Chapter 21
Jeanie
“The heart craves community the way plants crave rain.”
—Eloisa Hobby
One thing was clear to Jeanie after that mess with Nanette: she and Luna had to design their quilt in secret.
The other guests couldn’t be trusted.
No more going to the quilting shop and hanging with the crafters.
They’d work at the B&B.
That saddened Jeanie because she had already grown to love Clare, the quaint quilt shop owner, and most of the quilters.
She even liked Nanette until the woman stole Luna’s design.
Then again, Jeanie’s main character flaw was jumping too quickly into relationships, Rex Rhinehart a case in point.
Without asking any questions, Vivian gave them permission to use the parlor and put a sign on the French doors that said: parlor reserved until further notice.
Luna granted Artie free rein of the island in daylight hours as long as she stuck with Dot or Orion and didn’t go exploring on her own.
It was time for Luna to start snipping the apron strings, and Jeanie praised her daughter, hoping to calm Luna’s anxiety.
They buckled down, working together to come up with a new quilt design and planning the project to fit the parameters of the contest rules.
Each morning Jeanie spread out her fabric swatches and Luna’s sketches across the parlor’s antique tables, grateful to Vivian for letting them use this space.
As they sketched and planned, laughter and lively discussion replaced the melancholy mood of earlier days.
Through their collaboration emerged a design more meaningful than the one they’d lost.
One that let Luna’s artistic talents shine while also honoring Jeanie’s sewing skills.
At one point, they caught Isabelle in the parlor looking over the new designs Luna created.
Isabelle didn’t act the least bit flustered over having been caught snooping and even told them she wasn’t close friends with Nanette, just in case they thought she was on board with what the other woman had done.
After that, they stopped leaving their things in the parlor unattended.
Over three days, they talked through different ideas, seamlessly building on each other’s inspiration in a way they never had before.
Luna suggested a fairy-tale motif of awestruck travelers entering the magical land of Hobby Island with panels depicting the charming elements of the island, channeling her passion for whimsical mural art in a way that had Jeanie bursting with pride.
“The quilt will be our personal journey,” Luna said, “you, me, and Artie.”
“I love that idea.”
Luna made the sketches and drew up the design.
Jeanie showed her the three basic styles of stitches available for hand quilting.
The choices were between traditional Western stitching using regular thread and tiny controlled stitches more for texture and subtle design than a bold statement.
The more modern big stitch quilting featured larger stitches and heavier-weight thread utilized to make bolder statements or to add more personal touches.
A third option was traditional Eastern stitching, such as kantha and sashiko, which used longer stitches with thicker thread.
Mostly these stitches were on solid fabrics for design panels.
After she demonstrated all three stitches, she asked Luna, “Which style best suits your design?”
Luna crinkled her nose. “I don’t know. Which is easier for you to sew since you’ll be doing all the actual hands-on labor?”
“Don’t worry about that. What’s best for the quilt?”
Luna studied the swatches Jeanie had sewn. “I really can’t decide. All three have pros and cons.”
“The design is what we want to spotlight,” Jeanie said. “The stitches should honor that.”
“So . . . ?”
“We don’t want to call attention to the thread. Traditional Western stitching is the way to go.” Jeanie loved hand sewing. She found it relaxing.
Luna rubbed her chin in thought. “I have a feeling that’s the most challenging of the stitches.”
“We’re not going to let a challenge stand in the way of winning.”
“Or as Eloisa would say, an opportunity.”
They grinned at each other.
“I like the way Eloisa reframes difficulties,” Jeanie said.
“Me too. She’s a special person.” Luna tilted her head, studying the sketches.
“Why do you think I belong to her quilting forum? She’s so encouraging.”
“Well, I’m glad you were part of the group, otherwise you’d never have won a golden ticket, and we wouldn’t have come here—”
“And you wouldn’t have reconnected with Paul.”
Luna blushed.
Jeanie was so happy now that her dark secret had come out and both her daughter and Paul had forgiven her. “How is that going, by the way?”
“I haven’t seen him since we started this project.” She swept her hand at the table in front of them. “We last talked in the quad on the day I confronted Nanette, and he told me to concentrate on you and getting this project underway.”
“I don’t want to keep you from spending time with Paul,” Jeanie said. “You’ve already been apart too long because of me.”
“Mom, we’re taking this slowly. A lot has changed, and we’ve got children to consider. This pace is just fine. We’ll get together once you start the actual quilting since there’s nothing I can do on that score.”
