“That’s two questions, and you know I can’t answer either one of them.”
The two women groaned comically.
“Um, should I call you back later?” Summer asked.
“Can I ask a question too?” the woman on the right asked, drawing closer.
Julia raised her phone again. “Sorry, Summer. One more minute.” To the eager fan, she replied, “I’m so sorry, but as you see, I’m on a call—”
“Oh, this’ll be quick. What did Noah McCleod mean at the Emmys when he said that thing about his college applications? He’s not leaving the show, is he?”
“Wait, what?” the other woman asked sharply, turning and grabbing her friend’s arm. “I didn’t watch. What did he say?”
“He said he was going to mention his Emmy on his college applications,” the other woman explained, then turned back to Julia. “What did he mean? Is he leaving the show? Is it going to be canceled?”
“It can’t be canceled,” her friend wailed. “Sadie and Ben haven’t gotten married yet.”
“But Sunday night at the Emmys—”
“The show hasn’t been canceled,” Julia broke in hastily. “Our head writer is already working on scripts for our sixth season.Patchworkhasn’t been canceled. I swear.”
The woman on the left heaved a sigh, relieved, but her friend looked skeptical. “Then what was Noah talking about?”
“Well—” Julia shrugged and forced a smile. “Maybe it was a joke. Maybe he’s thinking about going to college when we’re on hiatus. I really wouldn’t make anything of it.”
The women exchanged a look. “I guess the show could continue without him,” the woman on the left said, her expression doubtful. “You could, like, have Jesse go to college too, and maybe appear in a few episodes now and then.”
“Sure, that could work,” said Julia, smiling agreeably and backing away as she raised the phone to her ear. “That would be up to our writers, of course. It was lovely meeting you both, and thanks for supporting the show, but—”
“Oh, sure. Sorry to interrupt,” the woman on the right said, and her friend quickly chimed in with thanks and apologies. As they hurried off down the trail, Julia turned back to face the ocean view again, but not before she heard one of the women tell her friend, “I can’twaitto post about this on my blog!”
Julia felt a pang of misgivings. With any luck, the woman only had a dozen readers, all of them family members and neighbors. Quickly she pressed the phone to her ear. “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting.”
“No worries,” Summer assured her. “Does that happen a lot?”
“Yes, but I’d rather be ambushed by true fans than by the paparazzi. Where were we?”
“You explained what sort of camp experience you needed, and I think you were about to ask what our next step should be. I think it’s a fantastic idea, and I’m confident we can provide what you need, so at this point I’d like to bring Sarah into the conversation.”
“Not Sylvia?”
“No, not yet. Sarah is the camp director, so she’d be responsible for organizing your session. And if you can persuade her that it’s worth doing, then she can help you convince Sylvia. Not that I expect Sylvia to object. Sarah has proposed expanding our quilt camp seasoninto autumn before, but Sylvia has been skeptical that there would be enough interest to justify the effort. A special session for your cast and crew could be just the test we need.”
Summer said she would recap their discussion in an email, and include Sarah in the recipients. “Everyone at the manor is preoccupied with the launch of Elm Creek Orchards on Saturday,” she added, “but I’ll be sure to emphasize that time is of the essence.”
By the time Julia finished her hike and drove home, Summer’s promised email had already landed in her inbox. She had summarized the plan more eloquently than Julia remembered proposing it, for which Julia self-deprecatingly thanked her in her reply. Sarah replied with a few cautious questions, and in an intermittent back-and-forth over the next twenty-four hours, Sarah and Summer confirmed that they would have the faculty and staff available to host a week of quilt camp for about a dozen of Julia’s colleagues in late October or early November. But before they drew up a contract, they asked Julia to join them in a conference call to work out a few essential details.
“Speaking for myself, I’d be absolutely thrilled to welcome you and your friends to Elm Creek Manor to refresh your quilting skills,” Sarah assured Julia when they spoke on Wednesday afternoon.
“And for the newbies to learn the basics,” Summer chimed in. “If I weren’t busy with library school, I’d teach you all myself. It would be so exciting to play a behind-the-scenes role inA Patchwork Life.”
“I think some of the other Elm Creek Quilters would insist upon teaching at least a few classes,” said Sarah. “We have to share the fun.”
“Does this mean we have a deal?” asked Julia. “Shall we discuss dates and fees?”
“Well, actually...” Sarah hesitated. “Before we proceed, I’d like to have Sylvia’s approval. I may be the director of Elm Creek Quilts, but the manor is her home. I wouldn’t want to launch something of this scale without her blessing.”
“I understand, of course,” said Julia, but something in Sarah’s tone made her wary. “Do you think she’s likely to approve?”
