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    The Aloha Quilt: An Elm Creek Quilts Novel
    The Aloha Quilt: An Elm Creek Quilts Novel
    The Aloha Quilt: An Elm Creek Quilts Novel
    Ebook358 pages6 hours

    The Aloha Quilt: An Elm Creek Quilts Novel

    By Jennifer Chiaverini

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    About this ebook

    Another season of Elm Creek Quilt Camp has come to a close, and Bonnie Markham faces a bleak and lonely winter ahead, with her quilt shop out of business and her divorce looming. A welcome escape comes when Claire, a beloved college friend, unexpectedly invites her to Maui to help launch an exciting new business: a quilter’s retreat set at a bed and breakfast amid the vibrant colors and balmy breezes of the Hawaiian Islands. Soon Bonnie finds herself looking out on sparkling waters and banyan trees, planning quilting courses, and learning the history and intricacies of Hawaiian quilting, all the while helping Claire run the inn.

    As Bonnie’s adventure unfolds, it quickly becomes clear that Claire’s new business isn’t the only excitement in store for her. Her cheating, soon-to-be ex-husband decides he wants her stake in Elm Creek Quilts, which threatens not only her financial well-being but her dearest friendships as well. Luckily she has the artistic challenge of creating her own unique Hawaiian quilt pattern to distract her—and new friends like Hinano Paoa, owner of the Nä Mele Hawai‘i Music Shop, who introduces Bonnie to the fascinating traditions of Hawaiian culture and reminds her that love can be found when and where you least expect it.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSimon & Schuster
    Release dateApr 6, 2010
    ISBN9781439199862
    The Aloha Quilt: An Elm Creek Quilts Novel
    Author

    Jennifer Chiaverini

    Jennifer Chiaverini is the New York Times bestselling author of thirty-four novels, including critically acclaimed historical fiction and the beloved Elm Creek Quilts series. In 2020, she was awarded an Outstanding Achievement Award from the Wisconsin Library Association for her novel Resistance Women. In 2023, the WLA awarded her the honor of Notable Wisconsin Author for her significant contributions to the state’s literary heritage. Chiaverini earned a BA from the University of Notre Dame and an MA in English Language and Literature from the University of Chicago. She, her husband, and their two sons call Madison, Wisconsin home.

    Read more from Jennifer Chiaverini

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    Reviews for The Aloha Quilt