“Speaking of,” Jeanie said, “now that we’ve settled on the design, it’s time to go buy the material.”
Luna pulled a sour face. “Which means a trip to the quilt store.”
“It does, but maybe Nanette won’t be there.”
Luna sighed. “It’s okay. I’m over it. Truthfully, I feel sorry for her. To have so little confidence in yourself you’re willing to steal to win a contest.”
“She’s not going to win,” Jeanie said. “Not with your amazing design.”
“The design is nothing without your expertise to take it from concept to finished product.”
Jeanie grinned. “Face facts, we’re a powerful team.”
“That we are.” Luna high-fived her.
And these, Jeanie thought, were the moments a mother lived for.
* * *
On the fourth day of working on the quilt design together, they took a golf cart to A Stitch in Time to buy the material needed to complete the quilted lap blanket. Sharon greeted Jeanie like a long-lost loved one, Nanette ignored them, and Isabelle’s greeting was a polite “hello” and a nod of her head.
“Have you heard?” Sharon said. “Eloisa is having a healing circle. They’re a rare treat. She doesn’t do them every year and I missed it last time. I’m so excited.”
“What’s a healing circle?” Luna asked.
“Why not just go experience it for yourself and find out?” Sharon asked.
“Is Eloisa a doctor? How can she claim to heal someone?” Luna sank her hands on her hips.
“Honey,” Jeanie said. “Don’t be so contrary. You don’t have to go.”
“It sounds New Agey and weird.”
“Sometimes you have to step outside your comfort zone if you want to grow,” Isabelle piped up. “I’m going. I think that’s the kind of healing they’re talking about. Personal growth.”
“Why don’t they call it a personal growth circle then?” Luna shot the woman a hard stare.
“It doesn’t have the same ring to it as healing circle, now does it?” Sharon tapped her forehead with an index finger.
Clare came into the shop through the back door, just as bubbly as Sharon had been, and delighted in showing them bolts of cloth and spools of threads. Jeanie was glad Clare’s appearance derailed Luna’s suspiciousness.
“You’re just in time for our little speed competition,” Clare said. “Would you like to join us? Just a way to help our quilters build up their hand-quilting speed. Finishing a handsewn lap quilt in two months can be a challenge but it’s certainly doable.”
Jeanie wanted to participate but hesitated. How comfortable would Luna be hanging around Nanette for that long?
“Do it, Mom,” Luna encouraged her.
“Are you sure?” Jeanie shot a glance at Nanette.
“I’m not letting her behavior control me,” Luna said. She squared her shoulders and tucked back her chin. “You know what, I’m going to resolve this thing right now.”
“Oh dear.” Jeanie wrung her hands. “Please don’t cause a scene.”
“No worries, Sainted Mother.” Luna laughed. “I’m not gonna get us thrown out of the shop.”
Luna walked over to the quilting table. “Do y’all mind if I have a seat?”
“Please,” Sharon said. “Join us.”
Luna took the chair right next to Nanette, who froze like an opossum. Luna looked the woman right in the eye and said, “Hi.”
“H-h-hi,” Nanette stammered.
Jeanie nibbled a thumbnail. Everyone at the table had their eyes trained on Luna and Nanette.
Luna offered Nanette a small smile. “I know tensions flared between us the other day. But I don’t want bad blood, especially here in my mom’s creative refuge.”
Jeanie held her breath waiting to see how Nanette would respond.
Nanette bristled slightly, avoiding Luna’s eye. “Yes, well . . . but I did not steal your design.”
“No, because I give it to you freely. It’s yours to use for the contest.”
“I don’t need your permission.”
“Maybe not, but I give it to you anyway,” Luna said. “And I choose to extend an olive branch, for my mother’s sake and the spirit of this shop. I hope you’ll accept it.”
Nanette blinked, clearly torn between wanting to cling to self-protection and surprise at Luna’s grace. Finally, she gave a tight nod. “Very well.”
The tension didn’t vanish entirely. But Luna had sewn a first stitch toward possible unity. Gosh, Jeanie was so proud of her daughter and her maturity in the wake of Nanette’s wrongdoing.
“Let’s get the speed quilting started.” Clare clapped her hands. “First prize is a twenty-dollar gift certificate to the store.”
Clare passed out hoops while the quilters picked scrap fabrics, needles, and thread from the assortment in the middle of the table.
“Just to kick the competitive atmosphere into high gear, you have an hour to finish your swatch.” Clare turned over an hourglass, filled with purple sand, and set it in the middle of the table. “Go!”
