Quilt or Innocence (22 page)

Piper gently took the block from her mother. She smiled as she saw the block. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a good start: the wooden
WELCOME TO DAPPLED HILLS
sign with its curlicue letters and honeysuckle vines in the background. Piper blinked at the words on the sign. “You managed to sew the words on.”

“Oh, Miss Sissy helped me with the harder parts,” said Beatrice. “But I did a lot of it.”

Piper left for home, still looking a bit surprised, and Beatrice got up from her sofa and made a pot of real coffee—a little on the strong side. She settled back into the cushions with a steaming cup and pushed aside
Whispers of Summer
. Noo-noo gently snored at her feet as Beatrice studied with great concentration her new book,
Vibrant Quilting—Daring to Thrill
.

* * *

Two weeks later, Beatrice hosted her first guild meeting. It was a little on the cramped side in the cottage, but everyone assured her it was just
cozy.

Meadow made her usual guild announcements, then beamed. “And now for my favorite part, y’all. Wait until you see the group quilt!” Meadow carefully pulled the quilt out of her bag.

Everyone stood up to take a look.

“It’s lovely,” sighed Georgia with her hands clasped to her chest.

Savannah frowned and opened her mouth as if to criticize some imperfections . . . then she relaxed. “It
is
lovely. And the most beautiful thing about it is that it’s
not
perfect.”

Beatrice smiled at her. “It just tells a story, like all good art should, about the people who made it.” All the personalities were reflected there, from Savannah’s sternness in the precise stitching to Meadow’s happy-go-lucky serenity. All of the Village Quilters were represented here, stitched together on the quilt, although Daisy’s block had never been collected. And Beatrice’s own block was there, radiating homecoming and contentment.

Meadow said Beatrice’s name, which brought her back to the present of the guild meeting. “Could you organize our quilt auction for us? Maybe we should even plan on having the auction in a bigger town, like Asheville.”

The quilters chatted excitedly as Beatrice reflected that Meadow was again putting more things on her to-do list. But for some reason, Beatrice didn’t mind as much. It was almost like she was back setting up shows for the museum again, and she quickly jotted down some ideas for staging the auction. Retirement, so far, hadn’t been as quiet as envisioned . . . but it was a lot more interesting.

Snip off a small triangular section (½-inch or less) from the corners of fabrics before prewashing them. This will help keep the fabric edges from fraying and getting tangled. Washing the snipped fabric inside a pillowcase or lingerie bag will also help.

Put broken and bent needles into old childproof containers to keep your trash from being hazardous.

Old cereal and pizza boxes make handy templates.

Consider using parchment paper and freezer paper for paper piecing, fusible appliqué and tracing, and when designing patterns.

Place shelf liner under your rulers or templates to keep them stationary when working with your rotary cutter. Shelf liner is also handy to have next to your sewing machine to keep your sewing notions from falling on the floor. A nonmoisturizing bar of soap makes a great pin cushion. It also helps needles easily pass through fabric.

Cheese Straws

½ lb. sharp Cheddar cheese, softened

½ lb. butter, softened

2½ cups flour

3 Tbsp. cold water

1 tsp. salt

¼ tsp. cayenne

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Cream together cheese and butter. Add remaining ingredients, mixing until smooth. Roll mixture on a lightly floured surface until thin. Cut into narrow strips with a pastry wheel. Place strips on an ungreased cookie sheet. Bake at 350 for 8–10 minutes.

Pineapple Cheese Dip

16 oz. softened cream cheese

1 cup crushed pineapple

12–14 Maraschino cherries

1 round loaf Hawaiian bread

Process the cream cheese, pineapple, and cherries in a food processor. Scoop out the Hawaiian bread to form a bowl and place the dip inside the bowl to serve.

Ham Rolls

1 tray of 1-inch dinner rolls

½ lb. thinly sliced Swiss cheese

1 lb. shaved ham

1 stick of butter

1½ Tbsp. prepared mustard

1½ Tbsp. dried onion flakes

¾ Tbsp. poppy seeds

½ tsp. Worcestershire sauce

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Cut the dinner rolls in half. Lay the ham and cheese on the bottom half, then cover with the top half of the rolls. Melt the butter and add the remaining ingredients to the butter. Pour the mixture on top of the rolls. Cover with foil and bake for 15 minutes at 350 degrees.

Cheese and Bacon Puffs

1 cup mayonnaise

½ cup grated Cheddar cheese

2 tsp. drained horseradish

1 Tbsp. sherry

½ cup cooked, crumbled bacon

30 crackers or 1 sleeve of party-sized bread slices

Combine all ingredients, spread on party-sized bread slices or crackers, and broil bread on a cookie sheet until golden brown and bubbling, about 5 minutes. Serve hot.

