Master Quilter

Book : The Elm Creek Quilts

by Jennifer Chiaverini

Genres: Women's Fiction

Synopsis

In this heartwarming novel about the meaning of friendship, the Elm Creek quilters pay tribute to their beloved matriarch and the bridal quilt that will be stitched in her honor.

The Elm Creek Quilters are as surprised as anyone when their beloved matriarch, Sylvia Bergstrom Compson, marries her sweetheart, Andrew, at a festive holiday gathering at her ancestral home on Christmas Eve. Eager to celebrate the union, her friends decide to create a beautiful wedding quilt to warm the newlyweds’ home and hearts.

A secret with such good intentions, they reason, couldn’t possibly do anyone harm. But although the quilting retreat established at Elm Creek Manor is a place where quilters share their creativity, their challenges, and their dreams, somehow in their haste to find a way to honor the wisdom, skill, and devotion of their favorite master quilter, they forget that sometimes secrets drive friends apart instead of drawing them closer. As financial troubles, relationship struggles, and unexpected opportunities beyond Elm Creek Quilt Camp test the bonds of friendship, the quilters must find a way to stitch together more than Sylvia’s Bridal Sampler to make a happy ending.

Publisher: Simon & Schuster

Print pages: 336

Sample

CHAPTER ONE: Sarah

January 7, 2002

Dear Friends of Elm Creek Quilts,

Wedding bells rang at Elm Creek Manor much earlier than any of the Elm Creek Quilters could have predicted! While Sylvia Compson's friends were helpfully -- we thought -- planning her wedding to Andrew Cooper, Sylvia and Andrew made plans of their own. Friends and family gathered at Elm Creek Manor to celebrate Christmas Eve and found ourselves unsuspecting guests at the union of two very dear friends.

The bride was beautiful, the groom charming, the ceremony moving, and the celebration joyful (although admittedly a few of us spent most of the reception recovering from shock). It was a perfect wedding save one glaring omission: Sylvia's bridal quilt. We had not yet sewed a single stitch!

Diane says Sylvia deserves to go without, but the rest of us know that that would be a cruel punishment for someone who has brought quilting into the lives of thousands of aspiring quilters. That's why we're asking all of Sylvia's friends, family, former students, and admirers to help us create a bridal quilt worthy of everyone's favorite Master Quilter.

If you would like to participate in this very special project, please make a 6-inch pieced or appliquéd quilt block using green, rose, blue, gold, and/or cream 100% cotton fabrics. Choose any pattern that represents how Sylvia has influenced you as an artist, teacher, or friend.

Please mail your blocks so they arrive at Elm Creek Manor no later than April 1. If you have any questions, contact Sarah McClure or Summer Sullivan at Elm Creek Manor. Thanks so much for your help, and remember, this is a surprise! Let's show Sylvia we can keep a secret as well as she can.

Yours in Quarter-Inch Seams,

The Elm Creek Quilters

"Did Diane really say that?" asked Summer as she read over the draft.

"No," admitted Sarah, "but it sounds like something she would say, and I thought it was good for a laugh. Should I delete it?"

"No, leave it in. Just don't send her a copy."

Sarah and Summer exchanged a grin, imagining Diane's reaction. Diane had been the last of the Elm Creek Quilters to admit that the Christmas Eve surprise wedding had been truly wonderful -- and that was not until a week later, and only grudgingly. For all they knew, maybe Diane had indeed declared that Sylvia deserved to go without a bridal quilt for not sharing her secret with her closest friends.

"Don't you think Sylvia will get suspicious when dozens of blocks start piling up in the mailbox?" asked Summer.

"I'll ask Bonnie if we can have the blocks sent to Grandma's Attic," said Sarah. Bonnie would probably be able to find room in her quilt shop to store the blocks, too, rather than leave them lying about Elm Creek Manor where Sylvia might discover them.

A phone call to Bonnie and a few revisions later, Sarah saved the final version of her letter and began printing out copies for every former camper, every quilt guild that had invited Sylvia to speak, and everyone in Sylvia's address book, hastily borrowed for the cause. She needed to refill the paper tray twice and replace the toner cartridge before the last letter emerged from the printer. Summer seemed to think they would receive dozens of blocks, but Sarah was less certain. Quilters were generous, helpful people, but they also tended to be quite busy. For all their good intentions, most might not be able to contribute a block by the deadline.

