A Thread So Thin (33 page)

“Marriage to a good man can enhance life,” Mom said, “but it mustn’t be a substitute for life. You’ve got to be happy with yourself before you can be happy with someone else.”

“Hear! Hear!” Byron said. “Virginia, you’re a very wise woman.”

“Well.” Mom laughed. “I’m a very old woman. If you live long enough, you’re bound to pick up a few things.”

Byron smiled and looked at his watch. “Ladies, I think I’d better go tell the musicians to play a couple more numbers. Hopefully, Arnie will be feeling better by then.”

“Or not,” said Ivy with a smirk. “By the time Margot’s done with him, he may faint for real.”

“Let’s hope not. I won’t be long.” Byron left, closing the door behind him.

Abigail turned, trying to see the back of her gown in the mirror. “Liza, since we have a little extra time, maybe we should steam it again. I see a few wrinkles.”

“All right. Ivy, could you plug the steamer in? I’ll be right in. I just want to talk to Evelyn for a second.”

Abigail went into the bathroom with Ivy and Mom trailing behind. Liza reached into the pocket of her skirt.

“I’ve been meaning to give this back to you,” she said and pressed my grandmother’s silver brooch into my hand.

I shook my head. “No. You keep it. I want you to have it.”

“But I can’t do that,” she argued. “It’s supposed to go from mother to daughter.”

“I know. And it will. So you’re not going to be my daughter-in-law. So what? Maybe you will be someday. Or maybe you won’t. We’ll see.” I shrugged. “But no matter what happens, you’ll always be like a daughter to me. You’re my daughter in love. Nothing is ever going to change that.”

“Oh, Evelyn!”

She put her arms around me, hugged me tight, and I hugged her right back.

Mom came back in the room and started rifling through her purse. “Liza, do you have any bobby pins? I seem to be all out. Abigail is worried that Emiliano didn’t put enough spray in her hair.”

Liza pulled away from my embrace. “For ten grand, you’d think the guy could afford some extra hair spray. Don’t worry, Virginia. I brought some extra bobby pins, just in case. I’ll take care of it.” She smiled her thanks to me before heading to the bathroom.

“Liza’s a wonderful maid of honor,” Mom said approvingly. “Prepared for every emergency. Good thing for you to keep in mind.”

“Mom,” I said, the warning clear in my tone. “Don’t start in.”

“On what?” she said innocently. “I’m just saying. One of these days you
might
want to remarry. If you ever do, Liza would be a wonderful maid of honor.”

“I see. Well, maybe I will. One of these days. Or maybe I won’t. You said it yourself not ten minutes ago. A woman doesn’t have to have a man.”

“That’s true,” Mom agreed. “You’ve got to be happy with yourself before you can be happy with someone else, but I also said that the right man can enhance a woman’s life, and she his. And from what I can see, Charlie is exactly that sort of man.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Funny. I thought that about Rob Dixon too. As it turned out, I was wrong.”

“Evelyn!” Mom clucked. “Is that what this is about? After all this time? For the last three years, Charlie has done nothing but try to show you that he’s not like Rob. Are you punishing Charlie because of what Rob did almost five years ago?”

She moved her head slowly from side to side. “I’d never have thought it of you, Evelyn. You’re being unfair. Worse than that, you’re acting like a coward.”

“Hey! That’s not fair. I’m not cowardly. Just prudent. I don’t want to rush into anything and I don’t need to. Not until the time is right.”

“I see,” Mom said slowly. “So this is all an issue of timing? Then explain it to me, what’s wrong with your timing? Charlie loves you, right?”

I nodded. He did and I knew it.

“And you love Charlie?”

“Of course I do. Very much. But it’s not as easy as you make it sound. We’ve got businesses to run. We’ve barely got time to brush our teeth, let alone nurture our relationship. A good marriage takes more than love and good intentions, it takes time! Who would know better than me? All those years that Rob spent at the office and on the road? Maybe, if we’d spent more time together, things might have worked out. But after a while, we barely knew each other. Well, I’m not going to make the same mistake twice, Mother. I’m just not!”

“Well, good!” Mom retorted. “Glad to hear it. I’d hate to think I’d raised a stupid daughter. And you know what the definition of stupidity is, don’t you? Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. So do it differently this time, Evelyn. Make time for each other!”

I wished Byron would show up, say it was time to go, and rescue me from this conversation. No such luck. The door remained firmly closed.

