13
The members of the Hook and Needle Club all met at A Stitch in Time to deliver their designs before ten o’clock, except for Peggy who was busy with the late breakfast crowd at The Cup & Saucer. She had given her design to Mary Beth much earlier when she had served up Mary Beth’s omelet, telling her, “I wish I was as good at designing quilts as Wally is at making those toy boats.”
“I think you—like your husband—are underestimating your skills, Peggy,” Mary Beth reassured her. “If there is anything that needs tweaking, you’ll know tomorrow.” Peggy had given a quick nod and hurried off to another table.
Annie and Alice drove into town separately since Alice had to leave immediately after the meeting for a Divine Décor regional sales meeting in Portland. Annie had firmly reminded herself not to linger long. She hoped she would find Gram’s jelly recipe among the rest of the piles and shelves awaiting her at home in the library. And it needed to be found soon; rose hips wait for no woman. As they chatted with Mary Beth and Kate, Gwen breezed through the door with a cheerful smile for them all and with a leather portfolio in which to transport the designs to the museum in style.
Mary Beth added Peggy’s design to those of Kate, Annie, and Alice, and handed them to Gwen, who neatly inserted them into the portfolio. After glancing at her watch, Alice said, “If Jason doesn’t drive up in the next minute or two, I think the tide is going to reverse itself.” The chuckles amped up a notch when a long shadow moved in front of the door and stopped. Stella had arrived. They watched out of the corner of their eyes as Jason walked around from the driver’s side of the old Lincoln to open the passenger door for their friend. Stella spoke to her longtime chauffer and friend, but the women could not make out her words. She paused to straighten the collar of Jason’s jacket before leaving him behind on the sidewalk to enter the store.
“I apologize for my lateness,” Stella said as soon as the door had closed behind her. Though she was technically not late at all, Stella held to the axiom: “To be on time is to be late; to be early is to be on time.” Her friends knew better than to argue the point with her. “Jason had not yet checked the Lincoln’s tires this week, and that just wouldn’t do with us driving to Bar Harbor today. Therefore, we needed to first stop at the GasNGo.”
“Your foresight is very much appreciated, Stella,” said Gwen. She lifted the portfolio to show her longtime friend. “I have all the designs, so I’m ready to leave when you are.”
“Please send Kezi my regards,” said Annie. “Oh, I almost forgot.” She showed the ladies a canvas tote with a zipped cover. “Kezi asked me to bring in the box and collar. Would you mind showing them to her when you meet with her?” Annie knew the fragile items would be in capable hands.
Stella held out a hand to take the tote. “Of course.”
“Thank you both,” said Annie. “I’m so excited to hear the comments tomorrow at the meeting!” Mary Beth, Kate and Alice chimed in with their thanks as Gwen and Stella made their way to the door. They watched Jason open the door for Stella again—a rear door this time—and then Gwen. With his passengers settled, Jason turned to smile and wave to the ladies in the store before sliding in behind the wheel.
When the Lincoln had driven out of sight down Main Street, the other members of the club shook themselves out of their thoughts and hurried along to their individual commitments. Annie returned to Grey Gables, where she opened windows to invite the gentle breeze in to play. Boots darted into the library ahead of Annie, staking her claim to the cozy reading chair by kneading the cushion with her front paws, and then settling down to watch the work. Annie surveyed the progress she and Alice had made, relieved the step stool would not be needed for the rest of the task. Only the lowest three shelves remained to be sorted, a substantial portion of them stuffed with Charles Holden’s veterinary journals. Many of the navy blue covers were frayed along the edges from years of wear. Annie turned to the remaining reading material, saving the journals for last.
The majority of the books that would catch a child’s eye already sat on the lower shelves, but they had been scattered from one side of the room to the other. Removing more books that bordered the area Alice had cleared, Annie made room for the new arrivals. The stacks beside the reading chair, now occupied by Boots, were growing as high as the armrests. The cat raised her head and pierced Annie with a disgruntled look as another six inches were added to the book wall.
Annie chucked Boots under the chin. “Boots, are you worried I’m going to turn you into a feline Rapunzel, hidden away in a tower of books? I promise to rescue you before the situation gets that bad.” Boots, apparently not taken with the idea of being rescued, sprung lightly off the chair to reposition herself on top of the large cluttered desk. She stretched her hind legs, one after the other, before curling up again, setting off a domino effect among the clutter on the surface. A mug from the University of Maine, where Annie’s grandfather had sometimes lectured, stuffed with pens, pencils, and a letter opener was the first to topple. Before Annie could clamber over the stacks of books, the letter opener had pushed against and collapsed a frame encasing a crayon drawing of Grandpa in his white lab coat, holding a hedgehog. In its turn the frame shoved against a box carved from dark wood, pushing it to the tipping point over the edge of the desk. Annie’s hand stretched out to catch it, a couple seconds too late. It tumbled to the floor, the impact throwing off its lid.