The New Year's Quilt (Elm Creek Quilts Novels)

by Chiaverini, Jennifer

  “Do you have any plans for New Year’s Eve?” Sylvia asked. “Our family kept many German-American traditions that don’t seem to be followed in the Old Country anymore. At our bed and breakfast in New York, we met a charming couple from Germany who told us that everyone in their country—and they did emphasize everyone—watches a particular television program that sounded a little unusual to me.”

  “New Year’s Rockin’ Eve from Berlin with David Hasselhoff?” guessed Gus.

  Sylvia laughed and explained about Dinner for One, knowing that she was telling the story not only to amuse her listeners, but also to postpone their announcement. She wished she could have a moment alone with Andrew so she could ask him to wait, but perhaps it was just as well. It had been her idea, after all, to reveal the truth early in their visit. As much as she dreaded Amy’s reaction, they ought to get it over with and hope for the best.

  Andrew held off breaking the news until after supper. The grandchildren cleared the table as Amy brought out coffee, but before the youngsters could return to their video games and IM chat rooms, or whatever it was that so absorbed them on the computer, he asked them to take their seats again.

  As the teenagers seated themselves, exchanging curious smiles, Amy grew very still at the foot of the table. Sylvia said a silent prayer for peace and wished for just a moment that Andrew had broken the news over the phone.

  “What is it, Dad?” Amy asked. “You’re not…ill, are you?”

  “No, no,” said Andrew. “I’ve never felt better, and part of the reason is that I am now the proud husband of this lovely woman right here.”

  With that, he laced his fingers through Sylvia’s, smiled at her reassuringly, and raised her hand to his lips.

  The grandchildren cheered, and Daniel smiled broadly. “Congratulations,” he said, clapping his father-in-law on the back. He rose and came around to Sylvia to kiss her on the cheek.

  Amy sat wide-eyed and still, her gaze fixed on her father. “You mean you’re her fiancé,” she said. “You said husband.”

  “I didn’t misspeak,” said Andrew. “Sylvia and I married on Christmas Eve.”

  Amy stared at him, slowly comprehending. “Are you trying to say that you eloped?”

  “We had a lovely wedding at Elm Creek Manor,” said Sylvia. “It’s true that we caught most of our friends by surprise, but we don’t consider that eloping.”

  “Not that anything’s wrong with that,” said Sam. “Congratulations, Grandpa. You want to play Xbox with us? We have four controllers.” His older brother nudged him. “What? What did I say?”

  Crushed, Caitlin wailed, “You mean we missed everything?”

  “We wanted you to be there,” Andrew said. His gaze shifted from Daniel to Amy. “You and Bob and Kathy and their kids and the whole family. Now you understand why we were so eager for you to come for Christmas.”

  “If we had known you were going to get married, we would have made the trip,” said Amy.

  “Why, so you could stop us? You told us you couldn’t come for Christmas, but we were supposed to know that you could suddenly become available if a wedding was involved?”

  “Andrew, this isn’t the way,” murmured Sylvia.

  “The wedding was a surprise,” Daniel said to his wife. “They couldn’t tell us or they’d spoil it.”

  “Why did it have to be a surprise?” said Amy, her voice rising. “Wasn’t the engagement surprise enough? The wedding has to be a shock, too?”

  “Let’s all just take a deep breath and settle down,” said Sylvia.

  “Seriously, like, peace out, people,” said Caitlin, folding her arms and shaking her head at her mother and grandfather.

  Amy glared at her daughter. “I don’t appreciate your tone, and was that even a sentence?”

  Caitlin rolled her eyes.

  “If you had really wanted us at your wedding, you would have told us,” said Amy, turning to her father. “Do you think I’m stupid? I know what happened. You knew we didn’t approve, so you invited us just so that you could say you tried, and then you snuck your wedding in under the radar.”

  “Would you have come if you had known?” said Andrew. “Would you have supported us, or would you have stood up and thrown a tantrum when the judge asked if anyone had any reason to object to the marriage? Maybe it’s just as well that you didn’t come.”

