Make Quilts Not War (28 page)

“Those of us who are available at the moment are going to search for Jenny,” Mavis reported when the trio had settled in the car and she’d driven back to the main road.

“What do you think will happen to Michelle?” Harriet asked.

“Robin’s the one we need to ask, but my uneducated guess would be that she’ll be going to some sort of mental facility. What happens after that, I don’t know. Her life as a high-powered lawyer is over, I imagine.”

“Even though Aiden’s been a total jerk, I still feel sorry for him.”

Lauren had been typing on her smartphone.

“I have to go to my house and start a test run of my clients program,” she said. “Shall I come back to make sure Harriet rests? It sounds like they aren’t going to need my help with the booth.”

“I promise I’ll take a nap,” Harriet said. “You don’t need to babysit me.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’ll be over in a couple of hours.”

Harriet woke up from her nap on the TV room sofa with two fur-covered bodies clamped to her—one fuzzy and perched on the crest of her hip with a claw lightly hooked into her jeans for balance, the other short-haired and wedged into the bend of her knees.

“Well, boys, that would have been a little more restful without your help.”

She moved her companions, got up and went downstairs to feed them. Fred didn’t really need food again until nighttime, but she was trying to fatten Scooter up and Fred wouldn’t let the dog eat if he didn’t get something, too.

She tried to distract herself looking at the latest issue of
The Quilter
magazine, but she couldn’t concentrate. Her thoughts kept bouncing between Jenny and what she really knew about the murders, and Aiden and how he was dealing with the arrest of his sister. She finally dug her cell phone from her pocket and dialed.

“Carla?”

“Hi, Harriet, what’s up?”

“I was checking to see how you’re all doing.”

“We’re good. Wendy’s taking a real nap, and I can finally relax with that witch in jail where she belongs.”

“Have you heard from Aiden?”

She heard rustling, and then Carla sighed.

“He called, but I let it go to voicemail. I’m just not ready to talk to him yet. I know it’s not his fault, but I’m angry that he could be so stupid and that it ended hurting Wendy. I’m taking her to a counselor on Monday just to be sure she’s okay.”

Harriet thought that sounded a bit extreme, since Wendy had pretty much slept through the whole incident, but since she wasn’t a mother, she kept her opinion to herself.

“Has Aiden’s brother Marcel been to the house that you know of?”

“Not since Michelle came,” Carla said. “The kids called him
when they first got there, after their mother went to the hospital. I think he’s the one that told them to call their father.”

“Do you need anything?”

“We’re good. Terry is still here, and Connie and Grandpa Rod are hovering.”

“Let me know if that changes.”

“The only thing we need is for Michelle to never come back,” Carla said. “But I guess she’s always going to be Aiden’s sister.”

“Yeah, that’s the kicker, isn’t it?” Harriet agreed and rang off.

She looked at the clock on the microwave; she’d slept an hour. Lauren probably wouldn’t be back for at least another hour. She phoned Marcel Jalbert.

Marcel answered on the first ring. Harriet asked if she could talk to him in person, and he agreed as long as she made it brief. He was working on a business plan at his home office, he said, and he needed to keep at it. Before Michelle came to Aiden’s, he’d told her his brother was planning to reorganize and reopen the vitamin factory that had been their mother’s.

“Thanks for agreeing to talk to me,” she said when Marcel
opened the front door to his neat townhouse. She had made the drive to the Miller Hill neighborhood with her arm in a sling and steering one-handed, but the speed limit was low enough to not present a problem.

She could hear voices coming from another room, but they weren’t loud enough for her to identify. Marcel took her coat and hung it on a coat tree in the entry then led her to his upstairs office and offered her a chair opposite his at his desk.

The entryway, stairwell and Marcel’s office were all painted a soft celadon green, the wood trim was dark but modern, not the traditional style of Harriet’s own home. Classical music played quietly in the background.

“Are you aware your sister was arrested for kidnapping this morning?” she asked without preamble.

