Elm Creek Quilts [06] The Master Quilter (31 page)

Five prospective new members were in attendance, a number Mary Beth noted with satisfaction. One of her goals for the term was to increase the membership, which for no discernible reason had been declining over the past few years. She hoped the newcomers noticed how efficiently the officers went about presenting the business of their respective offices. When Diane and her crones had been in the guild, the announcements had been periodically interrupted by wisecracks and laughter, which wasted valuable time and almost always added an extra half hour to the meeting. Without their interference, the guild business was attended to in reasonable time, and before long Mary Beth reassumed her position at the podium and asked if any of the other guild members wished to make an announcement.

At that moment, on the chair several paces behind her, her cell phone began to ring. She pretended not to hear it, then pretended it belonged to someone else, but the distinctive tones Brent had downloaded from the internet were her signature ring and everyone in the room knew it. Come to think of it, all of her friends were in that room, it was too late for a call from Waterford High School, and her boys had been warned never to phone during guild meetings. “Anyone? Any other announcements?” she asked, raising her voice to drown out the phone.

At that moment, the ringing finally ceased. “Voicemail,” she said, relieved, and the guild members laughed and nodded in sympathy. She cleared her throat. “Well, if no one has any announcements, our program chairwoman would like to introduce—”

The phone started up again. Mary Beth flushed and hurried back to her chair. “I’m sorry,” she said, snatching up her purse. “It must be an emergency. Sandra, will you take over?”

She raced from the room without waiting for a reply. In the hallway she dug through her purse, seized the phone, and pressed it to her ear, all while hurrying away from the meeting room so that her conversation would not distract the guild while Sandra introduced the guest speaker. “Hello?” she barked. When there was no reply, she moved closer to the outside door to pick up a better signal. “Hello?”

Silence. She grimaced and read the display: “You have 1 new number!”

That made no sense; Roger’s cell and their home phone were already programmed. She pressed the keys to bring up her Caller ID, but she did not recognize the number that appeared. Probably a wrong number, or worse yet, a telemarketer. She jabbed the key to clear the display, switched off the phone, and tossed it back in her purse.

Mary Beth stormed back to the meeting room, vowing to call that number back and let them have it as soon as the meeting ended. As she drew closer, she heard a lone voice speaking over the portable sound system, but none of the usual oohs and ahhs and applause that accompanied a guest speaker’s trunk show. Curious, she tried to return unobtrusively, but she froze just inside the doorway, reeling from the sight of Diane at her podium reading the invitation to participate in the bridal quilt.

At first she was too shocked to do anything, but when Diane smirked, put away the letter, and asked for questions, she flew into action. “This—this is an outrage!” she exclaimed, hurrying forward.

“Yes, it is,” someone called out. “Why didn’t you contact us sooner?”

Another chimed in, “You aren’t giving us much time. I already have two baby quilts to finish by the end of the month.”

Other voices swelled, but Mary Beth, horrified, managed to pry the microphone from Diane’s grimy fist and tried to regain order. “May I remind you that this woman is not a member of our guild?” she said, ready to remind them under what circumstances Diane had left. “She isn’t authorized to make announcements.”

Some traitor laughed derisively; Mary Beth ignored decorum and shoved Diane toward the nearest door. “I’m terribly sorry if I’ve broken any rules,” Diane called out with false innocence, leaning close to the microphone.

“Wait, don’t go,” another woman cried. “What colors should we use again?”

“Ladies, ladies, please,” Mary Beth shouted over the clamor. “Obviously Diane’s only reason for coming here tonight was to create a disturbance. Please just ignore her. If she really wanted you to participate in this quilt, she would have told you about it sooner.”

“We tried,” retorted Diane, holding up an envelope. “We sent an invitation to the guild, care of Mary Beth. She returned it to us and said you couldn’t be bothered. I have the envelope right here if anyone wants to check the postmark and the address.”