“Easy to say, Mom, but harder to do. Charlie said he’d sell the restaurant—”

Mom gasped. “He did! He actually said he’d sell the Grill? Oh, Evie. He
does
love you.”

“I know,” I said quietly. “But I can’t let him sell. The Grill means as much to Charlie as the quilt shop does to me. He’s put his heart and soul into building his business. It wouldn’t be fair to ask him to give it up any more than it would be to ask me to give up the shop.”

Mom looked at me, squinting, as if she were trying hard to put all this in proper focus. “But, Evelyn, surely there’s another way. Almost every couple has to work. There’s no reason you and Charlie shouldn’t be able to. Why can’t you just work a little less? Hire people to help you manage your businesses?”

“You think I haven’t thought of that? I can’t afford it. Even if I could, who would I hire? I’d need somebody with very special skills.” I started ticking the list off on my fingers. “It would have to be someone with great people skills, who can answer customer questions, a good salesperson, who knows all about fabric and notions and how things are trending in quilting,
and
who can sew samples as well as teach all levels of quilters. That’s a pretty tall order to fill. Especially if you’re paying minimum wage.”

“True,” Mom said. “It’s a big job. You’d definitely have to throw in some perks.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Well then, here’s the deal. Minimum wage, plus room and board, at least until I can find a place of my own, plus free fabric and notions, four weeks of vacation, and Sundays and Mondays off. I don’t want to work on the Sabbath. You won’t have to pay for my insurance because I’ve already got Medicare, plus my supplemental insurance with your dad’s pension.”

“What? Mom. What are you saying?”

She rolled her eyes as if wanting to take back what she’d said before, the part about me not being stupid. “I’m saying, if I’m going to take the job, I’d need minimum wage, plus room and board, fabric—”

I put up my hands to stop her. “No, no, I got that the first time.” I laughed. “But…you’re saying you’d be willing to stay in New Bern, permanently, and work as assistant manager for Cobbled Court Quilts?”

“I’m not particular about the title, but yes,” she said. “That’s what I’m saying.”

“But before,” I said incredulously, “you were dead set against staying in New Bern. What’s different now?” Suddenly I was suspicious. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Gibb Rainey, does it?”

“Gibb? Oh, heavens, no!” Mom exclaimed, coloring a little. “We’re just friends. Not that it’s any of your business, Evelyn, but there’s nothing between Gibb and me and there never will be. He’s a nice man, but compared to your father? I don’t think so.

“The truth is, New Bern has grown on me. It’s good to have friends again. More importantly, it’s good to have a purpose again. Helping out at the quilt shop, teaching the next generation of quilters, all those young mothers-to-be and the little ones at New Beginnings? It’s given me a reason to get up in the morning. I like feeling needed again. And when the one who needs you is your own daughter, the person you love most in the whole world? Well, that’s just icing on the cake.” Mom’s eyes twinkled. She laid her hand on my arm and patted me affectionately.

“Now, don’t you go marrying Charlie just to get me to stay in New Bern. I’ve pretty much made up my mind to stay anyway. I like it here. It just took me a while to realize it. But at least think about it, all right? No marriage is easy, Evelyn. But if you love Charlie and he loves you, then I think you’re smart enough to figure out a way to make it work. Don’t you? And if I can help you…Well, so much the better for all of us.”

“Oh, Mom.” I wrapped my arms around her and clung tight to her, just as Liza had to me.

Daughter-in-love can be an honorary title or a hereditary one, but either way, come age and arguments, fights and forgiveness, it’s a lifetime appointment.

M
om and I were still laughing and wiping tears from our eyes when Byron tapped on the door.

“Margot is pacing in the vestibule, walking off a little steam while she waits for the rest of you. Arnie is standing up front with Franklin and the other groomsmen, looking pale and very repentant. I think we’d better have this wedding while he’s still upright.”

Three minutes later, I was lined up in the vestibule along with the others, nervously waiting for Byron’s signal to go.

“Ready?” he asked in a quiet but steady voice. “Big breath, everybody. Evelyn, don’t look so serious. You’ll be fine. Smile, everyone! Here we go!”

He pushed open the double doors. A swell of violin music greeted us, filling the sanctuary and urging us forward.

In spite of Byron’s reassurance, I was nervous. I stepped off on the right foot instead of the left and had to do a little hop step to get back on the correct foot. I hoped no one noticed.

I followed Liza down the aisle, past the pews filled with friends, toward Franklin, who waited at the altar with eyes only for Abigail. As I drew closer, I could not help but look past him to that stubborn, gruff-mannered, ill-tempered, giving, caring, darling man standing on his left: Charlie, who had eyes only for me.