Read on for a sneak peek at the next

Southern Quilting Mystery by

Elizabeth Craig

Coming in early 2013 from Obsidian

“It’s dying, Beatrice. A ghastly, gasping, tragic death. And it’s up to us to
save
it!”

Beatrice studied her neighbor, Meadow Downey. To the casual eye, she
didn’t
look
fanatical. But, when it came to the Village Quilters guild, Meadow was nothing less than fanatic. “I hardly think the guild is dying, Meadow. We’re just hitting a little membership snag. More like a hiccup, really. It’s the kind of thing that happens in all groups from time to time.”

“A membership
crisis
, you mean! We must infuse new life into the Village Quilters!” Meadow’s eyes gleamed maniacally behind the red frames of her glasses.

“Clearly, you have someone in mind. Considering your unexpected visit and your carefully practiced speech,” said Beatrice drily. “Who’s your intended victim . . . erm . . . your candidate?”

“Jo Paxton would be the perfect new member,” said Meadow, sitting up straight and confident in one of Beatrice’s armchairs. “She’s smart, capable, reliable and a fabulous quilter. She also judges quilting competitions throughout the Southeast. She’s ideal.”

“Jo Paxton? Isn’t she our postal carrier?” asked Beatrice.

“The very one,” said Meadow, beaming.

“
Capable
and
reliable
? Those are words you’d use to describe her? Really?”

“You wouldn’t?” asked Meadow, her sunny face clouding up just a little.

“Not if she’s to be judged based on her mail-delivery aptitude, I wouldn’t. I’ve never been able to figure out when exactly the mail is supposed to be in my mailbox. And frequently, I get your mail and you’ve been getting mine. I get Piper’s mail almost every day.” Not that her daughter really got anything but catalogs.

Now Meadow’s broad face creased with a frown. “I can’t imagine where you got this impression of Jo. She seems like an incredibly efficient carrier to me. Always prompt and accurate.”

“If the mail in your mailbox is correctly addressed, that’s because I’m switching them out. They’ve already been corrected by the time you get your mail. I’ve seen you checking your mail the next morning, when you’re out getting your paper. It looks like you don’t know when your mail is actually delivered. I promise it’s frequently late,” said Beatrice.

“Of course I know when the mail is delivered! And I’m very impressed that Jo delivers it so early in the morning. She must be at my house by five a.m. to get it in the box by the time I check it! And those Sunday deliveries . . . remarkable!”

Beatrice sat back and studied Meadow. She looked a little clueless, placidly sitting there with her mismatched clothes, red spectacles and a messy gray braid that fell to her waist. “Meadow, she
doesn’t
deliver the mail at five in the morning. Or on Sundays. She delivers it the day
before
. You’re just
checking
it that early in the morning. You’re getting the mail from the previous day.”

Meadow waved her hands dismissively. “I don’t even care. All I ever get in the mail is bills, anyway. Besides the delivery problems, do you have any other issues with Jo?”

Beatrice thought carefully. “Well—”

“Exactly! Me either. That’s why she’s going to be such a great member of the group. I’ve gone ahead and asked her and she said she’d love to join up with us!”

Beatrice gritted her teeth. “Then why did you ask me about it, if you’d already invited Jo to join the Village Quilters?”

“I needed to be validated. We all need validation, Beatrice.”

“But . . . isn’t she in another quilting guild? I remember her being with another group at that last quilting bee.”

“She
was
with the Cut-Ups, but she had a misunderstanding with them, so she ended up leaving the group. Or maybe they asked her to leave. Anyway, she’s free to join our guild,” said Meadow.

“That should be a red flag right there. Why was she asked to leave? Who did she upset? Why would we want someone like that in our group?”

“To make life interesting, of course!” Meadow slapped her hands on her thighs to loudly emphasize her point and her huge beast, Boris, sprang up and started excitedly galloping around Beatrice’s sofa.

Beatrice’s head hurt. Her cottage living room was tiny enough without Meadow’s larger-than-life presence. The fact that Meadow brought Boris along for her breakfast-time visit didn’t help matters, either. Beatrice’s corgi, Noo-noo, looked on with concern. Meadow claimed that Boris was a mixture of Great Dane, Newfoundland . . . and corgi. If there
was
any corgi in Boris, it had gotten the short end of the genetic stick. And Noo-noo certainly didn’t see evidence of it at all.

“Beatrice, I don’t think it was any major disagreement. It was probably just a matter of creative differences. As I mentioned, Jo is a quilt show judge, too, and seems to be thought very highly of. She probably just wanted the guild to be more competitive or something.”

“Is that the direction that
we
want to go in, though? Is that what she wants for the Village Quilters? Most of our quilters are only quilting for the sheer love of it.” Beatrice absently rubbed Boris’s massive head as he laid it in her lap. For a moment she thought the beast might start purring.

Meadow shrugged. “We could probably handle a little more competition, Beatrice. I don’t see it as a bad thing. Even you said that we could kick it up a notch. Remember? You have ideas for some interesting designs that might help us in juried shows.”

