The Tapestry in the Attic (17 page)

Now, before she started her slow trip up the stairs with her crutches at her sides, she grabbed her tote bag with Lily’s letters still inside and slung the strap over her shoulder. Annie decided that instead of putting Lily’s letters back in the boxes with the rest of Gram’s correspondence, they deserved a box of their own. Once she was upstairs, she rummaged through the hall closet and found a small box with a lid. Taking the box into the guest room, she set it on the bed and then took the tote bag off her shoulder. She took the letters out of the bag and put them in the box, but then she decided the box was too plain. She decided to leave it where it was, and the next day, she would look through her collection of decorative papers and find something appropriate to cover the box. Lily’s letters deserved to be kept in something special.

Annie set the box on the side table. The muslin pocket that had covered the tapestry still lay on the bed. Annie didn’t see any reason to keep it. She thought maybe she would give it to Peggy, who could use the material as a foundation for piecing quilt blocks. It would have to be laundered, so Annie reached out to pick it up, intending to carry it to the hamper she kept in her bedroom, but when she grabbed at the center of the fabric she heard a noise like paper crinkling.

Annie opened the long edge of the muslin pocket to look inside. There was an envelope that none of them had noticed. When she saw it, she thought her heart would stop. Though the return address was different, the handwriting was familiar, if somewhat shakier than what she had seen before; Annie knew it was a letter from Lily Cornette. She took the letter out of the envelope and read:

Grace Harbor Hospice

March 15, 1968

Dear Betsy,

It was wonderful to see you this week. I can’t tell you how much your visit meant to me. My strength is waning, and I know that it’s not likely that we’ll ever see each other on this Earth again, but I have the hope of Heaven.

And now, to the purpose of this letter: I had already decided that I wanted you to be the keeper of my final tapestry when I saw you this week, but I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want you to be able to refuse it. That is why I had it packaged and sent to you instead.

I know that there is no place for you to display it in Grey Gables, but that’s not what I want in any case. My request is that you store it, up in your attic, and someday, when the time is right, do some good with it. I’d like to be able to tell you what that “good” is, but frankly, I don’t know. I only know that I have this feeling—no, it’s more than that—I am compelled to make this request. Only God knows what will come of it, and I have faith that He will see it through to its proper conclusion as He will see me through to mine.

Yours faithfully,

Lily

17

Annie resumed attending the Hook and Needle Club meetings the week following the trip to Longfellow College. She had missed that hour with her friends every Tuesday morning, and it was so much fun to be back in that circle of comfy chairs. Of course, she and Kate and Alice told the others everything they had learned at the college about Lily Cornette and the tapestries she created. Annie brought along the letter that she discovered in the muslin pocket so the others could read it.

After Alice read the letter, she asked Annie, “Did you notice the letter was written just five days before she died?”

“Yes,” said Annie.

“What do you think she meant by ‘do some good with it’?” asked Alice.

“I don’t know,” said Annie. “I don’t think she really knew either. I hope whoever has it does something ‘good’ with it. I guess I’ll have to have faith, like Lily did, that God will see it through to its proper purpose, whatever that is.”

After that meeting, the tapestry ceased to be a topic of conversation among them. It wasn’t that they had forgotten about it; they just didn’t know what else they could do to try to recover it.

The fact that Mary Beth had finished with her radiation treatments was a cause of celebration at that same meeting, and though they usually avoided bringing food to snack on since that really didn’t mesh well with doing needlework, Kate thought the occasion called for something special, so she brought Mary Beth’s favorite kind of cake—Boston Cream Pie—explaining that Vanessa had made it from scratch using the recipe from Kate’s grandmother’s old
Fannie Farmer Cookbook
.

After Mary Beth took a bite of the cake, she said, “Yum! I haven’t had this in ages, and the prepackaged ones you buy at the store are never as good as one you make at home. I just don’t take the time to make something like this for myself. Please thank Vanessa for me, and tell her how much I enjoyed it.” She paused and took another bite of cake, and then another. After a few more bites, she said, “By the way, I wanted to tell you all that I have resumed going to the music rehearsals at the college, so I will be joining the ensemble that is performing before the play begins and during intermission. A couple of people from Stony Point who are part of the ensemble actually came over to my house during my treatments, once or twice a week, so that we could practice together, and that really helped when I rejoined the larger group. I can report that we sound really good. For us musicians from Stony Point, it’s very different music than our usual fare, but Professor Torres is a great conductor, and I think it will add a nice layer of entertainment to the evening.”

“I’m looking forward to hearing the ensemble,” said Annie. She told the others about the CDs of medieval music she had purchased and how lovely the songs were.

