Elm Creek Quilts [06] The Master Quilter (8 page)

“I imagine you’re about to tell me.”

“To make sure we couldn’t get around her, that’s why. Even if we do send letters to someone else in the guild and ask her to make the announcement, and even if she manages to sneak it past Czarina Mary Beth, the guild members won’t have enough time to make any blocks.”

Summer had to admit that Diane’s explanation of Mary Beth’s motives sounded plausible, but she couldn’t believe that one spiteful woman could ruin the entire quilt. They had plenty of time. She had not started her own block yet, but she would definitely complete it before the deadline.

Summer left shortly afterward, making Diane promise to call her if she received word from Bonnie. Over the weekend she worked on sample projects for a new course she hoped to teach later that season, and on Sunday afternoon, she phoned Bonnie to remind her she intended to cut back her hours in preparation for camp. She left messages at Bonnie’s home as well as at Grandma’s Attic, but Bonnie did not return them.

Before driving out to Elm Creek Manor Monday morning, Summer dropped by Grandma’s Attic just in case Bonnie failed to show. To her relief, the quilt shop was open, and Bonnie was inside helping a customer. Summer stopped in just long enough to remind Bonnie about her changed schedule—and to notice the dark circles beneath her friend’s eyes. Bonnie apologized for not returning her messages but offered no explanation for her silence, and with a customer listening in, Summer could not ask.

Summer spent the rest of the day in the library of Elm Creek Manor helping Sarah prepare for the start of the new camp season. After several hours arranging and rearranging the course schedule, they finally acknowledged that they would have to cancel a few classes. Summer volunteered to phone some of the Elm Creek Quilters to confirm schedule changes, wanting to spare her overworked friend that unpleasant task. Summer contacted Agnes, but could not track down her mother, Diane, or Judy.

Frustrated, Summer hung up and flung herself into a chair in front of the library fireplace, complaining about their friends’ inaccessibility. Sarah laughed and as usual offered a logical explanation for their absence, then added that Summer was the least accessible of them all. “All anyone can ever get is your machine. By the way, I think it might be broken. There’s no outgoing message anymore, just a beep.”

“Oh,” said Summer guardedly. “Thanks. I’ll look into it.”

“You should. Last week I called three times in a row just to make sure I had the right number.”

Summer nodded. So Sarah was the mysterious caller.

That evening, Summer told Jeremy what she had learned, making light of the misunderstanding and the argument that had followed. Jeremy laughed with her about it, adding, “I don’t want another fight over something so stupid. Record whatever message you want. My callers will just have to get used to it.”

“No, you record it. If my mom calls, problem solved.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Are you sure that’s the best way for her to find out?”

“No, it’s not. Now I’ll have some incentive to tell her soon.”

She resolved to do so before the Elm Creek Quilters’ next business meeting.

On the following Thursday, she tried all day to reach Gwen and offer her a ride out to the manor. They could talk in the car. Summer would time it so she delivered the bad news just as they were crossing the bridge over Elm Creek. Gwen would have to settle down for the meeting, and by the time Summer drove her home, she might be better able to conduct a rational discussion. Unfortunately, Gwen did not cooperate with her daughter’s plans. She did not respond to calls to home, office, or cell phone, so eventually Summer gave up and drove to the meeting alone. She still hoped for a few minutes alone with Gwen beforehand, but Gwen arrived just as Sarah opened the meeting.

“Mom, hi,” whispered Summer, edging her chair closer. Sarah frowned slightly but continued speaking. “Listen, can we talk after the meeting?”

“Hmm? Oh, hi, kiddo. Sure, if things wrap up before eight-thirty. I have to get back to the library before it closes.”

So that was where she had been hiding. Summer hoped Sarah would get through the meeting with uncharacteristic brevity. She willed Sarah to quicken her pace, instinctively checking her watch every time Sarah paused between topics, but as the minutes passed, her thoughts wandered from Gwen to Jeremy to Bonnie’s still unexplained absence from Grandma’s Attic. Summer would have asked for an explanation, but considering her own secrets, it seemed hypocritical—

“Are you out of your mind?” Sylvia cried out.

