Elm Creek Quilts [06] The Master Quilter (7 page)

“I guess so,” said Summer, and decided one transition was enough for Bonnie to worry about at the moment.

Bonnie took the letter into the back office. Through the window, Summer watched her file it and sit down in front of the computer. She did not emerge until the end of Summer’s shift, and Summer could tell from her expression that she didn’t want to discuss the sale.

After work, Summer stopped by her old apartment to collect her answering machine. Her former roommates apologized for forgetting to tell her about the eight messages on the tape, but they assured her they had not revealed anything to Gwen the time she stopped by on her way to work. Summer thanked them and wondered why her mother had not mentioned the visit.

Jeremy came home later than usual that evening bearing Thai takeout since it was his night to cook. Over Phat Thai, Summer told him about Bonnie’s situation, the exasperation of her roommates’ forgetfulness, and Gwen’s visit to the old apartment.

“She probably thought you spent the night at my place,” said Jeremy.

“I know. I didn’t want her to.”

“Why not? It’s the truth, sort of.”

Summer sighed and toyed with her chopsticks. “Jeremy, your parents must be incredibly accepting for you to be so clueless about why this bothers me.”

“Are you kidding? My mother would faint if she ever finds out the truth.” He quickly added, “I’m kidding. They already know.”

“They don’t mind?”

“That’s the benefit of being the youngest of four. They’ve already been through everything with my sisters and brother.”

“Great,” said Summer dryly. It was far too late to hope for any siblings to help share her burden of maternal attention.

Throughout February, Summer managed to rationalize away several more opportunities to mention the move to her mother or give notice at Grandma’s Attic. She had even begun to forget her anxieties enough to feel at home in Jeremy’s apartment until one evening during supper when three hang-up calls on the answering machine convinced her that Gwen had figured out the truth. Summer waited a reasonable interval before calling her mother on some camp-related pretext only to find her engrossed in her new research project.

Relieved, she hung up and wondered aloud who had called, but Jeremy was annoyed that Summer had not gone ahead and unburdened her obviously troubled conscience. That led to their first fight as roommates. They made up that same night, but not before Jeremy told her that if she was so ashamed to live with him she ought to move out, and Summer retorted that she had considered it.

The next morning they lingered in bed and shared a leisurely breakfast, still apologetic and careful, wanting reassurances that everything was fine between them before they parted for the day. Despite her late start, Summer managed to get to work on time since Jeremy’s apartment was only a five-minute walk from Grandma’s Attic. She arrived to find the quilt shop dark, the sign in the front door still turned to
CLOSED
. Bonnie should have unlocked the door an hour earlier. Summer fumbled in her backpack for her key and let herself in.

“Bonnie?” she called, flipping the sign. She turned on the lights and the music system, taking advantage of the opportunity to slip in one of her favorite CDs instead of Bonnie’s usual hammered dulcimer and flute. She restocked the empty shelves with what little was left in the storage room, but when another half hour passed with no sign of Bonnie, she phoned upstairs. The answering machine picked up; Bonnie’s husband’s voice announced that she had reached the home of Craig Markham and that he would return her call later. Summer hung up without leaving a message.

At that moment, the door burst open and Diane came in. “Oh, hi,” she said, taking off her coat. “I thought no one else was working today.”

“I work every Friday when camp isn’t in session,” said Summer, puzzled. Diane knew that. “Bonnie should be here, too, but she didn’t show up this morning. I’m worried. No one answered the phone upstairs, either.”

“She’s not coming in today.” Diane hung up her coat on a peg on the back wall and stored her purse under the cutting table. “Agnes called and asked me to open the store. I guess she didn’t know you would be here.”

“Agnes? Why would Agnes have called?”

Diane shrugged. “I have no idea. I imagine Bonnie asked her to.”

“But Bonnie knew I was working and she would have called you directly.”

“Well …” Diane paused. “I don’t know. But I’m here, so I’m going to work. I need the hours. Todd is still holding out for Princeton. Do you have any idea how expensive that is? Thank goodness Michael decided to go to Waterford College so we could take advantage of the family tuition waiver.”

