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feeling is mutual.”
    â€œSylvia, Sarah, would you two like some help?”
    Quickly, Sarah looked up to find Carol standing in the kitchen doorway. Two other quilters stood behind her, smiling eagerly. Sarah’s heart sank. How much had her mother overheard?
    â€œWe’re fine, thank you,” Sylvia said, as she always did. Quilters were generous people who knew that many hands could make even a dull, slow job pleasant and quick. Sylvia often had to remind her guests to enjoy their vacations and let others wait on them for a change, but there were always a few who brushed off her protests.
    This time was no different. “Preparing a meal for twelve is too much work for only the two of you,” Carol said, motioning for her companions to follow her into the kitchen. She had changed into a dark blue warm-up suit but somehow still managed to look dressed up.
    â€œWe can handle it,” Sarah said. Her voice came out sharper than she intended. “And there’s fifteen, including me and Sylvia and Matt.”
    Carol pursed her lips in a semblance of a smile. “Fifteen. I stand corrected.” She went to the sink, tucked a dish towel into her waistband, and began washing a bundle of celery while Sylvia found tasks for the others.
    Sarah forced herself to breathe deeply and evenly until the edge of her annoyance softened. “I see you’ve made some new friends,” she said as her mother joined her at the cutting board.
    â€œThey’re my nearest neighbors upstairs.” Carol pulled open drawers until she found a knife. “Linda’s a physician’s assistant in Erie and Renée is a cardiac specialist at Hershey Medical Center. We have a lot in common.”
    â€œThat’s nice.” Sarah watched as a puddle collected beneath the bundle of celery on her mother’s side of the cutting board. Carol had neglected to shake the water off, as usual, and now the salad would be soaked. Sarah held back a complaint and concentrated on the carrots.
    They worked without speaking. Sarah tried to concentrate on Sylvia’s conversation with Renée and Linda, but she was conscious of how Carol kept glancing from her celery to Sarah’s carrots. Finally her mother’s scrutiny became too much. “All right. What is it?” Sarah asked, setting down the knife.
    Her mother feigned innocence. “What?”
    â€œWhat’s the problem?”
    â€œNothing.” Carol’s brow furrowed in concentration as she chopped away at the celery. Water droplets flew.
    â€œYou might as well tell me.”
    Carol paused. “I was just wondering why you were cutting the carrots like that.”
    â€œLike what?” Sarah fought to keep her voice even. “You mean, with a knife?”
    â€œNo, I mean cutting straight down like that. Your slices are round and chunky. If you cut at an angle, the slices will be tapered and have a more attractive oval shape.” Carol took a carrot and demonstrated. “See? Isn’t that pretty?”
    â€œLovely.” Sarah snatched the carrot and resumed cutting straight, round slices. First the hair, now this—artistic differences over carrot slices. It was going to be a long week.
    When the meal was ready, Sarah, Sylvia, and their helpers carried plates, glasses, and silverware across the hallway through the servants’ entrance to the banquet hall. The other guests soon joined them, entering through the main entrance off the front foyer. Sarah steeled herself and took a seat at Carol’s table just as Matt hurried in from the kitchen, where he had scrubbed his hands and face. He smiled at Sarah as he pulled up a chair beside her, smelling of soap and fresh air.
    â€œHow’s everything going with your mom?” he murmured.
    Sarah shrugged, not sure how to answer. They hadn’t fought, but that same old tension was still there. She swallowed a bite of chicken and forced herself to smile across the