A Single Thread (Cobbled Court) (18 page)

A man’s voice, deep and slow, careful to enunciate his words clearly, was on the other end of the line. “Templeton residence. This is Howard speaking.”

“Hey, Howard,” I said, unconsciously and immediately falling back into the friendly Texas mode of greeting. “This is Evelyn Dixon. I haven’t talked to you in a long time. How are you? Is your mama around?”

“Hello, Evelyn. I’m fine. Mama and I are going to be on television. Here is Mama. It was nice talking to you. Have a good Christmas.”

And before I could ask any other questions, he’d put Mary Dell on the phone.

“Baby Girl!” She hooted an enthusiastic greeting. “How are you? Merry Christmas! I’ve been wanting to call, but we’ve been so busy with all this book business and everything, you wouldn’t believe it. It’s funny, not fifteen minutes ago I was telling Howard that I should call you, but I figured you’d be out on a Saturday night so I was going to try tomorrow afternoon. Isn’t that something? Your ears must have been burning! How are you?” she repeated enthusiastically. She sounded so happy and it was so good to hear her voice, I couldn’t bring myself to launch right into my list of woes.

“Oh, I’m all right. What’s this Howard was saying? Something about the two of you being on television?”

She laughed out loud. “Yes! Evelyn, honey! Can you believe it? That’s why I haven’t had time to call. I’m ’bout as busy as a hound in flea season!” She laughed again, and the sound of her delight rang through the receiver.

“Mary Dell, what are you talking about? I don’t understand.”

“Oh, I thought Howard told you. Evelyn, hold on to your hat! Somebody at the publishing house called up the folks at the House and Home Network and told ’em about the book! Next thing I knew, some little skinny gal calling herself an assistant producer showed up on the doorstep with a cameraman and sayin’ they wanted to shoot some test videos.”

“Oh my gosh! Oh, Mary Dell!” I put my hand over my open mouth, my own problems forgotten. I couldn’t quite believe what I hoped she was about to tell me.

“Well, I just thought it was some kind of joke or something, so I told ’em to come on, gave ’em some coffee and banana pudding, and let ’em come into the sewing room and film while Howard and I worked on a kaleidoscope quilt. Then they left, and I didn’t hear a thing until about a month ago when the little skinny gal—Heather’s her name; she’s in charge of producing a quilt show, but I swear, I don’t think she’s ever done so much as thread a needle. Anyway, Heather calls and says they want to put us on television! Our own show!
Quintessential Quilting with Mary Dell and Howard!
Can you believe it? Whoo-whee!”

Mary Dell screamed into the receiver, and I did too. For a moment it was as if we were two high-school girls, giddy with the news that we’d just
both
been elected prom queen. I was thrilled for her!

“Can you believe it! Finding out about the book was exciting enough, but this! Baby Girl, I’m ’bout as happy as a clam at high tide!”

“Mary Dell, this is just amazing! What happens now? When will you be on the air?”

“In the spring. Right now we’re working on the concepts for the first six shows, but we’ll start doing some actual filming right after the holidays. Evelyn, I’m so nervous! Howard is just taking it all in stride, like he always figured he’d be a TV star someday and was just waiting for somebody to come point him in the direction of the camera. That little Heather just fell in love with him. You know the way he pipes in with some little suggestion about how to place the block or how it’d look nicer with a brighter color? Well, Heather thought that was wonderful. Said she loved the mother-and-son interaction. In fact, they’re going to give him his own ninety-second segment every episode, just to talk about color selections. They’re going to call it ‘Howard’s Hint on Hues.’ Isn’t that wonderful!”

“Well, he always did have a great eye. Oh, Mary Dell, this is just such wonderful news! I couldn’t be happier for both of you. Be sure and tell Howard I said so.”

“I will. Of course, the only bad part of this is that life has gotten a little crazy. Until Heather called, I’d been planning on hopping in an airplane and coming up your way for a visit, kind of a Christmas surprise. But now, of course…”

My euphoria faded. It would have been so wonderful to see her, and I realized that, unconsciously, that was exactly what I’d been hoping she would do, show up on my doorstep with her loud laughter and loud earrings and shake me out of the funk I’d fallen into. I was homesick, not for my old house, or my old life, but for my old friend. Mary Dell was the best. And I knew that, even now, with all she had to do to make this amazing dream of hers come true, if I told her of my troubles, she’d figure out a way to drop everything and come to see me. But that wouldn’t do, not when she was on the verge of something so important, at a moment when timing was everything.

