An Elm Creek Quilts Sampler (26 page)

Bonnie looked dubious. “I don’t know. From what I’ve seen, Sylvia Compson’s temper is as flammable as her quilts.”

“I think you mean volatile,” Gwen said. “But I know what you mean. What do you think, Sarah? You know Mrs. Compson pretty well.”

“Apparently there’s still a lot I don’t know.” Sarah’s thoughts were in a whirl. If Mrs. Emberly was the Puzzle, then shouldn’t her name be Agnes Chevalier instead of Agnes Emberly? But no, that wasn’t right, either; her name should be Agnes Bergstrom.

Just as Sarah was about to press Bonnie and Gwen for more details, Mrs. Compson and Summer returned. “Are you ready to go on and see the rest of the show?” Mrs. Compson asked.

Sarah nodded. The Tangled Web Quilters joined them as they viewed the remaining quilts. Mrs. Compson chatted pleasantly with the group, especially with Summer, but Sarah barely listened to the conversation. She should have guessed from Mrs. Emberly’s remarks that there was more to her relationship with Elm Creek Manor than she had mentioned.

After the show, Sarah, Matt, and Mrs. Compson had dinner at an out-door restaurant, then went to the Waterford College stadium for the fire-works display. As Matt and Mrs. Compson gazed at the brilliant spectacle overhead and let out murmurs of awe and cheers of delight, Sarah watched in silence. When Mrs. Compson eyed her and remarked that she was being rather quiet, Sarah made an effort to seem cheerful and relaxed. Mrs. Comp-son seemed to accept that, but inside Sarah was troubled. The quiet, pleasant woman she had come to know through the Tangled Web Quilters seemed nothing like the foolish, exasperating girl from Mrs. Compson’s stories. Mrs. Compson was more of a puzzle than Agnes Chevalier had ever been.

Twenty-Two

M
rs. Compson began Monday afternoon’s quilt lesson by arranging Sarah’s blocks on the table. She checked over the list of remaining blocks and worked out some problems on a calculator, then jotted down some notes on a pad. “Since you finished the Lancaster Rose block over the weekend, that makes eight. I’m surprised you were able to finish it so fast.”

“I like appliqué. What are you doing?” Sarah gestured toward the calculator. “I’m good with math. Can I help?”

“Thank you, dear, but I’m finished. I’m calculating the necessary measurements for your Garden Maze setting.” She frowned. “If I’m going to teach you how to machine piece today, I think we had better select the easiest of your remaining blocks. Let’s go ahead and work on the Sister’s Choice.”

“Will it make any difference in the finished quilt that some of the blocks are machine pieced and some are hand sewn?”

“Not enough to matter.” Mrs. Compson produced Sarah’s template-making tools and spread them out on the table.

When Sarah had finished making her templates and cutting out the block pieces, Mrs. Compson showed her how to use the sewing machine. With the older woman hovering close by, Sarah practiced sewing on a few scraps of cloth before risking her quilt block pieces. It had been a long time since she had used a sewing machine in her junior high Home Ec class, but soon Sarah felt fairly comfortable with the tiny black machine. She pressed a seam open with her fingernail and inspected the neat, even stitches with a smile. This was definitely faster than hand piecing.

“Where can I get a sewing machine like this?” Sarah asked.

“Hmph. Depends. How much are you willing to spend?”

“That bad, huh?”

“I bought mine new many years ago, but if you can find one, and if the owner can bear to part with it, you might pay three hundred, five hundred dollars, depending upon its condition. Of course, I’ve heard of some people with incredible luck who have managed to snatch them up at garage sales for only a fraction of that.” Mrs. Compson tilted her head to one side. “Of course, there’s always—” She broke off suddenly and smiled, her eyes glinting in merriment.

“What? There’s always what?”

“Nothing.” But a faint smile played around the corners of her mouth. Sarah suspected she was up to something, but when she said so, Mrs. Compson merely smiled.

The next morning Sarah awoke with nervousness gnawing in her stomach. As she went to the bathroom to shower, she ordered herself to stop being so ridiculous. Mrs. Compson was the one who had to stand in front of Gwen’s class and talk, not Sarah. All she had to worry about was running the slide projector.

