Lie of the Needle(43)

            Althea showed us an example of a rich, ornamental stitch. “It is basically blocks of open Cretan stitches that are linked together without picking up the ground fabric. Tension the thread carefully before proceeding to the next block. If the thread is pulled too tightly, the stitches will become distorted.”

            Abigail Weller glanced up, simply shook her head of white curls, and continued doggedly with her basic cross-stitch.

            I looked over at PJ’s sampler. She was doing some kind of weird abstract design, but her stitches were very neat. It looked a bit like a sea serpent swimming through a montage of flowers and buildings, reminding me of the back of a Chinese silk robe. Different, but good.

            Althea came over to inspect, and we both watched PJ’s tattooed fingers with skull rings deftly wield the needle as she slipped it under the base of the stitches in the previous row.

            “A closed wave stitch. That’s a useful and economical one because nearly all the thread remains on the surface of the fabric. Good technique, Ms. Avery.”

            PJ was working each row in a different color. Like me, she never took the easy road.

            “This is a combination of vertical satin and looped stitches.” Althea directed me to pay attention, stubbing her thick finger at PJ’s work. “Satin stitch can be worked in any direction, and encroaching satin is especially useful for shading and blending naturalistic designs.”

            Althea patiently showed her pupil how to finish each row. In spite of her off-putting demeanor, she was a good teacher. Even the most annoying people had some redeeming qualities, although sometimes they were only revealed upon the closest inspection.

            “However, I don’t expect you to be late for my class again. And that shirt could certainly use a good ironing.”

            I sucked in a breath, but PJ just shrugged, like Jasper shaking raindrops off his coat in a wet swirl.

            Althea walked around the table, taking one look at Abigail Weller, who was methodically continuing with her wobbly cross-stitch. She simply shuddered and moved on.

            I got up to check out everyone’s projects, too. There were a few stitches I recognized. Of course, the basic cross-stitch, which was a great favorite for marking household linen. I’d seen plenty of examples on 1920s table runners in my store.

            Not everyone was creating a sampler. One quiet, industrious woman was working on a pillow, adding a sweet nosegay of pink roses with a curling ribbon bow underneath. She gave a soft cough every minute or two.

            I was entranced with another woman’s stunning white-

on-white embroidered purse. “Is that for a wedding gift?” I asked, watching her long elegant fingers sew a tiny seed bead in the center of each flower.

            She smiled gently at me. “Yes. This is Kingston linen with satin and buttonhole stitch. I’m using Japanese ribbon stitch for the buds and petals.”

            “It’s exquisite.”

            Althea’s sampler was by far the largest piece in the class. Everyone else was using a hand-held embroidery hoop, which was two circular sections that fit one inside the other, but hers was on a freestanding floor frame. The sides of the fabric were bound with tape, and the top and bottom edges were sewn to webbing that was attached to rollers and tensioned with wooden screws.

            The sampler was absolutely magnificent, but the verse it contained was appropriately grim:

            Little white house where the road doth bend

            Let the wickedness of the wicked end

            Hell and destruction are never full

            Oh, what will become of my poor soul

            When I am dead, laid in my grave