Tempest's Course: Quilts of Love Series (9 page)

Kelly wrangled the six-foot table into the center of the ballroom and slid it next to the matching table. This would give her at least a hard surface to support the quilt as she worked on repairs. Nothing would restore it to its former glory, but she would strive to keep Firstborn Holdings happy. Of course, Mr. William Chandler hadn’t returned her call for a request for more information.

Her phone buzzed atop the marble mantel, so she trotted off to answer. Mr. Chandler. Finally. “This is Kelly Frost.”

“Ms. Frost, I received your message. Is there an issue with the quilt?”

“Not exactly. I’m a bit hesitant, however, to use this new fabric on the blocks. I’m making some templates of the pattern so I can cut—”

“I really don’t need an explanation. Just continue on the project. That’s what you’re being paid for.”

In times past, Kelly would have slung her phone against the wall. That was the impulsiveness of youth. She thought better of it now. “I understand. I’m going to complete this project to the best of my ability, but often I find that clients have unrealistic expectations of the results.”

“Keep me apprised of your progress. Have a nice day, Ms. Frost.”

“You too, thank you.” She was talking to a broken connection. “That figures,” she said to the silent phone.

Ever since the disaster with Peyton and the Boston Fine Arts Museum, she found herself doubting her skill. She pulled on a clean pair of acid-free work gloves, then removed the quilt from the acid-free cardboard box where she’d stored it once it was dry.

She spread out the quilt on the tables until the center Mariner’s Compass lay directly in the midpoint of the tables. Shades of blue, brown, green, and gray made up the points of all five compasses. Shades of the sea made up the quilt on what was once a stark-white background.

The task at hand kept thoughts of Tom from the forefront of her mind. Never mind that she’d tried to sleep last night, but remembering his gentle touch on her hand and her hair kept her awake. It was what she and her girlfriends back in college would have called a “kissable moment.”

The moment had fled, thankfully, when the nephew had popped into the backyard. Not that part of her wouldn’t welcome a kiss. But it was too soon for her. She wasn’t given to a casual smooch here and there. Peyton had been her first big deal, and look what that had gotten her.

“Lord, I need your help with this one,” she said aloud in the large room, her voice echoing off the walls. She’d returned to her faith after her crash and burn with Peyton, after she’d sunk lower than she could have imagined. Relearning to pray easily had been like learning a new language.

“This place is not my home, Lord, and I don’t see myself being here much past late summer. I know Tom has issues; I have issues. Please guide our steps.” Her thoughts swirled as she stared at the quilt. God wasn’t the author of confusion, and she was letting her thoughts yank her emotions around.
Breathe, Kelly. Breathe
.

Nothing had happened last night, and she still had a job to do.
Peace, peace.

She took out her template material and studied the center compass of the quilt, its points stretching like rays of the sun from the middle of the pattern. A challenging bit of needlework, even for an expert.

Mary had had an even hand with the quilt. Or maybe it was her helper, Leonora. Tiny stitches accented the pattern of each compass ray. A number were gone, but the ones that remained spoke of the care Mary had taken when stitching her project.

Maybe she ought to follow Mary’s lead and see if Willa was interested in some freelance work. She picked up her phone and dialed.

“Willa, it’s Kelly Frost.”

“Hey, there. How’s New Bedford treating you?”

“I have a
lot
of work to do, is how it’s treating me.”

“I was going to call you, but I’m actually in Newport.”

If Willa was in Newport, that probably meant . . . “Ah, I see.”

“I’m working for Jonna.” The line went silent, and Kelly looked at the phone to see if the connection was lost. Nope. “Kelly?”

“I’m still here.”

“I should have said something to you.” Her apologetic tone sounded genuine.

“No, you didn’t have to.” Kelly almost wanted to warn Willa, but she stopped. Willa had nothing to fear from Jonna, save Willa’s skill one day outpacing the more experienced conservator’s. “You are working on your career, and I should congratulate you. So, congratulations. I mean it.”

“Well, thanks. I’m relieved. I really respect you, Kelly. Maybe we could meet halfway and poke through some shops or something.”

“You know, after sitting hunched over a quilt all day, that will probably be ideal.” Trust Willa’s more youthful energy to drag Kelly away from her work.

“Just let me know, okay?”

“I’ll do that.” She ended the call and set her phone back down. She’d learned to absorb herself in her work. It was just her and the fibers, as she negotiated some life back into them.