Summer nodded. Michael had been something of a troublemaker since the fifth grade, but as his former and favorite babysitter, Summer tended to see harmless mischief where others saw an inmate-in-training. When Michael enrolled at Waterford College, Diane had been so relieved that she would have paid any amount of tuition without complaint. Now completing his sophomore year, Michael seemed to be thriving as a Computer Sciences major. When the time came, Summer hoped he would find a job outside of Waterford so that, unlike herself, he would be accepted as the adult he had become instead of perpetually seen as the child he had been.

The morning passed with no word from Bonnie. When a call to Agnes went unanswered, Summer considered phoning Bonnie’s husband at work, but she had carried on only a handful of strained conversations with Craig in all the years she had known the Markhams. She didn’t want to risk making trouble by bothering him at his office. If something was seriously wrong, he wouldn’t be there, anyway. He would be with his wife.

A slow but steady flow of customers kept Summer and Diane too busy to have much time to chat, but it tapered off long enough for them to go to lunch. After Diane’s turn, Summer went to the Daily Grind for coffee and a salad. Judy was there, an empty plate on the table beside her laptop. Summer did not want to interrupt her work, but when she stopped by to say hello, Judy invited Summer to join her. Summer agreed and, as she seated herself, she couldn’t resist a glance at the computer screen. She glimpsed what looked to be lecture notes before Judy shut it down.

They chatted about quilt camp while Summer ate and Judy nursed a cup of black coffee. “Have you started your block for Sylvia’s quilt yet?” Summer asked.

“I confess I forgot all about it,” said Judy. “I don’t even have the fabric yet.”

“If you run out of time you could always buy one of those bargain kits at the Fabric Warehouse,” teased Summer, and had to laugh at her friend’s stricken expression. “I’m just kidding. You have plenty of time. I haven’t started my block, either.”

“I don’t know what’s more insulting,” said Judy, tossing her straight black hair over her shoulder and feigning moral outrage. “That you think I have such poor time management skills or that I’d take my business anywhere but Grandma’s Attic.”

Summer assured her she knew otherwise on both counts.

She would have stayed to talk longer, but she couldn’t linger with a clear conscience knowing Diane was at the store alone. Judy encouraged her to stay, but she had her computer switched back on before Summer pushed in her chair. On her way out, Summer passed two young men joining the line at the counter, digging in their back pockets for folded bills. She recognized the tall blond on sight, although she hadn’t baby-sat Diane’s sons in years. The younger of the brothers, Todd was handsome, athletic, and therefore popular, and his companion seemed much the same. The boys laughed and talked loudly like the lords of the local high school class that they were, wanting and expecting to be noticed, oblivious to the utter lack of interest of the college students and professors who had no idea how important they were among their peers. Summer smiled and left the coffee shop. She shouldn’t be so hard on Todd and his friend, who looked vaguely familiar. Troubled Michael had always been her favorite, and Todd couldn’t help that his perfection made him so annoying.

Back at Grandma’s Attic, the stream of customers slowed to a trickle by midafternoon, and despite Bonnie’s absence, Summer considered leaving early. Quilt camp would begin in almost three weeks, and Summer should have been at Elm Creek Manor helping Sarah. Out of guilt for her intended resignation, she had not reduced her hours at the quilt shop as she usually did by that time of year. Sarah rightly could have complained, but she probably had everything so well under control that she barely noticed Summer’s absence. Even so, come Monday, Summer would revert to her camp season hours. Maybe that would provide a natural transition into leaving permanently.

Eventually customer traffic slowed so much that Diane suggested that to pass the time they read the letters accompanying the blocks for Sylvia’s bridal quilt. Summer agreed, but thoughts of her enormous workload nagged at her so much she could not enjoy herself.

Just as she was about to ask Diane if she would mind closing on her own, the front bell jingled. A customer entered wearing a red wool coat trimmed with black fur, and black pumps rather than the snow boots nearly everyone else in Waterford favored this time of year. She removed a black fur hat and smoothed her platinum blond pageboy with a leather-gloved hand. “Isn’t Bonnie here today?”

