“If you paid attention, Mrs. Gallagher, instead of chatting with your friends here, you might learn something.”
I slid farther down in my seat. Althea began to make her rounds, and her first stop was at our table.
“Can you teach me the Catherine wheel?” PJ asked.
“That might be a little advanced for now, Ms. Avery.”
PJ’s mouth set in the familiar stubborn line. “I just want to know which are the hardest stitches. Those are the ones I want to use.”
“As I’ve mentioned ad nauseam, you should use the stitch that is appropriate for the design, regardless of difficulty.” But even as she chided PJ, I could see a grudging admiration on Althea’s dour face. She showed her protégé how to work a large circle of blanket stitches, work a second row inside and spokes throughout, all the while without picking up the fabric. PJ followed her directions, creating something that looked a bit like a complicated flowery starburst.
I got up and did my usual walkabout. It was interesting what everyone decided to include on their samplers, especially Althea. Hers were all about atoning for past sins. I couldn’t imagine that the grim woman had much of a wild past, with how holier-than-thou she was.
I lingered next to Terri Jones, the woman with the incessant cough. “Hi, Terri, I’m Daisy. That’s a beautiful pillow.”
She coughed again, covering her mouth.
I couldn’t think of a good transition, so I just jumped right in. “I—um—was researching Cassell-built homes for a friend of mine, and I came across the story about the mold in your house.”
Her lips thinned into almost a snarl. “My little girl nearly died from a case of severe asthma, and I’m always sick. I can’t prove the house caused it, and we may never win our case, but you should tell your friend to stay far, far away from anything that man has touched.” The quiet demeanor was gone, and I unconsciously took a step back from the savage anger in her eyes.
Could this woman have gone so far as to try to frame Cassell for murder? I could almost hear Serrano’s voice in my head, mocking my wild suppositions, but I knew the power of motherly love. The most meek and mild of women could turn into demons to protect, or in this case avenge, their children.
“This should interest you, Daisy Buchanan, if you ever have the urge to duplicate an old sampler, like Iona here.” Althea’s booming alto brought me back to reality. “Linen is essential for heirloom pieces. It’s also better to use dark brown than black thread. Most of the colors on antique samplers are faded now, of course, but it’s clear that the shades were delicate from the first.”
I nodded, grateful for the advice, however hard-won. I couldn’t exactly say that I liked Althea, but I loved to watch an expert at work
“It’s sad that so many people today feel that they must rely on another’s design, instead of creating something entirely their own.” Althea thumped on the table for emphasis. “The secret of the old samplers was their individuality, their personal character. That is the only principle you need to remember.”
“Oh, but I like working on the kits,” Abigail Weller said cheerfully.
A hush fell over the room.
Althea took a deep cleansing breath. “With a good command of stitches—and that means not just the ability to produce a stitch, but to know the effect it will have on different fabrics and threads—it becomes possible for the embroiderer to produce truly original designs. Trust me, you will thank me later.”
I could see her point. Give a man a fish and so on. The class could certainly aspire to master the kind of breathtaking work stretched out on the frame at the front of the room.