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    • 5/5
      I usually don't read series novels, but this one caught my eye because I just returned from a vacation in Hawaii. I really enjoyed it! Lots of interesting characters, somewhat predictable plot, but it kept my interest and I looked forward to reading it when ever I had a spare moment. As the other readers said, the history of Hawaii and quilting were refreshing. I didn't know anything about quilting, but now I do thanks to this nice novel.
    • 4/5
      In an unusual variation for an Elm Creek Quilts novel, the setting for this book is Hawaii! Bonnie has gone to help her friend Claire set up the Aloha Quilt Camp in Hawaii and to escape her soon-to-be ex-husband. What makes this books especially interesting is all of the history and background material that the author includes about Hawaii. Also noteworthy are the details on Hawaiian quilting techniques. What is especially annoying is the lack of details about Elm Creek quilter Sarah's newborn twins. I'm very aggravated to have to wait for yet another book to find out about those babies. Still, I recommend the book and think that anyone interested in quilting will find it extremely enjoyable.
    • 3/5
      Kind of cliche but it was interesting to learn about hawaiian quilts.
    • 4/5
      The Aloha Quilt Have liked this series book after book. Love how the quilts tell the story.This one starts out with Sylvia, the owner who is sending Bonnie on her vacation and to Clare who runs a quilt shop on the island.Bonnie is divorcing Craig after he had found another online. He now wants to drag things out with hopes she'll give up her portion of the money they made from his estate furniture antique sale.They have planned to open a new quilt camp like the one Sylvia runs in PA. The inn is not a quilt camp yet and she hopes with Bonnie's consulting she can persuade her to stay on after the winter months to help run the quilt camp.Liked hearing the differences from Hawaiian quilts and USA quilts. Like Irish fisherman designs no two are the same, just like Hawaiian quilt patterns. Each quilt is made with the one who's getting it specially for them only.Liked the party around Halloween and how it's celebrated in Hawaii. Lots of political discussions with those who live there....She has a choice to make and she needs to keep him from changing the quilt camp.... She feels betrayed that they won't stand up with her to save her shares in the company. The male music player tries to show her new sights that'd be good for the campersand take her mind off her problems. Turmoil and attacks, can she and others survive them.I received this book from National Library Service for my BARD (Braille Audio Reading Device).
    • 4/5
      I just loved this one! Although it is more about one of the Elm Creek Quilters Struggels, and not so much about quilting, I still enjoyed it. The story takes place on Maui. Maui? Not Pennsylvania? Yep! The beautiful island of Maui. Bonnie is invited my her friend Clair to come to Maui to help her establish a quilt camp. Since Bonnie is one of the founding members of Elm Creek Quilts she is uniquely qualified to do so. It also happens that she is going through a nasty divorce and could use a break from that drama. Upon landing on Maui, she learns that her friend Clair has bought and restored a historic hotel that she wants to use for the quilt camp. In the months that follow (she is there 5) she helps to develop cirriculum, hire instructors, and learn the traditional Hawaiian style of quilting. She also finds love in an unexpected place and learns about the true meaning of the Aloha spirit.
    • 5/5
      I've enjoyed all of the books in the Elm Creek Quilters series.
    • 5/5
      I have read all of Jennifer Chiaverini's books. Every time I read one of the Elm Creek Quilter's series, I feel like I have gone home. This story takes Bonnie, an Elm Creek member to Hawaii. Bonnie learns about Hawaiian quilting, their quilting history as well as Hawaii/U.S. history. All this while following Bonnie around as she helps a friend setup a new quilting resort.I learned a lot about Hawaii and Hawaii quilts. I can't wait for the next one "The Union Quilters"
    • 4/5
      Fantastic, and I hope the beginning of a new series! This feels like the first Elm Creek Quilts novel. As the Elm Creek Quilts novels have progressed, I've lost interest - I'm not sure if it's me or if the stories were progessively harder to come. They began to feel like the characters weren't telling the author their story anymore, which leads to a manufactured read. But The Aloha Quilt is so refreshing, with just enough of the Elm Creek Quilts story brought in for it to relate. I couldn't put it down.
    • 4/5
      In an unusual variation for an Elm Creek Quilts novel, the setting for this book is Hawaii! Bonnie has gone to help her friend Claire set up the Aloha Quilt Camp in Hawaii and to escape her soon-to-be ex-husband. What makes this books especially interesting is all of the history and background material that the author includes about Hawaii. Also noteworthy are the details on Hawaiian quilting techniques. What is especially annoying is the lack of details about Elm Creek quilter Sarah's newborn twins. I'm very aggravated to have to wait for yet another book to find out about those babies. Still, I recommend the book and think that anyone interested in quilting will find it extremely enjoyable.
    • 4/5
      Very good story in the series of Elm Creek Quilters. One of the founding members goes to Hawaii to recover from a crisis in her life. She finds the same acceptance and friendship shared by quilters everywhere.Ms Chiaverini does a very good job of incorporating Hawaii's history, politics, and beauty into the story without sounding preachy or boring.As usual, I can't wait for the next espisode.
    • 4/5
      I thoroughly enjoyed this latest outing in the Elm Creek Quilts series. This novel focused on Bonnie, who is smarting from her struggles with Craig, her cheating, soon-to-be ex-husband. Bonnie decides to go to Hawaii, both to get some R&R and help her friend, Claire, get the Aloha Quilt Camp off the ground. Hawaii is a pleasant distraction from Bonnie's problems, as is a certain Hawaiian named Hinano. I thought the exotic setting helped breathe new life into the series and I enjoyed getting to know Bonnie better, and watching her develop a backbone.