Marcel was silent for a moment. His face resembled Aiden’s, but his features were coarser, and his skin bore the residual scars of acne that had been professionally treated—probably with lasers or at least serious sandpaper. His eyes were blue, but not the nearly white color of his brother’s. Marcel’s were more of a robin’s egg.

“I hadn’t heard that, but I’m not surprised. She clearly has some sort of mental defect. She’s been troubled her whole life. I learned a long time ago that I can’t fix what’s wrong with her, but I
can
protect my family and myself by staying as far away from her as I can.”

“I wish Aiden would realize that,” Harriet said.

“The whole family protected Michelle all her life. My parents could have educated half the kids in this town for the money they spent on therapists, special schools and new-age treatments, but none of it made even a small dent in her problems. As I understand it, there is no effective treatment for narcissism and histrionic personality disorder. All you can do is stay far enough away to avoid being caught up in their web.

“And, if you were wondering, I’m not hiring her a lawyer, or aiding in her defense in any way. I hope Aiden will follow my lead for once.”

“I wish he would take that attitude. He tells me I don’t under
stand because I’m an only child. To me, it seems like she’s using him.”

“Trust your instincts. She’s sick, and she’s played on his vulnerabilities. Now that she’ll be out of the picture for a while, I’ll see what I can do to convince him to cut her loose. I assume that’s what you’re here for.”

Harriet felt her face turn hot.

“I don’t know if he talks to you about us, but it seems like everyone in town knows he and I have been having trouble in our relationship.”

“Cookie did mention she’d heard something about him standing you up at that new restaurant at Smuggler’s Cove.”

Cookie was Marcel’s wife, and Harriet suspected she had told Marcel every detail, but she appreciated that he downplayed it.

“We seem to do fine when Michelle’s not around, but I don’t exist when she’s here.”

“He’s a big boy, but she’s a pro. She has no conscience when it comes to manipulation. He was vulnerable when our mom died right after he came back to the States after his research in Uganda. He hadn’t had a chance to make new friends or reconnect with old ones, and you two were just starting to date. Michelle jumped in with both feet. After he got over her trying to steal the house out from under him, she wormed her way back into his life somehow.”

“I’m sorry to take up so much time when you’re busy,” Harriet said and started to get up.

“Sit down,” He said. “I can take another few minutes. You want something to drink?” He opened the door to a small refrigerator containing several types of soda as well as bottled tea and water. Harriet pointed to a Diet Coke, and he wiped it with a napkin he took from a holder on the credenza behind his desk and handed it to her.

“Thanks,” she said, then opened it and took a sip.

“I’ve suggested he talk to a counselor or therapist, but my ideas have fallen on deaf ears. I can try again—as I said, now that she’s going to be out of the picture for a while there may be hope. I’ll try to be a better brother, too. I’ve been so busy trying to get things in place to open the vitamin factory again that I haven’t made enough effort to connect with Aiden.”

“I’ve suggested a counselor, but he won’t listen to me, either.”

“Don’t give up on him yet,” Marcel said. “But he’s stubborn,
and if he refuses to cut her loose, you may have to weigh your options. I admit I didn’t get it myself at first, and Cookie’s been a great help in keeping my eyes wide open where Michelle’s concerned.”

“Thanks for listening to me,” Harriet said. “And now, I really will leave you to your planning.”

“Come say hi to Cookie before you go.” He led her back downstairs. “Look who’s here, Cookie,” he said as they walked into the kitchen.

Two women were sitting on stools at the center island.

“Harriet? What are you doing here? Did you follow me?” Jenny shrieked.

“Jenny?” Harriet said at almost the same time. “What are you doing here? People are looking for you. And no, I didn’t follow you. I came here to talk to Marcel about Aiden.”

“I’m sorry.” Jenny’s shoulders sagged. “All this stuff the last few days has got me on edge.”