Suddenly, my nervousness fled, leaving behind nothing but the wish that Charlie and Franklin might trade places, that when I reached the end of the aisle Charlie might be standing there, waiting for me.

And so later, after the vows were restated before God and the world and the dinners served, and the cake cut, and the champagne uncorked, and the speeches made, and toasts drunk, and when I was finally where I had wanted to be all along, dancing in the arms of my beloved, I wasted no time before looking up into that face I love above all others, and saying, “Charlie? I do.”

“You do what?” His brow furrowed, confused, then unfurrowed with sudden understanding. His blue eyes lit up from the inside out.

“You do? You will?”

I nodded. “I do, Charlie. And I will. Forever and always.”

M
y cell phone emitted an ominous beeping sound, the one that signals I’m about two minutes away from a dead battery. Fortunately, my call was about to wrap up.

“Great! Thank you so, so much, Professor! I won’t let you down!”

“I know you won’t, Liza. That’s why I’m hiring you. Have a wonderful trip. I’ll see you in August.”

“Right, Professor. And thanks again. And don’t worry, I’m going to make sure—”

She laughed, interrupting me. “You don’t need to say it again, Liza. I believe you. I’m glad you’re so excited. You should be. It’s a great opportunity, for both of us. Now go on. Catch your plane.”

“Okay. Good-bye, Professor.”

“Liza? Just one more thing. Well, two. First, quit calling me Professor. I’m not your teacher anymore. Selena will be fine. Second,
please
tell Garrett I’m sorry about accosting him on the street that day. Now that you’ve told me the whole story, I can see what an enlightened,
supportive
man he is. I hope you know how lucky you are. Men like that don’t come along every day of the week,
believe
me,” she said. “Anyway, give Garrett my apologies and my best. Someday, I hope I get to meet him again. Under more cordial circumstances.”

“Oh, you will, Prof—I mean, Selena. We’ve worked out a plan. He’s going to visit me in Chicago every third weekend.”

“Wonderful! Then we can all go out for dinner. My treat, all right? Now run and catch your plane, dear. Have a wonderful time. Give my regards to the Louvre! And Versailles! And the Bois de Boulogne! Ah, to be young and in love and going to Paris for the first time…. Enjoy it, Liza. Life is
short
. Enjoy every moment!”

“I will, Selena. I am. Thank you. Good-bye.”

I reached out to press the End button just as the screen went blank, the battery spent. Good timing.

Garrett was sitting in the waiting area for our flight to Paris, his feet crossed and propped up on his backpack and his own phone still at his ear, just where he’d been half an hour before. I slipped my phone into my purse and walked back to our seats, thinking how cute Garrett was.

“Yeah. Okay, I’ll tell her. Love you too. Bye. Don’t worry, I will. Yes,” he said with studied patience, “I promise. Grandma, I’ve got to go. It’s almost time for us to board.”

Actually, our flight wouldn’t board for another half hour, but I couldn’t blame Garret for stretching the truth a little. The way it sounded, it might take him that long to get Virginia off the line. I sat down next to him, pulled a plastic zipper bag out of my carry-on, and started stitching one of the quilt blocks I’d brought with me. After a couple more attempts and a couple more good-byes, he was finally able to sign off.

Yawning, he turned the power off on his phone, then laid his arm across my shoulders. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s not you. I couldn’t sleep last night. Too excited, I guess.”

“Me too.”

“That’s probably a good thing. We can sleep on the plane and when we wake up, it’ll be morning in Paris. A whole new day.”

“I never sleep on planes,” I said. “While you’re sleeping, I’ll be quilting. I’d like to get the piecing done by the time we get back to New Bern. Virginia said she’d help me with the quilting later. The whole thing will be hand stitched,” I said, smoothing the block down on my leg, trying to finger press the seam I’d just finished.

Garrett leaned over and peered at the block. “That’s nice. Mom will love it. But you should at least try to sleep. You’ll be jet-lagged if you don’t. How was your call to Professor Williams? From the smile on your face, I’d say everything is still on track.”

“The board met last night and approved all Selena’s proposed hires—including me.” I grinned. “You are looking at the Pinkham Museum’s new assistant curator for the decorative arts. Should look pretty impressive on a business card, don’t you think? By the way, Professor Williams, who I am now supposed to call Selena, sends her apologies and her greetings. She wants to take us out to dinner when you come to Chicago.”

