Coming April 2025: The World’s Fair Quilt
“An outstanding series of novels…Quilting, in the hands of Chiaverini, allows us to explore human relationships in all their complexity.” —Booklist on the Elm Creek Quilts series
In a new novel from bestselling author Jennifer Chiaverini’s beloved Elm Creek Quilts series, when financial difficulties threaten Sylvia Bergstrom Compson’s legacy, she draws courage and resilience from memories of an extraordinary quilt competition.
A week before the launch of Elm Creek Orchards, a new venture Sylvia hopes will earn much-needed revenue for her nineteenth-century rural Pennsylvania estate, her friend and colleague Summer Sullivan, curator of the Waterford Historical Society’s quilt gallery, requests a special favor. When Sylvia and her elder sister were teenagers, they entered a quilt in the Sears National Quilt Contest for the 1933 Century of Progress Exposition. With a tantalizing grand prize of $1,200—more than the average annual income at the time—the unprecedented contest offered its 25,000 participants the opportunity for artistic expression, the thrill of competition, and fame, with the finalists’ quilts prominently displayed at the Chicago World’s Fair. As part of Summer’s exhibit, the Bergstrom sisters’ World’s Fair Quilt would illuminate an almost forgotten chapter of women’s history during the difficult years of the Great Depression.
Sylvia grants Summer’s request, though with misgivings. Neglected in the attic for decades, the fragile antique requires careful cleaning and repair—and not all of the memories it evokes are pleasant. Threads of fierce rivalry are woven into the fabric of the sisters’ relationship, but their aunties insist that they collaborate on a single entry. Yet as their masterpiece takes shape, the reluctant partners are surprised to discover in each other an artistic kindred spirit, and perhaps even a friend—until a troubling secret kept with the best of intentions threatens to shatter their newfound sisterhood.
As Summer prepares the World’s Fair Quilt for exhibit, Sylvia contemplates its lessons from the past, and in them, finds hope for the future.
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Read an Excerpt from Coming April 2025: The World’s Fair Quilt
September 2004
Soft morning sunlight filtered through the leafy boughs of the tall elms behind Elm Creek Manor as Sylvia nudged open the back door and lugged a five-gallon glass dispenser of fresh apple cider outside onto the landing. After catching her breath, she carefully descended the four stone stairs to the gravel parking lot, nearly empty now during the off-season, with only the Elm Creek Quilts minivan and the few vehicles belonging to the manor’s year-round residents basking in the sunshine or keeping cool in the shade, according to their drivers’ preferences.
Awaiting Sylvia at the foot of the stairs was a much smaller four-wheeled contraption better suited for her current errand: a sturdy red wood-and-steel wagon with rugged wheels, slat sides, and a long handle with a secure grip. Just minutes ago, she had placed a container of apple-oatmeal muffins and a sleeve of paper cups at one end. Now she muffled a grunt as she carefully set the heavy dispenser beside them, bending her knees to prevent strain to her lower back. After checking to make sure the dispenser’s spigot remained tightly closed, she grasped the wagon’s handle, gave it a firm tug to get the wheels turning, and set off for the orchard.
The wagon rattled cheerfully over the hard-packed dirt and gravel, but an axle squeaked and a bit of rust flaked off in Sylvia’s palm when she adjusted her grip. She made a mental note to ask Matt McClure, the estate’s young caretaker, to give the wagon a tune-up when he could spare time away from the apple orchard. She supposed it was a wonder the antique contraption still rolled along at all, but things had been built to last back in the day when her father had brought the shiny new wagon home for her younger brother—1932, if memory served. The gift had been a surprise in more ways than one. Before the dreadful stock market crash, the Bergstrom family could well have afforded to celebrate a birthday with a delightful new toy, but such expenses had become extravagances during the Great Depression, what with so many of their formerly wealthy customers suddenly penniless and the family horse-raising business in precipitous decline. “You were supposed to buy yourself a new pair of boots,” Sylvia’s great-aunt Lydia had reproached Sylvia’s father afterward, but she fell silent when she spotted Sylvia eavesdropping in the doorway.
Sylvia smiled wistfully to herself, remembering how her father had patched his worn boots and carried on, perfectly satisfied with his choice. What were a few blisters compared to his son’s joy? Richard had loved that wagon, and when he wasn’t careening wildly down the steep slope behind the stables, his imagination transformed it into a speeding locomotive, a pirate ship, a rocket to the stars.
If Richard had survived the war, perhaps he would have passed it on to his own children one day, but that was not to be.
Over the decades the once-beloved wagon had been entirely forgotten, slowly rusting away in a corner of the barn amid a tangle of antique farm tools. Only a few months ago, Matt and Joe, the husband of another resident Elm Creek Quilter, had discovered it while making room to expand Joe’s woodshop. Struck speechless from astonishment, flooded by memories, Sylvia could only nod when Matt asked if he could fix it up for his own children. Now it was nearly as shiny and sound as when Richard had first taken it for a spin, with only a few dings and dents to remind her of her brother’s boyish misadventures.
Matt and Sarah’s eighteen-month-old twins were still too young for the wagon, but in the meantime, Sylvia found it quite useful for transporting heavy or awkward things around the estate—including, that morning, refreshments for her hardworking friends. Though the worst of the summertime heat and humidity was behind them, it was still rather warm for mid-September, and she suspected the more senior members of the construction crew would appreciate an excuse to take a break.
And if Sarah playfully accused Sylvia of trying to delay the orchard’s grand opening—well, Sylvia was used to her younger friend’s fond teasing by now, and she wouldn’t take offense. Hadn’t Sylvia agreed to Matt’s “Pick-Your-Own” scheme, despite her misgivings? She wanted his new venture to succeed as much as anyone did—in fact, she was counting on it. Sarah was responsible for the company’s finances, and if she said their accounts were tilting dangerously toward the red, it must be true. Elm Creek Quilt Camp was the most popular quilter’s retreat in the country, but recently, unexpected financial difficulties had beset them. They still broke even every month, and at the height of the quilt camp season they eked out a modest profit, but their operating expenses rose every year, and the nineteenth-century manor badly needed essential repairs and upgrades.
“We could raise tuition,” Sarah had tentatively suggested earlier that summer, tucking a long strand of her reddish-brown hair behind her ear as she studied a meticulously detailed spreadsheet. “We could offer fewer classes or simpler meals—”
“Absolutely not,” Sylvia had interrupted, although when Sarah’s expression turned dejected, Sylvia wished she had at least let her younger friend finish her thought. “A week at Elm Creek Quilt Camp must remain within the budget of an average quilter, and we’ve worked too hard to establish our excellent reputation to lower our standards now.”
“Then we need to find other sources of revenue,” Sarah had replied, her tone reasonable but firm. “The only other alternative is to take on debt, and I’d rather not resort to that unless we have no other choice.”
“Certainly not,” Sylvia had replied, a faint tremor in her voice betraying her sudden emotion. She and Sarah had worked too hard to bring the estate back from near insolvency to risk losing it now. Elm Creek Manor had been in the Bergstrom family since Sylvia’s great-grandfather, his wife, and his sister had immigrated to Pennsylvania from Germany in the 1850s. They and their descendants had labored tirelessly to establish Elm Creek Farm and Bergstrom Thoroughbreds—prosperous, widely respected enterprises that had sustained the family through three wars, an influenza pandemic, the Great Depression, and innumerable personal losses.
Or so it had been for four generations…