Laughing, everyone dove in, including Luna, who didn’t even enjoy sewing.
With a running stitch, Jeanie fed the white cotton thread through the crimson flower printed on the scrap of fabric she’d chosen. She was determined to win this thing. That twenty-dollar gift card was much appreciated. Jeanie quickened her pace, jabbing the needle, tugging on the thread, her fingers flying.
She excelled at hand piecing. So many years of altering prom dresses and wedding gowns to make ends meet when Jack was out of a job—which was more often than not—had served her well. Sewing was her superpower.
Pushing herself, she went as fast as her fingers would go, each stitch a mantra in her mind. You can do this. You can win. You can, you can, you can.
Jeanie was vaguely aware that the others had stopped sewing and were watching her as if she were Master Yoda.
Even Clare.
Now that Jeanie was working at breakneck speed, she couldn’t seem to slow down. She finished stitching the flower and moved on to the leaves. Less than a quarter of the sand had filtered through the hourglass, and she was halfway finished.
In, out, in, out. The stitches grew before her eyes.
And then she jabbed her thumb with the sewing needle.
Hard.
Red blood bloomed on the green leaves.
Why hadn’t she used a thimble? She stared at her thumb, felt suddenly dizzy, but kept going, blood dripping all over the square.
That’s when the memory hit her.
Boom!
Out of the clearest blue.
She was young, six or seven, and her mother, Francine, had finally allowed Jeanie to join her monthly quilting bee after she begged repeatedly to be part of the group. They were in the parlor of the old Victorian in Julep, the furniture pushed against the wall to make room for the quilting frame let down from the ceiling. Settling herself into the chair, her feet barely reached the floor as she wriggled, so excited and anxious to get started. She watched the gathered women with a keen eye, wanting to get everything right and make her mama proud.
Jeanie’s small fingers yearned to stroke the fabric scattered on nearby tables, some bolts thick and bumpy, others smooth and cool. Tentatively, her small hand reached out to caress the quilt stretched across the frame, stroking every detail of the intricate star-shaped pattern, and she held her breath. The cloth felt so amazing.
“Get your filthy mitts off the quilt, you stupid, clumsy girl!” Her mother popped her hard across the face with the back of her hand.
Jeanie’s nose exploded, spattering blood all over the quilt.
“Get up, get away from the quilt!” Mama’s face twisted in outrage. “You’re ruining it. You ruin everything!”
The quilters gasped and hopped up. One ran for the hydrogen peroxide. Another went to comfort Mama, who’d slung herself sobbing into a chair, railing against her awful child. A third woman picked up her purse and sneaked out the back door.
No one did anything for Jeanie.
Clasping her hands over her nose, she staggered from the parlor, tears mingling with the blood, listening to the women cluck and coo and soothe Mama. It was the first time her mother’s slap broke Jeanie’s nose, but it wouldn’t be the last.
“Mom?” Luna asked, tugging her back into the room. “Are you all right?”
“Huh?” Jeanie blinked. She’d forgotten all about that wretched memory, but now it was as fresh as the day it had happened almost sixty years ago.
Clare pressed a tissue into Jeanie’s hand. “Where did you go, honey?”
Jeanie wrapped the tissue around her bleeding thumb, feeling chagrined for causing a scene. “I’m so sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Clare rested a hand on Jeanie’s shoulder. “But maybe you should take a break?”
“No.” Jeanie shook her head. “I’ve got to finish this. I finish what I start.”
“All right.” Clare gave her a kind smile. “I’ll fetch you a Band-Aid and thimble.”
Two minutes later, Jeanie was sewing again, her heart still racing from the flashback. Could the others tell how damaged she was? Shame flushed heat up her chest to her neck and on to her cheeks. She ducked her head and kept on sewing.
When she finished, she looked up to see how much sand was left in the hourglass. Well over a fourth of it. She swung her gaze to see how the other quilters were faring, but no one else was quilting. They were all watching her.
Luna, however, looked worried.
Feeling self-conscious, Jeanie hunched her shoulders forward, pulling herself inward, and took the last stitch in the square.
That’s when all the women got to their feet, applauding wildly. They were applauding her and a job well done. It was all Jeanie could do not to cry over being recognized. She was stunned by their kindness and overt admiration. It was too much charity to bear.
Clare presented her with the gift card and she and Luna finished their shopping. It wasn’t until they were outside in the golf cart that Jeanie broke down sobbing.