet finished,” she noted. “If you all agree, I’d like us to finish it together. We
could autograph our blocks and donate the quilt to the Big Brothers Big Sisters of Greater Los Angeles. I’m sure it would
be a popular item in the silent auction at their annual fundraiser.” She invited everyone to gather on Sunday at her place,
where she would set up a quilt frame, provide all the necessary sewing supplies, and serve an autumnal buffet lunch. “Please
reply to RSVP,” she concluded. “Hope to see you all soon.”
She hit send and waited a few moments, then put the computer to sleep and left the room without looking back.
Her time would be much better spent working on her Cross Plains block rather than staring morosely at the computer screen, refreshing her inbox every two minutes in hope and dread of her colleagues’ replies.
After an hour of pinning and sewing ridiculously small triangles and squares together, curiosity won out and she returned
to check her email. To her relief, Ellen, Lindsay, Nigel, and Edna had already replied to say that they would attend. They
had, in fact, replied to all, so that everyone else would understand that they were no longer subjecting Julia to the cut
direct, casting her out of society.
“Don’t be so dramatic,” she muttered.
She was just about to return to her sewing room when her computer pinged, alerting her to a new email from Ellen. “I thought
you should know that Paige told the other campers that her agent said you marched into Deneford’s office and refused to leave
until he agreed to cast her,” she wrote. “That must have been fun. I wish I’d been there to see it. I think it’s safe to say
that all is forgiven.”
Julia fervently wanted to believe it, but until she heard from Paige, she couldn’t be sure.
She worked on her Cross Plains block throughout the afternoon, pausing occasionally to rest her fingers, to stretch, to discuss
her next week’s schedule with her assistant, and to take a few phone calls from Maury. Dinner would be a solitary affair,
delicious and healthy, thanks to her personal chef, but quiet and lonely compared to the convivial meals she had enjoyed among
friends in the banquet hall of Elm Creek Manor.
On her way to the fridge to inspect her options, she paused once more to check her email. Her heart thudded when she discovered
that Paige had replied.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, Julia opened the email.
“I wouldn’t miss it!” Paige had written. “Don’t know about y’all but I need to practice quilting before we start filming.
Should I bring anything for the buffet?”
Then, as if Paige’s acceptance had given everyone else permission, nearly all the other cast and crew had replied, most to say that they were coming, some to send their regrets and to demand that the attendees share photos and recaps afterward.
Overwhelmed with relief, Julia responded to say that they needn’t provide anything for the buffet, but if they had any favorite
sewing tools, they should bring them along.
Then she sprang into action, mindful that it was almost end-of-business on a Friday and she had not a moment to lose.
She called her personal chef, who also ran a professional event catering business. After insisting upon paying a premium for
the short notice, she arranged for a seasonal buffet that would make Chef Anna proud. Next she called her local quilt shop,
and when she explained that she needed a state-of-the-art quilt frame, they gave her the contact information for their preferred
distributer. She phoned the company, but when she identified herself, the man who answered the phone thought it was a prank
and promptly hung up. She sighed and dialed again. This time she kept the fellow on the line long enough to convince him that
yes, she was that Julia Merchaud, and yes, she needed a quilt frame for the real cast and crew of A Patchwork Life, because yes, they actually were quilters, ranging from novice to experienced.
“I can have our best model delivered to your residence tomorrow afternoon,” he assured her, sounding a bit starstruck. “No
charge.”
“No charge for delivery? That’s generous.”
“No, Miss Merchaud. I mean it’s all on the house.”
“Don’t be silly,” Julia exclaimed. “That’s a terrible business model. You have to let me pay you.”
But he wouldn’t hear of it. Eventually they agreed that she would write a letter praising the frame—as long as she genuinely could recommend it—which the company could use in a new advertising campaign.
Maury wouldn’t approve of the arrangement, what with no contract and only the vaguest of terms, but Julia would sort that out later.