Horror-struck, Mary Beth tried to snatch it away, but Diane suddenly blurted a hasty good-bye and sprinted for the door. Suddenly Sandra was at Mary Beth’s side, gently taking the microphone from her hand. “Calm down, everyone,” Sandra said, returning to the podium, her deep, gravelly voice making little impact on the rising din. “Don’t pay any attention to that troublemaker.”

“Is it true?” a voice rang out. “Did you deliberately keep that invitation from us?”

Mary Beth held up a hand as if it would keep back the accusing voices. She took a deep breath and willed herself to calm as she joined Sandra at the podium, her station of order. “I did, and I’ll tell you why. I know how busy you are already, especially since so many of you have already been so generous with your time and talents for our service project, and I didn’t want you to feel obligated to participate in something so, well, frivolous.”

She cringed at the incredulous echo of her last word.

“That’s for us to decide!” someone shouted.

“I’m the elected president. I had to use my best judgment. If I made a mistake, I apologize.” Mary Beth forced a shaky smile. “From now on, I’ll be sure to bring you every solicitation the guild receives, but don’t be surprised when you’re overwhelmed by all the requests.”

“I don’t care about next time,” wailed a woman in the second row. “Sylvia’s wonderful. I want to participate in
this
quilt.”

Mary Beth tried to look apologetic. “I’m sorry, but as someone has already pointed out, it really is too late.”

“There’s plenty of time to make one block,” said a woman in the back row. She had joined a year ago after moving to Waterford from Wisconsin; Mary Beth couldn’t recall her name. Lee something. “I’ve been on the Elm Creek Quilts mailing list ever since I attended quilt camp last summer. I received an invitation, too, and I’d be happy to make copies for everyone who wants them. Give me your names before you leave and I’ll make a list.”

A crowd of clamoring quilters quickly surrounded her. “Maybe this can wait until after the meeting,” Mary Beth shouted into the microphone. “Let’s not forget we have a very special guest tonight, a talented quilter from Boalsburg and a member of the Centre Pieces Quilt Guild …”

She trailed off when she realized no one was listening. The crowd around the traitor in the back row thickened. Mary Beth glanced at the guest speaker, who had taken a flyer from the table along the wall and was writing something on the back. Her address, Mary Beth realized, as she rose and carried the paper to the back of the room.

“Sandra.” She plucked at the sleeve of her closest friend and ally, who was gaping at the scene. “Take over, will you? I think I’m—I think I should—”

Sandra gave no sign she heard. Mary Beth left the sentence unfinished and stepped away from the podium.

She drove home in a daze. Inside, she clung to Roger and sobbed out the story. Brent had come downstairs to see what was wrong and now sat by her side, listening, wide-eyed and incredulous, as the story of her humiliation spilled from her.

Roger patted her back and sighed. “I guess maybe now you’ll finally drop this silly feud with the Sonnenbergs.”

“Dad,” said Brent. “She’s upset.”

“That’s your response?” Mary Beth pulled away from her husband and groped on the end table for a box of tissues. “Your wife is dishonored in front of all her friends, and that’s how you respond?”

“Well, what do you want me to do? Run next door and challenge Tim to a duel?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped, dabbing at her eyes. “This is between me and that—that evil witch. How can you call it a silly feud? It’s much more than that, and that woman’s behavior tonight proves it.”

“All it proves,” Roger muttered, “is that you two are equally committed to a to-the-death struggle over very small stakes.”

Mary Beth ignored him and blew her nose. “Brent, I don’t want you playing with that Sonnenberg boy anymore.”

“That’s not fair,” he protested. “It’s not Todd’s fault his mom’s a nutcase.”

Roger gazed at the ceiling. “Why do I suspect an identical conversation is taking place next door?”

“If you can’t be supportive, then be quiet,” snapped Mary Beth. “I’m sorry, Brent, but that woman is a bad influence. I don’t want you anywhere near her.”

“I barely even see her when I’m over there.”

“That’s not good enough.”

“But we have midterms coming up. Todd and I always study together. We’re partners for the Physics project. Not to mention he’s been my best friend since the second grade.”