With all those hundreds of requests, surely they would receive the 140 blocks Bonnie had calculated they would need for a queen-size comforter. As Sarah affixed stamps to the envelopes, listening carefully for Sylvia's footsteps in the hall outside the library, she reflected that they might be fortunate to settle for a ninety-six-block lap quilt.

The bridal quilt was Sarah's idea, but the other Elm Creek Quilters were just as enthusiastic about the project -- even Diane, who now only rarely complained about having to return the "perfect summer dress" she had purchased for the anticipated June wedding. Sylvia was the heart and soul of Elm Creek Quilt Camp, the business the eight friends had founded, jointly owned, and operated each year from spring to autumn, and not only because Elm Creek Manor was her ancestral home. Sylvia's passion for the artistic, historical, and social aspects of quilting so permeated the quilting retreat that the campers felt her influence in every class, every lecture, and every late-night chat with new friends that took place within the manor's gray stone walls. She had earned the respect, admiration, and affection of every quilter who had passed through the doors of Elm Creek Manor, yet she alone seemed unaware of this. Whenever Sarah tried to explain, as she did on each anniversary of the founding of Elm Creek Quilts, Sylvia cut her off and dismissed her praise as "preposterous." This bridal quilt would finally tell Sylvia what she would not allow Sarah to say.

To Sarah's delight, the first quilt block arrived only a week after the letters went out. The next day, Bonnie phoned with news that two more blocks had come in the morning mail, and after that, packages came so frequently that Bonnie stopped calling to report them. When she offered to bring them to their upcoming business meeting, Sarah couldn't resist. She and Bonnie told all the Elm Creek Quilters except Sylvia to meet in the kitchen thirty minutes early. Sarah figured that would give them plenty of time to examine the blocks, read the accompanying letters, and return the packages to Bonnie's car before Sylvia expected them in the formal parlor.

That Thursday evening, Bonnie arrived first, hustling through the back door and into the kitchen with a Grandma's Attic shopping bag in her arms. "Maybe this was a mistake," she said as Sarah eagerly took the bag and set it on the long wooden table in the center of the room. Bonnie shrugged off her coat and sat down on one of the benches. "All Sylvia has to do is look out the window at the parking lot and she'll know we're here."

"Sylvia's room faces the front of the manor," Sarah reminded her, emptying the bag onto the table. "It's twenty degrees outside, so the windows are shut and the furnace is running. She won't hear the cars pull up."

Bonnie raked her fingers through her close-cropped dark hair and glanced at the doorway. "Even so, we should keep our voices down."

"We're here," Diane sang, strolling into the kitchen, her blond curls bouncing. "Do we have to wait for everyone or can we see the blocks now?"

"Diane, hush, dear," warned white-haired Agnes, following close behind. Her blue eyes were exasperated behind pink-tinted glasses. "Stealth, remember?"

"She's about as stealthy as a thirsty elephant at the only waterhole on the savanna," remarked Gwen, peering in over Diane's shoulder. "You're also blocking the doorway."

"Well, excuse me, professor," Diane shot back, but she took a seat beside Sarah and reached for the envelope on top of the pile.

"Is Summer coming?" Sarah asked Gwen as she helped Agnes with her coat. "I sent her an email, but she didn't write back."

"Who knows what my daughter's up to anymore?" said Gwen. "I've had more meaningful conversations with her answering machine than with her lately."

"Summer has already seen most of the blocks at the quilt shop," said Bonnie. "But I'm sure she'll be here for the meeting."

"Summer never misses them," added Judy as she hurried into the kitchen, removing her gloves. "Unlike some of us. I honestly didn't think I'd make it tonight. When did juggling the schedules of two parents and an eight-year-old become so complicated?"

"When was it not?" asked Bonnie.

Sarah glanced at her watch and opened an envelope. "Let's keep an eye on the time, everyone."

"And keep one ear pointed toward the door," added Judy.

They agreed in whispers and soon were engrossed in passing the blocks around the table, praising them in hushed voices, silently reading the letters their makers had sent. Little Giant, Mother's Favorite, Three Cheers, Trip Around the World -- the blocks were as imaginative and as varied as the women who had made them; while Sarah usually couldn't decipher the hidden meaning at first glance, the letters never failed to explain what the blocks represented. Sarah's favorite was a Spinning Hourglass block, which the maker wrote was inspired by a conversation she and Sylvia had participated in over dinner one evening at camp. One of the women at the table had complained that she never had time to quilt at home and had to cram an entire year's worth of quilting into the one week each summer she spent at Elm Creek Manor. "We make time for the things that are important to us," Sylvia had remarked, and she listed several activities people typically participated in out of habit rather than necessity or enjoyment.

