On a clear, brisk October morning, Sylvia Bergstrom Compson descended the stone staircase from the veranda of Elm Creek Manor and set out for the barn, where the estate’s caretaker awaited her. High above, an arrowhead of Canada geese crossed the cloudless sky and disappeared behind the gold and scarlet forest encircling the estate, their fading sentinel cries warning of winter’s approach. A gust of wind carried the scent of wood smoke from a distant fire.
Sylvia smiled and tucked her hands into the pockets of her navy wool cardigan, her sturdy shoes crunching dried leaves that had fallen upon the rear parking lot, empty except for the Elm Creek Quilts minivan and the red pickup belonging to Sarah and Matt McClure, two of the manor’s few permanent residents. Curiosity had compelled Sylvia out of doors that morning, as the note Matt had left on the kitchen counter had not explained why he wanted her to meet him in the barn. It didn’t matter. Sylvia was glad for any excuse to wander that way and enjoy the estate’s glorious autumn beauty before winter took hold.
She crossed the bridge over Elm Creek and followed the gravel road to the two-story red barn that her great-grandfather, Hans Bergstrom, had built into the side of the hill shortly after founding Elm Creek Farm in the late 1850s. Since then the barn had served as a shelter for farm animals, a garage, a plant nursery and toolshed, and more recently, as a woodshop for one of the manor’s newest arrivals, Joe Hartley, the husband of Elm Creek Quilt Camp’s newest teacher.
A former steelworker forced onto disability decades earlier by a devastating injury at the mill, Joe had made quite a name for himself in the furniture restoration and carpentry business both in Ambridge, his hometown on the Ohio River, and throughout Pennsylvania. When his wife Gretchen’s new job brought the couple to Elm Creek Manor, Sylvia had been pleased to offer Joe the empty half of her great-grandfather’s barn for his flourishing business.
In Sylvia’s opinion, her generosity had already proven to be as rewarding for her as it was for Joe. Within days of his arrival, Joe had begun searching the manor’s cluttered attic for long-forgotten antiques—chairs with broken spindles, bureaus with drawers that stuck—heirlooms that when they were no longer usable were moved into storage because they were too beloved to be discarded. Joe’s careful ministrations had already restored her great-aunt Lydia’s bureau and her grandmother’s favorite rocking chair to perfect condition. Sylvia, who had found the task of clearing the attic of clutter too daunting, often thought that in hiring Gretchen as a teacher and offering her and her husband accommodations within the manor, Elm Creek Quilts had gained not one new staff member but two.
As she approached the barn, Sylvia recognized voices within—Matt, the estate’s caretaker; his wife, Sarah, Sylvia’s dear young friend and cofounder of Elm Creek Quilts; and Joe himself, probably hard at work on another newly discovered heirloom from the attic. Entering through the large double doors, Sylvia discovered her friends in Joe’s woodshop examining an antique desk that had evidently been well used by its original owner.
“This is why you summoned me from my warm house on this chilly autumn morning?” Sylvia inquired. “I expected nothing less than a treasure chest stuffed full of the long-lost Bergstrom jewels.”
From kneeling to examine the bottom of the desk Matt sat up so quickly that he grazed his head on a drawer. “There are lost Bergstrom jewels?” he asked, rubbing his forehead and wincing.