The next morning dawned clear and cool, and the Loose Threads walked briskly through the dark woods from the Tree House to the fiber arts pavilion. The women had opted for toast and tea in the Tree House; no one had wanted to chance an encounter with Selestina or Patience before they'd fortified themselves.
Harriet pulled the sleeves of her gray hooded sweatshirt over her hands. She glanced at Carla; the younger woman was dressed in new-looking blue jeans and a gray hoodie with the hem of a red T-shirt hanging out below. Harriet glanced at her own jeans and slightly-too-long red T-shirt and realized they had the same personal shopper. She was definitely going to buy some new clothes when she got home, and not at Wal-Mart, either.
"Okay, everyone, shall we meet back here at eleven-thirty and walk to the dining hall together?” Mavis asked.
Lauren declined, saying her class had arranged for a local delicatessen to bring sandwiches in. Harriet could understand that, if you were here once a month for a period of months, you could get tired of soup, even if it was really good soup. Everyone else, however, agreed to the plan, and the group broke up to find their various classrooms.
Sarah and Robin turned left to go to their class in fusible techniques. Lauren went on to the right, but Connie stayed with Harriet and Carla.
"Here we are, chiquitas,” she said when the trio reached the stitching classroom. “Good luck,"
Patience Jacobsen was waiting inside the door when Harriet and Carla entered. The classroom held a dozen two-person tables with chairs arranged in two rows with an aisle down the middle. Several students were already there, unpacking notebooks, scissors, needles and thread from their bags. At the front was a single table. A flannel curtain hung behind the table, and several examples of hand quilting were pinned to its surface. The side walls displayed a variety of hand quilted pieces in various sizes, colors and materials. Harriet and Carla went over for a closer view.
"Look how small and even the stitches are,” Carla said, and for once didn't follow her comment with a downward glance or a face-burning blush.
"Yeah, and the fabric looks like it might be silk or something similar.” Harriet turned over the corner of the wall hanging. A label read Selestina Bainbridge, Silk on Silk, October 9, 1993. She read it to Carla then patted the quilt back into place. “That is some really fine stitching."
Three more students had entered and taken places at tables. The only table left where Carla and Harriet could sit together was in the front, to the left of the teacher's table. Carla looked around like a caged animal.
"Come on,” Harriet said and nudged her forward. “We'll be able to see better up here."
Carla looked doubtful but went to the front table, setting her sewing bag on the side away from the teacher.
Patience took roll and had the students introduce themselves. She described what they would be doing in class that day, told them where the restrooms were and asked if anyone had questions. No one did, so she walked down the aisle, went around the curtain and disappeared. She reappeared five minutes later with Selestina in tow.
"The entire art of handcrafting multi-layer constructions, frequently for the purpose of making bed covers, is referred to as quilting by the lay population,” Selestina began. “Among skilled craftsmen, however, quilting is understood to refer to stitching with thread through a top cloth, a stuffing or batting and a back cloth to create a single joined unit. Quilting in its purest form is always performed by hand.” She went on to explain the role of quilting throughout history, including the quilted garments seen in medieval times and the padded cloth armor utilized by the Japanese samurai. After an hour, Harriet had to bite the inside of her cheek to stay awake.
Selestina finally concluded her introductory lecture at ten minutes before eleven. Patience stood up and, in a well-choreographed move, unfurled a lap-sized sample. She held it up and carried it slowly down the center aisle. A simple feather pattern had been stitched on cream-colored muslin.
"When a quilt is made using a single, continuous piece of fabric on the top and another single piece of fabric for its backing, we call it a whole cloth quilt. Quilts of this type have been popular in England for hundreds of years,” Selestina explained. “In America, however, fabric was scarce until industry developed and fabric mills were built."
Harriet was afraid Patience's arms were going to break before Selestina got them through the Industrial Revolution and up to modern times, but she finally finished; and Patience spread the quilt over the front table.
Selestina glanced at a delicate silver watch that encircled her wrist. “We will now take a break for lunch. You will return at one p.m. sharp,” she said. Without another word, she turned and disappeared around the curtain.
"Oh, my gosh,” Carla moaned. “My head hurts."
"My tail is going numb from sitting in one position for so long.” Harriet stood up and went to the head table. She pulled the curtain aside and looked behind it. As she did, Patience came through a closed door concealed there.
"Can I help you?” she asked. She was carrying a tray that had a wooden hoop, a thimble, a pincushion with needles sticking out of it and a small rack with several spools of thread on it.
Harriet had the good grace to blush. “I just wondered what was behind the curtain,” she said and let it fall back into place. “You know, like in the Wizard of Oz."
"All the classrooms open into a common center area that's divided into offices and storage space,” Patience explained. “It allows teachers to move efficiently from one classroom to the other, as well."
"How efficient,” Harriet said.
"If you'll excuse me,” Patience said, and Harriet realized she was blocking her path to the front table. She returned to the table where Carla waited.
"Let's go find the others,” she said.
Connie was waiting on the steps.
"I thought your group was having lunch brought in,” Harriet said.
"It turned out the long-term students in the class made that arrangement, not the actual dyeing class. They made sure we knew we weren't part of their club."
Harriet put her arm around Connie's shoulders. “We still love you, right, Carla?"
"Yeah, Señora Escorcia, we'll eat lunch with you,” Carla said with a half-smile. Connie had taught her first graders basic Spanish vocabulary, including the proper form of address for a married woman. Carla's use of the term revealed her past history as one of “Connie's kids,” as her former students liked to call themselves.
Lunch was the expected soup. This one was a white chili made with chicken breast, cannellini beans, rotel tomatoes and green chilies. It was seasoned with cumin and oregano and topped with jack cheese and lime juice.
"I'm telling you,” Connie said as she pushed back from the table and her empty bowl, “I talked to Lauren for over an hour. I asked her if she was inspired by another quilt. She was insulted, and I finally just told her about the piece Beth saw. She insists her piece was completely original. She even showed me the chunk of bark she used as inspiration. She has it in a plastic sandwich bag in her sewing box."
"Don't stop there,” Mavis urged. “How did it look?"
"Mostly, like a piece of tree bark. I have to say her dyeing was a good match to the color."
"Figures.” Mavis looked down at her dye-stained fingers. “She's spent all this time copying other people's work, and she'll be the one who turns out to have all kinds of talent."
"The stitching pattern didn't match, though,” Connie pointed out. “The tree bark didn't have the figure-eight pattern that was so distinct in Lauren's piece."
"Okay, I guess she can stay in the group, then,” Mavis said and smiled. She glanced at the wall clock in the dining room. “Come on, we need to get back."
"Hopefully, we'll get to do something this afternoon,” Harriet said to Carla.