Make Quilts Not War (19 page)

“I think that’s a good idea,” Aunt Beth agreed. She stood up and wrestled her plump frame into her coat.

“You’ll get no argument from me,” Jenny said. “I may not want anything to do with my brother, but I’m not a complete fool. Since we don’t know what’s going on, I think we all should be careful.”

The group nodded their agreement and, one by one, finished their tea and carried their mugs to the kitchen before putting on their coats and gathering their purses.

“I’ll wait with Harriet until you get back,” Lauren said to Aunt Beth.

“Thank you, honey, I’d appreciate it. I won’t be long.”

“Take your time, Carter is spending some quality time with my neighbor, the little rat. She’s been knitting him sweaters, so he feels obligated to go watch movies with her on Saturday nights.”

“Of course he does,” Mavis said. Harriet couldn’t tell if she was joking or not, so she didn’t say anything.

The group finished their goodbyes and left.

“Did you learn anything from Jenny’s quilt?” Harriet asked Lauren when the rest of the group had dispersed. “It felt weird when I turned it to show the back to that nurse, like there was something stiff in the batting.”

“There is. The acid turned whatever it is black where it penetrated the backing. It felt like paper of some sort. It wasn’t solid like a big piece of cardboard or anything like that. The way the quilt folded and bent, it had to have been smallish pieces of paper or posterboard.”

“What do you think it was?”

“I only got a quick look and feel. It’s not like I got to open a
seam or put it under a microscope or anything.”

“Throw me a bone here; make a guess as to what it could be.”

“Given how old it is, it could be computer punch cards, index cards, or depending how it was packaged, it could even be money.”

“Why on earth would Jenny have money or cards of some sort inside her quilt?” Harriet asked, more to herself than to her friend.

“That would be the question, now, wouldn’t it?”

“Unfortunately, I think it means Jenny still isn’t telling us everything she knows about what’s happening,” Harriet said.

“We could get out the spotlight and rubber hose and force her to tell us,” Lauren said with a grin.

“Short of torture, I’m afraid we have to wait until she’s ready to tell us what she knows. And judging by her recent behavior, I’m not holding my breath on that.”

“I’ve got to dig out my Star Trek costume when I get home,”
Lauren said, changing the subject. “In some circles, the most important event of the nineteen-sixties was the three-year flight of the starship
Enterprise
.”

“Gosh, was it really only three years?”

“It was,” Lauren replied. “Seems like it should have been longer, given the following it still has, but the original TV series was just three seasons. Of course, there were the movies and the spin-off series, but for the purists it was only three glorious years.”

Harriet didn’t know what to say to that, so she remained silent.

“Does your arm hurt?” Lauren asked.

“The medication is taking the edge off, but I can still feel the
fire.”

“Do you want an ice pack or anything?”

“No, I just want to go to bed. Besides, if I have any hope of going to the concert tomorrow night, I have to convince my aunt it’s not as bad as she thinks, which means no ice pack or other display of discomfort.”

“Aren’t you just the tough one?”

“Would you want to miss a chance to go backstage at a Colm Byrne concert?”

“He’s not my style, but if you like that sort of thing, I guess not.”

“One of your merry band of protesters told me the band is go
ing to play covers of a sampling of popular songs from the dec
ade.”

“That might be interesting.” Lauren allowed. “Or it could be hideous,” she added. “If they’re like most tribute bands.”

“Have you looked up what songs made the top ten for the decade?” Harriet asked, knowing Lauren’s love of data.

“As a matter of fact, I did look up the top one hundred songs.
Somehow, I can’t see Colm Byrne doing Aretha Franklin or
Marvin Gaye. Likewise, Simon and Garfunkel had a range between the two of them that most people can’t imitate. ‘Louie, Louie’ has been played by every high school band every year since the Kingsmen recorded it, so they can probably do that one.”

She continued her analysis of the songs and her opinion as to the likelihood of Colm Byrne being able to cover them adequately until Aunt Beth returned.

“If you don’t need anything else, I’m out of here,” Lauren announced when she came back in from taking Scooter for his last walk of the night.

“Thanks for all your help,” Harriet said and yawned.

“Try not to get in any more trouble until tomorrow,” Lauren admonished as she gathered her bag and left.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Aunt Beth said when she’d taken her coat off and stowed her overnight bag in her bedroom. She followed Harriet upstairs carrying Brownie under her arm, Fred and Scooter following behind them.

Carla brought a bag of doughnuts with her when she and Wendy arrived the following morning. She set the toddler on the kitchen floor with a brightly colored toy piano keyboard then went to the stove to make tea.

She put three cups on the table then put four doughnuts on a plate, emptying the bag, and set the plate in front of Harriet, who was sitting in her customary spot.

“How thoughtful,” Aunt Beth said as she came into the kitchen. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to take mine to go.” She took her cup to the sink and poured the hot tea into a travel mug, picked a plain doughnut up in a napkin, and left, shouting a quick goodbye when she reached the door.

Carla broke another plain doughnut into thirds and handed a piece to Wendy. When Wendy was settled, she went to the diaper bag and pulled a second white sack from under the toddler’s diapers. She silently unloaded two apple fritters, three jelly doughnuts and a cinnamon twist, putting each on the plate, and returned the remaining plain doughnuts to the bag.

“Well, well, aren’t you—” Harriet started.

