“Listen to yourself, Izzy. What you’re saying makes no sense.” He looked past her, into the room, and pointed at Brandon. “Did you do this? Did you make up this wild story?”
Brandon raised his hands in innocence. “All I did was gather the information. I didn’t make up that article or that press release. That’s all on you, friend.”
Max took a step forward, but Izzy stopped him with a palm to the chest. “Don’t, Max. I’m sick with the flu or something. I’m in no shape to put up with this. We’re done. You’re just going to have to further your career without me or my grandmother’s quilt.”
“But Izzy—”
“Good-bye, Max.”
As she shut the door, she caught a glimpse of a man who looked like he’d just lost his best friend. She knew exactly how he felt.
Because she felt the same way.
She turned to her family. Brandon looked pleased with himself, but her mother looked concerned. Before either of them could say anything, she shut them down with a wave of her hand. “I don’t want to talk about it. I’m going to bed. Mom, if you need anything, you know how to reach me.”
Once in her room, behind the closed door, Izzy collapsed on the bed. Head pounding, face burning, stomach churning, she let the tears come, soaking one side of her pillow. After a good amount of crying and mental arguments with herself, she fell asleep.
Three hours later, her eyes popped open. The front door had thumped shut, and now a car engine rumbled outside. Must be Brandon leaving. She looked at the alarm clock on her bedside table. Nine o’clock. Hopefully, he’d helped Mom into her room before he left. Judging by the silence, she guessed he had.
Izzy rolled over and covered her eyes with her arm. Had she been too hasty? Had she judged Max without knowing all the facts? If it weren’t for that quilt, she wouldn’t be in this mess. Of course, if it weren’t for the quilt and the diaries and Gran’s contrived game of hide and seek, she never would have met Max.
She got out of bed, then immediately sat back down. Too quick. As soon as her head stopped swimming, she tried it again, but more slowly this time. Once she was steady, she went to her dresser drawer, removed the key she’d hidden way in the back under a pair of hardly used thermal underwear, and unlocked the closet door.
The box was so clunky and heavy that she almost dropped it as she wrestled it from the top shelf. But she managed to get the Wild Goose Chase quilt safely to her bed. She removed the lid and looked down at the family heirloom. So much trouble over such a simple item. A quilt. Something meant to give warmth and comfort. A symbol of family. There had been plenty of sacrifices and hardships on the parts of the women who made it, but also so much love.
Izzy couldn’t feel any of those things now when she looked at it.
If Gran was right, that an item was only worth the feelings and emotions it called to mind, then this quilt had a negative value. There was only one way to restore positive meaning to the Wild Goose Chase and hopefully bring peace to her family.
And if she hurried, she might have just enough time to do it.
23
He’d ruined everything.
Max leaned over his desk, elbows on the polished wood, forehead braced against his hands. One phone call to Tara had confirmed the press release was a mistake. She thought he’d sent her the file so she could get the word out about the exhibit. It was perfectly understandable. As for Dalton Reed’s comment, Max could only assume the man was putting on some pressure, making his wishes known in order to make it difficult for Max to say no if a job offer came his way.
He wanted to blame Tara and Dalton for the mess he was in, but he couldn’t. It was his own fault. He shouldn’t have avoided Izzy over the last week. He should have told her exactly what he was feeling and found a way to keep their relationship separate from the issue of the quilt and the museum. Now, not only had he lost any hope of getting the quilt, he’d also lost something far more precious: the possibility of a future with Izzy.
How had he fallen this hard this fast? It seemed like they’d known each other forever, yet it was only last month he’d shown up at her door looking for his grandfather. In that short amount of time, she’d worked her way under his skin and into his heart.
“Max!”
“Oh fine,” he muttered. “Now I’m hearing her voice.”
“Max!” Thud. Thud. Thud. “Maximilian!”
His head snapped up. He wasn’t just hearing things. He ran from his office, down the hall, and through the dark museum until he could see the front entrance. Izzy stood on the other side of the double doors, her nose and fist pressed against the glass, holding the big white quilt box against her chest.
She pounded again. “I know you’re in there! I saw your car!”
Max hurried forward and unlocked the door. “Izzy. How did you know I’d be here?”
“Tara told me you’ve been sleeping in your office. I took a chance.” She stumbled forward and shoved the box at him. “Here. This is yours.”
The quilt was right there, in his reach, but all Max cared about was how red her face was. “Do you have a fever?” He touched her forehead and frowned. “You’re burning up. Get in here.”
He dropped the box on the floor, captured her wrist, and pulled her into the museum. After quickly locking the door, he turned and caught her just as she was about to collapse.
She looked up at him with glassy eyes. “I don’t feel so good.”
“I know, honey. I’m going to take care of you.”
He scooped her up and carried her back the way he came, through the dark exhibit rooms, down the back hall, and into his office. He gently laid her on the couch and put one of the throw pillows under her head. “Wait here.”
He ran to the break room, grabbed a bottle of water, and raided the first-aid kit. When he got back to the office, she was sitting up on the couch, hands braced on either side of her knees, head hanging down. When he sat beside her, she rolled her head to the side to look at him. “Why am I in your office?”