The writer said that Sylvia's words resonated with her and when she returned home, she scrutinized her routine to see where she could make better use of her days. After cutting out mindless television watching and delegating some household chores to her husband and teenage sons, she found several hours each week that she could devote to her own interests, including quilting. "Sylvia showed me that although we never have enough time for all the things we want to do," she concluded, "if we simplify our busy lives, we can keep them from spinning out of our control."

Sarah tucked the block and letter back into the envelope, ruefully running through her mental checklist of daily activities and wondering which she could sacrifice.

"Sarah?" called a distant voice. "Where is everyone?"

They scrambled up from the benches. "Quick," Gwen hissed, but the others were already returning the quilt blocks and letters to their envelopes and tossing them into the bag.

"Someone stall her," whispered Sarah frantically just as someone thrust the bag into her arms.

"Sarah?" Sylvia's voice came louder now, her footfalls swiftly approaching. "I don't have time for hide-and-seek."

Sarah flung open the pantry. She threw the bag inside and slammed the door just as Sylvia entered the kitchen.

"Sarah -- " Sylvia stopped short in the doorway and eyed the gathering. "Well, for goodness' sakes. Why are you here so early?" She fixed her gaze on Sarah. "And why are you clinging to that door for dear life?"

"Because -- " Sarah opened the door and retrieved the first item her hand touched. "They came early to help me make brownies. I was just getting the mix. Do you know if we have eggs? I was going to stop at the store, but -- "

"You need six people to make brownies?"

"Sarah's never been much of a cook," offered Diane.

"Nonsense," said Sylvia, and gestured to the cellophane-wrapped plate on the counter. "She made lemon squares this morning."

"Should we get started?" asked Judy, reaching for an apron hanging on a peg beside the pantry door.

"Don't be ridiculous," said Sylvia, glancing at the clock. "We have a lot to cover tonight. We shouldn't waste time preparing extraneous desserts."

"Chocolate is never extraneous," said Gwen, but the others quickly agreed with Sylvia, eager to get her out of the kitchen.

They gathered in the formal parlor, where the original west wing of Elm Creek Manor intersected the south wing, added when Sylvia's father was a boy. The antique Victorian furnishings might have seemed stuffy if they were not so comfortably worn. Sylvia had once mentioned that her paternal grandmother had brought the overstuffed sofas, embroidered armchairs, beaded lamps, and ornate cabinets to Elm Creek Manor upon her marriage to David Bergstrom. No one else in the family had cared for the young bride's tastes, so they had arranged the furniture in a spare room and proclaimed it too fine for everyday use. Thus the newest member of the family had not felt slighted, and the Bergstroms were able to keep the west sitting room, their preferred place for quilting and visiting, exactly as it was. In more recent decades, the Bergstroms had grown more fond of the room, but even now the only nod to modernity was a large television in the corner, concealed by a Grandmother's Fan quilt whenever it was not in use.

Sarah began the meeting with an update on registration for the coming season. Enrollment was up fifteen percent, and there were so many requests for Gwen's Photo Transfer workshop that they had decided to add a second weekly session. "If you're up for it," added Sarah, glancing at Gwen.

Gwen shrugged. "Why not? Once the spring semester ends, I'll have plenty of time."

"Bonnie, I also thought we should add a few extra shuttles into town so campers can shop," Sarah continued. "Since they'll want to visit Grandma's Attic, we'll arrange them for when you can be fully staffed, okay? I wouldn't want one person to get swamped."

"Oh. Great." Bonnie hesitated. "Do you need to know the best times of the day now? Because I'm not really sure -- "

"Just get back to me whenever you know." Sarah gave Bonnie an encouraging smile. She knew the quilt shop owner appreciated the extra business Elm Creek Quilt Camp sent her way, but she always seemed embarrassed by it, as if she thought she was taking advantage of their friendship. "You'll probably want your camp course schedule first."

Bonnie nodded, so Sarah glanced at her notes. "Oh. One more thing. This goes for everyone. Please remember to charge anything you use in your classes to supplies, not overhead. If we ever get audited -- "

"I'm here," said Summer, rushing in red-cheeked from the cold and struggling out of her coat. "I'm sorry I'm late."

"Relax," said Diane. "This isn't the first time."

"Yes, but your tardiness has been increasing lately," mused Sylvia. "I can't imagine what has been keeping you so busy."

Summer draped her coat over the back of a chair and sat down. "What did I miss?"

