Authors: Arlene Sachitano
"That's a big leap, from liking kids to having more and younger,” James said. “Dad seemed kind of relieved when we got big enough to drive ourselves."
"Speak for yourself,” Harry said. “He left before I got my license."
How sad, Harriet thought. The boys measured their dad's absence by their milestones he'd missed.
"I'll let you know if I learn anything, but your brother's right. We don't have nearly enough information to jump to any conclusions."
She heard a rhythmic tapping on the outer door to her quilt studio. She went through and let a very tired-looking Aiden in. He was once again dressed in scrubs, and his hair had the flattened ridge that was a result of wearing a scrub cap.
She led him into the kitchen, where he sat beside Gerry at the island.
"Tough night, huh?” Gerry said and clapped him on the back.
"Yeah, something like that."
"I was just leaving.” Gerry got up and put his empty cup in the sink. “Are you ready?” he asked James.
"Where are you guys going?” Ben asked.
"Relax, tag-along, I'm just dropping James at Mom's—he's sleeping on her couch tonight. And then I'm going home."
"We could go have a beer on your way home,” Ben suggested.
"I'm tired,” Gerry said. “When you two get married and have real jobs you'll understand. The only thing I'm doing tonight is sleeping."
"Come on, Ben” Harry said. “Harriet has cable. We can watch old sci-fi movies in her TV room.” He headed for the stairs.
Ben glanced at Aiden and Harriet, and his face turned pink under his freckles.
"Good idea,” he said and followed his brother.
"Rough night?” Harriet asked when she and Aiden were alone.
"Dog fight,” he said. “Multiple victims. I hate seeing young, irresponsible pet owners getting unaltered male pit bulls."
"Were they purposely fighting them?"
"No, it was actually a group of friends meeting on a street corner. The dogs got into it, and the kids couldn't control them. A couple of the kids ended up in the emergency room with bites, too."
"That's too bad,” Harriet said. She massaged his neck with her good hand. “Sorry I can't give you a decent massage."
He turned and pulled her into his arms. She ran her hand through his silky hair, and he tilted his head down and kissed her gently on the lips.
"Can I sleep over?” he asked.
She pulled away.
"No, you can't sleep over,” she said. “We aren't that kind of friends."
"Yet,” he said. “We aren't that kind of friends yet. Say it."
"Even if we were that kind of friends, you can't stay over when there are children in the house."
"Children?” he said loudly, and she hushed him immediately. “They're all older than me,” he finished in a loud whisper.
"I rest my case,” she said.
"You're killing me here,” he said. He pulled her back toward him and wrapped his arms around her again. “They do seem younger, though, don't they."
"I think Harry is in graduate school, and Ben works as a research assistant for a save the some-kind-of-crustacean group. They both spend a lot of time with college students."
"Did you learn anything from the guys?” Aiden smoothed her hair away from her face with both hands.
"Not really. James says he's sure his mom wasn't getting insurance money. And the police are sure Gerard, or Gerald or whatever we're supposed to call him, was murdered, but they're not sure how."
"I guess that's good for Mavis,” he said. “The insurance part, I mean."
"Someone said the cousins from the Netherlands are coming for the funeral, which is apparently going to happen whether the body has been released or not."
"So, what's on tap for the great detective?” he asked.
"Not much. I'm going to ask Carlton about who works at his company at night and also if he knows who is around from twenty years ago who might have known what was going on back then. Other than that, I'm at a loss."
Aiden slid his hands under the back of her shirt and rubbed the knotted muscles of her back as she leaned into him.
"I'm sure you'll think of something,” he said.
"I've been thinking,"
Aunt Beth said as she poured hot water over her orange spice tea bag. She dunked the bag up and down several times in the blue hand-thrown mug she had selected from the shelf then let it fall back into the liquid.
"This must be serious,” said Harriet.
Aunt Beth had arrived early with a bag of doughnuts clutched in her hand along with her purse. Something big must be on her mind for her to bring something other than fruit to Harriet. She'd bake cookies until the end of time for the Willis boys; Harriet always got the fruit.
She got up from the island, sipping her own tea, and got a plate from the cupboard and a handful of napkins from the drawer next to the dishwasher.
