The Christmas Boutique

by Jennifer Chiaverini

  She began work at once, and had the top nearly assembled when Agnes and her eldest daughter stopped by on Christmas Eve. It was Agnes who revealed that in Sylvia’s absence, Claudia had cast aside her impetuous vow never to sew another stitch of it. “She worked on the Christmas Quilt every year I lived in the manor,” Agnes said, lightly running her fingertips over an intricately appliquéd holly plume. “She brought it out on St. Nicholas Day and put it away with the rest of the Christmas things on the Feast of the Three Kings. I’m sure she intended to finish the quilt. Even when she and Harold became estranged and she was at her lowest, she seemed to find comfort in the work.”

  And yet she had not finished the quilt, but Agnes could not tell them why. She and Claudia had rarely seen each other after Agnes remarried and moved out of the manor. Perhaps like Lucinda, Claudia had abandoned the project when her physical skills failed her. Or perhaps she had abandoned it in anger as she had at age sixteen, or in grief as Sylvia had ten years later. Or perhaps, like their mother, she had passed away before she could fulfill her promise to herself to finish the work.

  That was the story Sylvia had told Sarah, who finished the top and quilted it with the help of Sylvia and Agnes. It was complete at long last by the following Christmas.

  Sarah passed on that story now, to Gretchen, as they brought out the Christmas Quilt from Sarah’s closet, removed the protective muslin sheet, and hung it from the second-floor balcony in the foyer, above the doors to the ballroom and directly across the foyer from the manor’s front entrance.

  When the men came indoors from hanging the lights on the veranda, they paused to admire the beautiful quilt. “That’s quite a work of art,” said Joe. “I can’t put my finger on it, but it looks antique and modern at the same time.”

  “You’re very perceptive,” said Sylvia, impressed.

  “There’s a good reason you can’t pinpoint its age,” Gretchen called down to her husband from the balcony. “It’s a long story. I’ll fill you in later.”

  “The outdoor lights are up, the Christmas Quilt is hung, and you’ve really decked the halls,” said Matt, gazing around the foyer admiringly. “Does this mean we’re done?”

  “Not by far,” said Sylvia. “We don’t even have a tree yet. You and Sarah had better get busy.”

  Sarah and Matt exchanged a look, puzzled. “Why us?” asked Sarah, descending the grand oak staircase a few steps behind Gretchen. “I mean, we’re happy to help, but—”

  Sylvia peered at her over the rims of her glasses. “Sarah, dear, you know very well that according to Bergstrom family tradition, the most recently married couple is responsible for choosing the Christmas tree.”

  Sarah noticed the smiles breaking out on her friends’ faces, and she could not keep one from her own. “That’s just it. Matt and I may be the youngest married couple here, but we are definitely not the most recently married.”

  “That would be you,” said Matt helpfully, grinning. “You and Andrew.”

  Sylvia gasped, hand to her heart. “Oh, my goodness. That’s right. Andrew, dear, I swear I haven’t forgotten our anniversary.”

  “I know, honey,” said Andrew, smiling. He took her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “I didn’t remember that choosing a tree is our responsibility now either.”

  “I’ll help,” said Matt. “It’s hard work, tromping around in the snow in search of a tree, cutting it down, hauling it back to the manor on the toboggan.”

  Sylvia looked dubious. “According to custom, the couple is supposed to go alone.”

  “The Bergstrom family never had newlyweds of our vintage before.” Andrew raised Sylvia’s hand to his lips for a kiss. “Matt, we’ll take you up on that offer, but Sarah, I think you should sit this one out.”

  Sarah was happy to agree. The twins had been kicking energetically all afternoon, and the very thought of trudging through the snow exhausted her. Besides, she had other plans.

  The late afternoon sun was already sinking low in the sky as the newlyweds and Matt bundled up and headed out into the forest with the toboggan and an ax. Gretchen and Joe went to the kitchen to prepare dinner, but when Sarah offered to help, they urged her to sit down by the fireplace in the parlor, put her feet up, and sip a cup of herbal tea. She gratefully accepted, but as soon as she was alone, she slipped off to the banquet hall for some surreptitious decorating. Only after everything was in place did she go to the parlor, sink into the most comfortable armchair, pull a quilt over herself, and close her eyes, telling herself it would be for only a moment.