"Sorry, Sylvia," said Judy with a laugh. "I don't think Summer wants to discuss her boyfriend."

Everyone except Summer laughed, but she managed a wry smile. "Fine. I was having supper with Jeremy. Satisfied?"

"You guys spend so much time together you might as well live together," said Diane.

"Don't suggest such a thing," protested Agnes. She patted Summer's hand. "She meant after you get married, dear."

Summer blanched, and Gwen said, "Married? Are you crazy? Don't go putting thoughts of marriage in my daughter's head. Or of living together. My daughter has more sense than that."

"As a newlywed myself, I object to the implications of that remark," retorted Sylvia. "Sometimes getting married makes perfect sense."

Agnes nodded, but Bonnie said, "Sometimes marriage makes no sense at all."

"Can we please get back to business?" begged Summer, throwing Sarah a pleading look.

Sarah promptly returned to her agenda despite grumbles from Diane, who apparently found teasing Summer far more interesting.

Midway through the meeting, Sylvia offered to return to the kitchen for refreshments, but Bonnie leapt to her feet and announced that it was her turn. She returned with the lemon squares, coffee, and a look of relief so plain that Sarah knew the quilt blocks were safely hidden away in her car.

That night, as Sarah and her husband prepared for bed, she told him about the afternoon's mishap. Matt laughed and said, "Why didn't you just go to Grandma's Attic and look at the blocks there?"

"Because every time I say I'm going downtown, Sylvia asks to come with me. I can't very well ask her to stay in the van while I go into the quilt shop."

"No, I guess not," Matt acknowledged. "And I guess delaying your trip downtown until you could go alone was out of the question?"

Sarah drew back the quilt and climbed into bed. "Absolutely."

Matt grinned and shook his head as he joined her. "Sorry to be the one to have to tell you this, but there's no way you're going to keep this quilt a secret very long."

"What do you mean?"

"You've never been good at keeping secrets."

"That's not true," Sarah protested, nudging him. "My friends trust me implicitly. I could tell you stories -- but of course I won't."

"Not other people's secrets. Your own. You have this overwhelming need to confess."

"I do not."

"I bet Sylvia will know about this bridal quilt before the first day of camp."

"And I know for a fact she won't." Sarah propped herself up on her elbows and regarded him. "Okay, if you're so sure, let's do it."

"Do what?"

"Make a bet. I say that Sylvia won't know about the quilt until we give her the pieced top. You can say whatever dumb thing you like, because you're going to lose."

"I'm not going to lose," said Matt firmly. "Okay. You have a bet. What am I going to win?"

"Nothing, but I'm going to win breakfast in bed for a week. Prepared by your own hands, so don't pass the work off on the cook."

pard"It won't be a problem, because I'm going to win five new apple trees for my orchard."

"Five? Then I get two weeks of breakfast, with the newspaper and a foot massage."

"Done." Matt held out his hand. "Shake on it?"

Sarah smiled, took his hand, and pulled him close. "I'd much rather kiss."

For the next two weeks, Sarah resisted the temptation to invite Bonnie to bring the most recently arrived blocks to Elm Creek Manor, resigning herself to hasty descriptions over the phone and Bonnie's assurances that if this pace continued, they would have all the blocks they needed well in advance of the deadline. Nearly three weeks passed before Sarah finally managed to sneak away to Grandma's Attic after dropping off Sylvia at her hairdresser.

Sarah drove the white Elm Creek Quilts minivan onto Main Street, which marked the border between downtown Waterford and the Waterford College campus. She tried to park in the alley behind Grandma's Attic, but an unfamiliar car already occupied the space reserved for Bonnie's employees. Because Bonnie's only remaining employees were Diane and Summer, she invited the Elm Creek Quilters to use the extra space, since downtown parking was scarce. But none of the Elm Creek Quilters owned the gleaming luxury sedan parked beside Bonnie's twenty-year-old compact. In fact, only a few of them could have afforded the payments.

Apparently a customer had discovered the secret parking space. Sarah hoped the driver liked to spend as much on fabric as she did on transportation. Bonnie never complained, but Sarah suspected the competition from the large chain fabric store on the outskirts of town had been siphoning off her revenues more than usual. Grandma's Attic had sometimes dipped dangerously into the red, but even then, Bonnie had managed to keep any hint of trouble far from her customers' view. Lately, however, Sarah noticed she had begun rearranging her shelves to conceal gaps in her inventory rather than restocking them.