Kelly held up a paper chart she’d made from the quilt pattern. More than one hundred numbered blocks, frayed and damaged, not counting the main surface of the quilt, the binding, plus the backing. If she started now, she might get a third or more of the numbered blocks drawn. She was fashioning new patterns for each damaged block, so each facet of the quilt would have its own custom-made block without putting undue stress on the old.

Already she was congratulating herself. She had too much work to do here to focus on Tom and any weird imaginings. She had a career to rescue, and any diversions could rip that away from her. She wasn’t about to give up what she had for a man, not even sweet yet sometimes glum Tom.

Piece by piece, each section took shape. The light in the room changed as the day wore on and the sun passed around the house. As she made her template, she numbered it according to the chart she’d made of the pattern.

Her back ached and her stomach growled. Kelly stood and stretched. One foot had gone numb from her perch on the stool, hunched over the quilt. She limped around the ballroom as her toes tingled back to life again.

Finally, it was good to feel as though she’d made a good start on renewing the pattern. Much, much work lay ahead of her. She touched the fabric of the quilt top. “Hang in there. It’ll take a while, but we’ll get you there.”

9

N
o driving for thirty days until after we get the follow-up MRI results.” Dr. Yau wrote something on Tom’s chart. “That means no motorcycle, either.”

“All right.” The words tasted bitter in Tom’s mouth. The doctor’s orders held no element of shock for him. This had happened before, immediately after his life-changing injury, and the time period had been six months.
Lord, not six months.
Dr. Yau didn’t tell him, but Tom knew well enough that if at the end of thirty days the MRI wasn’t clear, then it would be another thirty days.

“Schedule your follow-up appointment at the reception desk, and I’ll see you in a month.” Dr. Yau rose from his chair, and Tom stood as well. Dr. Yau put his hand on Tom’s shoulder. “This is just a precaution, you know.”

“I do. Thanks.” Tom nodded as they left the examining room. His sister-in-law was in the waiting room and stood as he entered. His nephew and niece were busy studying the aquarium at one end of the room.

“So?” she asked. “What did he say?”

“No driving for a month.”

“Aw, I’m sorry.” She glanced in the direction of the aquarium. “C’mon, guys.”

Tom shrugged. “It’ll pass. I’ve got rides. I’ll get where I need to go.” But nothing compared to the feeling of riding his bike, the air blowing past, the open road beneath him.

He made his follow-up appointment, which wasn’t soon enough for him, and joined Angela and the kids outside where they waited in the car. He’d been reduced to being carted around. Sure, it would pass, like he’d just said. He didn’t like inconveniencing anyone. Worse, he didn’t like not being able to come and go as he pleased.

“Thanks for giving me a ride today,” he said as he closed the car door.

“Not a problem, Tom.” Angela shifted the car into drive. “We were coming here anyway for the kids’ reading program, and the VA Hospital is right on our way.”

The kids yammered for almost thirty minutes as they headed back to New Bedford. When Tom caught a pause, he interjected, “You can drop me off at Gray House, on County. I might as well get some work done today.”

“Okay.” She changed lanes and took the earlier exit instead of the one heading for his mom and pop’s place. “House number?”

“Two-forty-eight. It’ll be on the right.”

She pulled up in front of the house. “Wow, I haven’t been to this part of town in forever. I think the last time was when I was in high school, and my history class toured the Rotch-Jones-Duff Mansion down the block.”

“Can we go inside?” Hunter said over Tom’s shoulder.

“I don’t know . . . it’s not really ready for visitors.” Tom wasn’t in the mood to play tour guide.

“But Miss Kelly is there. Will she let us in?” asked Hailey. “I like her.”

“She might show you around,” Tom replied. “I’ll check first. She’s been pretty busy working on that old quilt project.”

“I’ll park on the side street,” Angela said as she negotiated the corner. She parked the car. Once Tom pressed the numbers on the key pad to open the side gate, the kids didn’t waste time tumbling from the back seat and racing through the side yard.

“I’ll beat ya!” Hunter bellowed, his feet pounding the green grass.

Hailey scampered after him.

“If I had half their energy,” Angela said as they walked around toward the front door. “I hope we’re not a bother to her.”

“Like I said, she’s busy with the quilt. But I don’t think she has any time deadline. I bet she’ll be glad to let you at least look through the house.”

