The Tapestry in the Attic (8 page)

Annie smiled at her friend, “It’s all right, Alice. It will be fine for him to come over to the house to see the tapestry, and the other things as well,” said Annie. “I’m still not sure if I want to let the tapestry be used in the production, but it can’t hurt for him to see it in any case.”

Alice looked relieved. “Thanks, Annie. I just really want to be able to do a good job on this, and right now I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed.”

“I know how you feel, Alice,” said Annie. “At the meeting in the conference room at the Cultural Center, I felt the same way. It caused me to forget why we are doing this in the first place. It was Jacob’s heartfelt speech that brought back to me what it’s all about. I think if we all focus on the goal—raising money for breast cancer research—we can get through this. And I think it can still be fun if we approach it with the right attitude.”

“I agree,” said Mary Beth. “I’m learning how important attitude is in everything. But even though I know that, it isn’t always easy to keep a good attitude.” Everyone knew that she was talking about more than just the play. “When we have the volunteers from Stony Point that we need for the music ensemble, it will involve driving over to the college to practice in one of the music department’s practice rooms at least a couple of evenings a week. So, it’s going to be hectic for a lot of people. Fortunately, we can carpool and take turns driving, but … .” Her words trailed off and she sighed and said, “I still haven’t heard back about my test results, and I don’t know how to plan ahead. I hate to say I can play with the group and then have to pull out at some point.”

“Did you talk to Professor Torres about your situation?” asked Gwen.

“No. She’s very nice, but it just feels a little too personal to go into,” replied Mary Beth.

“I’d tell her, if I were you,” said Gwen. “You don’t have to go into great detail. Just tell her that you might have to take some time off if you aren’t feeling well. I’m sure she’d understand, especially if there are other flutists.”

“I think there will be at least a couple others who play the flute among the students who are volunteering.”

“Why don’t you wait until you get back the test results,” suggested Annie. “There may be no reason to tell her anything.”

“That’s a good point,” agreed Gwen.

Kate had just finished rolling up her tape measure, and Peggy had sat back down in her chair. Kate walked over and gave her boss and good friend a hug across the shoulders. “You’ve always shown me how to have a good attitude when I was low. I think it’s a good idea to wait for the test results before you say anything to Professor Torres, but no matter what the outcome is, I think you should go ahead and take part in the practice sessions. You love to play, and it will do you good to focus on something else for a while. Don’t take yourself out of the game before you’ve even begun.”

8

Alice had arranged for the professor to come to Grey Gables to see the tapestry the following Saturday afternoon. Late that morning, Alice came over to help Annie get all of the props set up for viewing, including moving the kitchen table and chairs so they could roll out the large area rug that had contained the tapestry on the kitchen floor. They also moved furniture in the living room so that the tapestry could be laid out across the carpet. In the dining room, Annie covered the table with a sturdy cloth, and they arranged various baskets, pottery, and a few other items they had found in the attic. Kate and Vanessa had taken most of the fabric and clothing they had found for the costumes home with them, but there were a few pieces of cloth that Alice had kept for use in the set design. In the library, Annie had earlier set up her grandmother’s embroidery frame, and there was also a trunk from the attic that the ladies had carried downstairs that evening, more than two weeks earlier, when they had discovered the tapestry.

After that evening, Annie had decided the best place to keep the tapestry was in one of the extra upstairs bedrooms; it was the only place she could think of where it would be safe and out of the way. She laid it, loosely folded over once, so it would fit atop the queen size bed and placed the muslin as a covering over the top of it instead of struggling to get it back into its protective pocket. Then Annie had securely closed the door to keep Boots from wreaking havoc with it.

Before Annie and Alice brought the tapestry downstairs to lay it out on top of its muslin pocket across the living-room floor, Annie had shut Boots up in the mudroom off the back of the kitchen. She made sure there was a soft cushion on the floor, fresh water and a bowl full of kibble. The mudroom was where Annie kept the litter box, so Boots was set, except for the fact that she was very unhappy. If Annie was in the kitchen she would occasionally see Boots’s paw sweep under the closed door, as if she were expecting to nab Annie and pull her over to do her will. Then, when that didn’t work, she meowed, making the most mournful sound she possibly could. It did tug at Annie’s heart a bit, but it didn’t convince her to trust that Boots would behave herself. She’d ended up with too many mangled balls of yarn that way, and she wasn’t about to risk the tapestry just to please a cat who seemed to think she owned the place.

Before noon, Alice left to meet with the professor at the restaurant in Maplehurst Inn on Main Street for lunch. Alice had originally suggested meeting at The Cup & Saucer, but the professor didn’t seem to think it had “the right ambience,” so she had reserved a quiet table near the back of the restaurant where they could talk about the set design for the play without being disturbed. Alice told Annie she thought they would be coming to Grey Gables to see the tapestry and the other props by about one o’clock.