"I'm trying to figure out what the right thing to do is,” Beth said, leaving Harriet to scramble for a topic. “Having two wives makes things complicated."
"Throw me a bone here. What are you talking about?"
"Oh, I'm thinking out loud,” Aunt Beth said and unbagged the pastries. She'd brought a large apple fritter, two raspberry-filled raised doughnuts and a pair of cinnamon twists. Judging by the quantity of sweets, she was very troubled. “Hand me a sharp knife."
Harriet complied, then came back around the bar and sat on her stool. Beth cut the apple fritter into bite-sized pieces.
"You know how we always make blocks for a person when someone dear to them dies? I was thinking we should be making blocks for Mavis."
It all became clear.
"And you don't know what to do about Ilsa."
"That, and the fact I'm not sure how Mavis is feeling about Gerald right now."
Harriet had a thought about that, but didn't want to throw it out there too soon for fear Aunt Beth would pack up her doughnuts and go.
"It seems like Ilsa should be included. I mean, she
is
a quilter. I realize we aren't her friends, but she's alone here and far from her home. And no matter what the final explanation is for Gerald/Gerard's actions, both women are grieving.” Harriet popped a piece of fritter in her mouth and put a doughnut on her napkin. She took a sip of her tea. “Mavis may be at the anger stage of grief, but she's still grieving."
"I don't want to add to her burden,” Aunt Beth said. “And I don't want Mavis mad if we make something for Ilsa.” She picked up a cinnamon twist, tore the end off and ate it.
Harriet bit her raised doughnut, marking it as her own. “I think we should make blocks for Mavis, but not have a theme related to Gerald/Gerard. You know, maybe make something purely for comfort and as feminine as Mavis could stand."
"That's not a bad idea,” Aunt Beth said and took another bite of her twist.
"As for Ilsa, let's ask Mavis what she thinks. If she absolutely hates the idea, then we'll find something else to do for her.” Harriet took another bite of fritter, and as she put it to her mouth, Aunt Beth slid the plate just out of her reach. “My guess is Mavis will say we should make blocks. You can figure out whether we should let her know we're making blocks for
her
or not."
"Probably not,” Aunt Beth said. “She's going to be busy today anyway. Gerald's cousins from the Netherlands are arriving."
"Won't they be with Ilsa?"
"I think Mavis and Ilsa are going to pick them up from the airport together."
"Are they coming in to Sea-Tac?” Harriet asked, referring to the Seattle/Tacoma airport..
"Yes. I think Mavis volunteered to drive."
"It must be kinda of weird for her, though."
"Well, the whole thing is weird. In a way, I think Ilsa gives Mavis a way to hang on to Gerald even though she's mad at the same time. And Ilsa is learning about a whole part of Gerald's life she never knew existed."
"I'm not sure I could be so buddy-buddy if I were Mavis.” Harriet rose off her stool to reach the plate with the fritter. Aunt Beth slapped at her hand as she reached for another piece.
"Don't you think you've had enough?” she scolded. “You need to keep your girlish figure if you're going to keep that man of yours."
"Aiden is not ‘my man,’ and furthermore, if he cares that much about my weight, he's not going to
be
‘my man.’”
"I'll save you,” Harry said and reached for the doughnut plate.
"You help yourself,” Aunt Beth invited warmly.
"Thanks.” He took the plate to the counter and began filling Harriet's coffeemaker.
"I'll start calling the Loose Threads. Shall we see if we can meet at Pins and Needles in an hour?” Harriet asked.
"Thanks, honey, that would be good. We're all caught up in the studio, so I was going to slip one of my own quilts onto the machine and get it started,” Aunt Beth said. “I'll call Connie and Jenny, if you want."
"It's a plan,” Harriet said and went upstairs to get dressed and make her calls.
Aunt Beth and Harriet drove down the hill to Pins and Needles an hour later in Aunt Beth's new Volkswagen Beetle. She had ordered it weeks ago and had just picked it up at Fogg Volkswagen and Saab the day before.
"This thing is tiny,” Harriet said as she settled in the passenger seat. “Did you have to special-order this vase?” She referred to a flower vase attached to the dashboard.