Mary Beth sniffled into her tissue. She hated to see him so distraught. “Well—”

“Please, Mom. This way, I might overhear her if she plans anything else.”

“By all means,” said Roger. “Let’s take the high road. Let’s spy on the neighbors.”

“If she tries anything else, I’m pressing charges.” Still, Brent had a point. “All right. You can still be friends with Todd under one condition: If that woman says a single word against me, you’ll defend me.” Unlike her husband. She glared at him, but he had let his head fall against the sofa cushions and was shaking his head at the ceiling.

“I promise,” said Brent solemnly.

She reached out and drew him into an embrace. “That’s my good boy.”

Sometimes she thought Brent was the only person who understood her.

Sometimes Brent thought the main reason he and Todd were best friends was that they both had mothers who were certifiable. Still, while his mother was often embarrassing, at least she didn’t have a mean streak like Todd’s mom. When Brent went to the Sonnenberg house to study the next day, he was so furious he could barely look in her direction, much less speak to her. He ignored her so intently that it was some time before he realized Mrs. Sonnenberg was ignoring him, too. Then, in a flash of insight, he realized that she wasn’t acting much different than usual.

She always tried to pretend he wasn’t there. It wasn’t just because of what happened at the library.

He wanted to talk to Todd about that night at the library, but he didn’t know how to bring it up without starting an argument. He would have just let it go except he just couldn’t understand what Mrs. Sonnenberg had against his mother. He wrestled with that question, but the answer was irritatingly elusive.

Finally he couldn’t stand it anymore. “What’s with your mom?” he asked on the Thursday after the quilt guild meeting, as he and Todd studied for their Calculus midterm.

Todd didn’t even bother to look up from his differential equations. “What do you mean?”

“You know. Why’d she go off like that at the quilt thing?”

Todd looked genuinely perplexed. “What?”

“You know,” repeated Brent, irritably. “The way she barged into my mom’s quilt guild meeting and started ordering them around, telling them they had to make a stupid quilt.”

“My mom says a lot of stuff about a lot of quilts, but the only quilt guild she talks about are her friends up at the manor.”

Brent stared at his friend, head bent over his book, his pencil scratching on paper. Todd really didn’t know. Mrs. Sonnenberg had made a fool of his mother in front of all her friends in the one place where she got any respect, and yet Mrs. Sonnenberg had thought so little of it she had not even bothered to tell her kid.

“Never mind,” said Brent tightly, picking up his pencil and writing down equations with a vengeance. Sometimes he was seized by the urge to punch Todd in the face until he begged for mercy, but if he ignored it, the feeling always faded.

Although he wouldn’t get his grades back until after spring break, Brent knew he had aced his midterms. His mom was so pleased that she hugged him, gave him fifty dollars, and agreed that he could spend the night at Todd’s. She had smiled so rarely since that night in the library that out of guilt he put off accepting Todd’s invitation until Monday. Unaccustomed to a weekday with no classes and no homework, they hung out for most of the day, watching TV, shooting hoops in the driveway, playing computer games, until they grew bored with the abundance of time. Todd halfheartedly suggested they work on their Physics project, but Brent said he would rather stare at a blank wall than spend one minute of his vacation working on an assignment that wasn’t due for another month.

Mrs. Sonnenberg was supposed to bring pizza for supper and videos for later, but by five-thirty Brent and Todd were starved, so they raided the fridge and cupboards for pretzels and sodas and a few attempts at sandwiches. Brent suggested they order their own pizza and have it delivered, but Todd didn’t have any cash and Brent wasn’t about to blow his fifty bucks on food Mrs. Sonnenberg should have paid for, so he said he was broke, too.

It was after seven when Mrs. Sonnenberg finally showed up, with no pizza and no DVDs. Brent shook his head, disgusted, but she was too busy giving them some lame excuse about having to close the quilt shop to notice. She called for a pizza and herded them out to her car to drive them to the video store. When she wandered off to read the display case for some stupid Julia Roberts romantic comedy, Brent picked out three action movies and said to Todd, “You pick some and I’ll pick some.”