  She woke to a gentle touch on her shoulder. “Supper’s ready,” Gretchen said, holding out a hand to help her to her feet. As they left the parlor, Sarah looked down the hallway to her left, but although the doors to the ballroom on the other side of the foyer were open, she craned her neck in vain for a glimpse of the tree.

  “You can’t see it from this angle, but Sylvia and Andrew found a gorgeous balsam fir,” Gretchen told her as they turned down the west wing toward the kitchen, from which the rich, mouthwatering aroma of tomatoes and spices wafted. “Matt and Andrew set it up straight and secure in the base, Matt and Joe strung the lights, and Sylvia and I put on the garland.”

  “And I slept through everything.”

  Gretchen gave her a quick, encouraging hug around the shoulders. “Don’t worry. There’s plenty of work left. We haven’t hung a single ornament and we’re counting on you to join in when we finish up after supper. Just so you know, Matt has already decreed that you’re not allowed to climb the ladder.”

  “I’ll stick to the lower boughs, then,” said Sarah. “Matt can put the star on top, since he’s the tallest.”

  Although supper was a delight, with everyone in good spirits, Gretchen’s chicken chili delicious, and the conversation lively and fun, Matt left before dessert to do his laundry and pack. Sarah’s happiness dimmed as she and the others tidied the kitchen and went to the ballroom to hang the lovely Bergstrom heirloom ornaments upon the tree without him. In the end it was Joe, with a makeshift tool he fashioned out of a broom handle and a wire hanger, who placed the ruby-and-gold-glass star upon the highest bough. By the time Matt finally came downstairs, they were returning smaller boxes to the cartons and sweeping up fallen needles.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t much help,” said Matt.

  Everyone protested that simply wasn’t so, but his eyes were on Sarah. “You did your share,” she said, resting a hand on her abdomen as he crossed the ballroom to join her. “The outdoor lights, the tree—”

  “Don’t be too easy on him,” Joe interrupted, grinning. “He shirked kitchen duty tonight. That’ll put him on Santa’s naughty list for sure.”

  Everyone but Matt laughed and chimed in that Joe was absolutely right and Matt would probably find his stocking empty on Christmas morning. Matt accepted the teasing with a grin, but as soon as he was no longer the center of attention, he took Sarah’s hand and quietly asked, “Are we okay?”

  “Of course.” She knew he wasn’t talking about the kitchen chores. “We’ll always be okay in the end.”

  He squeezed her hand, but his smile faltered until it was barely distinguishable from a frown.

  Night had fallen, and when Sylvia switched on the lights on the tree and the banisters, the effect of color and light and fragrance was so profoundly beautiful that it took Sarah’s breath away. Elm Creek Manor was lovely in all seasons, but at Christmas, it became truly magical, the perfect setting for holiday wishes to come true.

  But the transformation had required all of them to pitch in, and there was still more work yet to do before they welcomed their out-of-town guests for Christmas. Slow season or not, Matt was needed at Elm Creek Manor. Sarah needed him even if the orchards and gardens didn’t.

  That had been true before the disaster at Good Shepherd, and it was doubly true now, but Matt was 170 miles away. He would be back in time to help with the second day of the boutique, but Sarah and her friends needed him now. No doubt H
ank would argue with equal certainty that he needed Matt too.

  Sarah understood that Matt felt caught in the middle, torn between his commitment to her and his need to fulfill his father’s expectations. He wanted to please everyone and maintain family harmony—admirable goals, Sarah thought, but too often, in Matt’s attempts to treat everyone equitably, he sacrificed her happiness to his father’s. That was the path of least resistance, so why shouldn’t he take it? He knew Sarah would always forgive him, and would feel bad about feeling bad when he put his father first, and would not pressure him to make her, his wife, his priority for a change. Hank, not so much. He seemed to believe—and would probably always believe—that Matt was his son first, Sarah’s husband second.

