Julia looked up to find Sarah regarding her with concern. “I... Yes, everything’s fine,” she said. “Please continue.”
“Did you leave your things in your room? You have time to run upstairs and get them.”
“No, thank you.” Julia was mindful of the other students pausing in their work to watch. “Please, I don’t want to hold up the rest of the class.”
“Wasn’t there a supply list in the course confirmation packet mailed to your home?”
A supply list. Of course, there must have been a supply list, and it must have been sent to the agency. “There probably was,” Julia said, picturing her hands closing around Ares’s throat, “but I didn’t get it.”
“I see,” Sarah said, with a puzzled frown that said she didn’t see at all.
“I have some extra fabric,” sang out an older woman with a cloud of shockingly bright white hair. “What do you like? Red or blue?”
“Oh, no, that’s quite all right,” Julia demurred.
The woman was already making her way down the center aisle, a bundle of fabric in her arms. “Nonsense. I always bring plenty.” She placed the bundle on Julia’s table and held up a piece of bright green fabric with wide red lines zigzagging across it. “Here’s a nice one. Or do you prefer calico?”
“Calico,” Julia said quickly, recognizing one of the unfamiliar terms from Ellen’s script. The older woman smiled indulgently and handed her a piece of dark blue fabric sprinkled with tiny white flowers.
“Here’s something you can use for the light fabric,” another woman called out, waving a cream-colored piece over her head like a banner. Sarah supplied her with one of the pizza-cutter tools, and soon everyone had joined in, showering Julia with extra rulers and needles and pins and so much extra fabric she wasn’t sure how she’d carry everything back upstairs to her room. Mortified, she accepted their gifts and stammered out her thanks.
“I’m sorry you didn’t get a list,” said Sarah. “After class, why don’t you show me your course schedule and I’ll send into town for the rest of the supplies you’ll need.”
“Thank you. I’d appreciate that.” Julia couldn’t bear for her to think that an experienced quilter would be so ignorant. “I’m sorry for the disruption, but I’ve never quilted before.”
The white-haired woman’s eyebrows rose. “This is your first quilting class? Ever? My goodness, you’re ambitious, skipping the basics and going straight to this high-tech stuff.”
“Skipping...” Julia looked from the white-haired woman to Sarah. “This isn’t a beginner’s course?”
“Most new quilters start out in Beginning Piecing,” Sarah said. “You’ve really never quilted before?”
Julia shook her head. Wasn’t it obvious?
“Then...” Sarah hesitated. “I don’t mean to question your judgment, but why did you sign up for Quick Piecing?”
Julia had never even seen a course description. Ares had signedher up for this course, and suddenly she understood why. “Because I need to learn quickly.”
The white-haired woman laughed as if Julia had made a joke, but Sarah smiled kindly. “I think tomorrow morning we should switch you to Diane’s Beginning Piecing class, okay?”
Julia managed a smile. “That would be lovely, thank you.”
As the class resumed, the white-haired woman settled into an empty workspace at Julia’s table and did what she could to help her keep up, but Julia was in over her head and she knew it. When Sarah called for a fifteen-minute break, while the other students rose to stretch and strike up conversations with their neighbors, Julia thanked her would-be tutor, gathered her things, and headed for the exit, murmuring a hasty apology to Sarah in passing.
“Miss Merchaud, wait,” Sarah called after her.
Julia halted, muffling a sigh. “Julia,” she said, turning around. “Just Julia is fine.”
“Julia,” Sarah said. “Please don’t feel embarrassed. You did well for your first-ever quilting lesson.”
“Oh, don’t worry about me,” Julia said, clutching her hand-me-down supplies awkwardly. “I’ve bombed in front of live audiences before and survived.”
“You didn’t bomb.” Sarah gestured to Julia’s gifted supplies. “Do you need a bag for all that?”
“Yes, please, if you have one.”
“One sec.” Sarah darted back into the classroom and returned moments later with a paper grocery sack that had seen better days. “Sorry,” she said, holding it open so Julia could fill it. “Best I could do on short notice.”
“It’s fine.” Julia took the bag, holding it carefully from the bottom. “Thank you.”