Sarah found another spot not far away on Second Street and hurried down the hill to Main, turning up her collar and thrusting her hands in her pockets since she had forgotten her scarf and gloves. In the front shop window, beneath the familiar red sign with the words GRANDMA'S ATTIC printed in gold, hung several sample quilts Bonnie and Diane had made as demonstration projects for their classes at quilt camp. The front bell jingled when Sarah entered, but a glance at the cutting table in the center of the room and a quick survey of the aisles told her Bonnie was not in the main store area. "Bonnie?" Sarah called over the folk music playing in the background, just as she glimpsed her friend through the window of the back office. Bonnie was speaking earnestly -- or heatedly -- with a man in a well-tailored coat of rich black wool, who at that moment turned his back on her and strode briskly from the office. Something about his smug, self-satisfied grin plucked at Sarah's memory and, as he passed her and nodded on his way to the door, recognition struck her with the shock of cold water. She spun around and watched the door swing shut behind him, then turned back to Bonnie, who had followed him from the office.

"Wasn't that Gregory Krolich?" asked Sarah. Bonnie nodded and sat down on a stool behind the cutting table. "I knew it. The real estate business must be treating him well. He's driving an even more expensive car than the last time I saw him."

"You know him?"

"Barely. I haven't seen him in years, not since I first moved to Waterford. He wanted to buy Elm Creek Manor and raze it so he could build a few hundred student apartments on the property."

"Obviously he didn't," said Bonnie. "So he's just a lot of threats and bluster in a nice suit?"

Sarah shook her head. "On the contrary, I'm sure he would have gone through with it if Sylvia hadn't found out about his plan. She refused to sell to him once she learned the truth."

"Oh." Bonnie studied the cutting table for a moment. "So. Do you want to see the blocks?"

"Of course," said Sarah, removing her coat. "I have about twenty minutes before I need to pick up Sylvia."

Bonnie disappeared into the storage room and returned with a large cardboard box, which she said contained thirty-four blocks. She seemed so pleased that Sarah hid her dismay. A month into the project, and they had received only a small fraction of the blocks they needed. As Bonnie separated the newest packages from the ones Sarah had already seen, Sarah reminded herself that they were averaging one new block a day, and that contributors typically provided their blocks either right away or at the very last minute. Surely in the last week before the deadline, Grandma's Attic would be inundated with blocks. If not, Sarah would work overtime at her sewing machine to make up the difference.

"Look at this," Sarah marveled as she opened the first envelope and found an exquisite Bridal Wreath block. "I will never be able to appliqué this well."

"Only because you won't practice."

Sarah returned the block to its envelope and opened a second. "Queen Charlotte's Crown? It's lovely, but what does it have to do with Sylvia?"

Bonnie watched as Sarah put the block away and reached for another. "Why don't you read the letter and find out?"

"Can't. Sylvia expects me back at twenty past, and if I'm late, she's sure to ask questions." Sarah admired a Steps to the Altar block. "She'll know if I'm lying, too."

"Well, you can't leave without reading this one." Bonnie handed her a package somewhat thicker than the others. "You know the quilters who sent it."

Intrigued, Sarah took the thick padded envelope and withdrew two blocks, a Grandmother's Pride and a Mother's Delight. "I'm guessing these two are related," she said, unfolding the letter.

February 6, 2002

Dear Elm Creek Quilters,

Thank you so much for inviting us to participate in this gift for Sylvia. We know it will be a spectacular quilt and look forward to seeing it when we return to camp for our annual reunion of the Cross-Country Quilters.

Deciding to participate was easy, but choosing appropriate blocks proved far more difficult. Fortunately, we see each other frequently, so we have been able to share our thoughts. Sylvia has inspired us with her courageous attitude toward life, her insistence upon excellence, her steadfast dedication to her craft, and in so many other ways that we're sure it's evident why no single block could express what we feel for her. So instead we decided to focus on how Sylvia most directly influenced our lives simply by creating Elm Creek Quilt Camp.

Vinnie, as you recall, was one of the first campers of Elm Creek Quilt Camp's inaugural season. Recently widowed, she wanted to attend camp during the week of her birthday rather than try to celebrate in the home she had so recently shared with her husband. At quilt camp she found friendship and fun, and discovered in Sylvia a fellow widow, but one with a far more tragic past. Sylvia's story of how she had lost her husband in World War II reminded Vinnie that she should not dwell upon what she had lost, but cherish and be thankful for the many decades she and her husband had spent together.