“Really? Well, that’s certainly a turnaround from being attacked on the street and called a misogynist. Speaking of messages, you’ve got stacks of them. When people couldn’t get through on your number, they called mine instead.”

He closed his eyes and screwed up his face. “Let’s see if I can remember them all. Grandma says to say hello, to watch out for pick-pockets, not to drink the water, and to remind you to remind me to send her a postcard from the Eiffel Tower.”

“Will do.”

“Ivy says hi and to have fun and take a lot of pictures. Margot says the same and that everything is under control at the shop. She’d also like a postcard from Paris. Well, actually she’d just like some French stamps, to give Arnie for his collection.”

“We can do that.”

“Abigail and Franklin called from Bermuda. They’re still loving it. Abigail wants to buy a condo there. Franklin talked her down from that, but they’ve already made reservations for next year. Abbie said to tell you that she called the credit card company and had them up your limit so you wouldn’t run out of money in Paris.”

I rolled my eyes. “She didn’t have to do that. How many times do I have to tell her? I’m going to be making good money after August. Plus, I have plenty saved up from working at the quilt shop last summer. Doesn’t she think I’m capable of taking care of myself?”

“I don’t know,” Garrett said, unsuccessfully trying to stifle another yawn. “I think it’s just her way of letting you know she cares. And, continuing on the list of people who care: Mom and Charlie called from London. Their flight to Dublin is delayed, so they had time to phone.

“Mom says to have a wonderful time. And Charlie says to make sure we have lemon tarts at Ladurée, and cassoulet at Allard, and baguettes at—”

“Okay, I get the idea.” I laughed. “You don’t have to go through the whole list again. He already wrote it down for me. How were they? Did they sound happy?”

“Very,” Garrett said, raising his eyebrows. “At one point, Mom actually giggled.”

“Oh, that’s sweet,” I said.

“Yeah, I guess so, but when it’s your mom, it’s a little weird. She said everything was wonderful. Charlie was wonderful. Their weekend in New York was wonderful. The flight to London was wonderful. I think she even thought their delay to Dublin was wonderful.”

“Well, she’s in love.” I shrugged. “It just took her a while to realize it, that’s all.”

“I’ll say. I knew Charlie was the right guy for her five minutes after I met him. Good thing Grandma pulled Charlie aside and told him to play hard to get for a while. Otherwise, who knows how long it would have taken her to figure it out?”

“At least once she did figure it out, she didn’t waste time doing something about it. I’ve never been to two weddings in one week before.”

Garrett smiled. “Yeah. That was crazy, wasn’t it? But they did it right. Get the license and the ring, call up the minister, arrange for a quiet little ceremony at the church, followed by lunch for a few friends and family at the Grill, and then fly off to Ireland for the honeymoon. Simple. And I thought it was just as nice as Abigail and Franklin’s wedding.”

I nodded. “I agree. There’s only one downside. When Abigail finds out that they got married without her, she’s going to blow a gasket.” I looked up from my quilting, worried. “You didn’t say anything to her, did you?”

“Are you kidding? And risk her reaching through the phone line to strangle me? I’m not stupid. Mom and Charlie can detonate that bomb on their own, thanks. I’m nobody’s stooge.”

Garrett leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and said in a wistful voice, “Babe, if we ever do decide to get married, do you think we can pull a Charlie? Just run off, get married, and tell Abigail about it later?”

I laughed. “Tempting, but no. We can’t leave Abigail out of the picture. She’d never forgive us.”

“I was afraid of that.” Eyes still closed, he shrugged. “Oh, well. It never hurts to dream.”

I put down my stitching, reached out to hold Garrett’s hand, and leaned my head on his shoulder. “Nope. It never does.”

The flight was nearly full, but Garrett and I had an extra seat in our row. Even so, we sat side by side, me in the window seat and Garrett in the middle, stretching his long legs to the left, taking advantage of the empty space next to him.

He was asleep before we’d even left the ground, his head lolling on my shoulder, which was kind of nice.

The air-conditioning was going full blast, so the plane was chilly. I wished I had my Star-Crossed Love quilt with me, the one that was supposed to be my wedding quilt but that the quilt circle had agreed could be my bon voyage quilt instead. It was big, too big to put in my carry-on luggage, so I’d had to check it. It took up a lot of room and I’d had to leave behind some extra clothes to make room for it. Garrett thought I was crazy to bring it, but there was no way I was going to Paris for a month without it. No matter how far I was from home, when I snuggled up under my quilt, blanketed under those beautiful stars, I felt surrounded by friends.

