Threading The Needle Part 29

"You're the boss." She shrugged, piling the freshly folded towels in her arms. "I'll go put these up and replace that lightbulb before I leave. Anything else you need?"

"No, that should do it," I said as I measured out detergent and poured it into the washer. "How're things at the farm?"

"Good. Today we're transplanting tomatoes, making goat cheese, and picking the first strawberries. Since it's so early in the season, Lee thinks we can get six dollars a pint for them at the farmers' market. Oh! Speaking of that, I saw Evelyn at the farmers' market on Sat.u.r.day and she told me that her friend Mary Dell is coming up for a week. We'll finally get to meet her."

"Really? What's the occasion?"

Tessa grinned. "What else? She's got tickets to Dylan Tyler."

"Of course she does," I said. "Doesn't everybody? It'll be nice to meet her, though. I wonder if we should have some kind of little party for her here at the inn? I couldn't do it on the weekend since I'll be too busy with the wedding. But if she's here for a week . . . Maybe a tea? Can you ask Evelyn when you see her on Friday?"

"Aren't you coming? You could ask Evelyn yourself."

"Can't. They're not checking out until Sat.u.r.day morning," I said, casting a quick glance toward the ceiling and the general location of my currently occupied guest room. "Somebody has to stay on duty."

"Why not me? That's part of the reason you hired me, isn't it? So you could get out every now and then? Have a life? You've been collecting quotes from caterers, photographers, and florists, contacting the justice of the peace, even booking airline tickets for Kerry's relatives from California. What are you? A travel agent? And I can't believe Angela talked you into baking the wedding cake too."

"I volunteered to do that," I corrected her. "I like baking. It's not a huge cake. There will only be twenty-five guests."

"Well, I think Angela's getting a bargain, hiring you to do the wedding coordination. Go to the quilt circle on Friday. You need a break."

"So do you," I countered. "You're working two jobs. You've got as much claim on exhaustion as I do."

"I've got an idea. Why don't we flip a coin? The winner gets to go to the quilt shop and the loser stays here and mans the office. Then, next time we've got guests on Friday, we'll take turns."

Before I could agree or disagree, Tessa fished a quarter from the pocket of her jeans and, still balancing the stack of towels in one hand, tossed it into the air.

"Call it!" she called out.

Without thinking, I claimed heads. The quarter hit the wooden floor and rolled a couple of feet before tipping over with Washington's face blinking upward.

"You win," Tessa said.

"That wasn't fair," I said. "The coin rolled. And I never agreed to a toss anyway."

"You called it," Tessa replied, as if this settled everything, and then climbed the stairs.

"I don't feel right about you missing the fun on my account."

"Can't hear you!" Tessa trilled from the top of the stairs.

"Yes, you can," I protested. "No kidding, Tessa. I don't feel right about it."

"Get over it. We flipped. You won. End of story." She walked off without waiting for me to respond, her footsteps echoing on the floorboards over my head.

"What's the point of being the boss if n.o.body listens to you?" I mumbled to myself. The telephone rang. I interrupted my grumbling to answer it.

"Beecher Cottage Inn. May I help you?"

A deep male voice said, "Yes. Do you have availability on Wednesday night?"

"This coming Wednesday?" I opened the reservations book and saw nothing but empty s.p.a.ce for that day. "Yes. Yes, we do."

"Good," the voice said, rising to a timbre and tone I recognized. "Then meet me for dinner at the j.a.panese place at six."

"How are you, Jake? It's good to hear your voice."

"Bored. I've been spending a lot of time with Moira Swanson lately."

I'd heard that. There aren't many bachelors in New Bern, especially good-looking ones with real jobs, and there are five single women for every man who could be considered even remotely datable. When news of the tear in my relationship with Jake spread through the grapevine, you could practically hear the cheers of New Bern's single female population, only to be followed by a collective moan about three weeks later, when he was seen escorting a preening Moira Swanson to dinner at the Grill on the Green.

"Oh really," I said, feigning ignorance. "Moira seems nice."

"She is," said Jake. "As long as you don't want to talk about anything but Moira. So, how about it? Would you like to meet me for dinner?"

Hearing his voice made me realize how much I'd missed talking to him. I did want to have dinner with him, but not if it meant confusing him about our relationship. The fight had been my fault, at least initially, because I let myself get carried away. I wanted to make the ground rules clear-for both our sakes.

"It can't be a date, Jake."

"Yeah," he snapped. "I know that. Did you hear the part where I said we'd meet at the restaurant? If this were a date I'd pick you up. And before you bring it up, we're going dutch, just like we always did. And I won't so much as kiss you h.e.l.lo or good-bye. We'll shake hands. Soberly. I promise not to make any sudden moves or slip anything into your drink. I just want to have dinner with someone who doesn't consider People magazine her primary news source. Okay? Now, are you coming or not?"

"I'd love to, but not this week. There's just too much to do for the wedding, but how about the Wednesday after?"

"All right. I guess I can wait a week, if I have to."