“What?” said Summer, looking from Sarah to Sylvia and back. “What did she say?”

“If any of you had been listening, you would know.” Clearly distressed, Sarah begged her friends to pay attention. Summer, who already felt guilty over helping Sarah less that year than in the past, resolved to concentrate on Elm Creek Quilt Camp for the rest of the meeting. When Sylvia and Diane exchanged a few quips about some naked woman, Summer paid no attention and nodded at Sarah to encourage her to continue.

The meeting concluded at eight twenty-five. “What did you want to talk about, kiddo?” Gwen asked as she put on her coat.

“Nothing.” Nothing they could discuss in five minutes. “I just wanted to catch up. Let’s talk on Sunday, okay? Want to try supper again?”

Gwen agreed, gave her a quick hug and kiss, and hurried out the door. Summer was reaching for her own coat when she felt a hand on her arm. “Summer, dear,” said Sylvia. “Do you have a moment?”

“Sure.”

Sylvia beckoned her to take a seat and waited for the others to leave the room. “I hope you won’t think me a nosy old biddy, but I wonder how you’re doing these days. You seem somewhat troubled.”

Summer forced a smile. “I’m fine.”

“I see. Apparently I was mistaken, then, when I assumed all was not well with your, shall we say, domestic situation.”

“What do you mean?”

“I phoned yesterday and was greeted by a pleasant young man’s voice on the answering machine. A familiar voice—Jeremy’s, I believe.”

“Oh. Right.” Summer tried to sound nonchalant. “Actually, I moved in with Jeremy in February.”

“In February? Goodness, you can keep a secret. I assumed this was a much more recent development.”

Feeling foolish, Summer said, “I have my own bedroom.”

“Of course you do,” said Sylvia, without missing a beat. “I assume you haven’t told your mother?”

“I haven’t told anyone except you.” Summer hesitated. “I guess you’re going to tell her?”

“Oh, my, no,” said Sylvia with a little laugh. “I’m afraid that’s in your hands. It’s not my place to tattle on you, nor to judge. However, as your friend, and as someone who cares about your well-being, I’m compelled to ask why you would choose to do anything you’re ashamed for your mother and your friends to know about.”

“I’m not ashamed.” Summer slumped against the backrest. “But I know how everyone will react and I’m not looking forward to it. They still think of me as a little kid.”

“Some of our friends would object to your living with Jeremy whether you were twenty-seven or fifty-seven. It’s not a question of age, but of marital status.”

“They have a right to object,” Summer countered, “but I have the right to make my own choices.”

“So you do,” said Sylvia, nodding. “Then you believe Jeremy is ‘the one’?”

“I don’t know. I suppose not.”

“My understanding is that moving in together is often a precursor to marriage.”

Summer shook her head. “Jeremy has to know that isn’t possible. My life is here, right?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“My career, my mom, my friends are all right here in Waterford,” said Summer firmly. “I couldn’t leave if I wanted to.”

Sylvia’s eyebrows rose. “Couldn’t you?”

Summer let the question pass. “Jeremy will eventually get his Ph.D. and move on to some faculty position elsewhere. He knows I can’t come with him.”

“Are you certain he knows? Men have a way of ignoring what they don’t want to see.”

Summer couldn’t argue with that. She toyed with a loose string on her shirtsleeve. They had never discussed marriage or made any long-term plans. Summer loved Jeremy, and she would be brokenhearted when he left, but she knew it would happen and accepted it. He occasionally mentioned different colleges he aspired to work for after receiving his degree, and Waterford College was not among them. Even if he did prefer a small, rural school, departments seldom hired their own Ph.D.s for tenure-track positions. It was just the way things were.

“I know our time together is limited,” said Summer. “One of the reasons I moved in with Jeremy was to make the most of that time.”

“I see.”