The important thing was that she would have a quilting frame and friends gathered around it in her great room in less than forty-eight hours.
The frame was delivered and assembled on Saturday afternoon. The following morning, when she was as ready as she would ever
be, Julia paced in her great room, half expecting that no one would show up. Ellen had told her that all was forgiven, she
reminded herself. Her friends had said they would be there. She just needed to have faith in them, and in herself.
The doorbell rang.
She flew to answer it. “Julia, my dear, you look lovely this morning,” Nigel purred, kissing her on both cheeks and showing
off a bag filled with fixings for mimosas. Other friends were already coming up the front walk—Ellen and Lindsay, chatting
happily; Dylan and a woman with waist-length, gray-streaked blond hair, presumably his wife; Noah and the pretty starlet from
the Disney Channel, whose name Julia could never remember; and all the others. Julia urged them all inside, to help themselves
to food and drink, or to slip on a thimble, thread a needle, and stitch to their heart’s content. The Patchwork Players could
teach those who had not come along on their journey, creating a bit of Elm Creek Quilt Camp in the hills of Malibu.
Last to arrive were Paige and Louis, walking hand in hand.
Julia welcomed them warmly, tentatively. After Paige murmured for Louis to precede her inside, she lingered on the doorstep,
her gaze fixed on Julia’s.
“I’m so sorry,” Julia told her simply. “I regret every moment of anxiety and hurt I caused you.”
“I’m sure you didn’t mean any harm,” said Paige. “And whatever you said to Stephen Deneford, you more than made up for it.
Would you believe he actually increased his offer? He said his mother wouldn’t forgive him if he let me get away.”
“Is that so? In that case, I think that’s what did the trick, rather than anything I said.”
“We both know that’s not true,” said Paige, offering a small smile. “I do get it, you know? You wanted to believe that the show would go on forever. I might have done the same in your place.”
“If you ever are in my place,” said Julia ruefully, “I trust you’ll learn from my mistakes and make better choices.”
“Oh, I definitely will,” Paige said, eyes wide, nodding for emphasis. Julia watched her for a moment, uncertain, until Paige
burst out laughing. “I’m teasing, Miss Julia,” she said, giving Julia’s arm a playful squeeze. “Since we’re going to be working
together, I should warn you that I do that a lot.”
“I look forward to it,” said Julia sincerely. She gestured to the open doorway. “Come on inside. You’re very welcome here.”
They heard laughter, conversation, and piano music from the foyer, but when they entered together, a hush fell over the room.
“Hey, y’all,” said Paige, planting a hand on her hip. “Why are you looking at us like you’re holding your breath for the next
dramatic plot twist?”
“Because that’s exactly what we’re doing,” said Olivia as she accepted a mimosa from Nigel.
“We’ve been on pins and needles waiting to see if you’d patch things up,” said Jason, grinning. When a chorus of laughter
and groans rose from the group, he looked around, feigning indignation. “What? Since when does this crowd object to sewing
puns? Just so you know, I’m going to put that line in a season six script.”
“No, you won’t,” countered Ellen firmly, evoking more laughter.
“All’s well that ends well,” Nigel declared, raising his glass in a toast. “ ‘The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good
and ill together: our virtues would be proud, if our faults whipped them not; and our crimes would despair, if they were not
cherished by our virtues.’ ”
“I don’t understand what that means, but I love the way you say it,” said Edna, raising her glass.
Julia’s heart was full as she joined in the laughter.
“Here’s to our Patchwork family,” she said, taking a cup of coffee from a passing server and holding it high.
“If all the world’s a stage, there’s no ensemble I’d rather share it with than all of you.
What was it Nigel said so eloquently on our first night at Elm Creek Manor? ”
“That’s a difficult question,” said Nigel, brow furrowing. “Everything I say is eloquent.”
“I remember,” said Paige. “ ‘We few, we happy few—’ ”
“ ‘We merry band of Patchwork Players!’ ” they all joined in, finishing the scene together.