"Good. I'll see you then. Six o'clock. If you arrive first, order me a California roll. Extra wasabi and pickled ginger on the side."

"How're things coming with the wedding? Do you need help with anything?"

"No," I answered. I would not impose on our friendship again. "We're in good shape. But thanks for asking, Jake."

46.

Madelyn "What do you mean, no brownies?" Virginia put her hands on her hips and stared at me through the thick lenses of her gla.s.ses, glaring at me as if I'd just announced that Christmas would be canceled this year.

"I figured everybody was tired of them by now," I said, setting my basket down on the refreshment table. "You're the one who's always saying that we should try new things, that variety and experimentation is the best weapon for fighting off old age and stodginess."

"I was talking about you, not me," Virginia said. "I've lost the battle against old age. Save yourself. Besides, I get enough culinary experimentation from that son-in-law of mine."

"Oh, Mom," Evelyn said. "You're not fooling anyone. You've loved every new recipe Charlie has made for you."

"Not the oysters," Virginia said darkly.

"Okay, except for the oysters," Evelyn admitted.

"All I'm saying is, if something's not broken, why fix it?"

"Your brownies are pretty amazing," Margot said, looking a little apologetic for siding with Virginia.

"Give me a chance, all right? If you don't like what I've brought at least as much as the brownies, then I promise never to make it again. Deal?"

"Deal," they echoed, but doubtfully.

After I pa.s.sed around home-baked strawberry shortcakes topped with real whipped cream jazzed with a touch of Cointreau and sweet early strawberries from Woodruff Farms, sprinkled with a touch of fresh mint for looks, the doubts were silenced. Everyone had seconds and a couple of people (including me) went back for thirds. If this kept up, I was going to have to take up jogging or something.

But it was worth it-not just for the pleasure of eating them but the pleasure of seeing my friends enjoy them. Isn't it strange that it took me so long to realize how much I enjoyed cooking and baking? If I'd had even a clue about that as a teenager, my whole life might have been different. Of course, if I'd had a clue about nearly anything as a teenager, my whole life might have been different.

I felt a little guilty for coming to the quilt shop while Tessa was minding the store in my place, but not so guilty that I didn't enjoy myself. The workroom was littered with yards of fabric and half-sewn quilt blocks, but the group was in such a talkative mood, I don't think anyone got much quilting done.

Ivy, normally one of our quieter members, was particularly animated. She'd finished her GED preparation cla.s.ses at New Beginnings and had just taken her exam on Sat.u.r.day.

"Do you think you pa.s.sed?" Evelyn asked.

Ivy snipped some stray threads off the back of a cla.s.s sample quilt she was making for the shop and shifted her shoulders noncommittally.

"You have to get a certain number of total points in all five subject tests to pa.s.s. I feel pretty good about that part. But you can't get less than four-ten on any individual test. I'm kind of worried about the science test. I missed that one by eighteen points on my practice test, but I've been studying hard since then. Hopefully, it paid off." She squinted and bent her head toward the quilt back, searching for hidden threads. "We'll see."

"When will you find out?" I asked as I glopped another dollop of whipped cream onto my shortcake, promising myself it would be my final indulgence of the night.

"Soon. They mail the results."

Virginia was standing at the ironing board, pressing a binding prior to st.i.tching it in place. "How many students were in your cla.s.s?"

"Counting me? Six. I hope we all pa.s.s. We've gotten pretty close over these last months. It'd be awful if some did and some didn't." Ivy nibbled nervously at her fingernail for a moment before banishing this possibility. "It's going to be fine. Bella and Connie did a great job prepping us."

"Bella and Connie?" I asked between bites. "The sisters I met here in the shop? I thought they taught in the public schools."

"They do," Ivy said. "But they also volunteer at New Beginnings. Connie was our math and science teacher and Bella handled language arts and social studies."

"But," Margot said, "I thought Bella was a PE teacher at the middle school."

"She is. She's also certified to teach senior high humanities. She's really good. Bella knows American League baseball stats like the back of her hand, but she knows Shakespeare and Emily d.i.c.kinson even better."

Abigail, who was sitting in the corner farthest from the temptations of the refreshment table, ripping a seam, looked up with obvious surprise. "Really?"

Ivy nodded. "Bella loves the cla.s.sics. And you know what's even crazier? She's got me loving them too. Not just reading them but reading them, because I want to. I never thought I'd be able to understand books like that, but I was wrong. It's like Bella always says, 'Ignorance isn't a chronic condition, unless you allow it to become one.' "

I choked so hard that I thought whipped cream was going to come out my nose. Margot jumped up from her sewing machine and started pounding me on the back.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine," I a.s.sured her in a raspy voice. "It just went down the wrong way. Ivy, do you know where Bella grew up?"

"Manhattan, I think. She's got a New York accent. Why do you ask?"

"No reason. I was just wondering if we knew some of the same people."

