thought, she turned the quilt over and spread it out again.
On hands and knees she looked at each and every triangle and at one fabric design in particular. It appealed to her, as it had when she bought a yard of it herself last year.
Pix closed the book and careful y folded up her quilt, laying it across the back of the couch. She stroked the fabric. No question, no question at al : The whole thing was as phony as a three-dol ar bil .
The Mil er family was quiet at dinner that night. Pix had set the table, rather than eat on the deck, in honor of her husband's presence and also as a nod to the gracious living a la Valerie Atherton that Samantha continued to espouse. They had cold blueberry soup, a big salad with fresh crabmeat, rice, sweet red peppers, and plenty of lettuce. There were some of Luel a Prescott's rol s and ice cream for dessert. Nothing was even remotely connected with Pix's having to turn on her stove.
“This is good, Mom. Did you make it?' Samantha asked, tilting her bowl to get the last of the soup.
Pix was tempted to reply, 'No, the fairies left it on my doorstep,' but chagrin at her culinary reputation and the soft glow of the candles she'd put on the table tempered her reply.
“Yes, I did.' She paused. 'Faith gave me the recipe.”
Sam and his daughter both laughed and Sam said,
'The important thing is that you made it and we're eating it.
You have many other talents.”
Which were? Pix waited for him to go on. When he didn't, she got up to get the salad. Samantha fol owed with the soup bowls—the unmatched ones.
“I was at the Athertons' house today. Jim asked me to take some mail over to Valerie that had come to the camp by mistake. You should see it. It's like something from a magazine”
Jim and Valerie, it had come to this.
Oblivious to her mother's lack of interest, Samantha prattled on and on about the house: the two-story fieldstone fireplace—'And Valerie selected every rock herself '—the artwork, the Italian leather couch, apparently large enough to accommodate Michelangelo's David—if he could sit, of course. Pix felt increasingly giddy as she listened to her daughter repeat the tour Valerie Atherton had given her.
Simpler to put it on video.
“Salad's ready. Get the plates, wil you?”
Samantha placed the three plain white ironstone plates on the table. One had a tiny chip.
“Get another one, Samantha, and put that one aside, please,' Pix said grandly. She'd stick it back in the pile when Samantha was otherwise occupied.
The Fourth of July was supposed to be sunny and it was. The sky was supposed to be blue and it was. The Mil ers were supposed to be sitting on lawn chairs brought from home, waiting for the parade to start at 10:00 A.M., and they were. The only thing that felt odd to Pix was that she didn't have any children to remind not to run into the street or get overheated. Samantha was lined up with the camp at the far end of Main Street, waiting to march, and of course her other two were far, far away. Not even a postcard or a cal yet. Such was a mother's fate.
Her own mother was on one side, Sam on the other.
Various friends and relatives of the Bainbridges, as wel as the B and B guests were strung out in a line. Pix waved to El iot Frazier, who was perched with the other judges in chairs set up on the porch roof of the old Masonic Hal . It was the ultimate viewing platform. Louise was down on the ground next to Ursula.
“I think El iot agrees to judge every year just so he can go up on the roof,' Louise said. 'The view must be magnificent.'
“Where's Adelaide?' Ursula asked Rebecca, who was coming down the lawn carrying a big pitcher of cold lemonade and some cups. It was already hot and she was greeted enthusiastical y.
“She'l be along. She's feeling a little poorly this morning. Must be the humidity.”
Pix didn't wonder Adelaide was suffering. With al the extra weight she carried, this weather must be brutal.
John Eggleston appeared, chairless, and plopped down at Pix's feet.
“Am I in your way?'
“Not at al . It's good to see you.”
Pix had always liked John, despite his being odd, even for a place that tolerated a wide range of differences in human nature. It wasn't merely his appearance; his shoulder-length wiry red hair and bushy red beard made him unique, especial y since there was usual y sawdust, and occasional y wood shavings, in both. Nor was it his reluctance to discuss his past life, although Pix knew that as a priest he had served a large church somewhere in the South. She'd also learned something about why he left, but not from him—rather, from Faith. There were lots of people who came to Maine to start fresh, leaving certain doors firmly closed. In his present incarnation as wood sculptor, John's talent was enormous and widely recognized. He received orders for carvings from al over the world and specialized in religious objects. The last time she'd been in his studio, he was working on a huge menorah. 'I did not lose my faith,' he'd told her once, 'just my head.”
But what made him unusual was his unpredictability.
You never knew what kind of mood he would be in. Pix had seen towering rage and quiet gentleness. The kids on the island flocked to him for advice and it was only with them that he seemed able to maintain his equilibrium. Pix thought of these younger people as his new parish. Arlene had told the Mil ers many stories about the help John had quietly given to one or another child. Today he seemed mel ow and gave Ursula a big smile. She was a favorite.
“What's the theme this year?' he asked her.
“I believe it's storybook characters, but I think it's being interpreted rather loosely in some cases. I know the Fishermen's Wives Association has constructed a lobster boat, and I can't think of a book to go with that.”
Ursula was managing to look completely cool in a crisp white blouse and navy skirt. She'd tied a red silk scarf around her neck in honor of the day. A sunshade was clipped to the side of her chair and its resemblance to a parasol lent Mrs. Rowe a timeless air.
“It's a new book, Mother, based on a true story. Two twenty-pound lobsters got caught in a dragger's net and ended up way down in Rhode Island. They were sold to a seafood dealer and eventual y went on display in some fish store in Philadelphia. Somewhere along the line, someone named them Bob and Shirley. Anyway, people got upset seeing them in the tank and wanted the owner to set them free. They were flown back up here and released!”
Ursula was laughing. 'I want to read that book! Of course, if they'd been caught in a trap, they would have had to be released right away, since they were oversized. But this way, they got to do some traveling.'
“It's starting!' someone cal ed out. The crowd along the parade route had grown considerably. The high school band was playing 'It's a Grand Old Flag' and another Sanpere Fourth of July was marching along its invariable course. First came the kids on their decorated bikes. Pix remembered how excited she'd been as a child to thread crepe-paper streamers through the spokes of her Schwinn, then ride grandly with the others at the head of the parade.
Except for the color scheme and crepe paper, today's bikes looked radical y different, although two or three were relics obviously handed down by a previous generation.
After the bikes came the school band.
“Isn't that Arlene's boyfriend?' Sam asked.
Pix nodded. Fred had been completely transformed by his drum major's uniform, gold braid dripping from his shoulders and sparkling in the sun as he solemnly raised and lowered the baton. It was a very important position.
Fred was class president, too.
“Nice kid,' John commented. 'I guess he'l be the fourth generation to lobster from Ames Cove, although things have certainly changed since his great-great-grandfather used to go out with nothing more than his traps, buoys, a compass, a watch, and a hank of rope with a weight on it to tel him how deep the water was around the ledges.'
“It's simpler now,' Sam said, `and safer, yet some of the romance is gone. I think it every time I see the plastic buoys, instead of the old wooden ones they carved, and the new traps'
“The new traps weigh less, same with the buoys, and both don't require the kind of upkeep as the old ones.