    Book preview

    The Aloha Quilt - Jennifer Chiaverini

    Chapter One

    From the bedroom doorway, Sylvia Bergstrom Compson Cooper regarded the taped and labeled cartons Bonnie had stacked against the walls, leaving only a narrow aisle between the bed and the bureau. It might feel more like home sweet home if you unpacked.

    I don’t have time, said Bonnie, shoving a box of sweaters under the bed for storage. Though it was October, she wouldn’t need them where she was going. I have too much to do before my flight.

    Sylvia picked her way through the clutter to the center of the room and studied the mess, frowning thoughtfully over the tops of her glasses, which hung from a silver chain around her neck. If you like, I can unpack for you while you’re away.

    Oh, no, Sylvia. Please don’t go to all that trouble.

    It’s no trouble. I’ll enlist a few of the other Elm Creek Quilters to help and we’ll spread the work over a few days.

    Sylvia didn’t need to add that they would have lots of time to finish the job before Bonnie’s return—too much time, thought Bonnie’s friends, who agreed that she needed a get away but perhaps not one of such long duration.

    I’ll take care of it when I get back. Bonnie smiled to take the sting out of her refusal. I’m not moving in permanently, remember?

    The invitation stands if you change your mind, Sylvia assured her. You’ll always have a home at Elm Creek Manor, even if you only want it long enough to get back on your feet.

    Bonnie thanked her, wondering which of her friends would next offer to take her in. The apartment in Grangerville had never been a real home, just a wayside between the condo she had once shared with her now-estranged husband, Craig, and wherever she might settle after her return to Pennsylvania in the spring. Sylvia had convinced her that it made no sense to keep renting an apartment for her belongings when she could store them at Elm Creek Manor for free, so Bonnie had cancelled her month-to-month lease. She had needed no more than a day to pack up the apartment, not only because the Elm Creek Quilters helped her, but also because after moving out of the condo, she had unpacked only the necessities and left everything else in boxes.

    Somehow she must have known that she was not meant to stay.

    I might decide to make the manor my home, Bonnie said, stacking a laundry basket full of quilt fabric on top of a carton of old photo albums. I honestly haven’t thought it through. I’ve had too much on my mind and I can’t plan so many steps ahead.

    A change of scenery and new challenges will do you good, said Sylvia.

    I’m counting on that. Bonnie shoved a box out of the way with her foot and sat down on the bed, absently patting the Windblown Square quilt for comfort. A few years before, she had been blindsided when she caught Craig carrying on a cyber-affair with a younger woman, but after recovering from her shock, she had fought to save her marriage. She had thrown herself into an exercise program, lost twenty pounds, had her dark curls trimmed into a flattering new style, and had endured fellow Elm Creek Quilter Diane’s coaching about the best clothes for her curvy frame and makeup for her ruddy complexion. According to her friends, she looked better than she had in years—younger, fitter, more attractive—but even then she had known that a successful makeover alone wouldn’t be enough to rekindle Craig’s affection.

    Through marriage counseling and countless date nights, Craig had led her to believe they were reconciling and rebuilding, but all the while he was secretly hiding his assets for the divorce only he had known was inevitable. To make matters worse, he had told their children that she had abandoned him, that the divorce was her idea, that he was as confused and distraught as they were, that he deserved their sympathy and Bonnie their anger. C.J., their eldest son, knew their father too well to believe it, their daughter, Tammy, refused to take sides, and their youngest son, Barry, was far too credulous where his father was concerned. Bonnie didn’t push it. The very thought of engaging in a battle for the hearts and minds of their three grown children exhausted her. She didn’t have the energy to persuade her kids that Craig was wrong and she was right. Now that she had accepted that her marriage was over, all she wanted was to put the whole ugly situation behind her and to move on.