  A secret Sarah had never confided to anyone was that this was why she had changed her last name when she married Matt. She had always liked her birth name. Sarah Mallory was melodic, and it looked pretty written on a page, and it represented her heritage, her late father, her beloved grandparents. She had changed her last name to McClure as a way of staking her claim, as a way to tell Hank and anyone else who might hope that their marriage was a passing phase that she was there to stay.

  Afterward, Sarah realized to her chagrin that her defiant gesture had not made the impression she had intended. From everyone else’s point of view, she had simply done what was expected, what was traditional. Only in hindsight did she understand that she would have made a bolder statement by keeping her own name, declaring to the world that she and Matt were a modern couple, independent and equal partners, not bound by the conventions of their elders. But even that might have failed, for Hank had never entirely accepted that Matt was his own person rather than an extension of himself.

  Sarah had glimpsed signs of his controlling tendencies early on, when she and Matt had first begun dating as students at Penn State, but since they rarely saw him, she invented plausible excuses for his occasional overbearing remarks and let them pass. Sarah had an overbearing parent of her own to contend with, and at the time, she had been more concerned with her mother’s disapproval of Matt and her annoying, impossible hope that Sarah would reconcile with her previous boyfriend.

  As graduation approached, though, Hank’s expectations became impossible to ignore. Matt was majoring in landscape architecture, and Hank hoped, or rather, assumed, that he would put his training to use with McClure Construction, the successful construction company his own father had founded in southwestern Pennsylvania forty years before. Matt had worked for his father ever since he was old enough to hold a hammer, after school and on weekends and during summer vacations. Even as a college student, he had often driven home on the weekends to help with projects that were understaffed or running behind schedule. He wanted to help and he appreciated the extra cash, but he had never intended to take over the family business. When he lost his first post-graduation job in State College and joined a landscape architecture firm in Waterford instead of seeking a permanent role with McClure Construction, it should have been obvious that he meant to pursue his own dreams. Soon thereafter, when he accepted the position of caretaker at Elm Creek Manor, that should have put an end to any speculation about his career plans and all pressure to choose any path but his own.

  For years, Hank had watched Matt go his own way without complaint, but the closer he came to retirement, the more frequently he urged Matt to reconsider. When Matt and Sarah had visited him in early September, Hank had told Matt that with two babies on the way, he ought to think more seriously about his future. “A partnership with your old man is as secure a job as you’re going to get in this world,” he had said, clapping Matt on the back and grinning. Matt hadn’t defended his career choice, but merely offered a tight smile. Sarah had bit the inside of her lower lip to keep from blurting out that Matt’s job at Elm Creek Quilts would be secure even if he weren’t married to the cofounder. He was essential to their operations, but Hank, oblivious or simply indifferent to the pain he was causing, continued to imply that Matt’s skills were going to waste and he was one poorly pruned apple tree away from unemployment.

  In all the years Sarah and Matt had lived and worked at Elm Creek Manor, Matt’s father had visited them only twice. Sarah interpreted his absence as yet another statement of disapproval, but Matt made excuses for him, explaining that he couldn’t get away from work with his company so shorthanded. Much to their surprise, in early November, he had agreed to come for Christmas. Blissfully unaware of the conflict that would erupt the day after Thanksgiving, Sarah had convinced herself that his upcoming visit could be a wonderful opportunity to show him how well Matt was thriving at Elm Creek Manor, and what an idyllic place it would be to raise a family. The estate offered acres of forest to explore, a creek for wading, fishing, and tossing stones, a thriving orchard with trees to climb and apples to pluck, gardens for picnics and games of make-believe, and a broad expanse of lawn for running and playing, for crunching through fallen leaves in autumn and building snow forts in winter. As for Waterford, the public schools were among the best in the state, and the college provided many opportunities for educational and cultural enrichment. Most important, the manor was home to Sylvia and other dear, reliable, generous friends who would offer the twins unconditional love and affection. What could give them a better start in life than that?