“I can’t wait to see the dress rehearsals,” said Kate. “It’s going to be interesting to see how all the elements that we’ve been working on separately come together—the music, the costumes, the set—just everything. It’s so exciting!”

****

Two dress rehearsals were scheduled for
King Lemuel’s Treasure
during the third week of April. The first was to be on Friday of that week, and family and friends of all the citizens of Stony Point who had volunteered their time and talents to the production were invited to see the performance that evening. Considering how many people had volunteered to help in one way or another, it was expected the theater would be filled to capacity that Friday.

The second dress rehearsal was to be held the following evening for a smaller group. Professor Howell, the Fortescues, and Jacob Martin had invited a few friends and colleagues from New York and Boston, and even farther afield, who were involved in theater. Gwen invited a few key people from various newspapers in the surrounding area as well. It was hoped favorable articles and reviews would be written about the play in order to bring outsiders to Stony Point for the main performances set to begin Friday of the following week. The goal was as it had ever been—to put on the best production possible, but foremost, to raise money for breast cancer research.

Annie had resumed her duties as prompter a couple of weeks before. Though her leg was still in a cast, someone—usually Ian, who had taken to coming to the rehearsals—would see her to and from her “little box” under the stage, and she was under strict orders not to make the trek alone. Annie suspected that when Ian couldn’t be there, he appointed someone to be her guardian—often Wally. Annie didn’t really mind; she was grateful to have friends who were concerned about her welfare. The truth was, every time she approached the stairs that led from backstage down to the area under the stage, she felt a twinge of panic. She suppressed it, but she knew it was there.

She wondered if the police were still investigating the “accident.” When she relayed to Chief Edwards the information she had learned about the tapestry and how much it was worth, he wouldn’t give her any information, except to tell her it was still under investigation.

At the Hook and Needle Club meeting just before the weekend of the dress rehearsals, Peggy was a bundle of nerves. Mary Beth tried to soothe her. “You are going to be great!”

“Thanks for saying that, Mary Beth,” said Peggy, “but I get butterflies every time I think about it. It’s been so long since I’ve been on the stage in front of a big audience. I don’t mind the Friday night performance so much—that will be in front of people I know—but it’s the Saturday performance that’s on my mind. It’s going to be those people from New York and Boston. Jacob said there will even be some people from California. ”

“Look, Peggy,” said Alice, “you really are wonderful in your role as Abigail. Just focus on doing what I’ve seen you do for the past two months at rehearsals, and you’ll be just fine.”

“Professor Howell says you are a most promising amateur,” said Stella, “and that’s no faint praise. He wouldn’t have given you the part if he didn’t think you were up to it. Remember that, Peggy. And remember that your friends are going to be there to support you.”

“Thank you, guys,” said Peggy, seemingly a little less flustered. “I will remember, and I’ll do my very best so that you’ll all be proud of me.”

Annie reached over and gave Peggy a hug across the shoulders. “You don’t have to prove anything to us, Peggy. We already know you’ve got the right stuff. I can see the headlines now: ‘
King Lemuel’s Treasure
Breaks Box-Office Records—Newcomer Peggy Carson Steals the Show!’”

****

A couple of days before the Friday night dress rehearsal, Annie’s original cast had been removed, and the doctor replaced it with one that he called an “Aircast.” It was great! For one thing, she could take it off and actually get into her bathtub. After weeks of “sink baths” it had felt heavenly to be able to soak in the tub again. The other great thing about the cast was that it was a walking cast, so she could finally get rid of her crutches.

The Friday night performance was a smash with the local audience that packed the house that evening. The cast and crew were rewarded with a standing ovation that lasted several minutes. Yes, there were a few hiccups in the performance, but everyone who was there understood that that was the purpose of the dress rehearsal—to find weaknesses in what Professor Howell had called the “flow” of the production in order to fix them, and to provide the actors with an audience response so they could adjust their performances as needed.

Even though Friday night provided the company a great deal of confidence, on Saturday night, the atmosphere backstage felt quite different from the previous night. The audience that was waiting in the house seats to watch the play was different too—there were fewer people, and they were much quieter. The “butterflies” that had plagued Peggy returned, and Annie saw her doing deep-breathing exercises when she stopped by the ladies’ dressing room.

Peggy was in her costume and her stage makeup, which made her look like some otherworldly creature close up. “I just stopped by to wish you good luck tonight,” said Annie.

“Annie! Don’t you know you aren’t supposed to say that to an actor before a performance?” asked Peggy with mock indignation. “I think you know what you’re supposed to say.”

Annie smiled, “Yes, but I was trying to avoid it. Oh, all right—break a leg, Peggy!”

Peggy laughed, “And don’t you break another leg, Annie Dawson!”