    To feel good again. To return to the happy, contented woman she had once been and now only vaguely remembered. But how could she heal when even the protective walls of Elm Creek Manor triggered so many painful memories?

    She had despaired of ever doing so until her old friend Claire phoned with an invitation as wonderful as it was unexpected. Bonnie rarely saw her former college roommate except at college reunions, but Claire kept in touch with chatty letters mailed from military bases in different foreign countries as she followed her officer husband from post to post. When he had retired from the service, they settled in Hawaii, having fallen in love with the island paradise while Eric had been stationed in Oahu earlier in his career. For the past several years, Claire had run a quilt shop on Maui, and when an opportunity came to expand the business, Claire contacted the long-time friend who had introduced her to quilting to enlist her help.

    A quilter’s retreat in Hawaii, Claire had said. What could be more perfect? And who knows more about setting up a quilt camp than you?

    Sylvia Cooper, for one, Bonnie had said, but before she could reel off the names of the other Elm Creek Quilters who were far more qualified to tackle the project, Claire had accused her of her old fault of excessive self-deprecation and insisted that only Bonnie possessed the perfect combination of knowledge, experience, and trustworthiness that Claire needed to launch her new business venture. She offered to hire Bonnie as a consultant, and in exchange for Bonnie’s expertise, she would provide a modest stipend, room and board in Maui for the winter, and a guaranteed room at Aloha Quilt Camp whenever Bonnie desired.

    Bonnie felt as if her old friend had thrown open doors and windows to let fresh air and sunshine into a room too long shuttered and neglected. Elm Creek Quilt Camp closed for the winter, so why not spend the off-season in Hawaii? She couldn’t sit at home counting the days until her divorce, as if on the day it was final, her disappointment and anger would magically vanish. Where better to begin building a new life for herself than in Hawaii, where she would be soothed by balmy breezes and lulled to sleep by the pounding surf, where she could help a beloved friend launch an exciting new business, where everything was unfamiliar and nothing would remind her of what she had lost?

    Bonnie slept better that first night in Elm Creek Manor than she had all summer long in the apartment. She woke refreshed, dug her walking shoes and sweats out of her suitcase, and went on a long, brisk walk around the estate, lingering in the apple orchard to savor the fragrance of ripe apples and to chat about the harvest with Matt, the estate’s caretaker. She couldn’t resist plucking a shiny, red Jonathon for herself and munching it as she crossed the bridge over Elm Creek on her way to the back entrance of the manor. She stretched on the stairs, enjoying the cool, gentle winds that sent fallen scarlet, yellow, and brown leaves dancing across the parking lot. The wind carried a faint whiff of wood smoke and a hint of cinnamon that told her someone had left the kitchen window open a crack.

    Inside, she found several of the manor’s permanent residents sipping coffee at the kitchen table: Sylvia, of course; Sarah, the cofounder of Elm Creek Quilt Camp; Sylvia’s husband, Andrew; the newest Elm Creek Quilter, Gretchen; and Gretchen’s husband, Joe. The plates before them were empty except for crumbs, but a platter in the center of the table was stacked with waffles, and a place was set for Bonnie at the end.

    It’s Anna’s cinnamon-apple waffle recipe, said Sarah as Bonnie seated herself. I’m happy popping the frozen kind in the toaster, but she convinced me that I didn’t have to be a professional chef like her to make them from scratch. She patted her tummy as if to assure her unborn twins that their mother wasn’t such a bad cook after all.

    Delicious, Bonnie declared, savoring the first mouthful. Sarah rose to pour her a cup of coffee. Sarah, sit down. I can get that.

    It’s no big deal. Sarah pressed a hand to the small of her back as she crossed the kitchen, but something in her expression told Bonnie that more than the twins weighed her down. Cream and sugar?

    Black with two sugars, please, the usual. Bonnie looked around the circle of friends. All right. What’s up?