She put on her interview suit and carefully arranged her long hair instead of merely pulling it back into a ponytail as she usually did for work. When Sarah and Matt arrived at Elm Creek Manor, Mrs. Compson was waiting in the back hallway with a box of slides and lecture notes. She wore an attractive lightweight pink suit and pearls.

Matt wished them good luck and strode off for the north gardens as Sarah helped Mrs. Compson into the truck. As they drove to Waterford College, Mrs. Compson gave Sarah some last-minute instructions. Sarah listened and nodded when appropriate, but her stomach was in knots.

The security guard at the west entrance to the campus gave them a short-term parking permit and a map. Gwen was waiting behind the classroom building when they pulled up.

“I’m glad you’re here early,” she said, taking the box of slides from Mrs. Compson. “When word got out about your talk, some of the other professors asked if their classes might join us. I said it was okay. Was it?”

Mrs. Compson shrugged. “Certainly. The more the merrier.”

“I’m glad you feel that way. We had to move into the auditorium.”

“The auditorium?” Sarah’s voice quavered.

Mrs. Compson looked surprised. “Classroom, auditorium—what’s the difference? Why are you so pale?”

Gwen peered at her. “Are you okay, Sarah?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt.

She did feel better when she learned that she would be working at the top of the auditorium in the projection booth where no one would see her. Gwen showed her where the various light switches and controls were, then left to take Mrs. Compson backstage while Sarah set up the equipment. Almost all of the seats were full, and Sarah could hear the students buzzing noisily below. Before long a crackle of static came over an intercom to her left. “Sarah, are you there?”

She fumbled for the white button next to the speaker. “Yes, Gwen. I’m here and I’m all set.”

“We’re ready, too. House lights down, stage lights up.”

Sarah glanced at the control panel and found the switches. “Okay, I’ve got them. Uh … over and out.”

The students quieted as the lights went down and Gwen came out to introduce Mrs. Compson. Sarah clutched her hands in her lap, glad to see that Mrs. Compson was greeted with a smattering of applause as she came onstage and approached the podium. She tilted her head in Sarah’s direction and smiled, though Sarah was sure Mrs. Compson couldn’t see her. Mrs. Compson greeted the audience, and at that Sarah took a deep breath and turned on the slide projector.

At first Sarah sensed skepticism from the students, but to her relief, Mrs. Compson’s wry humor quickly won them over. After discussing quilting’s origins in ancient times through its use as padding for knights’ armor in the Middle Ages, Mrs. Compson moved on to a discussion of quilting in colonial America and in the days of westward expansion. She concluded by describing contemporary quilting from the upsurge in interest sparked by the Bicentennial to present-day quilt artists who incorporate everything from traditional patterns to computer-aided design in their craft. Sarah found the discussion so fascinating that she almost missed a few cues, but she didn’t think anyone noticed.

When it was over, the students gave Mrs. Compson an enthusiastic round of applause, and she inclined her head and smiled graciously. As class ended and Sarah switched on the house lights, a few listeners approached the stage with questions as the others left the auditorium. Sarah glanced at the stage and, finding Mrs. Compson surrounded by students, decided to use the time to pack up the slides. When she finished she left the projection booth and carried the box of slides to the stage, where Mrs. Compson and Gwen were saying good-bye to one lingering student.

“That was really interesting, Mrs. Compson,” Sarah said. “You did a great job.”

“Who would’ve thought that young people would find quilt jokes so amusing?” Mrs. Compson shook her head as if amazed, but she looked pleased.

Gwen looked pleased as well. “I can’t thank you enough, Mrs. Compson. I think my students got a lot out of your lecture.”

Mrs. Compson patted her on the arm. “Any time you want me to come back, I’d be delighted to. I thoroughly enjoyed myself.”

Sarah noted the remark and tried to keep her features smooth and nonchalant. Inside she felt like shouting with triumph. She couldn’t wait to tell Matt.

“I’m going to take you up on that,” Gwen said. She walked them to the truck, and as they were about to drive away, she approached the passenger side window and peeked in. She gave Sarah a knowing glance and turned to Mrs. Compson. “Maybe Sarah can talk you into joining the Tangled Web Quilters at our meeting this week?”

“I’ve tried, believe me,” Sarah said.

Mrs. Compson pursed her lips. “It’s not the Waterford Quilting Guild?”

