Today's Reading
After thirty minutes of searching, Mrs. Midden bought only a spool of thread and a packet of needles. When she lingered at the cash register to chat with Bonnie, the shop's friendly, fortysomething owner, Summer was struck by the certainty that Mrs. Midden was profoundly lonely.
"Maybe we should invite Mrs. Midden to join the Waterford Quilting Guild," Summer proposed after she and her mother made their own purchases and headed home.
Gwen threw her a bemused glance. "That's very kind of you, kiddo," she said, "but Mrs. Midden has lived in Waterford all her life. If she wanted to join the guild, she likely would have done so by now. Some people prefer their solitude."
"Some people choose solitude because they're afraid they wouldn't be welcome," Summer replied, and Gwen conceded the point, but the discussion ended there. Without her mother's wholehearted approval, Summer felt uncomfortable inviting an elderly woman she didn't even know to join them. She was one of only a handful of teenagers in the guild, restricted to provisional membership for four more years until she turned eighteen. It wasn't her place to recruit members, especially reluctant ones.
Years passed. Mrs. Midden's visits into town became even less frequent, not that Summer kept track. Busy with school and her friends, and later with graduating from high school and starting college, she all but forgot the reclusive woman. She had just begun her junior year at Waterford College while holding down a part-time job at Grandma's Attic when a customer broke the news that Mrs. Midden had passed away.
"That poor, lonely old soul." Bonnie sighed, tucking a strand of dark brown hair behind her ear, her ruddy cheeks creasing in a pensive frown. "I hope she's found some peace at last."
"I wonder who found 'her,'" mused Diane, another part-time employee, a chemistry professor's wife whose two young sons Summer often babysat. "The gardener? The postman?"
"Diane!" Bonnie exclaimed. "Honestly! Show some respect."
"What?" Diane protested. Tall and slender like Summer herself, she wore her curly blond hair in a short bob, which she frequently tossed back from her face to emphasize a point. "I'm just saying what we're all wondering."
"I heard she passed away in the hospital, not at home," the customer broke in helpfully, handing Summer several bolts of fabric. "One yard of each, please, except two of the blue."
"Coming right up." Summer carried the fabrics to the cutting table, unrolled the first bolt, lined up the long acrylic ruler with the grid marks on the mat, and took a rotary cutter in hand. "What will happen to Elm Creek Manor now?" she wondered aloud as she deftly made the first cut.
No one there knew, but they spent a good twenty minutes speculating.
Several weeks passed before the staff of Grandma's Attic learned that Mrs. Midden, whom everyone assumed was the last of the proud Bergstrom line, had been survived by her younger sister, Sylvia Bergstrom Compson. The sisters had been estranged for fifty years, according to neighbors and customers who had known them both back in the day. Why Sylvia had left Elm Creek Manor so suddenly in 1945 was unknown, but she had lost her husband and her younger brother in the war, and the sisters' relationship had been fraught with rivalry since childhood. Rumor had it Sylvia had despised Claudia's fiancé and she had fled rather than witness their wedding, but Summer and Diane agreed there had to be more to it than that.
"She could've just arranged to be inconveniently out of town that day," said Diane as they unpacked a shipment of pattern books in the stockroom. "It's a bit excessive to leave home forever because you dislike your brother-in-law, especially when home is a gorgeous mansion."
"Is it gorgeous?" Summer asked, curious, but Diane merely shrugged. She had never seen it either, but she had heard from an older quilting friend, Agnes, that it had been absolutely splendid in its day.
In late September, Sylvia Bergstrom Compson herself stopped by Grandma's Attic. Summer had heard her mom's friends say that Sylvia was a renowned master quilter. Her work was regularly displayed in the American Quilter's Society museum in Paducah, Kentucky, and one of her masterpieces was in the museum's permanent collection.
"I need a pair of very sharp scissors, a packet of needles, and a few other notions," Sylvia said crisply when Bonnie approached with a friendly smile and asked if she could help her. "I thought I'd packed the essentials, but apparently I forgot a few things back home in Sewickley."
Summer knew Sewickley was near Pittsburgh, about 150 miles to the west on the Ohio River. The town must have been the inspiration for one of Sylvia's most acclaimed quilts, Sewickley Sunrise. Summer had seen a picture of it in an AQS calendar hanging in Bonnie's office.
"Will you be in Waterford long?" Bonnie asked as she led Sylvia to the notions aisle.
"No, not long, I hope."
...