“You came to see me, but you’re sick. You shouldn’t have been driving at all, you know.”
He twisted the cap off the water and gave it to her. “Take a drink.” She did. Then he put two capsules in her hand. “Ibuprofen, to help take down your fever.”
She looked from the pills in her hand back to him. “Why are you always taking care of me?”
Because I love you, Izzy. How he wanted to tell her. But right now, with her in a fever-induced haze and looking like she might throw up at any second, probably wasn’t the best time. “I’m a gentleman, remember?”
“Yes, you are. You are a very gentle man.” She popped the pills in her mouth and washed them down with the water. “And I am a very confused woman.”
“Why are you confused?”
“It’s all because of that stupid quilt.” She put her hand over her mouth. “Sorry. That heirloom quilt.”
“I understand.” In the last few hours, he’d been tempted to call it a few choice words of his own.
Izzy put the water bottle on the table and leaned back against the couch cushions. “I know Gran wanted it to bring my family together, but all it’s done is cause trouble.” She sighed. “That’s why I brought it here tonight. I’m giving it to you.”
“It’s wonderful that you want to loan it to the museum, but—”
“No. I’m not loaning it to the museum. I’m giving it to you.”
This was a twist he never saw coming. “You’re giving it to me? Does your family know about this?”
“Not yet. But it’s my decision to make. Since I got my hands on that quilt it’s caused nothing but strife. Did you know that my brother dug up my backyard because he thought the quilt was a treasure map?”
Max held back a smile. He could imagine Brandon frantically shoveling away like a forgetful dog trying to locate his missing bone. “No, I didn’t.”
“No, you didn’t. Because you haven’t been around since our date.”
The accusation in her voice stung. “Izzy, there was a reason for that. I didn’t want you to think I was interested in you just to get the quilt. So I decided it was best to keep my distance until—”
“Until you got it.” Her shoulders jerked and she rubbed her hands up and down on her arms. “It’s OK, Max. You don’t have to pretend anymore.”
“I wasn’t pretending. I’m not pretending now.”
“The quilt is yours.” She looked behind her and grabbed the pillow. “I need to lie down.”
She bunched the pillow under her head and drew her knees up, curling into a tight ball on the narrow couch. Her body shook as a shiver rippled through her.
“Are you cold?” He took the only thing he had, his trench coat, and draped it over her. Then he sat on the edge of the coffee table and leaned over, brushing the hair from her face.
“Do you know why I’m giving the Wild Goose Chase to you, Max?”
“I have no idea.”
“Because you know what it’s worth. In here.” She reached out and put her palm on his chest, above his heart. “You know the emotions that went into creating it and what it represents, even if you do want it to help further your career.” Her hand slipped away from him as another shiver wracked her body and her teeth chattered together.
“Great. You’ve got the chills.”
He looked around. There had to be something there to keep her warm.
Of course.
“I’ll be right back.”
He ran out of the office and returned a moment later to wrap a large warm quilt around her. She took a deep breath, then her eyes opened wide.
“What are you doing? Is this—” She pushed up on one elbow and looked down. “You can’t use the Wild Goose Chase this way.”
“It’s a quilt. That’s what it’s for.”
“But—”
“No buts. It’s been wrapped around cold and sick people for more years than you and I have been alive. This is the purpose it was created for, not for sitting behind glass in a museum.”
Her eyes returned to normal size and her face relaxed as she eased back down. “You’re right. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now rest. I’m going to shut everything down here, and then I’ll take you home.”
Izzy smiled, closed her eyes, and a moment later was asleep. For just a moment, Max looked at her, wrapped in the quilt he’d obsessed over for the last few months. Funny how God had used the object of his desire to bring a true treasure into his life.
A dog was licking her face.
Still bleary-eyed from sleep, Izzy pushed Bogie away and sat up. Why was she on the living room sofa? Why was she covered in the Wild Goose Chase quilt? And why was Bogie standing on it?
“Bogie, no. Get down.” She picked him up and set him on the ground. He shook himself and scampered away.
What exactly had happened last night? She remembered feeling worse and worse as she drove to the museum with the quilt. And being in Max’s office. Bits and pieces of their conversation floated back to her, and she groaned. She’d made a fool of herself.
“Look who’s awake.” Using one hand, Janice steered her wheelchair clumsily around the corner from the hall. “You look much better than last night. How are you feeling?”
“Not great, but a lot better. Oh, no.” Izzy squinted down at her watch. “I’m late for school.”
“Just settle down.” Janice motioned for her to stay put. “You were so out of it when Max brought you home last night, I decided to call you in sick this morning. They’ve got a sub taking over your classes.”
Izzy rubbed her eyes, still processing her mother’s words. “Max brought me home?”
“He drove your car over from the museum. I’m not surprised you don’t remember. You were half asleep when he got you here.”
And for some reason, he put her on the couch rather than in her own bed. Probably because he hadn’t wanted to venture into her “office” again. “How did he get back?”
