An Elm Creek Quilts Sampler (118 page)

Then Donna was struck by a delightful idea: Why wait until August? Why not meet at the American Quilter’s Society show in April?

Megan was the first to promise she would be there, and each evening when she left work, she crossed off a day on her calendar with relief. The passage of one more day brought her one day closer to seeing her friends, to getting over Adam, to helping Robby accept the loss of Adam’s friendship. Robby still saw his counselor every week, but lately he had been making no progress, and in some ways was worse off than before. The low point came when he had to serve an in-school suspension for tearing up the poster another student had made for science class. Megan tried to talk to him, both alone and with the counselor, but only succeeded in making Robby feel miserable. “I’m sorry I’m so bad, Mom,” he said one night as she tucked him in, breaking her heart. She hugged him and told him she loved him and always would, no matter what. He drifted off to sleep, and she went into the other room and cried.

Megan needed a break, and the trip to Paducah, Kentucky, to see her friends would be a balm for her wounded spirit. She only hoped they wouldn’t talk about the blocks they were supposed to make for the Challenge Quilt. She had chosen her pattern, inspired by the gentle snowfall outside Adam’s house, and selected the fabrics, but as Robby’s newfound happiness faded, so did her eagerness to complete the block. Now the pieces sat on her sewing machine, and she did not know when she might take them up again.

Vinnie might have found herself in a similar situation, except that she had finished her block the day Julia’s letter arrived, revealing the secret romance between Adam and Megan. She wondered grumpily if she ought to remove the stitches now that everything had ended so badly. Not that Adam had bothered to tell her it was over; instead he merely showed up at his mother’s birthday party hand in hand with Natalie. “We’re not getting married,” he assured Vinnie privately, when he finally stopped ignoring the glares she had been shooting him all afternoon. “We’re just seeing how things go.” Vinnie thought he ought to see how things would go with Megan instead and told him so. A shadow of sadness crossed his face, and he replied, “That’s not up to me.” Vinnie didn’t know what to make of that, but since she suspected Adam wasn’t happy with this turn of events, she was willing to travel much farther than Paducah to get the opportunity to talk some sense into Megan.

When Grace learned that the others planned to be there, she abandoned her hopes that the plans would fall through and forced herself to decide whether she would join them. Throughout February she had been plagued by exacerbations, and only by the last week of March had she recovered enough to walk unsteadily about the loft Gabriel had renovated for her, instead of relying on the wheelchair. She had no idea whether her symptoms would improve or worsen by mid-April, but she knew she couldn’t bear to have her friends see her in her current condition.

But since it was her practice to attend the AQS show every year, eventually she agreed to meet the others in the lobby of the convention center on Friday afternoon of the quilt show. If she were still symptomatic, the quilt show would be large enough that she could avoid the Cross-Country Quilters. But by then she might be feeling fine, and, she hoped, she might have a new quilt started. By then she might have something more than false starts and abandoned sketches to show for the months she had struggled to keep the promises she had made at Elm Creek Manor.

On a Wednesday afternoon in mid-April, Vinnie rode a chartered tour bus from Dayton to Paducah with a few quilters from Meadowbrook Village and many others from throughout the city. She wore her favorite quilted vest and a red hat studded with pins from all the quilting events she had attended throughout the years. The Elm Creek Quilts pin was displayed proudly in front, and she missed no opportunity to tell the other passengers how she had won it.

Some of the women slept on the drive, but not Vinnie. She introduced herself to all the quilters in the nearby seats and chatted happily, thrilled to be attending another American Quilter’s Society show. The best of the best entered their quilts in this competition, and although Vinnie considered herself an above-average quilter, the masterpieces displayed at this show humbled her—and humbling Vinnie was not easy. In addition to the more than four hundred quilts entered in the competition at the Executive Inn Convention Center, there were classes taught by renowned master quilters from around the world, lectures, award banquets, fashion shows, and the nearby Museum of the American Quilter’s Society, where the Best of Show quilts from previous years were displayed. Then there was perhaps Vinnie’s favorite venue aside from the quilts themselves: a merchants’ mall where hundreds of vendors set up booths selling every sort of fabric, pattern, and quilt notion imaginable. Each time she attended the show, Vinnie resolved to stick to a budget, but within a day the dazzling display of wares would prove to be too much for her willpower, and she would invariably exceed her allotment for the entire weekend. The only solution, of course, was to expand her budget, which she cheerfully did.

The tour bus reached their hotel, which was already packed with some of the thirty-five thousand other quilters who would double Paducah’s population that weekend. Vinnie was sharing a room with another member of the tour, but she didn’t mind, knowing she was lucky to have a place at all. Every hotel room within fifty miles was booked up; those in the Executive Inn itself had been given out by lottery a year before. Megan and Donna had taken advantage of the city’s Bed and Breakfast program, in which local residents provided the visiting quilters with a room and a meal for about the same rate as a hotel. Vinnie wasn’t sure what Julia’s plans were, but she wouldn’t be surprised if Julia had used her star power to finagle a room in one of Paducah’s finest hotels.