Annie finished her own lunch and sat crocheting in the living room while she waited for them to arrive. It was getting close to one-thirty when she heard the sound of a car pulling into her driveway. She looked up and out through the window and saw Alice’s sporty Mustang parked behind her own classic Malibu. Another car pulled up behind Alice’s car. It was a really impressive luxury car—a silver, four-door Mercedes-Benz Coupe. At first, Annie wondered why there were two cars, but then she stood up, and she could see that there were more people than she was expecting.

Alice got out of the car quickly and was headed toward the house. From the front passenger-side seat of Alice’s car there arose a tall, blond-haired, young man that Annie had never seen before. Then she recognized Felix as he clambered out of the Mustang’s tiny back seat. Professor Howell, in his cashmere coat and wearing a stylish Stetson hat, stepped out of the driver’s side of the Mercedes and walked around to the passenger side to open the door. It was Stella who got out of the front seat. After she was out of the car, and he had closed the door, the professor offered his arm to her, which she accepted.

At the same time, the back door of the Mercedes that faced Annie opened, and a tall, distinguished-looking man got of the car. Then he leaned over to offer his hand to a woman with short white-gray hair who had scooted across the seat in order to get out of the car on the same side. The man and woman were considerably older than Annie—perhaps not Stella’s age, but not much younger than her either; Annie guessed they might be closer in age to Professor Howell. She had never seen them before, but she had a feeling they might be the Fortescues.

Annie went to the front door and opened it, standing in the doorway with her arms crossed against the cold as she waited for her visitors to walk up the driveway and along the front walk that led to the porch. Alice reached Annie first, and with a contrite look on her face she said quietly, “I’m sorry! I didn’t know that the others were going to show up. Fortunately, there was plenty of room in the restaurant. I’m glad we arranged to meet there instead of The Cup & Saucer! I just couldn’t say no when they all wanted to come over here to see the tapestry.”

“Don’t sweat it, Alice,” Annie said, reverting to the slang they had used as teenagers during her summer visits to Stony Point. “I really don’t mind.” She smiled reassuringly.

Felix and the other young man were close on Alice’s heels; the people from the Mercedes were taking their time coming across the driveway, which had been shoveled, but retained a layer of hardpacked snow. Alice took that time to introduce the young men. “Annie, you know Felix, of course.” Felix was apparently a man of few words even when he wasn’t in the presence of Professor Howell. He simply nodded once at Annie, pausing to push his glasses back up his nose afterward. Alice continued to introduce the other young man. “And this is Stacy Lewis, the actor who will be playing the part of King Lemuel in the play. Stacy, this is Annie Dawson.”

Annie’s first impression of the young actor was that he was simply gorgeous.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Dawson,” said Stacy, flashing a mouthful of pearly white teeth and reaching out to shake her hand.

She took his hand and said, “Nice to meet you too. Please call me Annie. Come on in out of the cold.”

By then, the others were climbing the steps onto Grey Gables’s porch. “Please come inside where it’s warm,” said Annie. Once they were all inside in the main hallway, she closed the door and turned to introduce herself. “Hello, I’m Annie Dawson. Welcome to Grey Gables.”

Stella took over the introductions. “Annie, I’d like you to meet dear friends of mine, Dolores and Cyril Fortescue. Of course, you know Professor Howell.”

“Nice to see you again, Professor,” said Annie. “And I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Fortescue. Here, let me take your coats.”

The Fortescues were friendly and gracious, and insisted that Annie call them by their first names since they would all be working together on the play. Cyril spoke with a British accent that sounded like the “upstairs” variety of some
Masterpiece Theater
drama, and Dolores’s accent was more like Annie had gotten used to hearing all around her in Maine. She thought that Dolores must be a native of the state. With all of the formalities out of the way, Annie explained how she and Alice had set up the props in different rooms and asked the professor where he wanted to begin.

“Well, I think we’d all like to see this tapestry we’ve been hearing about from Mrs. MacFarlane,” said the professor, who continued to insist on using surnames. Annie supposed it was his way of keeping the distance needed to maintain his authority as the director—and with his students as their professor.

“Yes, it sounds lovely,” said Dolores. “Cyril and I love art and antiques. This piece sounds unique and interesting.”

“Very well then,” said Annie. “It’s just over here in the living room. It might be a little crowded for all of us. Alice, maybe you could show Felix and Stacy into the library, and then they can see the tapestry after this group is finished.”

Annie’s four guests lined up along the bottom edge of tapestry to gaze upon it, hardly saying a word for several minutes. Annie stood off to the side, and she was in a position to study Dolores and Cyril while they studied the it.

Cyril Fortescue was very tall and lanky. His hair was silvery gray and thick, and his eyes were a dusky blue color. His pleasant expression changed very little, as if he was completely unperturbed by the world around him. He was wearing blue jeans and a blue denim shirt under a dark gray wool sport jacket. He was still a very handsome man, and Annie could imagine him playing the romantic lead in his younger years.