“Sneaky was what you were going to say,” Carla said with a
small smile, her cheeks pinking as she spoke. “With everything going on at Aiden’s, I needed this.”

“Whatever the reason, I appreciate the extra sugar and fat to
day.”

“How’s your arm?” Carla asked.

“I’ll live, but it’s not fun. It feels hot this morning. Enough about me, though. Anything new with Michelle?”

“Aiden hasn’t kicked her out or anything, but I can tell he’s getting tired of all her drama. She’s called him home from work twice for an imaginary crisis, and that’s in addition to the food poisoning last night.”

“I hope he figures it out, for all of our sakes.”

“Do you miss him?”

“Ah…” Harriet started.

A knock sounded on the studio door, saving her from having to answer, and Carla went to answer it, returning after a moment with Tom Bainbridge. Scooter wagged his tail but didn’t get out of his fleece-lined dog bed.

“You were the talk of the festival last night,” he said. “I thought I’d come by and see what happened and how you’re doing.” He pulled a small gold foil-wrapped box from his pocket. “Here, this should make it feel better,” he added and handed her the box.

Harriet took the box and, recognizing it, held it to her nose.

“Mmmmm, chocolate.” She smiled as she took a deep breath.

“Let me help you,” Tom said and slid the gold ribbon from the box, then lifted the top, revealing a half-dozen plump truffles. His hand brushed hers as he completed the motion, sending a jolt of electricity through her that had nothing to do with pain or her burn.

“Do you feel well enough to come to the concert tonight?” he asked, the concern plain in his voice.

“I do, unless the doctor forbids it.”

“Is it okay if I lay Wendy on a bed upstairs to change her?” Carla asked, scooping up the toddler and taking a clean diaper and a travel pack of baby wipes as she spoke.

“Sure,” Harriet said, not fooled by her friend’s move to give her and Tom a little privacy.

“How are you really?” he asked when Carla was out of earshot. He pulled a chair beside Harriet’s and sat down.

“I won’t really know until I see my doctor this morning. My arm is sore, but I think at least part of it is from the scrubbing they gave it as opposed to the burn itself. They said something about abrading away the damaged tissue to help the skin graft they expect I’ll need.”

“Sounds awful,” Tom said in the whispery voice he used only when they were alone. He leaned in and put his arm carefully around her shoulders, pulling her gently to him. She laid her head on his shoulder, her heart thudding in her chest.

“The sad part is, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I mean, I’m glad it was me instead of Jenny if someone had to be hurt, but I would rather have had neither one of us be a target.”

“You’re lucky it was only your arm. From what I heard from the other vendors, the lady had a pretty big jug of acid with her.”

“It was just a large water bottle, but I
was
fortunate—someone asked to see the back of the quilt just as acid lady was beginning her attack. I had pulled the corner up to show the back just as she threw the liquid. The quilt was wrapped around me, protecting most of my body.”

“Why on earth would someone want to harm Jenny, of all people?”

Harriet was quiet.

“What do you know?” Tom asked.

“Nothing for sure. We just think Jenny isn’t being forthcoming about her past. Lauren looked the attacker up on the Internet, and it seems that Jenny’s brother was involved in an incident that ended with the woman’s father being killed. Jenny’s brother didn’t kill him, but he was jailed for two years for his involvement.”

“So, why come after Jenny? Why not her brother?”

“That’s why we think there’s more to the story than Jenny is telling.”

“Clearly,” Tom said and snuggled Harriet more tightly to him. He took his forefinger and tilted her chin up then laid a gentle kiss on her lips. She didn’t protest, so he deepened the kiss, only ending when they heard the artificially loud sound of Carla’s voice as she reached the top of the stairs.

“Thanks, I needed that,” Harriet whispered as Tom scooted his chair back to its normal place at the table.

“Can I bring you ladies anything?” he asked, getting up. He
walked over to Scooter’s basket and scratched the little dog behind the ears. “You take care of your mother for once,” he said to the dog.

“We’re good. We have to go to the doctor in a little bit, so we can stop at the store then, if we need to.” Harriet said.

“I hate to leave you like this, but I’ve got to go tend my booth. I’ve got a group of ladies from the school coming in today to do macrame demonstrations, and I’ve got to help them set up.”

“I’m glad you stopped by,” Harriet said.

“I can see myself out,” Tom said and then made his way out through the studio.

Harriet picked up a jelly doughnut and took a bite.

“Things are looking up,” she said.

Carla’s face turned pink again, and she busied herself with Wendy’s hair clip.

“How do you feel?” Carla asked when Harriet came back into the waiting room after seeing her doctor. Harriet sat down beside her. Wendy was playing with a wooden train set that sat on a child-size table in the corner; Carla set a timer on her phone and told Wendy she had five more minutes and then they would be leaving.

“It was no picnic having it cleaned and dressed, but he put this elastic sleeve over this gelatin-like dressing and the combination of gel and pressure actually feels good. He also said I have to get a different antibiotic. In spite of all the precautions, it has a spot of infection.”

“Do you want to go anywhere on your way home?” Carla asked.

“I was hoping to stop by the festival and check on my booth. I don’t expect DeAnn to have any trouble, but I’d like to make sure everything is going smoothly.”

“I figured you wouldn’t want to sit home all day. I’m guessing you can’t stitch with that thing on your arm,” Carla said, pointing at the bulky over-wrap on Harriet’s arm.