“No. We defected a long time ago.”

“Very well, then. Perhaps I’ll consider it.”

Gwen grinned. “Hope to see you there.” She backed away from the window and waved before returning inside.

Sarah drove them home to Elm Creek Manor.

“I think that went quite well, don’t you?” Mrs. Compson asked.

“Oh, definitely. You had them in the palm of your hand.”

“Well, I was an art teacher once, you know.”

“No, I didn’t, although I remember you mentioned studying to be one. But I thought you left college.”

“I did, but I returned to school later and earned my degree. Not at Waterford College, though.”

Sarah nodded. Mrs. Emberly had mentioned something like that at one of their quilting bees, but she didn’t think she should tell Mrs. Compson that. Not yet.

Inspired by Mrs. Compson’s successful presentation, they decided to ignore the work waiting upstairs and spent the rest of the afternoon quilting. As Sarah and Matt drove home that evening, she told him about the presentation and, most importantly, the promise Mrs. Compson had given Gwen. “She said any time Gwen wants her to deliver another lecture, she will. That must mean that she’s thinking about staying, right? I mean, how could she give another presentation if she leaves Waterford?”

Matt nodded, considering. “It could be a good sign, I guess.”

“You guess? If she feels needed, that’s one more reason to stay, right?”

“Don’t get your hopes up too high, honey. I don’t want you to be hurt if things don’t work out.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Well, if that doesn’t impress you maybe this will. She’s also thinking about joining the Tangled Web Quilters.”

“Does she know Mrs. Emberly is a member?”

Sarah paused. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“How are you going to work that?”

“I don’t know.” Sarah frowned and sank back into her seat, deflated.

They pulled into their parking lot. Matt draped an arm around Sarah’s shoulders as she unlocked the door and went inside. “Sarah, something about this University Realty deal bothers me.”

“Everything about it bothers me.”

Matt took off his baseball cap and ran his hand through his hair. “I’ve been thinking about how much it would cost to remodel the interior of the manor so that it could be used for apartments, and frankly, I don’t see how University Realty can hope to make any kind of profit. They’d have to charge incredible rents just to break even, and what college student has that kind of money to throw around? And most students want a place with all the modern amenities and aren’t willing to sacrifice them just to say they lived in a historic mansion. Especially one that isn’t within walking distance of campus.”

“It never sounded very logical to me, either.”

“The remodeling costs are only part of it. Tony’s currently working on a similar project but on a much smaller scale, a three-story home near downtown that the owners want to convert into three apartments. You wouldn’t believe all the laws and ordinances he has to follow and all the fees the owner has to pay just to get the place up to local code for rental units.” He shook his head. “I don’t know. It just seems to me that it would be more logical for University Realty to buy some land and start from scratch rather than try to make Elm Creek Manor into something it isn’t.”

Sarah’s pulse quickened. “Maybe that’s what they’re doing.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe they’re only interested in the grounds, not in the manor itself.”

Matt’s eyes widened. “You mean tear down Elm Creek Manor—”

“And start from scratch, just like you said.” Sarah’s thoughts raced as she pictured how many modern efficiency apartments could be squeezed onto the grounds, each one pouring a generous rent into Gregory Krolich’s pocket every month. “That has to be what they have planned.”

“But that’s crazy. Converting Elm Creek Manor is one thing, but tearing it down is another. Mrs. Compson would never sell knowing Elm Creek Manor would be demolished.”

“I don’t think she does know. We don’t even know for sure. But think about how carefully Krolich chooses his words. Remember when Mrs. Compson said she was worried that students would trash the place, and he said it would never happen? I bet he meant it will never happen because there won’t be any Elm Creek Manor left for them to trash.”

“We have to tell her.”

“Not until we know for sure. I don’t want to upset her.”

“I can talk to Tony. He’s been in this town a long time and knows everybody in the business.” Matt reached out and stroked Sarah’s head. “Don’t worry. We’ll find out what’s going on and tell Mrs. Compson before she signs anything. It’s her home, and we have to respect her decision even if we don’t like it, but she deserves to know the truth.”

Sarah nodded. How could she not worry? Only a few moments before, she’d thought she would have Mrs. Compson and Elm Creek Manor all summer, at least. Now she felt as if they were already slipping away.