“I called your brother and had him come to take Max back.” She wrinkled her nose. “That did not go well.”
“Let me guess. Brandon refused to let him take the quilt with him.”
“Actually, Max never tried to take the quilt. But Brandon gave him an earful. He was still going at it when they walked out to the car.”
Izzy looked at the triangles chasing one another across her lap, down to the floor, and back up again. When she and Max first met, they both had wanted the quilt. Now, they both wanted the other to have it. She was beginning to wonder if the quilt carried a Hope-diamond-like curse: whoever owns this quilt shall be destined to chase their tails and run in circles for all time.
“Do you want to tell me why you decided to slink off in the middle of the night to hand over your grandmother’s quilt?” Janice quirked an eyebrow.
“I didn’t slink. I was tired of all the problems we were having over the quilt, so I decided to give it to Max.”
“And you couldn’t wait until morning to do it?”
Izzy shrugged. Even she had to admit it wasn’t the smartest thing she’d ever done. “That may have been fever motivated.”
Janice laughed. “It undoubtedly was. But I can’t argue with your decision.”
“Really? You think I should give Max the quilt?”
“It’s yours to do with as you see fit. At the very least, you should loan it to the museum. But if you want to give it to Max, that’s your prerogative.”
This was a side of her mother she wasn’t used to seeing. Izzy was tempted to check and see if her fever had spread. Instead, she smiled. “Thanks, Mom. I appreciate your support.”
Janice put her hand on her stomach and shifted in her chair. “I’m starving. Do you think we could take a break in crisis management for some breakfast?”
Izzy laughed. “Sure. Let me just put this away so Bogie doesn’t jump all over it.” She stood up and began carefully folding the quilt, first in half, then in half again, then … she stopped. There was definitely something hard in the middle of the quilt, right under the two red connected triangles.
She put the quilt on the couch and knelt beside it, examining the pieces. With her nose practically on the fabric, she could now see that the stitching on them was different from the rest of the quilt. Instead of small, neat stitches, they were longer, looser.
“What’s wrong?” Janice craned her neck, trying to see what Izzy was doing.
“These two pieces look like they’ve been basted on.” She prodded the area with her fingertips, trying to make out what was underneath. A moment later, she sat back on her heels, heart pounding with excitement.
“You know how they say X marks the spot? In this case, it seems to be a diamond.”
24
Izzy had no problem getting Tara to come to her home, but it took the better part of an hour to convince her to collect the Wild Goose Chase without telling Max.
“I already messed up with that press release,” the assistant said. “I’m not going to lie to him on top of it.”
“You won’t be lying,” Izzy assured her. “You’ll be helping me with a surprise. When the time comes, I’ll explain everything. Look, we both know how important it is for the quilt to be included in the exhibit.”
Tara sighed and tucked a lock of silky black hair behind her ear. “He’s determined to go forward without it, but he refuses to explain why.”
Izzy glanced at the floor. She knew why, but that was between her and Max. “Tara, I want this quilt to be part of the exhibit. The history of it needs to be shared. Consider it my Christmas present to Max and the museum.”
The mention of Christmas seemed to strike a nerve with Tara. “Of all years, this would be the one when a Christmas present would mean the most to Max.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s always had Christmas issues. I don’t know if he’s told you, but—”
“He has.”
“Oh. Well then, you understand why. But t
his year, he’s different. He doesn’t go out of his way to avoid talking about it. He didn’t ban Christmas music in the lobby. He even gave me money so I could buy decorations for the break room. Something’s changed.”
Izzy smiled. It seemed that Max was letting go of the past. “Then you have to take the quilt. It’s a gift. Pure and simple.”
Tara looked down at the white box on the dining table, clearly weighing her options. “OK. I’ll take it.” As she picked it up, a smile broke out on her face. “Thank you. This is amazing. If there’s anything I can ever do for you, just ask.”
“Actually, there is one thing.”
“Name it.”
Izzy was giving the quilt with no strings, but there was still one thing she needed to make her plan work out. “Can you get me two tickets to the museum gala?”
“I’m sure you’re wondering why I called this family meeting.” Izzy stood at the end of the couch so her mother wouldn’t have to crane her neck to see her.
“Can we just move this along?” Brandon shifted positions on the loveseat and looked at his watch. “I have somewhere I need to be.”
“Certainly. Mom already knows this, but Brandon, I wanted to tell you that I called Max’s assistant yesterday and had her pick up the Wild Goose Chase.”
The explosion she expected from Brandon never came. He just kept looking at her, waiting for her to say something interesting.
Izzy leaned toward her brother. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Yes. You gave away the quilt.”
“And you’re OK with that?”
He shrugged. “Gran gave the quilt to you. What you do with it is your business.”
That sentiment sounded awfully familiar. She looked at her mother, raising an eyebrow in question.
Janice put her hand on Bogie, who was now snuggled between the back of the couch and her hip. “I had a little talk with Brandon yesterday while you were taking your nap.”
A Wild Goose Chase Christmas: Quilts of Love Series Page 16