    Sylvia’s sympathetic frown prepared Bonnie for the worst. Craig called while you were out.

    Bonnie dropped her fork to the table with a clatter. He called the manor? How does he know I’m here?

    Maybe he planted a tracking device in your sewing machine, said Sarah, setting the steaming cup of coffee before Bonnie. She didn’t seem to be joking.

    Bonnie should have known that he would find another way to reach her after she blocked his emails and stopped answering his calls on her cell phone. Did you remind him that all communication must go through my lawyer?

    I did indeed, said Sylvia, but he didn’t seem to hear me, so I gave the phone to Sarah.

    You could have hung up on him. Bonnie steeled herself. What did he want?

    Sylvia and Sarah exchanged a glance. He started off by complaining that Craig Jr. won’t return his phone calls, said Sarah.

    I never told C.J. not to speak to his father, Bonnie protested. C.J.’s angry. He needs time.

    Craig seems to think there’s a conspiracy to cut him off from his kids, said Andrew, scowling as he always did when Craig came up in the conversation. He had no patience for any man who shirked his responsibilities to his wife and children.

    Nonsense, said Sylvia. Bonnie would never put her children in that position.

    Of course it was nonsense. Bonnie wouldn’t hurt her children by demanding they take sides. As badly as Craig treated her, he was still their children’s father. She knew she couldn’t speak disparagingly about him without hurting them. What else?

    Reluctantly, Sarah said, He said this divorce is a contest you won’t win, and then he hung up.

    Joe muttered something under his breath and drained his coffee cup. What a horrid man, said Gretchen.

    Are you sure that’s what he said? asked Bonnie. Were those his exact words?

    Sarah hesitated. I’m paraphrasing a bit. He was ranting and it was hard to catch everything.

    Is it possible— Bonnie had to force the question out. Could he have said that he won’t go along with the uncontested divorce anymore?

    Sarah blanched and eased herself back into her chair. I don’t think so, she said. I guess… I guess it’s possible.

    Oh, no. Bonnie’s appetite fled. I’d better call my lawyer.

    When she went upstairs for her cell phone, her heart sank to discover a voicemail waiting from Darren Taylor. Though his request for her to return his call at her earliest convenience betrayed no reason for concern, Bonnie knew her lawyer was well practiced in concealing his emotions, so his cordial tone did nothing to ease her worries.

    His secretary put her call right through. Good morning, Bonnie, he greeted her. Sorry to call so early, but I spoke with your husband’s attorney this morning and I’m afraid we’ve run into a snag.

    Bonnie paced the narrow aisle between the stacks of cartons pushed against the walls. A snag like when you catch your fingernail on your sweater or a snag like being run over by a truck?

    Darren let out a dry chuckle. Keep that sense of humor. You’re going to need it.

    Oh, dear Lord. Bonnie sat down hard on the edge of the bed. Okay. Tell me.

    Your husband has changed his mind about agreeing to a no-fault divorce.

    Why? He doesn’t want to stay married to me. Why not get it over with?

    Simply put, money. The marital estate is now worth much more than it was when you originally filed for a no contest.

    Only because Agnes discovered Craig’s hidden assets. For years, unbeknownst to Bonnie, Craig had been siphoning off money from their joint accounts to buy expensive antiques to furnish his office. On those rare occasions when Bonnie had visited him on campus, she had never suspected the furniture’s true worth, or had even known that it belonged to Craig rather than the college. Dear, faithful, curious Agnes had discovered the truth and had used her late husband’s contacts in the antiques market to arrange for an auction—an astonishingly profitable auction.

    Apparently Craig had decided he wanted a greater share of the windfall.

    We agreed on a fifty-fifty split of the sale of the furniture, said Bonnie. "That’s more than he deserves considering that he bought those antiques with our money, not just his, without my knowledge, and he never declared them as assets on any of those mountains of forms we had to fill out. Shouldn’t he be punished for that?"

