As she went to her own suite and got ready for bed, her mind churned over the impending demise of her series, Elm Creek Quilts in jeopardy, and dear Nigel’s profound loneliness. If unhappy tidings came in threes, perhaps that meant she had passed through the worst and the days to come would bring only good things. One could only hope.
She climbed into bed, drew up the soft quilt, and had almost dozed off when insight struck with such force that she gasped, suddenly wide awake.
“Of course,” she murmured. “Yes, that’s it. That’s the answer.”
The pieces had been just beyond her fingertips all evening, but now she held them tightly in her grasp, and she knew precisely how to stitch them together.
She knew exactly what to do to help Nigel, Elm Creek Quilts, and herself.
6
When Julia woke, she pulled on a set of her favorite knit loungewear, eased her bedroom door open, and stepped silently into the hallway to avoid disturbing Nigel. To her surprise, the guest room door was ajar and the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee wafted on the air. She expected to find Nigel in the kitchen, rummaging through her refrigerator for a suitable breakfast among her chef’s containers, but he wasn’t there. Instead she found the coffeepot full and a single place set before her favorite chair. He had evidently visited her garden too. In the center of the table he had artfully arranged an assortment of lemons and oranges in a cut-glass bowl that she had forgotten she owned, and which Nigel must have discovered in a cupboard. Propped up against the bowl was a page torn from the notepad she kept by the phone. “Sorry to bolt, darling,” Nigel had written in his rakishly elegant scrawl. “You know I never miss a morning swim if I can help it. Thank you for your hospitality, and for lifting my spirits last night. See you Thursday.”
If he felt better this morning, Julia thought as she set the note aside and went to pour herself some coffee, just wait until he spent a week at Elm Creek Manor.
For that was the brilliant idea that had come to her as she wasdrifting off to sleep the night before. Elm Creek Quilt Camp was the perfect solution for her dilemma—and it would richly benefit her friends and colleagues too. Five years before, her first visit to quilt camp had profoundly changed her life. Not only had she learned to quilt, but she had also formed rich, lasting friendships with her fellow campers, none more so than the Cross-Country Quilters. If her cast and crew could share a similar bonding experience, Julia was absolutely certain that they would happily abandon their other plans and stay withA Patchwork Lifeindefinitely. Hadn’t Nigel said he was miserable and needed something to distract him in Alistair’s absence? A week devoted to learning the craft and heritage of quilting would keep his hands busy and mind occupied, and expressing himself artistically would relieve his stress. The very generous fee Julia would personally provide for her colleagues’ tuition, room, and board would relieve the financial burdens weighing down Elm Creek Quilts. And if Julia’s scheme succeeded and the series continued, the entire cast and crew ofPatchworkwould benefit personally, creatively, and financially—she had absolutely no doubt about it.
But first, she had to convince the Elm Creek Quilters to host an exclusive week of quilt camp during the offseason. As far as she knew, they had never done anything of the sort before. It was likely no one had ever asked. The faculty might be reluctant to throw something together on such short notice, but they needed a new roof, and Summer said that Sarah was brainstorming ideas for new revenue sources. Julia was all too happy to deliver her one wrapped up and tied with a bow.
Over a quick breakfast of coffee, half an English muffin, and one of the sweet, juicy oranges Nigel had harvested, Julia ignored the newspaper in lieu of mulling over how best to approach the Elm Creek Quilters with her proposal. After tidying up the kitchen, she hurried to her computer and replied to Summer’s email.
Date: September 21, 2004
To: Summer Sullivan
From: Julia Merchaud
Subject: Re: Quick Quilt Questions
Thanks for your help with the Delectable Mountains quilt. I’m so relieved we won’t have to cut those scenes. Nigel Crawford broods so marvelously in them. Alas, no sixth Emmy for me, but my young costar Noah McCleod well deserved his, and I’m as proud as it’s possible to be!
I’m sorry to hear about the roof and the other challenges. I hope that the estimate wasn’t as dreadful as you feared. No matter what, you’re all so creative and resilient, and Elm Creek Quilts is so beloved in the quilting word, that I have no doubt you’ll triumph in the end. I have some thoughts I’d like to share about how I might help. Would you please call me as soon as you can?
Julia signed off with warm regards and her cell phone number. Knowing she would be tempted to check her email every ten minutes if she didn’t get out of the house, she changed into lightweight joggers and a top, meticulously applied sunblock, pulled on her sturdiest trail shoes, and drove to the Solstice Canyon trailhead, where through some miracle she managed to grab the last open parking place in the lot near Dry Canyon. She set out on her favorite route, striding briskly up the paved Solstice Canyon Trail to the waterfall near the ruins of the Roberts Ranch house, where she turned back and descended along the more rugged Rising Sun Trail, a wide dirt path with switchbacks through coastal sage scrub and chaparral and into the much welcome cooling shade of oaks and sycamores. She always took the loop clockwise for the better vistas, and since the morning mists had burned off during her climb, the view of the ocean from the TRW Overlook was especially splendid. She lingered there longer than usual, catching her breath, stretching her calves, feeling theeffects of two late nights in a row—and her age, though she hated to admit it. Once she and Charles had been able to dance all night, catch a few hours’ sleep, and hike all the next day effortlessly, but Charles was gone and Julia was nearly seventy.
The thought stopped her short. The Emmys had been on Sunday, the nineteenth, which made today the twenty-first, which meant— Goodness. She would be seventy on Thursday. How fortunate that she already knew she wouldn’t be spending the entire day alone.
She had finished stretching and was about to begin the last half mile when her cell phone rang. The number was unfamiliar, but she recognized the area code for Elm Creek Valley, so she quickly answered before the call went to voicemail. “Hello?”
“Hello, Julia?”
“Yes, hello, Summer. Thanks for calling me back so soon.”
“No problem. I would’ve called sooner except I was in class.”
“Oh? What were you studying today? How to shelve books efficiently? How to restore ancient manuscripts?”
Summer laughed. “Neither, actually. The class is called Pedagogical Theory and Practice for Information Professionals.?”
“I have no idea what that is.”
“That’s because it’s top secret librarian lore. Hey, I’m sorry the Emmys didn’t go your way the other night. If it’s any consolation, you looked absolutely gorgeous and not disappointed at all.”
“Thatisconsoling,” Julia admitted, amused. “So, the roofer’s estimate. How bad was it?”
“In a word, staggering.”
“Oh, dear. Well, maybe I can help keep you on your feet.”