“I’ve got to admit, I’m sort of intrigued by the house. I remember even back in high school it was closed up, and that was fifteen years ago.” Angela scaled the front steps. Hunter had already grabbed the doorknocker and was packing a wallop on the old wooden door. “Hunter!”

“It’s a big house. I want to make sure she can hear us.” Hunter frowned.

The front door flew open. Kelly stood there, her blonde hair scraped back into a ponytail. She wore a UMass sweatshirt topping denim capris. She was barefoot, and her toenails were still a shade of perky pink.

“Oh, hi. All of you, hi. Tom, you could have come in the back.” She smiled past the kids and at him.

“I wanted to knock on the big door,” Hunter said.

“And knock you did.” Kelly beamed at the little boy. “I could hear you all the way in the ballroom.”

“Ballroom?” asked Hailey. “Like for a Cinderella ball?” Tom tried not to laugh.

“Yes, sort of like a Cinderella ball,” Kelly replied.

“Kelly, the kids want to see the inside of the house,” Angela said. “Well, me too. Do you mind showing it to us?”

“Oh.” Kelly took a few steps back into the entryway. “Come on in, then. I’ll give you the grand tour.”

Tom hung back as his sister-in-law and her kids entered Gray House. Kelly took them first to the sitting room that overlooked County Street.

“This is probably where the Grays had company when Captain Gray was in town.” Kelly stood at the stone fireplace. Hunter and Hailey didn’t look impressed. Of course not. There was nothing here to appeal to a child.

He followed along for the tour, never having paid much attention to the inside of the house besides the kitchen. They headed upstairs, the kids leading the way.

“Oh, it’s a little boy’s room,” Hunter said as they entered the first bedroom near the top of the stairs. “Look. Toys.” He knelt beside a vintage wooden horse, with a real horsehair mane and wooden wheels.

“Do you know who left them here?” Angela asked.

“I have no idea. Guess I could ask Mrs. Acres at the real estate office about the last family to live here,” said Kelly. “Mr. Chandler is a bit hard to reach sometimes.” A flicker of aggravation crossed her face. Tom understood that. Chandler was an odd duck.

They continued on through a bathroom with a claw foot bathtub. Feminine and frou-frou room. A few towels hung from an art deco towel bar, and a cloth cosmetics bag was tucked onto one corner of the porcelain sink.

“It must be nice for a woman to have a bathroom all to herself,” Angela observed, and both she and Kelly laughed together.

“I’m sure the mother of this house enjoyed it. And this is the room where I’m staying,” Kelly announced. “I believe it was originally Mary Gray’s bedroom.”

The same feminine touches appeared in this room in light blue, with long curtains that lined a pair of windows. She kept everything neat and tidy. A leather-bound book lay on a chest of drawers.

Kelly stopped to pick it up. “My first day moving in, I found this when exploring the house.”

“A book?” asked Hailey.

“This is Mary Gray’s journal. She wrote about her life a long, long time ago, and she’s the one who made the quilt I’m trying to preserve.”

“Oh,” Angela said, stepping forward, “it’s a piece of history. This is priceless, I’m sure, especially tied to the house and the quilt. I certainly don’t envy whaling captain’s wives. Either they went with their husbands for years on a ship or stayed home alone. I’m not sure which is worse.”

“Mary stayed behind, and one of the projects she worked on was this quilt. And she had a baby, too,” said Kelly.

“Where did you find that?” Tom heard himself ask.

“I found it inside a bench, up in the lookout room,” Kelly said. Then she snapped her fingers. “Oh, I should have told you. The roof up there is leaking, I think. I don’t know if you can help with that, but Mr. Chandler never called me back about it.”

“A lookout room?” Hunter asked. “You mean like a lookout for ships?”

Kelly nodded. “You can see the harbor from here. I can take you up there. Not much room. It might fit four people, at the most.”

Hailey grabbed Kelly’s hand. “Take us?”

“Sure. We can all go, take turns looking out the top of the lookout.” She led them up another level of stairs, yet another part of the house Tom had never seen. A house of secrets. And the journal Kelly had found.

“Careful, this set of stairs is steeper,” Kelly’s voice came from above. “And narrower.”

The kids scampered up behind her, with Angela following and Tom last of all. He had so much to do, but he’d never been this far inside the house before. They all reached the third floor, which was in stark contrast to the rooms below. Servants’ quarters, Tom assumed.

“One more flight of stairs. Much smaller.” Kelly smiled at the kids, then her eyes met Tom’s. “Let’s go see the harbor.”