“Mary Dell, don’t worry about that,” I said. “I couldn’t be happier for you. Once things calm down we’ll get together for a nice long visit. But you’ve got to tell me when the first show goes on the air. I’m going to have a premiere party and invite everyone I know.” I laughed. “And I’ve already figured out the perfect menu—buffalo chicken wings, banana pudding, and Dr. Pepper! These New Englanders have never had food like that before. They won’t know what hit them. They’ll probably have indigestion for a week!”

Mary Dell hooted her pleasure, laughing at the thought of a bunch of Yankees (who she’d once assured me were so straitlaced that they ate pizza with a knife and fork and a napkin tucked into their collars) eating chicken with their fingers and watching her on television. “And barbeque! And cheese straws!” she howled. “Oh, you’ve got to have cheese straws, Baby Girl!

“Say!” she exclaimed, a new idea suddenly occurring to her. “Why don’t you come on down here for the first taping? It’ll be in late January sometime. I’d feel so much better if I knew you were in the audience.”

Late January. I knew what I’d be doing then, and it didn’t include flying to Texas, but I couldn’t tell Mary Dell that, not now.

“Oh, honey, I wish I could. But I…” I wracked my brain, searching for an excuse. “I just can’t. I…I’m scheduled to go to Rhode Island for a big quilt show then. I’m presenting some workshops and, well, I just can’t back out. It’s such a great opportunity—the publicity. You understand.”

“Oh sure,” she said, trying to convince me that she did indeed understand. The disappointment was evident in her voice. “You can’t miss a chance like that, not when you’re starting out.” I murmured a halfhearted agreement.

“But listen to me going on and on about myself without even asking about you! How are things at the shop? And how are you feeling after your surgery? You must be all healed up if you’re going to be teaching a big workshop in Rhode Island.”

“Oh yes. Much better. Everything is fine. Couldn’t be better.”

“S
he loved it,” I replied, answering Evelyn’s inquiry. “Absolutely loved it!”

I laid out my purchases, two yards of a novelty fabric covered with grinning pirates climbing the masts of ships with bright red sails that floated on a sea of brilliant blue, plus another yard of a “pieces of eight” companion fabric, and four fat quarters of complimentary accent fabrics in reds and blues. “You should have seen her eyes when she opened the package. Then she threw it around her shoulders like a cape and wouldn’t take it off.”

“That’s wonderful, Abigail. I’m so glad.” Evelyn smiled sincerely, but her eyes looked tired. I wondered if she was getting enough sleep. Undoubtedly the final run up to Christmas was wearing her out.

I reached for a spool of blue thread, and added it to the pile for Evelyn to ring up. “So am I. Somehow, I think it made her feel special, and not just Bethany. I had a board meeting at the shelter this morning and saw Bethany’s mother, Ivy, in the hall. She thanked me over and over again, said that no one had ever gone to that kind of trouble for her little girl before. Do you know she actually had tears in her eyes? The program director told me Ivy doesn’t have any living family. Isn’t that sad? Anyway, that made me think I wanted to make another quilt, for Bethany’s little brother, Bobby. Can’t say I’m too enthused about the pirate theme, but he seems to be crazy about them, and so—a pirate quilt it shall be. You were right, Evelyn; when you give someone a quilt, they know you care.”

“I told you.” Evelyn smiled as she put everything in one of the red and white checked Cobbled Court Quilts shopping bags. “That will be forty-six dollars and twenty-eight cents.”

I opened my wallet and fished out three twenty-dollar bills. The front doorbell jingled cheerfully, signaling the arrival of another customer. Margot came into the shop, and there were tears in her eyes. Before we could ask what was wrong, she launched into a barrage of questions.

“Evelyn, why did you do that? Where did you get the money? What were you thinking? I’ve seen your books. You can’t afford this, and I won’t accept it.”

“Margot, what are you talking about? Slow down.” Evelyn frowned and handed her a tissue from the box she kept behind the counter.