  Amy pushed her chair back from the table, but Sylvia quickly placed a hand on her arm. “Please stay. Let’s work this out.”

  “What’s to work out?” snapped Amy, but she stayed in her seat.

  Sylvia clasped her hands together in her lap. “Perhaps we should have handled things better, and if we’ve offended you, I’m sincerely sorry. What’s important now is that we are married, and we’re hoping that you can find it in your heart to be happy for us. If happiness is out of the question at this particular moment—and I can understand why it might be—we ask instead for your acceptance.”

  Amy refused to look at her. “How can we offer you our acceptance when you gave us no say in the matter?”

  “Because you don’t deserve any say in the matter,” said Andrew, incredulous. “It was never up to you whether I married, or whom, or when, or how. This was between Sylvia and me. It was never a group decision.”

  “Nothing around here is ever a group decision,” muttered Caitlin.

  “That’s enough out of you, young lady,” snapped Amy.

  Caitlin sniffed in disdain, rose deliberately from her chair, and left the room. Her brothers exchanged quick, wary looks and decided to follow her example.

  Daniel planted his elbows on the table and cradled his head in his hands. “Just for the record, I think you two make a great couple and I wish you both years of happiness.”

  “Daniel,” gasped Amy.

  “Oh, come on, honey, you know where I stand.”

  “Yes, against me, apparently.”

  “This isn’t about you.” Daniel gestured to the newlyweds. “It’s about them. It’s about their happiness. Sylvia’s right. What’s done is done. It’s time for us to come together as a family.”

  “They’re flaunting their wedding in my face and I’m supposed to act happy about it?”

  “That would be better than acting like a spoiled brat,” said Andrew.

  In a gesture reminiscent of her daughter’s, Amy gave him a steady, wordless look before rising from her chair and striding from the room.

  “I’m sorry,” Daniel told the newlyweds.

  “It’s not your fault,” Sylvia assured him as he hurried after his wife.

  “I should have known this would happen,” muttered Andrew when they were alone.

  “It was bound to happen,” said Sylvia. “You walked in here with a chip on your shoulder daring Amy to disapprove of us. Honestly, Andrew, you could have handled this much better.”

  “You’re blaming me?”

  “Oh, there’s plenty of blame to go around.” She reached for his hand. “We both knew she would take the news badly. If only you had responded with more compassion instead of losing your temper—”

  “I know,” said Andrew, chagrined. “I know. I should have behaved myself, but Sylvia, when she started in on you—”

  “I’ve told you before, dear, it takes more than angry words to bring me to my knees.” Sylvia shook her head. Everything had gone so wrong so quickly. “She’s being unreasonable, you’re overreacting, and I’m afraid we’re much worse off than we were before.”

  Andrew frowned and rubbed at his jaw. “What do we do now?”

  “I think there’s only one thing we can do.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Give her what she’s asked for.”

  BREAKFAST THE NEXT MORNING was a tense affair. Amy hardly spoke, and she was clearly just as angry with her husband as with Sylvia and her father. The grandkids tried to lighten the mood with jokes and amusing stories, but they grew discouraged when their listeners barely smiled. Caitlin persisted long after her
brothers gave up, peppering Sylvia with questions about the wedding. Mindful of Amy who was studiously ignoring the conversation, Sylvia provided an understated description of the candlelight ceremony in the ballroom of the manor, restored to its former elegance thanks to the attention of Sarah McClure’s husband, Matt, who had become the full-time gardener and caretaker of the estate.

  “Have you told Bob and Kathy yet?” Daniel asked Andrew, referring to Andrew’s son and daughter-in-law.

  “Not yet,” Andrew replied.

  “Don’t expect a shower of rose petals,” said Amy shortly. “I doubt they’ll welcome the news any more than we did. The girls wanted to be bridesmaids, as I’m sure you recall.”

  Andrew peered at her curiously. “Are you angry now because we got married or because we got married without you? I’ve lost track.”

  Sylvia frowned. Why must Andrew rise to the bait every time Amy spoke?