Aunt Beth rolled her eyes.
"I don't need to be driving a tank around Foggy Point, getting single-digit gas mileage,” she said. “And I kept the pickup. I'll drive that if I need to go to Seattle.” She parked easily at the curb in front of Pins and Needles. “See? It may be small, but it's much easier to park than my old tank."
"Whatever,” Harriet said as she crawled out and onto the sidewalk. She took her quilting bag from the back seat and Aunt Beth did the same.
"You'll be in the small classroom today, if that's okay,” Marjory informed them.
"That's great,” Harriet said. “Thanks for accommodating us on such short notice."
"Glad I could be of help. Carla is in there right now showing Bebe how to braid grosgrain ribbon to attach to her suitcase so she can identify it easier at baggage claim at the airport, but they should be done in a few minutes."
"No problem,” Aunt Beth said.
"There's coffee and hot water in the kitchen,” Marjory added. “Let me know if you need anything else."
"Thanks,” Harriet told her and went straight to the kitchen. “You want anything to drink?” she asked Aunt Beth. Her aunt shook her head and went on into the classroom. Harriet made herself tea and followed.
"How's it going?” she asked Carla. Aunt Beth had taken over the task of trying to teach Bebe how to braid with four ribbons. They were sitting at four eight-foot tables that had been pushed into the center of the room to form one large island. More tables were pushed against one wall with mats for cutting fabric on top. The other walls had six-foot-by-eight-foot foam core boards that had been covered with flannel leaning up against them, providing quilters a place to pin their cut out fabric pieces and plan their arrangement before sewing them together.
"Okay,” Carla said and looked at the floor.
"Just okay?"
"Terry and I were supposed to have coffee this morning, but he canceled."
"Does he do that often?"
"Not at first, but lately, yeah."
"It might not have anything to do with you,” Harriet said. “I think he might be distracted by his search for information about his dad."
"How do you know? Did you talk to him?” She looked so hopeful Harriet had to tell her something. She ended up telling her everything.
"You followed him?” Carla asked, sounding amazed at her daring.
"We did,” Harriet said. “He said he would explain what he was doing in Miller Hill Park after he met a guy at Foggy Point Fire Protection. That was last night, and I haven't seen him yet to hear the explanation."
"Someone was at Carlton's company last night?” Bebe asked, looking up from her braiding.
"I was going to ask Carlton about that,” Harriet said. “Do you know anything about the people who are leasing warehouse space?"
"No, I don't know anything about what goes on out there. All I know is it takes a lot of Carlton's time, running that company."
As near as Harriet could tell, Carlton barely spent any time at the company, and he certainly wasn't the one running it, but she wasn't about to tell Bebe that.
"Pay attention,” Aunt Beth ordered, and Bebe picked up the four strands of ribbon again and tried to follow the pattern Aunt Beth had drawn on a piece of paper. A quick glance in that direction showed it wasn't going well.
"Has Terry said anything to you about how his search for information about his father is going?” Harriet asked Carla.
"Not really. He said he was trying to find a man someone else had suggested might be able to tell him something, but he didn't tell me who."
"That must have been who he was going to meet last night."
"He's not really looking for his father, is he?” Carla asked with a sigh. She'd had a lifetime of disappointment and could recognize the signs, Harriet thought. She could have spun a tale, but then looked at Carla and knew she deserved better.
"No, he probably isn't. But don't jump to conclusions. That doesn't necessarily mean he's doing anything illegal or immoral."
"I don't need any more lying, cheating men in my life,” Carla said, and her eyes filled with tears.
"Come on. Let's get you a cup of tea,” Harriet said, and felt like she was channeling Mavis or her aunt. She led Carla to the kitchen. “Let's not make any assumptions,” she continued.
She couldn't believe what she was saying. If it was her own life, she'd kick him to the curb, no questions asked, but she knew Carla didn't need to hear that right now. Besides, she was curious about what was going on at Foggy Point Fire Protection and wanted to keep Terry around until he found out.
"I'm not saying you shouldn't confront him, but give him a chance to explain."
"My momma always said men are trouble,” Carla said.
"You're way too young to be that jaded. Remember your knight in shining armor?"