“He has less than a year before he graduates.” Summer forced a laugh. “Most couples break up sooner than that. Jeremy and I probably will, too, and so none of this will matter.”

“If none of this matters, why haven’t you told anyone? And if you honestly believe you’re going to break up anyway, isn’t it rather foolish to move in with him?”

Summer had no answer for her.

Sylvia reached over and patted Summer’s hand. “I believe you two should have had this discussion before you gave up your old apartment, but you should still have it. Better late than much too late.”

Summer nodded. Sylvia was right, but that meant one more discussion she loathed to have. Speaking to Gwen seemed easy in comparison.

On Sunday, Summer decided to get it over with.

She waited until after supper, then, in a calm, controlled voice, told Gwen she had moved in with Jeremy. She omitted a few details, such as when the move had taken place and her former roommates’ assistance in deceiving Gwen. She waited for her mother to respond, but finally prompted, “Mom?”

“Why?” Gwen choked out.

With barely a tremor, Summer carefully went through the reasons again. Jeremy needed someone to share the rent. She was tired of her old place. The new apartment was better in every respect, including rent. She loved Jeremy and wanted to spend more time with him, something their busy schedules would not permit otherwise.

“But you’ve only been dating since last summer,” said Gwen, with remarkably less hysteria than Summer had anticipated. “How could you give up your freedom, your independence?”

Summer couldn’t help it; she rolled her eyes. “I knew you would say that. I’m not chained to the kitchen table. Jeremy doesn’t shove a toilet brush into my hand when he leaves for campus in the morning.”

Gwen shook her head. “I can’t believe you didn’t discuss this with me first.”

“I’m not a teenager, Mom.”

“But apparently still not mature enough to understand the consequences of your decisions.”

Gwen rose and began to clear the table, refusing Summer’s offer of help. Summer carried plates to the sink anyway and tried to change the subject by asking about Gwen’s progress on her new research project. Gwen told her she did not want to stir up more negative energy that evening, and maybe they could talk about it another day, when Gwen felt less hopeless.

Summer did not know what else to do, so she went home, where Jeremy was waiting to hear how it had gone. She told him both better and worse than she had expected, and left it at that. He gave her a searching look, but left his books and papers to make her a cup of her favorite chamomile tea.

Summer drank it curled up on the futon with a book that could not hold her attention. Her mother’s reaction was a disturbing echo of Sylvia’s. Summer trusted her own instincts, she was comfortable making her own decisions, and she enjoyed living with Jeremy. Still, somehow she wished she had talked to someone before making the move.

“Jeremy,” she finally said, “do you think moving in together has changed things?”

“You mean, between us?” A book closed. “Of course. For the better. Don’t you?”

She chose her words carefully. “I’m happy with the way things are right now.”

“So am I.”

“But you know, they can’t stay like this forever.”

A pause. “No, I guess not, but I love you, Summer, and when the time comes to take the next step, we’ll take it.”

She could only nod in reply. She wondered what he thought that next step was when they both knew he would be leaving Waterford someday.

The remaining two weeks before the first day of camp passed in a flurry of activity. The Elm Creek Quilters were too busy to spare much time for gossip, so Summer’s news spread more slowly than it would have at any other time of the year. Judy was the first to find out; she expressed surprise, but like Sylvia maintained a nonjudgmental front. When Summer admitted she had waited more than a month after moving to tell her mother, Judy seemed more impressed than shocked. “How did you keep it a secret for so long?” she asked admiringly. “The Elm Creek Quilters tell each other everything.”

“Not everything,” said Summer, thinking of Bonnie. One secret was enough to keep from Bonnie, Summer decided, so she mentioned her change of address casually during her next shift at Grandma’s Attic. Bonnie stared at her for a long moment before saying, “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” When Summer assured her she did, Bonnie studied her for a moment before finding an excuse to work in the storage room. Later she emerged, forced a smile, and told Summer that she was probably right to test the relationship before making a more permanent commitment. Summer managed not to flinch as she nodded.