As Maggie’s fame in the quilting world had spread, she had written a pattern book,My Journey with Harriet, which quickly sold out of its first edition and went into its third printing within a month. The success of her book and her outstanding reputation as an instructor eventually led to a faculty position at Elm Creek Quilt Camp, where she taught beginning hand-piecing and quilting classes and led workshops dedicated to mastering Harriet’s Journey.
At the Cross-Country Quilters’ most recent annual quilt camp reunion, Donna and Megan had taken Maggie’s Harriet’s Journey workshop. Julia hadn’t enrolled because she found the project too daunting, Grace because she preferred more improvisational styles, and Vinnie because she had become thoroughly enamored with jelly roll quilts, quilts made from bundles of two-and-a-half-inch-wide strips of coordinating fabric. She had packed her schedule with jelly roll design and sewing classes as well as something called “jelly rollrace training,” the concept of which still bewildered Julia despite Vinnie’s frequent, animated descriptions.
But even Vinnie had been willing to set her new obsession aside for Harriet’s Journey when Donna suggested it as their new group project. “I don’t know if I’m up to it,” Julia had demurred, studying the photo on the cover of Maggie’s copy ofMy Journey with Harrietwith trepidation.
“Of course you are,” Vinnie had protested. “You’re perfectly capable of anything if you put your mind to it.”
“You’re not a novice quilter anymore,” Grace had reminded her. “Don’t let the sampler’s complexity intimidate you. It might not be obvious at first glance, but you already know all the techniques required to make each of these blocks.”
“It can be daunting when you take in the whole quilt at once,” Donna had added, sympathetic. “But try not to think of it that way. Break it down into its parts, and just enjoy making one block at a time without worrying about the rest.”
“And whenever you need help, all you have to do is ask,” Megan had assured her. “We’re here for you.”
Heartened by their confidence, Julia had agreed to the plan, and she had taken great pleasure in shopping for an assortment of rich earth-tone fabrics with sky blue and peach as bright accent hues. After further discussion, the friends decided to work on one block a week, with the new block announcement falling on Monday and the deadline to finish on Sunday. Every Thursday evening they would have a conference call to note their progress, share tips, and offer encouragement. Emails were welcome anytime. At that rate they would need more than two years to complete all one hundred blocks, and perhaps several weeks more to sew the blocks together with sashing strips and borders, and more time yet to quilt and bind the top. But the leisurely pace would allow them time to work on other projects too, without turning the weekly block assignments into a burden.
Then came the matter of how they would choose the block ofthe week. Julia wanted to start with the easiest patterns and work up to the more difficult ones. As the least experienced quilter of the group, she figured she would benefit from time to perfect her sewing skills so she would be better prepared to tackle the trickier patterns later. Grace preferred the exact opposite approach, most difficult patterns to least. Her long-standing habit was to complete a day’s most difficult tasks first, when she was freshest, and to enjoy how her workload became easier as the day went on. Donna, who always sought fairness and consensus, suggested that they take turns choosing the week’s block, each according to her preferences. Megan, a methodical engineer, wanted to make the blocks in the order in which they appeared in the quilt: left to right, top row to bottom. As for Vinnie, “I don’t care which blocks we make or when,” she declared, “as long as we all work on the same block each week and have fun doing it.”
In the end they decided that Megan’s plan would be best. That way, patterns of different degrees of difficulty would be dispersed over time rather than concentrated at the beginning or the end. Also, if someone finished a block early, she would already know the next week’s assignment and could work ahead, if that suited her. And if Julia—or anyone—encountered a particularly challenging block before she felt up to the task, the other Cross-Country Quilters would guide her through it, step by step.
The week after Julia’s season premiere party, the Cross-Country Quilters began working on the fourth block of the second row. Churn Dash was one of the simpler blocks, with all straight seams and no set-in pieces or curves, so their weekly check-in conference call quickly turned from noting their progress to catching up on their personal news. Julia’s friends were especially eager to discuss the upcoming Emmy Awards ceremony, which they planned to watch on television. They couldn’t wait to see her walk the red carpet in her strapless Versace gown of champagne silk chiffon with a small train and a matching shawl, and they teasingly declared that they expected her tomention them by name in her acceptance speech when she collected yet another golden statuette.
“Please don’t place any bets,” Julia begged them. “Everyone says this is Jennifer Garner’s year.Aliasis one of the most popular shows on television, and Jennifer has never won. I’m not even writing an acceptance speech.”
The chorus of protests made her glad she had her friends on speakerphone rather than directly in her ear. “But you performed so well all season long,” said Vinnie. “You had so many wonderful scenes. I know you personally, but you almost made me forget I was watching my friend. I saw only Sadie Henderson.”
As ever, Julia was grateful for the effusive praise, although after so many years in the industry, she wished she didn’t crave so much reassurance. “Thank you, Vinnie. That means a lot to me.”
“And Ididbet on you to win, so there.”
Julia’s heart sank as she envisioned the elderly woman’s life savings disappearing in a puff of smoke. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“Not at all. We shook on it and everything.”
“Vinnie,” said Megan warily. Almost three years earlier, thanks to Vinnie’s persistent matchmaking, Megan had married Vinnie’s favorite grandson, Adam. Vinnie often fondly referred to Megan as her granddaughter-in-law. “How much did you bet and with whom?”
“And since when are bookies allowed to prowl the halls of your retirement community?” asked Grace.
Vinnie trilled a laugh. “Oh, relax, girls. The bet is with Ethel from across the hall. The winner has to treat the loser to a piece of pie and a cup of coffee at the café down the block. That’s all.”
Julia heaved a sigh of relief, one she heard echoed over the speakerphone. “I appreciate your optimism, Vinnie, but you’re going to owe Ethel dessert.”
“We’ll see about that,” said Vinnie. “We’ll be watching Sunday night on the big-screen TV in the lounge, and I’ll be the one laughing when you have to make up a speech on the spot when you win.”
“Lindsay is absolutely thrilled that you’re taking her as your plus-one, Julia,” Donna said. “That’s so generous of you.”
“Not at all. It’s my pleasure, and she deserves to be there. Lindsay inherited your work ethic and she’s exceptionally good at her job. She’s also delightful company.” Besides, many other members of the cast and production team would be attending the ceremony, as nominees in other categories. It wouldn’t be right to leave Lindsay out, and it wasn’t as if Julia were dating anyone.
Vinnie sighed, comically forlorn. “Well, if it couldn’t be me in the seat beside you, I’m glad it’s Lindsay.”
“You were my date last year,” Julia reminded her. “Not to mention that I escorted you to the gala grand opening of the Union Hall quilt exhibit just last month.”
“So you did,” Vinnie admitted.
“Dibs on the Emmys next year,” Megan sang out.
“I call season six,” Grace chimed in.
“If I’m nominated,” Julia said, laughing, warmed by her friends’ absolute, unshakable belief that she deserved all the awards. “Don’t go buying your gowns and booking your flights just yet.”