“Can you stay and have some coffee or tea?” Cookie asked.
“Jenny was just telling me you were attacked with acid. Are you okay?”

“I need to get home. I’m supposed to be resting,” Harriet raised her bandaged arm. “I wanted to be sure Marcel knew that Michelle had been arrested.”

“What for?” Cookie leaned forward.

“She tried to stage a kidnapping of Carla Salter’s baby. She hid her in the house so she could be the hero and find the child when she’d gotten enough people involved.”

“That’s horrible.” Cookie looked at her husband.

“Wait a minute,” Jenny said. “Are you supposed to be driving yet? Aren’t you taking pain medication?”

“Only at night. I’m supposed to be home resting. Although, Detective Morse was at Aiden’s and did tell all of us we shouldn’t go anywhere alone, so I’m breaking that rule.”

“I don’t understand. What do the Loose Threads have to do with Michelle and her attempt on Wendy?”

“It was coincidental. Morse just took advantage of having us all there at the same time. She’s concerned that whoever shot Pamela and Bobby is going to keep trying until they get you, Jenny.” Harriet was trying to think of the right words to get through to her.

“Would you like Marcel to drive you home?” Cookie asked. “It sounds like you aren’t supposed to be driving or going anywhere alone.”

“I can take her,” Jenny said. “I need to go help tear down at the festival, so I’ll be going her direction.”

“Are you sure? I got here fine, and I’m sure I can get back fine, too. Besides, my car is already here.”

“Your aunt would never let me hear the end of it if she knew I could have taken you and didn’t. Just let me finish my tea, and we’ll be on our way. I’m sure Cookie and Marcel wouldn’t mind bringing your car home.”

“We’d be happy to,” Cookie agreed. “Do you have time?” she asked her husband.

“Sure, let me know when you’re ready to leave,” he said and headed back upstairs.

Cookie made Harriet a cup of tea and produced some double chocolate chip cookies, all the while chattering about the festival, her garden, the weather and whatever else popped into her head that wasn’t related to either Jenny or Harriet’s recent troubles. When everyone was finished, Cookie brought Harriet’s coat and helped her into one sleeve, draping the other one over her shoulder.

“Thanks for listening,” Jenny said to her as the two women hugged goodbye.

Harriet got in the passenger seat of Jenny’s silver Mercedes and waited while Jenny clipped the seatbelt around her bad arm.

“I guess you’re wondering what I was doing at Cookie’s house when everyone else was helping with Wendy’s disappearance,” Jenny started when they were underway.

“It did cross my mind. Everyone else heeded the call.”

“I knew everyone else would be there, and I needed advice. Cookie and I have been friends for years. We’ve served on several committees together. I needed to talk to someone who wouldn’t have the same emotional attachment to me and my issues, yet knew me well enough that I could trust her opinion.

“In addition, she’s a clinical psychologist—she worked fulltime until they had the kids, and she still works part-time. I feel like I can tell her anything, and she won’t be horrified or repulsed but will still be able to give me a considered opinion.”

“I wish you felt you could tell
us
anything and we wouldn’t judge you,” Harriet said softly.

“This is a very complicated situation.”

“It might be less so if you came clean and told the truth. Maybe we could help.”

“Believe it or not, that’s pretty much what Cookie said.”

“Why don’t you come in and have a cup of tea at my house and try it out on me? Maybe that will be easier than talking to the whole group at once.”

“I suppose I’ve got to start somewhere.”

“In the interest of full disclosure, Lauren will be coming over to check on me pretty soon,” Harriet warned.

Jenny sighed as she turned into Harriet’s driveway.

“Everyone’s going to have to learn about this anyway, so I guess one more won’t hurt.”

“Just out of curiosity, if I hadn’t showed up, what would you have done?”

“Frankly, my first instinct was to just leave without a trace, but I can’t do that to my husband and son. I don’t want to be that kind of person. Heaven knows, I’m going to have some difficult explanations to them.”