    Believe me, the judge won’t look favorably upon it, Darren assured her. But now Craig wants to play hardball. He knows you want to resolve this as soon as possible—

    Absolutely. Doesn’t he?

    Not as much as he wants a greater share of the money. I’m afraid he intends to use your eagerness for a quick resolution against you. This morning his attorney informed me that Craig wants to reconcile.

    What? Bonnie exclaimed. He doesn’t want to fix our marriage, and even if he did, it’s beyond saving.

    Craig knows that. This is a tactical move, nothing more. He’ll proceed with a no-fault, non-contested divorce as long as you relinquish your claim upon the profits from the auction, on the grounds that he purchased the furniture with his own funds for his own professional use and they were never any part of the marital estate.

    It was only ‘for his professional use’ because if he had bought furniture for the condo, I would have known about it, said Bonnie, incredulous. Either way, the money he used to buy it was as much mine as his!

    I understand, Bonnie. You’re absolutely right, and a judge would surely rule in your favor if you contested his claim. But Craig is gambling that you won’t. Property disputes can drag things out for months, perhaps even years. Your husband believes you’d rather take the financial loss in exchange for finalizing the divorce as originally planned.

    I want it to be over, but the money he spent on those antiques was equally mine. He stole it from me. I can’t let him get away with it. Not even if it meant the divorce could be over tomorrow. I can’t.

    Then you should prepare yourself for a long, hard fight.

    Her heart plummeted. How long?

    He can’t keep you married to him against your will forever. The court can grant you a no-fault divorce if they determine that you and your husband have lived apart for two years and that the marriage is irretrievably broken.

    Two years? Bonnie fell back upon the bed, cell phone pressed to her ear. Two years before she could put the whole mess behind her. Two years before she could get on with her life. I can’t wait two years. I don’t think I can take it.

    Darren fell silent, and she heard the rustle of papers in the background. There are other alternatives, but they’d require more time before the court.

    Anger surged through her. Her flight to Maui was in two days! Leave it to Craig to ruin her plans to spend the winter in Hawaii. But if she had no other choice… What alternatives?

    We could argue for mental cruelty, but given Craig’s history… Darren paused. You’ve told me about Internet dalliances. Is it possible that he’s committed adultery?

    It’s possible. Perhaps Bonnie should ask Agnes to tail Craig again. Agnes knew how to be discreet, and she seemed to have a talent for ferreting out Craig’s dirty little secrets. She pictured Agnes bursting in upon Craig in a cheap motel room, a sleazy woman yawning from boredom on the bed, Craig fumbling to yank up his boxer shorts. It was cartoonish and ridiculous and far too plausible.

    It’s not enough to suspect adultery, Darren warned. We have to prove it. You either have to catch him in the act—

    Delightful thought, Bonnie muttered.

    Or you have to show that he had the opportunity and the disposition to commit adultery. Say, for example, that you can video him entering his lover’s home in the evening and not leaving until the following morning. The services of a private detective are usually called for in these circumstances, because you can hardly put your life on hold to follow him around with a camera.

    What about a few years back when he went to meet his Internet girlfriend at the Penn State football game? Bonnie reminded him. They would have shared a hotel room if I hadn’t discovered their plans and tagged along on the trip. He certainly had the disposition to cheat then.

    I’m afraid that incident doesn’t count, said Darren. I assume you resumed marital relations with your husband afterward?

    Well… yes. We were trying to work things out, or so I thought.

    In that case, since you continued to live with your husband and engage in marital relations, the court would say that you had forgiven him, or condoned the act. You can’t use it to support your claim of adultery now. You can use only a newly discovered affair.

    That’s unfair. I never condoned it. I tried to forgive him to save the marriage, but I was never okay with it.

    I’m sorry, Bonnie, but it’s the law. I warn you, following this course could get messy. If a paramour is named, she can be required to testify. If she’s married also—

    Then her secret would be out and her marriage could end up in divorce court too. So what? Forgive me if I lack sympathy for this hypothetical other woman.