“I do have some design ideas. But I was thinking we’d start out really slow with submitting our quilts for juried shows. Otherwise we could burn out—then it’s not fun anymore,” said Beatrice.

But Meadow had that stubborn look now. There was no getting around her when she dug her heels in. For some reason she’d gotten a real bee in her bonnet with this membership drive. “I guess including Jo in the group is fine, Meadow,” said Beatrice with a sigh. “After all, I don’t really know the woman. Maybe she’ll grow on me . . . It’s not fair of me to judge her solely on her mail-delivery capability.”

Meadow beamed. “It’ll work out great. You’ll see. And I happen to know that Jo mentioned dropping by the Patchwork Cottage right before lunch today for some fat quarters,” said Meadow, reaching out to rub Boris. “It would give you a chance to know her better before the first guild meeting. I do want it to go off without a hitch. Can you help me make the meeting go smoothly?”

“Okay. I’ll see what I can do during the guild meeting.” Beatrice rubbed her eyes. “What time will she be at the shop?”

“She said she’d be there at eleven, so let’s meet then. I think you’ll really love Jo, once you get to know her!”

* * *

Apparently, every quilter in Dappled Hills had needed quilting supplies at once because the Patchwork Cottage was bustling with shoppers. Beatrice walked into the welcoming environment of the quilt shop.

The Patchwork Cottage, even full of quilters, was a peaceful oasis. Posy always played soft music in the background, frequently featuring local musicians. Visually, it was a feast for the eyes with bolts of fabric and beautiful quilts on display everywhere—draped over antique washstands and an old sewing machine, and hanging on the walls and ceiling to make the space as cozy and welcoming and homey as possible. Posy had also stocked the shop with every imaginable type of notion.

Jo was there, all right. And she was already actively engaged in what looked like an argument with Karen Taylor—a young and very competitive quilter. Wasn’t Karen in the Cut-Ups guild? No wonder Jo needed to find another guild. Karen, arms crossed and fire in her eyes, looked as if she might have single-handedly thrown Jo out herself.

“All I’m saying,” said Jo, wagging her finger at Karen, “is that you might want to reconsider that pattern combination. It’s tacky.”

Posy, the gentle and kindhearted shop owner, looked on anxiously.

Karen’s eyes narrowed. “Jo, you don’t even know what I’m working on. It’s an experimental quilt. I’m combining patterns and techniques to—”

“I don’t need to know what you’re working on to know it’s going to look hideous,” said Jo, hands on her hips. “Considering I’m probably going to end up judging it, I thought you’d want the heads-up.”

Karen snorted. “I doubt you’ll judge it. People talk, Jo, and you have a tendency to stir the pot wherever you judge. Making trouble won’t win you friends and it sure won’t get you invited to judge quilt shows.”

“Then why do I already have three shows on my calendar?” asked Jo.

Karen’s response was to turn her back on Jo to closely study Posy’s new selection of fat quarters. Jo slapped down her purchases by the cash register and fumed as Posy fumbled through the checkout. Beatrice muttered to Meadow, “This isn’t promising. I thought you said I’d
like
Jo once I got to know her.”

Meadow shrugged. “Everyone’s entitled to a bad day, Beatrice.” She squinted as the bell on the shop door rang, pushing her red glasses higher on her nose. “Uh-oh. This isn’t going to make things better. It’s Opal Woosley. Now, just keep in mind, Beatrice, that these are just a couple of people who don’t coexist well. Everyone else just
loves
Jo! Really!”

Opal was an elfish woman with a sharp chin and frizzy brown hair that made her look like she had a fuzzy halo. Her genial expression transformed when she saw Jo. Jo’s did, too, and became even grouchier.

“Why the long face, Jo?” The little woman was fairly bristling. “Disappointed that there are no small dogs for you to mow over?”

Jo didn’t deign to look at her. Instead, she grabbed her bag of supplies and shouldered her way through the gawking customers and out the shop’s door.

Opal burst into tears and several of the customers patted her as Posy hurried around the sales counter to give her a hug.

Beatrice muttered to Meadow, “Sorry, Meadow. I was wrong. Jo’s obviously the perfect choice for our guild.”

“So she’s had a couple of misunderstandings,” said Meadow with a shrug. “Haven’t we all?”

Beatrice could see Jo stomping across the narrow main street. She raised her eyebrows when she saw a couple of different women scurry to the opposite side of the street when they caught sight of Jo. Clearly other members of the Jo Paxton fan club.

Beatrice turned back around to listen to Opal, who was still quivering with indignation. “I don’t know how she dares to show her face around town after what she’s done!”

Beatrice raised a questioning eyebrow at Meadow, who shook her head, making her long braid bob around. “Too long a story,” she whispered. “I’ll tell you later.”