A few years later, Megan first attended quilt camp and, although she did not then realize it, meeting Vinnie would prove to be one of the most important moments of her life -- and not only because Vinnie is as remarkable and inspirational as Sylvia herself. Vinnie was eager to find a sweetheart for her favorite grandson, Adam, and with a little meddling that Megan failed to appreciate at the time, she finally succeeded in arranging for the two to meet. The couple had the usual ups and downs (and a few that were not at all usual) on the path to love, but six months ago, Adam and Megan were married in St. James of the Valley Church in Cincinnati, with Megan's son, Rob, as best man. Adam, Megan, and Rob are all thrilled that in July a new baby will join their family. Rob says we should name the baby Sylvia if she is a girl and Elmer if he is a boy, because this child never would have come into the world if not for Elm Creek Quilt Camp.

How can one or even two quilt blocks adequately represent what Sylvia has done for our family? We admit no single pattern could, but we think Grandmother's Pride and Mother's Delight come close.

Please let us know if we can do anything more to help complete Sylvia's bridal quilt. If you need additional blocks, Vinnie has six all ready to put in the mail to you!

Love to you all,

Vinnie Burkholder and Megan (Donohue) Wagner

At the bottom of the typed page was a postscript added in spidery handwriting: "I'm sure you can tell Megan wrote this letter and kindly allowed me to add my name to it. It doesn't sound like me at all! I never would have bragged I was as remarkable and inspirational as Sylvia, not that anyone would have believed it anyway! I hope the baby is a girl, not just because I don't care for the name Elmer but because I've already made her a pink-and-white Ohio Star quilt. Hugs and Kisses from Vinnie."

"Megan and Vinnie's grandson got married!" exclaimed Sarah. "Sylvia will be thrilled."

"Don't tell her yet," said Bonnie, taking the blocks and the letter. "You'll have to explain how you know, and you're a terrible liar."

"I suppose you're going to tell me I can't keep secrets, either."

Bonnie winced. "No offense. I trust you with my secrets -- most of them -- but when it comes to your own -- "

"You can stop there. I've heard it before, from Matt."

"Sorry."

"Frankly, it's not the worst thing in the world to be a terrible liar. At least everyone knows when I'm telling the truth."

"Even so, you'd better think of a convincing story pretty fast," advised Bonnie, nodding to the clock.

It was already a quarter past eleven. Sarah glanced about in dismay and put her hand on the nearest bolt of fabric. "Cut me a yard of this, would you?"

Bonnie rang up the charges quickly, and within two minutes Sarah was hurrying back to the minivan. As she rehearsed her cover story on the way to the salon, she realized Sylvia would never believe she had spent the entire time in the quilt shop only to emerge with a single yard of fabric. She took a sharp left at the town square and parked in front of the Daily Grind. Sylvia might more readily accept that Sarah had lost track of time in a coffee shop.

The early lunch crowd was just beginning to gather as Sarah joined the line. She bought herself a large latte and ordered a hot cocoa with whipped cream to appease Sylvia. As she stirred sugar and vanilla into her steaming cup, she glanced up and saw a familiar figure at a corner table. She didn't have time to chat, but just as she turned to go, Judy caught her eye and froze.

Sarah smiled and waved, but Judy appeared so discomfited that Sarah realized her friend must have noticed her attempt to avoid her and wondered at the cause. A cup in each hand, she made her way to the table Judy was sharing with a shaggy-haired man in a business suit.

"Judy, hi," she said, smiling at Judy and her companion in turn. "I thought I'd get my caffeine fix while Sylvia's getting her hair done."

"You must have had a late night," said Judy, noting the two cups.

"Oh, no, this one's a peace offering for Sylvia. I'm late."

"Sorry you can't join us," said the man with a smile.

With a start, Judy quickly introduced him as a colleague visiting from the University of Pennsylvania. Sarah set down her coffee long enough to shake his hand, then made a hasty exit. She would be even later now, but at least she had a truthful and, better yet, believable excuse.

To Sarah's surprise, when she arrived, Sylvia wasn't waiting by the front door in her coat and hat. Sarah found her in the back of the salon with her hands beneath a nail dryer. "Sarah, dear," Sylvia greeted her. "You were so late they talked me into a manicure."

Sarah apologized and offered her the hot cocoa, which Sylvia couldn't pick up at the moment anyway. Sarah rambled through an account of Grandma's Attic and the Daily Grind, which was mercifully cut short by the timer on the nail dryer. "Do you know I never get my nails done?" said Sylvia, admiring her hands. "Quilting is so hard on them that I usually don't bother, but the young lady was so persuasive. You showed up j