    Understandably, but we have to be sure we’re right. It would be disastrous to accuse an innocent person. Her reputation would be ruined, her husband and children put through a terrible ordeal, all without cause.

    Bonnie inhaled deeply and sat up. Then we’ll be sure that we’re sure. Beyond a reasonable doubt. That’s the appropriate standard, right? Let’s hire the detective for… a month. If the detective can’t turn up anything against Craig within that time, I’ll assume there isn’t anything to turn up.

    Darren agreed to take care of the arrangements, so after promising to inform him if she discovered anything on her own, Bonnie hung up and stared into space, sick at heart. Despite everything, she would not have thought Craig willing to drag things out and bicker over minutia, all for the sake of money. And now she found herself in the unimaginable position of hoping he had committed adultery and praying he had not.

    Could he really have started up another affair after she spoiled his first?

    Had it indeed been his first?

    The thought of what she might find if she searched the shadowed corners of Craig’s life frayed her every nerve, and yet, if he had cheated on her, she needed to know. She had her own health to consider. And if proof of his infidelity was what she needed to extricate herself from their failed marriage, she would be a fool not to look for it.

    It was possible, she told herself with a faint glimmer of hope, that the detective would find nothing to implicate him.

    Bonnie showered and dressed, preparing herself for a day that was already off to a bad start. Tucking her cell phone into her sweater pocket, she went downstairs to the library on the second floor, where Sarah and Sylvia conducted the official business of Elm Creek Quilts. The double doors opened into a room spanning the entire width of the south wing. Autumn sunshine spilled in through tall diamond-paned windows on the east wall, casting long rectangles of light on the rugs and hardwood floors. Comfortable chairs and sofas formed a square in the center of the room. Oak bookcases lined the walls, their shelves bowing slightly from the weight of leather-bound volumes and framed sepia-toned photographs of Sylvia’s ancestors.

    Fresh logs had been stacked in the stone fireplace on the south wall, with two armchairs drawn up to the hearth as if in anticipation of a crackling blaze when the evening grew cool. To the left of the mantel hung a scrap Castle Wall quilt, a memorial to Sylvia’s first husband; to the right hung seven sections of nine composing the Winding Ways quilt Sylvia had made for her friends. She had chosen fabrics that represented each of her friends’ unique qualities, and the mosaic of overlapping circles and intertwining curves, the careful balance of dark and light hues, the unexpected harmony of the disparate fabrics and colors evoked the sense of many winding paths meeting, intersecting, parting, creating the illusion that the separate sections formed a single quilt.

    Two missing sections belonging to absent Elm Creek Quilters broke the continuity of the circles, and when Bonnie left for Hawaii, she would take her section with her too. When she returned to Elm Creek Manor, she would restore her portion of the quilt to its proper place. The empty spaces would remind those left behind that their absent friends would return one day and the circle of quilters would be made whole. As Sylvia often said, Once an Elm Creek Quilter, always an Elm Creek Quilter. Bonnie hoped her friends would remember that no matter how far they traveled. She knew she always would, now that it would soon be her turn to set off on a journey.

    Sarah sat at the large oak desk typing on the computer, but she looked up when Bonnie entered. Did you reach your lawyer? Everything okay?

    As far from okay as it could possibly be, said Bonnie. May I borrow your computer? I need to go online and see if Craig’s cheating on me.

    Sarah’s eyebrows rose. Oh. Okay. Just let me save this. A few keystrokes later, Sarah closed her document, opened the web browser, hauled herself out of the leather armchair, and offered it to Bonnie. How are you planning to catch him, exactly?

    Last time I caught him by accidentally checking his email. I thought I’d see what happens when I check it on purpose.

    If he hasn’t changed his password.

    Bonnie hadn’t considered that, but Craig surely would have known better than to leave his account unprotected and risk discovery the same way twice. Sure enough, when she tried to log on to the Waterford College system, his old password failed.