  “I wanted to be a bridesmaid, too, but you don’t see me whining,” said Caitlin. “My cousins will get over it. The important thing is that you got married the way you wanted to.”

  “Not entirely the way we wanted,” said Sylvia. “We wanted all of you to be there. Truly, we did.”

  Caitlin shrugged and made a face to suggest it didn’t matter. “What should we call you now, anyway? Mrs. Cooper?”

  “No, I’ve decided not to change my last name. I’ve been Sylvia Compson so long that I don’t think I’d remember to answer to anything else.”

  “But it’s not like you’re keeping your maiden name,” Amy pointed out. “You’re actually keeping your first husband’s name instead of taking my father’s. Some people might think that suggests a lack of commitment.”

  Andrew loaded scrambled eggs onto a piece of buttered toast. “If it doesn’t bother me, it shouldn’t bother you.”

  Caitlin threw her mother a brief scowl before returning her attention to Sylvia. “Should we call you Grandma?”

  Amy slammed her palm on the table. “She is not your grandmother.”

  “We can’t call her ‘Step-Grandma,’ ” said Sam. “That’s so lame.”

  “Lame or not, like it or not, that’s all she is.”

  Andrew glowered. “All right, now, I’ve had just about enough—”

  “We’ve all had just about enough.” Sylvia rose. “I can’t bear to think that I’ve divided this family. Amy, you’re right. You win.” She turned to Andrew and steeled herself. “I’m sorry, dear. Our marriage was a mistake. When we return to Elm Creek Manor, I’m going to file for an annulment.”

  Andrew looked up at her, pain in his eyes. “Sylvia—”

  Sylvia managed a tender smile, blinked back her tears, and hurried from the room.

  Upstairs in the guest room, Sylvia rolled Andrew’s suitcase into the hallway and shut the door. If she wasn’t going to stay married to a man, she couldn’t share a bedroom with him.

  She arranged pillows into a comfortable seat on the bed and retrieved the New Year’s Reflections quilt from her tote bag. She spread the quilt over her lap and gazed upon it, her heart momentarily lifted by the soothing colors and the intricate patterns. Threading a needle, she got to work, wondering if Amy would still be willing to accept her gift or if all her efforts had been in vain.

  Through the closed door she heard the muffled sounds of heated debate as she mitered the last of the four corners. Voices rose and fell as she turned her attention to the last edge of the quilt. She couldn’t hear the details of the argument, but she could imagine the way things were going. Five minutes of silence told her they had reached an impasse, and sure enough, before long she heard footsteps approaching from the far end of the hallway.

  The door swung open and Andrew leaned inside. He gestured to the suitcase at his feet. “You’re throwing me out?”

  She raised her eyebrows at him over the rims of her glasses. “It wouldn’t be proper to do otherwise.”

  Andrew frowned, but he could hardly disagree. “You’re not going to stay locked up here until the New Year, are you?”

  Sylvia considered. “As tempting as that might be, I don’t think so. Now that Amy has had her own way, I imagine it will be much more pleasant downstairs now that we’ve made her so happy.”

  “Oh, you’ll see how happy she is,” Andrew said scornfully as Sylvia returned quilt and notions to her tote bag.

  The grandkids had made themselves scarce, and Sylvia couldn’t blame them. In the kitchen, Amy and Daniel were rinsing the breakfast dishes and loading the dishwasher. “May I help?” asked Sylvia.

  “No,” said Amy. “We’ve got it, thanks.”

  She did not look in Sylvia’s direction, but it was obvious she had been crying. Sylvia pretended not to notice, sat down at the kitchen table, and idly paged through the newspaper.

  Andrew pulled out a chair beside her. “Is there anything I can do to change your mind?”

  “I’m afraid not, dear.” Sylvia passed him the sports section, but he ignored it. “This is best for everyone.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “With me out of the picture, you and your children can—” She waved a hand, searching for the appropriate phrase. “Go back to normal.”

  “As if nothing ever happened? That’s not possible. I’ll always remember that they were responsible for driving you away. It’ll be impossible to forgive them. Our divorce would divide the family more than our marriage ever could.”

