After Sylvia and Julia checked their calendars, they chose the second week of November for their session, with a Sunday afternoon arrival and Saturday morning departure, the same schedule followed during the regular camp season. “How many guests should we expect?” Sylvia asked. “Earlier you estimated twenty or so.”
Julia quickly tallied up a roster for a best-case scenario. “Let’s say about two dozen,” she said. “I’ll give you a final head count about a week before we arrive, if that works for you.”
“It does indeed. I must say, Julia, Elm Creek Manor is buzzing with excitement these days. We’ve never done anything like this actors’ quilt camp before and we’re very much looking forward to it.”
They wrapped up the call with a promise to chat again soon.
After they hung up, Julia pressed a hand to her chest and inhaled deeply, relieved. So far, so good. Now all she had to do was convince a good many of the cast and crew to interrupt whatever plans they’d made for their hiatus and join her at Elm Creek Quilt Camp. But where to begin?
Mulling it over, she wandered down the hall to her sewing room, where one last segment of her City of Spindles block still needed to be sewn in place. She had just finished the seam when it occurred to her that Lindsay was the obvious person to approach first. Her mother was a Cross-Country Quilter and veteran camper, so Lindsay would have heard innumerable rave reviews of Elm Creek Quilts through the years. She’d find the manor’s elegant ambiance and delicious meals appealing, and although she wouldn’t ever quilt on-screen, a better understanding of the art form would enhance her work behind the camera.
Tossing the quilt block onto her sewing machine table, Julia picked up the cordless phone and dialed Lindsay’s number from memory. “Hey, Julia,” Lindsay answered. “What’s new?”
“I’m glad you asked. I’m working on something important and I could really use your help.”
“Of course. What do you need?”
“I’d rather discuss it in person. Can you do lunch tomorrow?”
“Sure, if you don’t mind meeting me in Ojai. I’m directing an episode ofAmerica’s Back Roads.”
“As in ‘Welcome toAmerica’s Back Roads, the show that takes you down the road less traveled to the heart of America, to the small towns where old-fashioned values still endure, where life goes on at a slower pace, where friends are friends for life, where the frantic clamor of the city ventures no closer than the evening news’?”
“Yes, that’s the show,” said Lindsay, amused. “You should do voice-overs.”
“Ihavedone voice-overs,” Julia replied, feigning indignation. “I’ve narrated entire documentaries. One of them won an Oscar.”
“Oh, gosh, I knew that. Sorry.”
“I’m just teasing you, kid. I wouldn’t expect you to memorize my entire résumé.” Julia crossed to the window and gazed out at her garden, softly illuminated by landscape path lanterns and moonlight. “I haven’t watched that show in ages. Is Grant Richards still the host? Does he still wear that red-and-black buffalo-plaid jacket?”
“He’s still the host, but I think he retired the jacket years ago. Just between us, he’s much better-looking on TV than in person, and he smokes like a chimney.”
“So I’ve heard. He did a segment on Elm Creek Quilts about a year before I first attended quilt camp. That’s what put it on Maury’s radar.”
“Really? That would have been a fun episode to direct. My mom’s told me so much about Elm Creek Manor. It would be nice to see it in person.”
“Maybe you’ll have that chance sooner than you think.”
“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t dream of tagging along on my mom’s annual getaway with you Cross-Country Quilters. Anyway, the episode I’m directing has an interesting lineup too. We’re visiting a lavender farm, a company that runs off-road jeep tours through the Santa Ynez Mountain range, and an alpaca ranch. I’d invite you to join me on set for lunch, but we don’t have craft services or trailers.”
Fortunately, though, Lindsay had discovered a charming café near the lavender farm, so they agreed to meet there at noon the next day.
That morning, filled with restless energy, Julia began the new Harriet’s Journey block for the week. Cock’s Comb was a two-color pattern of squares of triangles that seemed dauntingly complex. If not for Maggie Flynn’s clear, reassuring step-by-step instructions, Julia wouldn’t have known where to begin. Actually, she realized, smiling to herself, that wasn’t true at all. She would have begun by reaching out to the Cross-Country Quilters, her indefatigable, ever-patient quilting tutors.
She sorted through her stash to find the ideal focus fabric to contrastwith the ivory tone-on-tone print she had chosen for the background fabric. She decided on a rich, velvety peach, but she had no sooner made her templates than it was time to leave. Ojai was about sixty miles from her home, a drive that could take as little as an hour or as many as two depending upon traffic, an unavoidable factor in every commute in LA. She found it fairly smooth sailing north on Highway 1 up the coast and inland through Oxnard, but when she merged onto the 101 North, she saw a sea of red taillights ahead. Sighing, she consoled herself with the thought that the traffic slowdown would give her time to consider how best to enlist Lindsay in her plot.
Before Julia and Lindsay had met in person, Julia had come to know her through Donna’s stories—heartrending confidences full of love and concern shared during their first quilt camp together and in the months that followed. Each of the Cross-Country Quilters had come to Elm Creek Manor burdened by a troubling secret. Julia’s was that she had to transform herself into an accomplished quilter in a very short time if she hoped to keep her movie role. Donna’s was that she had come to Elm Creek Quilt Camp to avoid meeting the parents of the young man to whom Lindsay had recently and unexpectedly become engaged.
Lindsay was only twenty then, a rising junior at the University of Minnesota Twins Cities with an abundance of loyal friends, excellent grades, and a promising future. She had dated Brandon, a premed senior, for two years before that summer day when she called together her parents and younger sister, Becca, and hesitantly broke the news that Brandon had proposed and she had accepted. He wanted to marry immediately, but she had convinced him to delay until June so they could plan a proper wedding. More shocking yet, he wanted her to withdraw from the university.
“Brandon says I don’t really need to finish,” she explained, wringing her hands and shifting her weight from foot to foot as if she anticipated her family’s objections. “After medical school, he’ll earn enough to support both of us.”
Dismayed, Donna and her husband, Paul, reminded Lindsay that she was still quite young and shouldn’t rush into marriage. They implored her to think of everything she would sacrifice if she left college—her degree, her dream career, time with her friends and all the memories they would make together, her performing arts activities, the exciting internship she had planned for the following year, everything. “Finish college first,” Donna pleaded. “There’s nothing wrong with a long engagement. If it’s meant to be, two years won’t make any difference.”
But no matter what her family said, Lindsay could not be persuaded.
Brandon’s parents lived several hundred miles from Minneapolis, but they were coming to visit the following month. Lindsay invited her parents to join them for dinner while they were in town so the families could become acquainted before the wedding.