    Try some variations, Sarah suggested, but after a dozen such attempts, Bonnie realized it was futile. It was always so easy on television, where a clever computer expert could deftly fuse together the name of an enemy’s childhood pet and his favorite candy bar and instantly gain access to every detail of his personal life.

    He’s not going to make this easy for me, she said, thinking aloud.

    Of course not, said Sarah. This is Craig we’re talking about.

    True enough, but Bonnie wouldn’t allow Craig and his ridiculous stalling tactics to ruin her plans. She would have to wait and give the detective time to do his work, but she wouldn’t wait at Elm Creek Manor. She intended to be relaxing on a white, sandy beach on Maui when Darren called with the detective’s report—and the news that would be both welcome and dreadful, whatever it was.

    Chapter Two

    On a cold, drizzly morning, Bonnie stood outside the terminal entrance shivering in her thin jacket as Matt unloaded her suitcase from the Elm Creek Quilts minivan and set it on the curb. You sure you’re okay? he asked, studying her. I can stick around until you’re through security.

    I’m fine, she assured him, adjusting the strap of her carry-on over her shoulder. She was lying, but she figured Matt knew that. Sarah had surely told her husband about Craig’s latest antics. How could anyone in Bonnie’s situation claim to be fine?

    Well, have a good flight. Take care of yourself. The big man, his back and shoulders hard and muscled from years of laboring outdoors, nearly squeezed the breath out of her with a heartfelt bear hug. Bonnie had to laugh, though tears sprang to her eyes. Matt was so kind, and Sarah, so lucky. This was a man a wife could trust. She hoped Sarah would never take that for granted, not one single day.

    Bonnie passed through check-in and security in the same fog of exhaustion and latent anger she had sunk into since Darren’s call. Her flight was called; she boarded the plane. She gazed out the window throughout the forty-minute flight to Philadelphia, but she dozed off on the second leg of her journey, waking with a start when the plane touched down in Phoenix. As she walked to her gate, she found herself hungry for the first time in days, so she bought a sandwich and a large bottle of water and ate as she waited for her row number to be called. On board the 737, the female flight attendants wore flower leis over their uniforms, and one had tucked a pink hibiscus behind her left ear. Aloha, she greeted Bonnie pleasantly as she stepped onto the jet. Welcome aboard.

    Aloha, Bonnie replied automatically, without putting any real feeling into the word. She knew from her travel guides that Aloha could mean hello, goodbye, or I love you. She needed no guide to remind her that only the first two meanings would ever apply to her.

    She found her seat four rows from the back of the plane in a section that appeared to have been reserved for families traveling with small children, although that surely must have been a coincidence. But Bonnie had come prepared with earplugs and a night mask, and still making up for several nights of insomnia, she fell asleep before takeoff.

    She woke to a touch on her arm and shifted groggily in her seat. Sorry, said the passenger beside her, a large woman with a huge knot of graying brown hair. She was knitting busily, as if she hoped to finish her project before touchdown. Didn’t mean to bump you. Almost dropped a stitch when we hit that turbulence.

    That’s all right. Bonnie checked her watch and discovered that she had slept five hours straight.

    Wish I could sleep as soundly as you, the woman remarked in a drawl that made Bonnie think of Texas. I can’t keep my eyes shut more than ten minutes on a plane. What’s your secret? Drugs?

    Months of little sleep thanks to a miserable soon-to-be ex-husband.

    Oh, I’ve had a few of those. The woman twisted her needles deftly and added a new color to the garment she was knitting. It appeared to be a brown-and-orange striped sweater for a very small person with arms and legs in odd places. For my dachshund, she explained, noting Bonnie’s scrutiny. When does your soon-to-be ex become your official ex?

    Not soon enough.

    "I hear you. You know, it’s never too soon to start lining up a few new fellas, one to marry and a couple others to fall back

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