I pulled one of those cheap little airline blankets out of a plastic bag, covered my legs with it, and scooted a little closer to Garrett as the plane climbed.

There was a movie on a big screen at the front of the plane. I glanced at it now and again but didn’t put on my headphones, preferring to enjoy the stillness, the steady white whoosh of engine noise, while I worked on my quilt blocks and Garrett slept.

Having finished one block, I reached into my bag to pull out another but realized they were all done. All I had to do now was stitch together the separate blocks, quilt the top, and bind the edges, and the wall hanging, my wedding present to Evelyn and Charlie, would be finished.

Moving slowly so I wouldn’t wake Garrett, I put down my tray table and laid out a few of the blocks so I could get an idea of how the finished wall hanging would look.

Two painted doors of the quilt shop and the restaurant side by side, one red and one black, flanked by a generic background of shop doors and windows, patched from fabrics of gray and charcoal, a New Bern streetscape silhouetted against a cerulean sky that darkened in layers, from sapphire to indigo to midnight, as my eye rose past rooftops and treetops and into a miniature firmament of tiny stars in bright, bold colors, each one separate and distinct from the others but also in harmony with the whole, like brilliant hues in a little girl’s paint box, untouched but full of possibility.

It would look beautiful when it was done. Evelyn would love it. She would understand it.

And while I was thinking this, the separated blocks moved closer and closer together, becoming one seamless whole, the entire scene flawlessly stitched and perfectly joined just as it had been when I first bought the fabrics, laid them out on the table, side by side by side, and imagined what they could become.

It was all there, just as I’d seen it in my mind’s eye. With one addition.

On the left side, about a third of the way up between the rooftops and the midnight sky, there was a flight of birds, ghost white against the darkening sky, flying in formation to an unknown destination. I hadn’t sewn those birds, not in this quilt anyway. At least I didn’t remember doing so. How had they gotten there?

“What would you like to drink?”

I looked up. A flight attendant was standing in the aisle, smiling, her hands gripping the handles of a completely empty beverage cart without a can, bottle, or even a pitcher of water on its surface.

“Well…I don’t know. What do you have?”

“Anything. Anything you can imagine. Well, almost anything. Here,” she said, reaching down into a square opening in the top of the cart and pulling out a green glass bottle with a gold label, “try this. It’ll help you sleep.”

“But I’m already asleep,” I said, accepting a glass from her hand and taking a sip of the wine, deep red, complex, and quenching.

“Yes, of course you are,” she said. “But this will help you stay asleep, at least for a little while, so you can get some rest. It’s good to dream, Liza. It’s even better to live.”

I finished the wine while the woman looked on approvingly. Leaning down to take my empty glass, she saw the quilt lying on the tray table.

“That’s lovely! You made it, didn’t you? I can tell. It has your mark all over it, your voice, your touch.” She leaned closer to get a better look.

“There’s just one thing missing. You need some silver thread, don’t you? For the birds. Let me see if I can find some.” She reached into the cart again. When her hand emerged, she was clutching a collection of beautiful threads in her hand, shining and smooth and thin, cobalt and salmon and celadon and pearl, every color you could imagine, every color but silver.

“Oh,” she said softly, a little crease of disappointment appearing between her brows, in exactly the same spot it did when I was disappointed, which I suddenly realized I was.

“I thought you said anything I could want is in there.”

“Almost everything. Some things you have to find for yourself. Wait a minute!” she exclaimed, her features brightening. “Of course! I should have remembered. You don’t need me to get you the thread. You can do that for yourself. See?”

She smiled and pointed to the window. I looked out and saw them, a flight of birds, each one holding a silver thread in its beak, each thread attaching itself to some point on the wing of the plane, one thread for each person inside.

“There’s yours,” she said, pointing to the thread nearest my window. “You can reach out and clip off as much or as little as you need.”

I turned from the window. “But if I do that, won’t I run out?”

She laughed. “No! Of course not! Your thread is always as long or as short as you need it to be.”

“Are you sure? How do you know? And how do you know which one is mine?”

She tipped her head to the side, as if trying to understand how I had failed to grasp something so obvious. “Well,
I
don’t, Liza. Only you know that. After all, it’s your thread. It’s your choice. I’m just glad you finally made one.”

“But that’s what’s had me worried. How do I know I’m making the right one?”