Dolores Fortescue was pixielike. The tip of her small nose turned up just slightly, and her blue eyes seemed to have an inner sparkle. The style of her hair only served to accentuate Annie’s impression of her—it was cut in layers that ended just above chin-length, with her ears peaking out behind the strands that brushed her cheeks, revealing dangly copper-colored earrings. She had a petite figure, and she was wearing jeans like her husband, but with a soft, pink gingham-print oxford-style blouse. She had been wearing a sweater, but in the warmth of Grey Gables she had taken it off and tied the arms around her neck. She looked up at Annie just then and caught Annie watching her, but she just smiled and gave Annie a quick wink, and then looked back down at the tapestry.

“I can see why Mrs. MacFarlane is so excited about this,” said the professor. “It’s quite remarkable. I agree with her that it would be a perfect backdrop in the great hall set. But I understand you have some misgivings about our using it?” he asked, looking at Annie.

“Well, yes,” said Annie. “I admit I’m hesitant. You see, my grandmother was a great friend to many people in her long life, and she would often store things for them in the attic. In her later years, I think that Grey Gables just became too much for her to handle, though I didn’t realize it at the time. It was only when I returned to Stony Point after her death that I could see that it had been a struggle, and that she could have used my help, even though she never asked for it. I wish I had been more thoughtful. But the point is that there are things in the attic that might not necessarily be mine to dispose of as I please. Yes, the house is mine, but it’s just not always so clear-cut for me when it comes to things from the attic—especially when it comes to something like this. I want to be true to my grandmother’s spirit of friendship, and I want to be sure that the things that are up there end up in the right hands.”

“I think I understand your reservations,” said the professor, “but surely it can do no harm for us to use it, very carefully mind you. Perhaps we can work it out so that it is only on stage for the dress rehearsals and the actual performances. That should mitigate the chances of anything happening to it. Please consider what the addition of this fine work of art could mean to the play.”

Annie decided. “All right. I’ll agree to that. I’ll check around and see what I can find out about the best way to display it and anything else I might need to do to protect it. Molly Williams over at Expert Cleaners is pretty knowledgeable about all things having to do with taking care of any sort of cloth. She may be able to offer some suggestions.”

“I have some friends in the fine arts and antique businesses who might be able to offer some advice too,” said Cyril, “and if you should decide you’d like to sell it, be sure to let me know. I have contacts at all the big auction houses.”

Annie was caught off guard. It had never entered her mind to sell the tapestry. She just said, “Thank you, Cyril, but I don’t have any plans to sell the tapestry. But if you happen to have any good advice from your friends about storing and protecting it, I would appreciate it.”

“Very well,” said Cyril. His placid demeanor seemed just a little ruffled, but there was nothing that Annie could do about it.

“Well, it certainly is lovely,” said Dolores. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it, except perhaps in Europe. Though, now that I think about it, it does remind me, in style at least, of the Unicorn Tapestries at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York.”

“I agree,” said Cyril. “Whoever made this had a real understanding of the power of image. He or she has used a lot of iconic images to add layers of meaning.”

“What do you mean?” asked Annie.

“Well, just take—for instance—the panel where the woman is gathering wool. The bush is a holly bush. Its red berries represent the blood of Christ, and its thorns the “crown” that was thrust upon Jesus’s head. In the background, the single lamb among the sheep—that is a way of representing Jesus with his Church,” said Cyril.

“That’s really interesting,” said Annie, seeing the tapestry in a whole new way. “How did you come to know so much about this?”

“It’s just something I’ve studied on my own,” replied Cyril. “It’s funny though; there was a time when people understood how to read images like these in a way that we’ve lost today.”

“Why is that funny?” asked Stella.

“It’s funny in an ironic way,” said Cyril. “Here we are, in a culture in which we are surrounded, one might even say bombarded, by images, yet we often don’t have the slightest idea of their power to influence us and couldn’t tell you the meaning of them if we were asked. We may talk about those ‘poor illiterate people’ of the Middle Ages, but let me tell you, they understood rituals and images, and they could read them like you and I can read books. We’ve lost that understanding to a large degree, in part because we’ve told ourselves that what we see every day doesn’t affect us. In my opinion, we’re only fooling ourselves.”

“Well said,” the professor interjected. “Though, as a professor at an institution of higher learning, I like to think that I convey to my students the importance of the image—the way that they move on stage, and the costumes and the set, all these contribute to how we relay the meaning of the words to the audience.”

“I’ve no doubt that you do, Rudy,” said Cyril. “But one wonders how aware the audience is of the reasons they are affected by certain images, and sometimes I wonder if they know how much they are being manipulated.”

It took Annie a moment to realize who “Rudy” was. She’d never even heard Stella refer to the professor in such a casual way. The professor himself seemed to take offense at Cyril’s words. He made a huffing sound and said, “Perhaps that’s what you learned at the Royal Academy, but at Longfellow, we—”