Nigel thanked her, took Julia’s elbow, and steered her off, explaining that a British colleague in town for the ceremony was absolutely dying to meet her. Nodding along, Julia glanced over her shoulder to find Ellen already joining a lively conversation with a few younger members of the cast and crew, including Noah and the handsome piano player from set design, the one who resembled a young Blair Underwood. At that moment, the group burst into joyous laughter, Ellen too. Her feelings couldn’t have been hurt that badly, Julia told herself, relieved.
She saw little of Ellen after that. As far as Julia knew, Ellen remained at the network party after Julia whisked Lindsay off on a tour of several others, one hosted by Maury’s agency, another byTV Guide, and another that she and Lindsay accidentally crashed on their way somewhere else. Julia felt fatigue setting in by one o’clock, but she found a second wind and gamely reveled on until two. Then, pleading exhaustion, she decided to call it a night. “You stay and enjoy yourself,” she told Lindsay, raising her voice to be heard over the nightclub’s pounding bass, smothering a yawn. “I’ll take a cab home and you can have the limo.”
But Lindsay wouldn’t hear of it. She claimed to be tired too, although her eyes were bright and her cheeks flushed from dancing, and they left the last party together.
Julia barely stayed awake long enough to undress and remove her makeup, and the next day she slept past noon, an indulgence she rarely allowed herself. Groaning as she rose from bed, she made her way to the kitchen, where she drank several chilled glasses of reverse-osmosis filtered spring water to rehydrate. Her personal chef had come by on Saturday and stocked her refrigerator and freezer with a week’s worth of fresh, nutritious meals, so lunch was a simple matter of reading the labels, choosing the one that sounded most gentle on the stomach, and heating it up in the microwave.
She skimmed the newspaper as she ate, the open windows of the breakfast nook letting in refreshing breezes and birdsong. Poring over coverage of the previous night’s events, she was delighted to see a flattering red carpet photo of herself and Lindsay, whom one paper mistakenly identified as her niece; she set that page aside to send to Donna. Amid the often amusing, occasionally exasperating anecdotes, she was astonished to discover fervid speculation about what she had said as Allison Janney took the stage to accept her award. One expert lip-reader’s interpretation, “Ed knows it’s going to be a faux pas tomorrow,” was widely regarded as the most credible and had sparked a firestorm of questions. Who was Ed? Ed Norton? EdwardJames Olmos? Eddie Murphy? Was the faux pas in question Julia’s and Glenn’s much-too-similar gowns or something else? Why would this Ed person know and why did it matter? Eventually Julia was laughing so hard that she almost choked on her green tea. Wait until she told the Cross-Country Quilters what she had really said. They would laugh until tears streamed down their faces.
After a leisurely lunch came yoga, a relaxing bath, and a meeting with her assistant, so it was not until late afternoon that Julia checked her email and found the reply from Summer Sullivan she had been waiting for.
Date: September 19, 2004
To: Julia Merchaud
From: Summer Sullivan
Subject: Re: Quick Quilt Questions
Hello, Julia! It’s so nice to hear from you. I’m flattered that you consider me your “favorite quilt historian/librarian-in-training,” but I can’t imagine there were many contenders for the title!
I’m happy to report that you don’t have to worry about a historical anachronism if you keep Ben’s quilt in the show. The Sugar Camp Quilt, which you saw in the exhibit at Union Hall, was made in 1849. The featured block, Delectable Mountains, dates back to the early 1840s, although the source of its name is much older—John Bunyan’s famous 1678 Christian allegory,The Pilgrim’s Progress. So you can reassure your production designer that your prop quilt definitely could have existed in Kansas in Sadie’s day.
Thanks for your good wishes, which I’ll be sure to pass along to the other Elm Creek Quilters. To answer your question frankly, and just between us, I’m sorry to say that since your last visit, we’ve encountered some unexpected financial challenges here at Elm Creek Manor. It’s surprisingly expensive to run an artists’ retreat at a historic nineteenth-century manorin rural Pennsylvania. (Who would’ve guessed?) Just a few days ago, for example, we found out that the entire roof has to be replaced. You’ve seen the size of our roof, so you’ll understand why we’re dreading the contractor’s estimate.
But not to worry! We’ll persevere and adapt as we always do. Sarah and Sylvia are already brainstorming ideas for new revenue sources, and Matt is launching a new business venture next week to supplement our income during the offseason: Elm Creek Orchards! The estate’s apple orchards are thriving, which I’m sure won’t surprise you, since you’ve sampled some of Chef Anna’s delicious apple dishes at quilt camp through the years. Now, in addition to selling apples to local grocers and cider mills, we’ll be offering self-picked apples directly to customers. Our grand opening is September 25, and we’re hoping for—and counting on—huge, happy crowds for our own season premiere.
