Anything for Her(38)

Sometimes she chose to show quilts all using the same pattern in multiple variations, perhaps tied into a class held at the same time. Last spring, the local historical society had been delighted to have a chance to show off quilts of the 1920s from their collection, and they were talking about a turn-of-the-century display next spring.

Once the bell tinkled as Libby departed, Allie climbed back on the ladder to finish hanging one of her own quilts to replace the Feathered Star quilt just sold. She had made this one right before the Lady of the Lake that was on the frame in back. This was one of her favorite patterns, Bear’s Paw, done in subtle shades of cream and rust and rose. At last she put away the ladder and stood back to admire the full effect. Oh, yes, very nice—and nicely coincidental that the fabrics for sale below it were the complementary browns shading into rusts and then peaches and pinks.

She was pleasantly surprised to realize her headache was gone. She was even able to laugh, a little, at last night’s dream. Rachel and Jessica, with the ugly voices of seagulls... Hah! Maybe I didn’t like them as much as I thought I did.

Smiling, she decided to measure out and cut the deep purple fabric she intended to use to bind the Lady of the Lake quilt, which was nearing completion. And then—oh!—she’d have the fun of creating something new. She’d had a sort of vision of what she could do with Wild Goose Chase, which wouldn’t really be a chase at all....





CHAPTER SEVEN



THE MEETING SET UP by the coach to talk to prospective basketball players and their parents turned out to be a casual affair, held in the school library. The parents appeared relaxed, the boys less so. Nolan could see why from the minute they walked in.

Upwards of twenty boys had showed up, and there might be a few more whose parents couldn’t make it tonight, or who would decide later to try out for the team. And these were only the freshmen or sophomores taking a first shot at the team. It didn’t count the returning varsity or junior varsity players.

In other words, likely not every kid here tonight would make the team. Which resulted in the boys all eyeing each other sidelong in silent appraisal. The parents were probably all doing the same, if more subtly. Nobody wanted to think, My boy won’t make the cut.

Nolan was amused to find himself as anxious as any other parent. He didn’t have to worry, he decided; if nothing else, Sean was the tallest boy here. Given another year, he’d pass Nolan in height, and showed promise of indeed being tall enough to lead the West Fork team as forward or even center by the time he was a junior or senior. The other boys here all had that same gawky way of moving, too, so that wasn’t a hindrance.

The coach was encouraging and discouraging by turn. He made clear that he expected complete dedication to the sport once the season opened. No smoking, no drinking, no drugs, no missed practices unless they were mighty sick. No fights, minimum C-average. If a boy violated any of the restrictions, he was off the team, no recourse. He looked from one face to the next to be sure every boy here was taking him seriously. Then he talked to the parents about their share of the commitment, and checked to be sure they were listening, too.

Tryouts were mid-October, practice started late in October, except for the boys who were also playing football and who had to juggle practices.

“I make a practice of urging students not to try to play both sports,” he told them. “You can’t give the same level of commitment or performance if you are. We allow it, though, especially at the JV level. It’s one way to find your sport.”

He was frank that some of the boys wouldn’t make it. “All of you,” he said, “will put on height or muscle or speed or just determination over the next year, so if you don’t make it this year, try again.”

When the meeting broke up, he went around shaking hands and talking to as many boys and their parents as possible.

“Glad to see you’ve decided to try out,” he said, assessing Sean. “I had my eye on you and planned to talk to you these next few weeks if you didn’t show up tonight.”

“Really?” Sean’s voice squeaked, which brought mortified color to his face.

“You look like a basketball player to me.” The coach nodded and moved on.

“Because he thinks I’m going to be tall,” Sean burst out, once he and Nolan were crossing the sodium-lamp-lit parking lot.

“I think it might be more than that. You’re going to be a good athlete.”

Sean didn’t say anything else until they were closed in the pickup. “You really think so?” he asked then.