New York is a big city. There was no reason to suppose that Bella had picked up that proverb from the redoubtable Millicent Fleeber, but wouldn't it be something if she had? Clearly, I was going to have to spend more time talking to Bella.

"Connie and Bella are really something. They spend all day working in a cla.s.sroom and then show up weekends and evenings at New Beginnings and do it some more for free. Until I moved here, I never knew people like that existed."

Abigail squared her shoulders and said, "New Bern has always been very community minded. In good times and bad, we stick together. That's what makes this town special."

Considering her civic involvement and generosity, Abigail's pride was not undeserved. And it was hard to disagree with her observation. It seemed like everyone I'd met since returning to New Bern did something to help others, and all without expectation of receiving anything in return.

During his lifetime, Sterling gave away lots of money, but there was always an angle. He did it to be noticed, to get his name on a wall, for social prominence, for tax breaks, for all kinds of reasons, none of them charitable. And I had been no different, no better, and had come to believe that everyone was that way. Or rather, I had chosen to forget that everyone wasn't that way-that there were good people who did good things without stopping to consider what was in it for them.

My father, who had put aside his own aspirations in pursuit of "the right thing," was one of those people. So was Evelyn, and Virginia, and Margot, and Abigail. And Jake. Definitely Jake. True, that unexpected and unforgettable kiss in the kitchen had complicated our relationship, but I knew that he hadn't been kind to me because he expected anything in return but because he was who he was: a hardware guy with a genuine desire to help fix what was broken. He was good at that.

And then there was Tessa. Here she was, beset with financial worries, yet she'd sheltered me, planted lavender in my yard, and restored my quilt, and pursued my friendship even after I'd cut her cold in the cafe.

What was it about this town? How had it managed to transform itself in the years of my absence? I thought about the evil Edna, and Mrs. Bridges, the teacher who had despised and dismissed me, about the gossiping girls who had made me feel like an outsider, and the sleazy boys I'd dated in high school, whose delinquency I'd contributed to so carelessly, Jake's included. That was the New Bern I'd known as a child, full of cruel people who'd hurt me and made me feel small. Where were they now? Had they all moved away, been crowded out by a sudden influx of the kind and generous? No, that couldn't be it. Aaron Fletcher was still here, and Candy Waldgren, and Dwight Sparks, who'd tried to sell me a roof I didn't need at a price I couldn't afford. If I went out looking, I was sure I would find some other less-than-lovely souls-philanderers, liars, cheats. They were still here, they had to be.

But it wasn't as if the New Bern of my childhood was entirely devoid of the generous and well intentioned. What about Mrs. Kover, who doled out hot chocolate and gentle advice? And Mr. Walters, the old janitor who treated every little girl like a princess and every boy like a son? And Mr. Kaminski, Jake's father, who gave me wallpaper and carpet samples for the dollhouse? And what about the people who'd changed their stripes and ways? Abigail? Jake? And me, I hoped.

Maybe the New Bern of the 1960s wasn't all that different from the New Bern of today, populated with the good and the not-so-good. In the end, maybe it all comes down to where you choose to look and what team you decide to play for.

Ivy resumed biting her nails. "I just hope I pa.s.sed. I'd hate to let Bella and Connie down."

"You pa.s.sed. I'm sure of it." I got up from my chair and walked to the refreshment table. "There's one more shortcake here, Ivy. Do you want it?"

"I shouldn't," she said and held out her plate.

Virginia finished ironing her binding and sat down to start st.i.tching it. Though her gla.s.ses were a testament to her less-than-perfect eyesight, Virginia's hand st.i.tches were just as tiny and even as they could be and she could still thread a needle without help, which was more than I could say for myself. Tessa and I were always joking that, pretty soon, we'd need arm extensions just to read the paper, but it wasn't far from the truth. As soon as I could afford it, I was going to go see Virginia's eye doctor.

"So how are preparations coming for the wedding?" Virginia asked as she closed one eye, threading her needle on the first try. "It's coming right up, isn't it?"

"The guests will check in exactly one week from today and the wedding will take place the next day. It's been a little crazy, but we're ready-I think. The flowers have been ordered, the minister and photographer and the musicians are all booked and, with Evelyn's help," I said with a nod in her direction, "I've booked the best caterer in New Bern for the reception."

"Charlie loves doing weddings," Evelyn said. "He's really a romantic at heart. He'll knock himself out making sure everything is perfect."

"Kerry was thrilled with his menu. She's so sweet and so excited about everything. I didn't realize how much fun this wedding was going to be."

"Hopefully," Margot said as she moved to take Virginia's spot at the ironing board, carrying a stack of finished blocks, "this will be the first of many. Destination weddings could be a good business for you."

"Oh, I've thought of that, believe me."

As I scooped the last of the berries and whipped cream onto Ivy's plate, I heard footsteps pounding on the wooden staircase up to the workroom and Tessa's voice calling, "Madelyn? Are you up there?"

She was in the room before I could answer, puffing from the exertion of climbing the stairs. "Good! You're here. I've been calling your cell for the last half hour."