Stephanie Grace Whitson - [Quilt Chronicles] (29 page)

“I hope so,” Juliana said, “because every once in a while when I really stop to think what we’ve taken on and what it’s going to take to keep it running in coming years—” She shivered.

Helen nodded. “The second reason for my visit. I really meant what I said about this bazaar resulting in record donations. I believe we are at a point where we need to think about investing some of the funds that will come in—with the goal in mind that the operating budget self-perpetuate. Bazaars and silent auctions are all well and good, but we need more reliable, regular income if we’re going to sustain Friendship Home and a staff to run it.”

“I agree,” Juliana said, “but I haven’t any idea how to go about doing something like that.”

“Mr. Carter would. I’m hoping you will agree to accompany me to speak with him about it.”

Juliana frowned. “What will your husband think?”

Helen sighed. “George hasn’t been happy with much of anything about me for a very long time.” She repeated the question. “Will you set up a meeting with Mr. Carter sometime next week?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.” Helen finished her tea. She returned her cup and saucer to the tray. Rising, she picked up the tray. “I’ll take this to the kitchen if you’ll open the door. And then, I believe I’ll see if Lydia and the others really do need help finishing the quilt.”

Juliana spent a good part of the afternoon of the bazaar helping Cass’s mother slice cake and serve kuchen and other delicacies to what seemed to be an infinite line of dessert lovers. The two women were so busy at first that their conversation took place in short bursts and half sentences.

“I still haven’t thanked you for rescuing me,” Juliana said.

“So glad we were there.”

“I hope Tecumseh didn’t give you any trouble.”

“Tame as a puppy. Glad you’re all right.”

“The arm wasn’t broken.”

“Cass told me. Thank the Lord.”

“I hope we don’t run out of chocolate cake.”

“I made five, but they seem to like it.”

“Cass said you helped with the model?”

“He was whining about his big hands.”

“Well, thank you. People are going to be amazed.”

At one point, Mrs. Nash did the obligatory “I am so sorry for your loss,” but by the time she said it, they’d talked about cake and kuchen, and Sadie and Ludwig Meyer had stopped and chatted, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world for Juliana to merely say
thank you
and move on to other topics.

When it was time for the buffet supper, Juliana helped haul fried chicken up out of the church basement and then returned to the replenished dessert table, where she worked alone for quite some time while the committee members tallied up silent auction items, closed down that part of the fund-raiser, and prepared for the evening’s activities beneath the tent erected on the vacant lot next to the church. Lanterns were hung and lighted as daylight waned.

Finally, Cass walked up and said, “They’re ready for you.” He pointed her toward the front row, where the committee had already assembled.

Juliana put down the server in her hand and headed for the tent.

“Umm … Mrs. Sutton?”

She turned back.

“You might want to hand over the apron.”

“Are you offering to take my station?” She untied the apron and handed it over.

“Sure thing.” With a grin, Cass donned the apron and picked up the server.

“Charming,” Juliana said, laughing as she ducked into the tent and took her seat on the end of the row next to Aunts Theodora and Lydia.

Helen Duncan went to the podium, but when she called out “Ladies and gentlemen,” the conversation and laughter failed to dim. Jess Jessup and a couple of other men whistled everyone to attention. With laughter and good humor, the crowd settled.

Helen thanked everyone for coming and announced that she had been informed that the silent auction proceeds would set a new record for any society fund-raiser. When the cheers and applause died down, she glanced Juliana’s way and said, “You’ve all been wondering about the promised surprise.” She gestured at the model sitting on a table in front of the podium but still hidden beneath a sheet. “In a moment, we’ll give you all a chance to get one more piece of fried chicken or cake while you take the opportunity to view what’s beneath that sheet. But for now, I’d like to introduce the committee and thank everyone for making this day a success.”

For the next few moments, it felt to Juliana like half the population in Lincoln had to be thanked for something. Just as the crowd began to grow restive, Helen said, “And now”—she motioned for Juliana and the aunts to stand up—”I have the honor to present Mrs. Sterling Sutton, Miss Theodora Sutton, and Miss Lydia Sutton.” They all rose.

“You know these ladies. You know of the recent tragedy that has befallen them. What you do not know is that they have risen above that tragedy in a way that puts the Society of the Home for the Friendless—and the city of Lincoln—forever in their debt.” She paused and cleared her throat.

“We have two wonderful announcements to make this evening. First of all, we announce the establishment of the Sterling Sutton Educational Foundation, which will be dedicated to providing an education to the children in the care of the Home for the Friendless.”

As warm applause sounded, Juliana and the aunts exchanged glances and sat down.

Helen continued. “But that is only the beginning of the Sutton ladies’ generosity.” She indicated the model. “Many of us are aware of the lovely home that was rising to the south of Lincoln when Mr. Sutton’s life was tragically cut short.” Helen looked over at Juliana and the aunts, then back at the crowd. “It is my great honor to announce that that building has been donated to the society and is to be finished as a residence that will be opened to those less fortunate in our city.” Motioning to Juliana to help her come and remove the sheet, Helen said, “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Friendship Home.”

Juliana and Helen removed the sheet. The crowd was silent for a moment, and then someone shouted, “Bravo!” and the applause began. And continued. Folding the sheet over her arm, Juliana hurried back to stand with the aunts. The applause continued. They swiped at tears. Still, the applause continued.

Finally, Helen called for quiet. “Now, we are going to give you that promised last chance to clear the tables of any remaining sustenance. We encourage you to please inspect this wonderful scale model of the future Friendship Home. Let it encourage your enthusiasm for the live auction, which will begin in ten minutes.”