Angela remained below. “It’s almost enough to make someone claustrophobic. I’ll stay right here.”

If anything, Tom needed to see the water damage or leak that Kelly mentioned. “I’m going to take a look. Think there’s room for the four of us?”

Kelly nodded. “I think so. Not much. C’mon.” She started up the last, narrow wooden staircase. “It’s worth the climb.”

Once the four of them were inside the lookout room, Tom had to agree. He couldn’t stand upright inside the square room, and he could touch opposite windows with both hands at once.

The kids exclaimed about the boats far away. Hailey perched on a low bench and pressed her nose against the glass window “I can see the ocean. I wanna go to the beach.”

“Me too.” Hunter squinted out at the harbor. “Did someone sleep in this room?”

“I don’t think so,” Kelly said. “It’s kind of small.”

“And it’s leaky.” Tom reached up to the ceiling, inches from the top of his head. “I’ll see if I can get a response from Mr. Chandler.”

“Good.” She looked at him, her eyes filled with concern. “How are you feeling? Did your appointment go well?”

Tom shrugged, and Hailey said, “Uncle Tom can’t drive his motorcycle.”

“For thirty days,” Tom added. “But I’m feeling fine, for the most part.”

“I wish I had a spyglass,” Hunter said. “Like a sea captain. They could see everything.” He held up his hands as if holding an imaginary spyglass.

Tom ran his hands over the ceiling. Part of the wood had a water stain. He didn’t relish climbing this high, but he figured the roof would need a quick patch. Or maybe not. It might take a whole lot more work than that.

“Is this all?” Hailey asked. “I want to go downstairs now.”

“Go ahead, but go slow. The stairs are steep,” said Kelly. She moved to head down the stairs as well, but Tom caught her by the arm.

“Just a second.”

She glanced down at his hand on her arm, then up at him. She pulled away. “What is it?”

“Since, uh, I’m not allowed to drive right now, would you pick me up at my apartment in the mornings?”

“Sure, no problem.”

“I’d rather not ask my family for rides, and taking the bus would take too long. I can pay you gas money. I’ll also need rides to the Winthrop townhouse until I can get one of my buddies to help me.”

“Of course. I understand.” She blinked at him, and he realized how small the room was at that moment.

“Thanks,” he said, before taking the narrow ladderlike stairs to the level below.

They met Angela and the kids at the bottom of the stairs.

“Mom, can we go see the backyard?” Hailey asked. Nobody needed to say that the kids had found some of this tour “boring.”

“I can take you outside,” Tom said. He knew he’d end up showing the kids the flourishing gardens. His latest instructions from Firstborn Holdings had included locating heirloom rosebushes and rejuvenating the rose garden at Gray House. He’d sat one night at his computer, looking through websites, researching rosebushes. He’d never known there were so many types. Not just red, pink, and yellow roses, but all the names they had.

Hunter and Hailey bounded out of the room into the hallway and were heading down the stairs before he could give them any instructions. He was in for a wild ride.

Kelly shut the front door with a sigh. She didn’t know how mothers did it. Lottie had been amazing, with as many as six children under her roof at a time. Angie Pereira was amazing, too, corralling her dynamic duo into the back of her car as she waved at Kelly, with a promise to meet up for coffee “sometime.”

Tom had ensconced himself in the greenhouse, where Kelly and Angie had met up with him after he showed the children the gardens he was busy restoring. As he talked about the plants and flowers and the garden plans recreated from photos of Gray House, Kelly’s curiosity was piqued.

She wanted to find out more about Gray House, remembering her questions when she first moved in. Who else besides Mary and her Captain Hiram had lived here? When did the house catch on fire? Why the sudden interest in reviving it now? The inside was in decent shape, with most of the furniture and carpets covered in cloths at one time. She didn’t envy the early housekeepers in caring for its woodwork, fireplaces, and all its rooms.

Perhaps Mrs. Acres could give her some answers. Over a week since Kelly had moved into the house, and not a peep from the woman.

She headed down the hallway to the ballroom, where the quilt lay on the pair of tables, waiting for her. The vintage fabrics she’d brought with her had been a tricky match to the compass patches. Not all of them would work, so Kelly had to order some vintage cloth. The older, the better. And so she waited. The process was slow, but it needed to be done right.

If Jonna had still been an amiable colleague, Kelly would have asked her if she had anything suitable in her supplies. But Kelly decided to go it alone and not ask for help. It was better that way.