“That’s a deal,” said Annie, laughing too. Then Annie said seriously, “You are wonderful in this role, Peggy. We’re all so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Annie,” Peggy said with a smile. “Now, not to be rude or anything, but please go away before you make me cry—that’s all I need!”

Annie smiled. “OK, I’ll see you later.”

Kate and Vanessa were in the dressing room too, helping with costumes, but they were busy, so Annie just waved to them. Annie had seen Alice, Gwen, and Stella seated with the audience. She knew that Mary Beth was in the orchestra pit with her fellow musicians from Stony Point and Longfellow College because she could hear the plaintive strains of some ancient melody setting a solemn mood for the beginning of the play.

It was time for Annie to make her way to the prompter’s box. Normally Ian was Johnny-on-the-spot, but he was nowhere to be seen this evening. She imagined that with all the VIPs in town, the mayor of Stony Point had to be out in the audience representing his city. She knew she could manage on her own, especially since she had her new walking cast, so she wasn’t concerned. She carried her script, a bottle of water, and a pack of tissues in a messenger-type bag with a long strap she could put across her body and over her shoulder.

As she walked across the busy backstage toward the stairs, she saw Felix nearby. He was as she had often seen him—standing with his electronic device, punching in characters, staring at the screen with great concentration. But her movement caught his attention, and he looked up. He glanced around the area, and not seeing Ian, said to Annie, “Do you need someone to help you to the prompter’s box tonight, Mrs. Dawson.”

“Please call me Annie, Felix,” said Annie. “You don’t need to be so formal with me. And thanks for asking, but I really think I can manage it just fine tonight.”

“OK, … Annie,” said Felix. “If you change your mind, let me know. I’ll check on you at intermission, so if you decide you need a hand then, I’ll be around to help you.”

“Thanks again, Felix,” said Annie. “I really appreciate everything you’ve done to make this production possible. You’re a great stage manager. I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone quite so organized. I don’t know what the professor will do when you graduate from college this spring.”

Felix blushed. Annie supposed he wasn’t used to praise. She’d certainly never seen Professor Howell say anything to him that had vaguely resembled it. No, wait, she told herself, the professor had said something nice about Felix when he introduced him at that first meeting up in the conference room. Still, that wasn’t the same as saying “thank you” to someone’s face.

“Thanks, Mrs. … Annie,” said Felix awkwardly.

“I’ll see you later then,” said Annie as she continued on her way.

As she approached the stairs, Annie felt that same twinge of panic that she had felt each time since her leg had been broken. She paused and looked up at the grid. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. It was safe. There was nothing above the stairs that could fall down and hit her. She squared her shoulders and began her descent. She took her time going down the steps, and then she hurried across the area under the stage, its dark corners causing a chill to run up her spine. At last, she made it to the small set of steps and up into the box. After taking her seat, she placed the script before her and flipped on her little light.

Soon she heard the piece of music that she knew preceded the beginning of the play. Professor Howell had told the cast and crew that he intended to say a few words before the play began this evening. Annie saw him walk to center downstage, just as the music stopped.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” began the professor. “I want to thank you all for coming this evening. The production you are about to witness has a noble purpose. At the behest of our author, Jacob Martin, and thanks to our legion of volunteers, all of the proceeds from the upcoming performances of the play will go entirely to the National Breast Cancer Foundation. Directing this cast and crew has been one of the most rewarding experiences of my long career. I hope that you will agree with me that this play will take its place along with other great works that speak to our human condition. To paraphrase Oscar Wilde, theater is the greatest of all art forms, the most immediate way we can share with one another the sense of what it is to be a human being. Without further ado, we present to you,
King Lemuel’s Treasure
!

****

The first act flew by for Annie. The Friday evening dress rehearsal had been laid back compared to this performance. The Friday audience had been family and friends, and it was expected that mistakes would be made. But the atmosphere at the Saturday evening dress rehearsal was completely different. Annie thought she finally really understood what the professor had meant about there being a “flow” to a play. Tonight she could feel it. It was as if there were an electric current in the air, and it seemed that the others felt it as well. The performances were intense, but not over the top. All of their hard work seemed to be paying off.

At intermission, Annie was ready for a break. She hadn’t realized how tense she had been as she watched, and now her joints felt stiff. Felix was nowhere to be seen, so she began to make her way down the steps to the under-stage area. Just as she reached the bottom step, she heard a noise in the far corner. She just stopped herself from screaming by clapping her hand over her mouth. Trent Bodkin immerged from the shadows, one bare, tattooed arm wrapped around a long box labeled with words along the side that indicated it contained five-foot, 40-watt fluorescent tubes.

Trent stopped and stared at her, but didn’t speak. Annie swallowed and tried to sound normal, “Hello, Trent. I didn’t realize anyone was down here. You really scared me for a moment there.”