It was the longest ten minutes of Juliana’s life. She really didn’t want to be thanked by every single person in attendance, but as people filed by the model, they just naturally ended up coming to where she and the aunts were seated, and in no time there was an informal reception line. Finally, Juliana realized something. This was healing, too. Hearing Aunt Theodora praise “the dear boy,” hearing people say nice things about Sterling was just that. It was nice. He had done nice things in the city. His sins didn’t erase that, but as Juliana looked past the people in line to see the model, she felt the raw edge of her pain heal a bit.

Finally, everyone was back beneath the tent. She glanced over to where Cass still stood behind the dessert table, wielding a server and talking to Alfred and a couple of the deacons from the A.M.E. church as he piled their plates high with cake and pie. When the quilt came up for auction, Cass kept his promise to bid, although no one had a chance with Helen Duncan prodding George to go higher and higher all the way up to the unbelievable final bid of nearly two hundred dollars. It was the climax of the auction and one that earned a fresh round of applause from the crowd.

As soon as Pastor Taylor offered the benediction, Juliana and the committee went to work helping pack up the leftover food. Lutie Gleason’s husband drove an exhausted Aunt Theodora and Aunt Lydia home. Eventually, the crowd thinned out, and the only people left were volunteers helping with cleanup.

Juliana finally took the last swipe at the last crumb-littered table and stood back. “All right, gentlemen, take it away.” Cass Gregory and Jess Jessup turned the table on its side and headed down the narrow stairs into the church basement with it. Across the way, Alfred and his deacons loaded the last of the borrowed chairs into the back of a wagon and headed off.

Everyone was working in half-light, as the sun set and the moon rose. Juliana stooped to pick up a program someone had dropped on the grass, then headed back behind the church to add it to the burning barrel being tended by—

“Pastor Taylor?”

He peered around the column of smoke. “Don’t act so surprised. I can tend a fire as well as the next man.”

Juliana laughed. “Obviously. It’s just not something one generally sees a minister doing.”

“You must be exhausted,” he said.

“I haven’t let myself think about it. As long as I keep moving, I’ll be fine.” When she saw that Cass and Jessup were making their way toward the church steps to return the borrowed pulpit, Juliana excused herself and hurried ahead of the men and up the steps to hold the door open for them. Once they were inside, she retreated to the tent and stepped up on the stage to fetch the flower arrangement Frey’s had donated for the event and take it inside. Helen had delivered the other one to First Church, since many of the committee attended there. Now, Juliana headed inside to put this one in position in front of the pulpit for the Sabbath service only hours away. Jessup and Cass were just descending the stairs as she headed inside.

“Can I carry that for you?” Cass asked.

“It isn’t heavy,” she said. “Just awkward.”

“Then let me hold the door.”

Juliana stepped inside. As she crossed the vestibule, she heard Cass tell Jessup to pull the wagon up alongside the tent so they could start taking the platform down. Then he hurried past her, just as she reached the inner doors.

“Don’t let me be the reason you end up taking that platform apart in the dark.”

“It won’t take that long,” he said and followed her up the aisle. “Let me situate it, and you stand back and make sure it’s where you want it.”

She handed the arrangement over and stood back while he put the flowers in place.

“To the left a little. There. That’s perfect.”

“Good.” He nodded and they turned to go.

She touched his sleeve as he passed by. “Cass. I—” She allowed a nervous laugh. “First of all I should probably ask if you mind my calling you Cass.”

He smiled down at her. “It’s my name.”

She blushed. “You know what I mean.”

“Yes, Mrs. Sutton. I do. And no, ma’am. I don’t mind. You’re my boss. You can call me whatever you like.” He laughed softly. “Although I’m counting on it not being anything profane.”

“Well you’re in luck. I only use profanity with Tecumseh. And he’s promised not to tattle.”

“Are you certain he can be trusted?”

She laughed. “Thank you for working so hard on that model. I can’t imagine how many hours you must have spent on it.”

“I had help.”

“I heard.” She smiled up at him. “From what people were saying today about your mother and sister’s cooking, they’re both going to be very busy in coming weeks.”

“So are you and the others. Tonight was quite the success. Things are only getting started for Friendship Home.”

Juliana nodded. “Don’t I know it. It’ll take a week just to write all the thank-you notes.”

“Do you still want the model on your dining room table?”

“More than ever.”

“Let me know when.”

She thought for a moment. “How about tomorrow? If you come right after church, we’ll pay you with lunch. Although I have to warn you that Martha doesn’t cook on Sundays, and I’m no Margaret Nash. But you won’t starve.”

He smiled. “I’ll eat a big breakfast just in case.”

They descended the front steps together. Pastor Taylor had left the burning barrel to die out and was helping Jessup disassemble the platform. Cass turned back to Juliana. “Unless you intend to wield a wrench or a screwdriver, I’m thinking you can finally head home.”

“I believe I’ll put off learning carpentry until a day when I’m not so tired.”

Cass walked with her to the buggy and offered his hand to help her climb up to the driver’s seat. Was it her imagination or did he hold on for a fraction of a second longer than necessary?

She didn’t mind. In fact, she took her time about pulling away. So much so that Fancy snorted with impatience. “You just hold your horses, young lady,” Juliana said.

As she pulled on her driving gloves and tied her black bonnet in place, the phrase came back to haunt her.
Hold your horses.
Good advice for a widow.