Margot blew her nose. “You know what I’m talking about. Don’t try to pretend you don’t. The deposit.” Evelyn and I both looked at her blankly. “At the bank. I went online to check my balance last night and there was an extra five thousand three hundred and eighty dollars in my account. When I went in today to tell them they’d made some kind of mistake, the teller said there was no mistake, that someone had deposited the money into my account. In cash! So there’s no way to say for certain who did it, but I know it was you.”

Margot trumpeted into her tissue again. “I told you before, Evelyn. I help you here in the shop because I like doing it. I won’t take your money. You can’t afford it,” she scolded.

Evelyn shook her head. “Margot, look at me. Quit crying and look at me. I didn’t put that money in your account. I swear I didn’t. I wish I could have, because you certainly deserve it. I will admit, I have written you a check, and one for Liza too, that I’m planning on giving you along with your Christmas present.” She held up her hand to silence Margot’s tearful protests. “No. Now don’t argue with me about it. You’re going to take it, and that’s that, but don’t get too excited. I promise you, there are very few zeros on the check I wrote. I wish there were, but, you’re right. I just can’t afford it.”

“Well, then who made that deposit? I have to give it back. It’s too much. I can’t accept it.”

“Why not?” I asked. “It’s Christmas. Are you too old to believe in Santa Claus?”

“Yes!” Margot cried and broke into a fresh wave of tears.

Evelyn came around the counter to put her arm around Margot’s shoulders. “Come on now,” she soothed. “You haven’t worked in months. Heaven knows you must need the money. Maybe that’s it. Maybe heaven does know. Maybe you’ve got an angel walking around the streets of New Bern, just like I do. An angel. Just like you’ve been to me.”

“Oh, Evelyn. It was you! I knew it!” Margot began sobbing.

Her skin became all blotchy, and her face turned a truly unattractive shade of red. You see? That’s another reason not to give in to emotional displays. They make you look simply awful.

I shot Evelyn a look and began gathering up my things. This whole drama was making me feel uncomfortable. Evelyn nodded silently, letting me know that it was all right to leave. She knew how I hated this sort of thing.

“Really, Margot. It wasn’t me. I swear,” Evelyn promised as she patted Margot’s heaving shoulders. “Why are you crying? This is good news, isn’t it? Why are you so sad.”

“I’m not sad!” she wailed. “I’m just so happy. And relieved! I’m exactly four thousand three hundred and eighty dollars behind on my bills. I’ve just been frantic thinking how I was going to pay them, and now—this! Whoever made that deposit knew exactly how much I needed and gave me an extra thousand dollars besides. How could they have known? If it wasn’t you, Evelyn, who was it?” Margot threw her arms around Evelyn’s shoulders and simply gave herself up to an absolute tsunami of weeping.

With Margot’s back now turned, I rolled my eyes at Evelyn, who shot me a disapproving frown, and waved my farewell. “I’m late for my hairdresser,” I said. “Have to run.”

“And the quilt circle on Friday?” Evelyn asked, still comforting the weeping Margot. “I know it’s Christmas Eve, but you’re still coming, aren’t you?”

“I’ll be there. Better to spend the evening with the whole group than alone with Liza. At least I’ll have you to referee.”

Evelyn grinned and waved between back pats. She knew that things between Liza and me, while not exactly a picture of familial harmony, had definitely improved. Helping out at the quilt shop seemed to have bettered her mood and attitude considerably. I suppose everyone feels happier when they have somewhere to go and something to do. Her holiday window display really was charming. While I still found some of her artwork to be…well, avant-garde would be a kind way of putting it…she obviously had talent. Perhaps, after her court-imposed sojourn with me was completed, she should give art school another try. I made a mental note to discuss it with her after the holidays.

Taking my leave of Evelyn and Margot, I made a loop around the counter toward the front door, past the desk where Margot kept file folders, folders for income, expenses, inventory, tax receipts—and one marked “Margot: Personal.”

If a person was a nosy snoop, they could have opened that file and seen exactly how dire Margot’s financial situation had become since she’d lost her job. But on the other hand, they probably wouldn’t have to do that. While meticulous about business, Margot was sometimes careless about her personal affairs. She had a bad habit of leaving files open on the desk where just anyone might read them.