Congratulations on your most recent Emmy nomination! All of your fans at Elm Creek Manor are pulling for you. Whatever happens, you’ll always be our favorite actress/Cross-Country Quilter/quilt camper!
Hugs and Stitches,
Summer
Julia’s relief upon learning that the compelling scenes from episode four wouldn’t have to be cut because of a historical anomaly turned to dismay by the time she reached the last paragraph. Elm Creek Quilt Camp was the most popular quilters’ retreat in the country, possibly the world. How could a company so successful and beloved have tumbled into financial difficulties? It certainly couldn’t be due to financial mismanagement. Sylvia was known for her generosity to the quilting community, but from everything Julia had observed, she was also frugal and pragmatic. Sarah, who rarely taught classes anymore in lieu of focusing on the company’s day-to-day operations, had earned a business degree at Penn State and was experienced in accountancy and management. The other Elm Creek Quilters were exceptionally creative and resourceful. Julia couldn’t imagine any routine business problem that could stymie this particular dream team, and Summer did sound optimistic—but wasn’t that Summer’s nature? And what if these business problems weren’t routine?
Troubled, Julia read the email again more thoroughly, searching for meanings between the lines. If apple orchards were anything like family farms—which she knew more about than most people would ever suspect—Elm Creek Orchards would likely prove to be a labor-intensive venture with low profit margins. The cost to replace the roof of Elm Creek Manor would likely be substantial, and that was most probably only the beginning of the essential maintenance the historic residence required. It pained Julia to imagine Elm Creek Quilt Camp—a place where she had discovered so much joy, friendship, and fulfillment—no longer able to provide that same priceless gift to others. She had assumed it would endure forever.
Obviously, she should send the Elm Creek Quilters a check. Her income from a single episode ofA Patchwork Lifewould surely cover the cost of the roof and then some. But, also obviously, Sylvia wouldn’t accept such a gift. Summer hadn’t mentioned that Elm Creek Quilts was seeking new investors, or Julia would have eagerly seized the opportunity, over her accountant’s objections if necessary. But she couldn’t just sit back and let Elm Creek Quilts go under, not when she had the resources and the very strong desire to keep it afloat. But what could she do?
The question nagged at her through the afternoon as she answered fan mail and took a call for a post-Emmys interview with a writer fromHarper’s Bazaar. The perfect solution still eluded her as evening approached. She was tempted to email the Cross-Country Quilters and seek their advice, but Summer had said “just between us,” and Julia had been burned by untrustworthy acquaintances toomany times not to respect a confidence. Nor did she wish to upset her friends with speculation that Elm Creek Quilt Camp might close before their next annual reunion.
“Not on my watch, it won’t,” Julia declared to her empty kitchen as she opened her refrigerator door to assess the possibilities for dinner. Somehow she’d find a way to help without offending Sylvia’s pride. “An anonymous donation?” she mused aloud, reading the labeled containers her personal chef had arranged so neatly. Sylvia’s bank could trace a wire transfer, and a grant from the National Endowment for the Humanities would be difficult to fake. She couldn’t just anonymously overnight a crate of cash to Elm Creek Manor. Sylvia would consider it her duty to turn it over to the authorities.
She had just decided on a mushroom and asparagus risotto when the phone rang. Leaving the container on the counter, she glanced at the caller ID and picked up eagerly when she saw that it was Nigel. “Hello, Nigel, dearest,” she greeted him pertly. “Just waking up? Or just getting home?”
“I’ve been up for hours, darling. I swam, had a lovely long phone chat with Alistair, and sat for an interview withGQ. Do you believe you were robbed last night?”
“What?” The non sequitur threw her for a moment, and she had to think. “No, I kept my purse with me the entire time and it was definitely on my dresser this morning when I woke. Not that I would have lost much. I wasn’t carrying anything in my purse but a lipstick, some breath mints, a pen, and an index card with some bullet points for an entirely unnecessary acceptance speech.”
“Not robbed of your purse, darling. Robbed of an Emmy.”
“No, of course not. I already have five and I’m not greedy. Why do you ask?”
“Because a certain nominee claimed thathewas robbed because his show didn’t win the prize for Outstanding Reality Competition Program. ‘Outstanding Reality Program’—do you suppose that’s an intentional oxymoron?”
“My, aren’tyousnobbish this evening,” Julia remarked, smiling as she pulled up a kitchen stool and settled in for a long, enjoyable chat.
“I happen to know that you disdain reality television as much as I do.”