“No,” said Diane abruptly, sitting down at the cutting table with her back to the woman and unfolding another letter.

“Diane,” whispered Summer, incredulous.

“Don’t worry. She’s not a customer.”

Diane’s voice dripped with disgust, but fortunately she had spoken too softly for the woman to overhear. Suddenly Summer recognized her. She had been a brunette the last time Summer had seen her, but she was unmistakably Mary Beth Callahan, the perennial president of the Waterford Quilting Guild and Diane’s next-door neighbor.

Summer decided to avoid giving Diane another opportunity to address Mary Beth, since their mutual loathing was legendary. “Bonnie’s not here, but may I help you?”

“I suppose so. You’re Summer, right? Summer Sullivan?”

“That’s right.”

“Your name is in the letter, so I guess you’ll do.” Mary Beth withdrew an envelope from her purse and unfolded it. “I believe this was sent to me by mistake.”

She held out the envelope until Summer took it. One glance told her it was the invitation to participate in Sylvia’s bridal quilt.

“We definitely meant to send it to you,” Summer assured her. “Actually, to the entire guild. You’re listed as the guild contact, so we sent it to your home, hoping you would announce it at your next meeting.”

She tried to return the letter, but Mary Beth waved it away. “Oh, no, I couldn’t do that.”

“Why not?” asked Diane.

“I couldn’t impose on my fellow guild members like that. They’d probably feel obligated to participate, and that isn’t fair. Sylvia is not a charity case. If I endorse your project, where does it stop?”

“We’re not asking you to endorse it, just announce it,” said Diane. “Just tell them about the quilt and let them decide whether they want to help.”

Summer raised a hand to quiet her friend. “I understand your concerns, but many of your guild members have known Sylvia for years. Don’t you think they would want to know about her bridal quilt?”

“Don’t you think once they see the finished quilt they’ll be ticked off that you kept them from participating?” Diane added.

Mary Beth regarded her sourly. “If those few members of my guild are such good friends of Sylvia’s, I’m sure you have their addresses and can contact them individually. Our guild happens to be very busy, Diane, so regardless of their feelings for Sylvia, we would appreciate it if nonmembers didn’t come around begging for blocks.”

“How would you know if you never ask them?” said Diane. “If they don’t want to participate, fine, but you won’t even give them the chance to refuse for themselves!”

Mary Beth ignored her. “Make sure to take our address off your mailing list,” she called to Summer over her shoulder as she departed.

“Gladly,” retorted Diane as the door closed behind her. “Can you believe that woman? What is her problem?”

“I have no idea.” Summer tossed the letter into the trash. “She seems easily threatened.”

“Absolutely. Remember how she freaked out when I opposed her for guild president? I would have been elected if she hadn’t reminded everyone that I had never won a ribbon in a quilt show.”

“Winning lots of ribbons can’t make someone a good president,” said Summer. “You need an entirely different set of skills.” She didn’t point out that the Waterford Quilting Guild apparently believed Mary Beth possessed them or she wouldn’t be elected every year. Diane would merely argue that she ran unopposed because everyone feared her wrath.

“She’s deliberately trying to ruin Sylvia’s quilt,” said Diane, opening and closing her rotary cutter with an ominous glint in her eye.

“Why would she do that?” Summer gently guided Diane to the cutting table. “Remember, that’s to cut fabric, not throats.”

“Because she’s jealous of Sylvia’s success. And Bonnie’s. And mine, too, probably.”

Summer couldn’t dispute that, but said, “She can’t ruin Sylvia’s quilt. It would have been nice to have some contributions from more local quilters, but we’ll have enough blocks without them.”

“Oh, really? The mail came while you were at lunch. The three blocks we got today brings us to a grand total of fifty-eight. We need one hundred forty.” Diane frowned and tapped the rotary cutter on the table. “Think about it. Mary Beth has had our letter since the beginning of January. Why would she wait two months to tell us she can’t announce it at the guild meeting?”