Her friends were as thrilled as she had expected them to be, and for the next few minutes, they speculated about when the book might be published, how challenging the quilt would be to make, and whether Maggie might need volunteers to make quilts for the book’s photo gallery. “Maybe you could ask her, Julia,” said Vinnie.
“Sure,” said Julia, laughing. “Speak to Anna, speak to Maggie—anything else?”
“You have homework, Julia,” said Grace, amused. “I hope you’re taking notes.”
They chatted for a while longer, but Julia was eager to return to the quilting frame, so she bade her friends goodbye and hung up, smiling to herself as she took a moment to rearrange her Cross and Chains block segments on the desk. Once she couldn’t have imagined finishing a quilt as complex as Harriet’s Journey, and now here she was, contemplating another, even more challenging project. It was truly amazing how her friends inspired her to attempt more than she’d ever thought possible.
Pausing for a moment to admire the view outside the window—yes, those were definitely small, icy snow crystals whirling about in the air—she was about to leave the room when her cell phone rang. Shaking her head and smiling fondly, wondering which of the Cross-Country Quilters had apparently forgotten to tell her something too urgent to wait, she took her phone from her pocket and checked the caller ID—
And almost dropped the phone.
Stephen Deneford. Why in the world would he be calling her? They hadn’t spoken since she and Ellen had walked out of his office years before, abandoningPrairie Vengeanceand Julia possibly her career, or so Julia had assumed at the time—incorrectly, thankfully. All communications relating to her contract had gone through Maury, and when she and Deneford crossed paths at industry events, they exchanged a polite nod but nothing more.
She told herself to let the call go to voicemail, but curiosity won out.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, she answered. “Hello.”
“Julia?”
“Yes?”
“Stephen Deneford here. “
“Oh, hello, Stephen. It’s been a while.”
“It sure has. Congratulations on your most recent Emmy.”
“Thank you,” she said graciously, wondering if he was referring to her win two years before, or if he wasn’t aware that she’d lost to Allison Janney in September. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure? Are you looking to cast the villain inArctic Vengeance, orSavannah Vengeance, or one of the otherVengeancefilms? If so, you really ought to speak with Maury.”
“Oh, no, no, no. I got out of that franchise as soon as my contract permitted—” He made a harsh sound, something between a laugh and a groan. “And it wasn’t soon enough.”
“You don’t say?” Julia suspected that it hadn’t been his decision.
“You’re close, though. I am calling about casting a role.”
“Is that right?” she asked warily.
“It’s a major feature film, a period piece, an adaptation of a gothic novel,The Mysteries of Udolpho.”
She was impressed, but rather than admit it, she said, truthfully, “Sorry, I haven’t read it. Or even heard of it.”
“It was theTwilightof its day, but its day was seventeen ninety-four. Anyway, I’ve been searching for my Emily St. Aubert—the beautiful, young, perpetually imperiled heroine—and I think I’ve found her.”
Julia paused, wondering if Ashton Kutcher was lurking somewhere nearby with a camera crew fromPunk’d. No, she quickly decided. Sylvia would never allow it. “Congratulations,” she said carefully. “And the lucky girl is?”
“Paige Lyons, your costar.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” That made much more sense. “Paige is a lovely, exceptionally talented young woman. She’s been an excellent addition to ourPatchworkcast.”
“That’s what I was hoping to hear. So, you wouldn’t have any qualms about entrusting a lead role in a feature film to her?”
Julia shook her head, perplexed. “Why are you asking me? No offense, Stephen, but we don’t know each other well and we didn’t exactly part amicably. Did you like her audition? Did you do a chemistry check? If you want some insider information, you must have someone else to ask.”
“I don’t, actually. I’ve never worked with Paige, and I don’t know anyone who has, aside from you. And you might not believe this, but I trust your opinion.” He hesitated. “Look. You were right aboutPrairie Vengeance. I can’t blame you for quitting. If I’d kept the original script, I might have had a blockbuster.”
“Maybe so,” said Julia, a bit taken aback by his candor, although it was certainly gratifying to hear. “It’s impossible to say. Maybe the story was better suited for television. I do hope you’ll share your newfound insight with Ellen Henderson.”
“Who?”