  Sylvia saw Amy and Daniel exchange an anxious look. “Perhaps this is a discussion better made in private,” Sylvia said, lowering her voice a fraction. “We have a long drive home. We can save it for then.”

  Andrew threw up his hands in exasperation. “And when we get ‘home,’ what then?”

  “Oh, dear. You’re right. I hadn’t thought of that.”

  Amy couldn’t restrain her curiosity. “Thought of what?”

  “I can’t very well live with Sylvia after we divorce, can I?” said Andrew. “Elm Creek Manor has been my home for years, but not any more. Where am I supposed to go?”

  “Didn’t Bob and Kathy ask you to live with them?” Amy asked in a small voice.

  “That’s crazy talk. You know how small those southern California tract houses are. We’ll be tripping over each other. And I sure can’t sleep on their fold-out sofa for the rest of my life, not with my back.”

  “Well…there’s your RV, for the immediate future. You can even park it at Elm Creek Manor through the winter, if you like. But—” Sylvia threw an imploring look to Amy and Daniel. “I don’t think anyone would expect you to live in the RV forever.”

  “You can move in with us,” said Daniel, placing an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “It’s the least we can do, since we’re responsible for Sylvia’s decision.”

  “Wait.” Amy shrugged off her husband’s arm and held up her hands. “Maybe we’re being too hasty here.”

  “Do you have a VFW in town?” Andrew asked Daniel. “Can I park the RV in your driveway or would it be better on the street in front of the house?”

  Sylvia beamed at Amy. “You’re such a generous daughter, opening your home to your father, especially with the children going off to college in a few years. Taking on all that cooking and laundry and chauffeuring just when you were probably looking forward to more time to yourself—well, I don’t think one daughter in ten would be so generous.”

  “I hope you didn’t have any other plans for that guest room,” said Andrew.

  Amy shook her head, looking faintly ill. “I was thinking about turning it into a sewing room, but—”

  “Oh, dear,” exclaimed Sylvia. “I suppose we won’t be able to continue your quilting lessons, since this will surely be my last visit.”

  “Can I redecorate?” asked Andrew. “No offense, but that room’s awfully lacy and frilly. I’d like to hang up my fishing trophies.”

  “Dead trout on a varnished plank, that’s what I always called them,” Sylvia confided.

  “Maybe the kids can d
rive me around town when you’re too busy,” Andrew mused. “They all have their licenses by now, right? I don’t think I should take the RV around on errands unless you have very forgiving neighbors. These streets are so narrow I might knock over a few mailboxes.”

  Sylvia, Andrew, and Daniel all began talking at once, their voices a babble of redecorating suggestions and driving tips. In the center of it all, Amy clutched her head in her hands, her gaze flicking around the room as if desperate to find an escape.

  Before long Amy had clearly heard enough. “All right, all right!” When the others fell silent, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “Dad, Daniel, will you excuse Sylvia and me for a minute?”

  “Why?” said Daniel, wary.

  Amy looked as if another word might cause her to explode. “Just go. Please.”

  Daniel nudged his father-in-law and gestured toward the door. Andrew struggled to hide a grin as they left the kitchen. Sylvia knew he was thinking that this would be his moment of triumph. This was Amy’s cue to beg Sylvia not to divorce him.

  Sylvia wasn’t so sure that was what Amy had in mind, but she pushed the newspaper aside and composed herself as Amy pulled up a chair on the other side of the table. “I take it you want to speak to me alone?”

  “My father would just waste time proclaiming his innocence, but I doubt you will,” said Amy. “You can let the curtain fall on the drama now. Please.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “The breaking up with my father act. I know what you’re doing, and I think I know why.”

  Sylvia sighed. “How did you know? Was our acting really that bad?”

  “My father loves you,” Amy said. “If he believed you really intended to divorce him, he wouldn’t be talking about parking spaces for his RV and hanging dead fish on the walls. He would be brokenhearted. He would be devastated. And I think you would be, too.”

  Reluctantly, Sylvia admitted, “I suppose the lack of tears and pleading was a dead giveaway.”