On Thursday she rose early, eager to see as much of the show as possible before the crowds descended in full force. She rode the hotel’s shuttle to the convention center in downtown Paducah, on the shore where the Tennessee River fed into the Ohio, and was among the first hundred viewers to enter the show. She was not disappointed. The quilts were breathtaking, inspiring; she saw examples of every style from watercolor to Baltimore Album to others so innovative she wasn’t sure their styles had a particular name. There were quilts from every state and around the world, some made by professional quilters, others by amateurs, although Vinnie was puzzled by that distinction because she detected no difference in the quality of artistic expression or craftsmanship. She took snapshots of her favorites and wrinkled her nose at others, wondering what on earth that particular quilter had been thinking. But she figured one person’s art was another person’s drop cloth, and just because a quilt didn’t suit her tastes didn’t mean it wasn’t a good quilt. She, for example, thought she might keel over dead if she had to look at another Sunbonnet Sue quilt, but she had friends who thought little Sue was the most adorable creature on the face of the earth. Vinnie figured there was room enough in the quilting community for all manner of tastes and styles. She wasn’t as opinionated as some of the other viewers, who evaluated each quilt in loud, obnoxious voices, as if anyone listening gave a fig what they thought. Once, after an irritating old biddy had made a particularly thoughtless remark about a Mariner’s Compass quilt, Vinnie said, “I’m sorry you didn’t like it. I worked very hard on it and tried to do my best.” The old biddy’s jaw dropped in horror, and Vinnie turned her back and walked away with a satisfied smile. That would teach her to be a little more sensitive. Honestly. They were fellow quilters, after all; if they were going to offer criticism, it should be constructive, and it should never be unkind.

By lunchtime Vinnie was fatigued from being on her feet all morning, so she met up with a group of ladies from the tour and strolled downtown for lunch. Spring was much further along in Paducah than in Dayton, and the skies were clear and sunny above the blooming dogwood trees. The downtown streets were charming, as all the shops—from the hardware store to the women’s clothing boutique—displayed quilts in their front windows. Vinnie considered it a thoughtful, friendly gesture, the way the entire city welcomed the visiting quilters.

After lunch Vinnie toured the Museum of the American Quilter’s Society, then returned to the convention center to attend a lecture by one of her favorite quilters. She waited until later that afternoon, when most of the other visitors were at supper, before visiting the merchants’ mall, so she could shop without too much jostling from the crowd. She quickly snapped up several yards of fabric and a pattern for a quilted pullover, then added a box of notecards and a few books to her purchases. She might have gone on until all her money was spent and her charge card melted from so much use, except her tote bag was getting too heavy to carry. She decided, reluctantly, to call it a day, because she wanted to be in top form when she met the Cross-Country Quilters the next afternoon.

Vinnie tried to sleep in Friday morning to make the afternoon come sooner, but she was up at dawn, bursting with energy and impatient to see her friends. She distracted herself pleasantly enough by seeing the rest of the quilts and continuing her shopping, but it was a miracle she made it to lunch. An afternoon class kept her busy for a few hours, and then, at last, it was time.

She arrived at their designated meeting place in the lobby of the Executive Inn a half hour early, but there were so many other visitors milling about, she worried that she might not see her friends. She managed to find one of the last empty chairs in the place and gingerly climbed on top of it, the better to scan the crowds, but before long, a security guard asked her to get down. She did, but only because he asked nicely and seemed genuinely concerned for her safety.

Four o’clock arrived, and at last Vinnie spotted two familiar faces. “Megan,” she shouted, waving her arm in the air. “Donna! Over here!”

They worked their way toward her, and a moment later they were embracing. “It’s so good to see you,” Donna said, hugging her. “You look wonderful.”

“Well, naturally. You look lovely yourself.” She did, indeed; she had slimmed down some, and her skin had a healthy glow. “That California sunshine suits you.”

“Oh, don’t tell me that,” Donna said, laughing. “I’m already tempted to move in with Julia permanently.”

“And where is our Julia?” Vinnie asked, searching the crowd behind her friends. “Didn’t she come with you?”

“No, she had to cancel. She was afraid of what might happen if she left the studio for too long.”

“From what she writes about that Deneford character, that was probably a sensible decision.” Vinnie smiled at Megan. “Megan, honey, how are you?”

“Fine.” She hesitated. “I’ve been better.”

Vinnie sensed her apprehension. She knew she shouldn’t mention Adam, but she couldn’t help herself. “I suppose you’re upset about my grandson? I know you two had a falling out.”

“You weren’t even supposed to know about us.”

“Grandmothers have their ways. Now, surely you know how disappointed I am. Can’t you at least tell me what went wrong?”

“It’s hard to explain.” Megan studied her for a moment, then sighed. “It’s true we never actually agreed not to see other people, but I thought we were seeing each other exclusively.” Then her expression hardened. “I fail to understand how you can tell someone you love them and, at the same time, be involved with someone else. Keith did it, but I never expected Adam to.”

Shocked, Vinnie said, “You think Adam cheated on you?”

“I didn’t say he cheated on me. We never specifically said we wouldn’t see other people. Is that still cheating?”

“Yes,” Donna said.

“Megan, honey, I know my grandson. He’s not perfect, but he isn’t cruel. I know he wouldn’t betray you like this.”

Megan fixed her with a penetrating look. “Can you honestly tell me he isn’t seeing Natalie?”

Oh. Vinnie glanced at Donna, but Donna’s expression told her to expect no defense of Adam from her. “He is seeing her now,” she admitted, “but I’m sure he only took up with her afterward.”

Still Megan watched her, as if sifting her words to find the truth in them, or to find hope. Then she softened. “I wish I could be that certain, but I can’t deny what I saw. I can’t ignore evidence when it’s right before my eyes. I did that with Keith for too many years, and I won’t do it again.”

Vinnie knew there had been a terrible misunderstanding, but she could not see how to resolve it. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.” She took Megan’s hand and gave her a sad smile. “But I hope that whatever happened between you and my grandson, you and I will always be friends.”

“Of course we will,” Megan said, without hesitation and so warmly that Vinnie felt her throat tightening with emotion.

“Okay, now,” Donna said. “Let’s not start weeping in the middle of the quilt show.”

Vinnie and Megan laughed, and before they could become sentimental again, Donna launched into a narrative of her adventures on the set of
Prairie Vengeance.
Her story was so lively and full of fun Hollywood gossip that before they knew it, forty minutes had passed.