  If this was not enough to bring Hank around, Sarah had decided to make him a quilt as a Christmas gift. She knew she shouldn’t expect it to work miracles, but perhaps a quilt of his own would spark his curiosity about, maybe even his appreciation for, the beloved art form that she and her friends preserved, celebrated, and passed on with such dedication. If he thought that Matt was contributing to a worthwhile endeavor on behalf of a company with a promising future, perhaps he would finally understand that Matt had chosen wisely and had every reason to anticipate continued success.

  Eager to create something original and unique, Sarah had designed a new block, a Log Cabin variation with a burgundy star in the center rather than the usual solid square, and dark blue, tan, and ivory diagonals instead of the traditional two-part, dark-and-light divisions. She pieced forty-eight blocks, enough for a queen-size quilt, and arranged them in a Barn Raising setting so that the surface seemed to glow with warmth, radiating outward from the center in alternating bands of light and shadow. She had finished piecing the top two days after Thanksgiving, and was thrilled to discover that her design had turned out as beautifully as she had imagined, the cabins underneath the stars reminiscent of snug homes with fires on the hearth, of warmth and comfort on snowy winter nights.

  She layered the top, batting, and backing after Matt departed for Uniontown, and she completed the machine quilting during his first week away. The work occupied her thoughts and kept her from brooding too much about his absence, but by the time she began to attach the long strip of binding around the raw edges, her enthusiasm for the quilt had waned. She was determined to push through and complete it in time for Christmas, but she no longer believed that the beautiful gift would help her father-in-law see just how wonderful, rich, and rewarding their lives were.

  In hindsight, Hank’s unexpected acceptance of their annual invitation to spend Christmas with them at the manor seemed curious, even suspect. Since Matt was in Uniontown more often than not, father and son could celebrate together in Uniontown before Matt returned to Elm Creek Manor, sparing Hank a long drive to a place he had never seemed particularly keen to visit. Why was Hank so willing to visit now? Sarah could not help wondering if he intended to plead his case to her in person, hoping she would acquiesce, give her blessing for Matt to take over McClure Construction, and agree to move to Uniontown after the twins were born. If that was his plan, he was in for a bitter disappointment. She would never give up her home, her friends, her career, and the life she had built for herself at Elm Creek Manor so that Matt could fulfill his father’s dream for him, a dream he had never shared.

  After Sarah finished her calls to Gwen Sullivan and Anna, she was temp
ted to phone Matt and beg him to come home to help, but she decided against it. As unfortunate as the damage to the church’s community hall was, he would not consider the frenzied scramble to move the Christmas Boutique to Elm Creek Manor an emergency requiring a caretaker’s presence. And he would probably be right. The Elm Creek Quilters, Andrew and Joe, and the Christmas Boutique committee’s volunteers would manage without him. Sarah just wished they didn’t have to.

  She had made her calls from the banquet hall while Sylvia used the phone in the kitchen, and they met in the back foyer between the two rooms just as Gretchen came in from outdoors. “Joe and Andrew need to put away a few tools and they’ll be right in,” she said, slipping out of her coat and hanging it neatly in the closet. She tugged off her boots and put on her slippers, careful not to step on the traces of snow she had left on the mat.

  “Diane will pick up Agnes and they’ll be right over,” said Sylvia.

  “Gwen and Anna are on their way too,” said Sarah.

  They returned to the kitchen, where they tidied up from Nancy and Melanie’s visit and prepared to welcome their friends with a fresh pot of coffee, a hot kettle for tea, and the last of Anna’s shortbread. Sarah hurried off to collect paper and pencils from her office on the second floor and returned to find Joe and Andrew seated at the long wooden table with their spouses, drinking coffee and apparently debating whether they should see if they were needed to help with the cleanup at Good Shepherd Church.

  “You’re needed here,” said Sylvia firmly. “If they ask for volunteers after the Christmas Boutique, then by all means do your bit, but for now, you’re on our roster.”

  “In that case, put us in, Coach,” said Andrew good-naturedly.

  “Since we have so little time to prepare,” said Gretchen, “maybe Sylvia should explain how they’ve set up the boutique in the past, and then we can decide how to adapt that to our space.”