Authors: Arlene Sachitano
"Something's not right. I'll try to swing by here when I can."
"Speaking of that, what are you doing here, anyway? And dressed like that, too. You didn't get fired did you?"
Aiden lived on the other side of the large wooded area that ran along the shore of the strait. She had walked the trails through the woods with him and Randy on more than one occasion, but not during the workday.
"Your confidence in my abilities is underwhelming.” He tried to make a sad face but ended up laughing instead. “Dr. Johnson decided to keep the clinic open late an additional night, and yours truly gets to be the first guy on the new shift. I came home to take Randy for a run, since I have a few hours off now in exchange."
"I guess that means dinner's off,” Harriet said, trying for a smile but not making it.
"I could bring pizza by when I get off,” he said and tilted her chin up with his finger and then kissed her gently on the lips.
"As good as that sounds, in reality I've got a lot of work to do. Maybe we should just postpone."
"I'll come by with a treat to reward you for all your hard work,” he said with an impish smile.
She started to protest, but he pulled her into another kiss, silencing her. He brushed her short dark hair away from her face. “And I won't stay long and keep you from your work."
He let her go and called Randy, who ran up, her short tail wagging.
Harriet watched, her cheeks flushed and a smile on her face, until the pair had disappeared into the woods again.
A long-arm quilting
machine is really just a fancy sewing machine. It has a large frame that holds the quilt top, batting and backing under tension while the sewing head is guided over the taut surface, stitching as it goes. Completed sections are wound on a long roller as they are completed.
Harriet found the process relaxing—at least, she did when her thread didn't break and the requested pattern flowed easily. The one she was working on had a reasonable pattern, but the thread had been provided by the quilt maker; and although it was a lovely tea-dyed cotton, it broke every few feet, which translated to every few minutes for this pattern.
"You look like you could use a break,” Aunt Beth said as she came into the studio through the outside door. Aunt Beth had given Harriet the long-arm quilt business as well as the Victorian house where she'd lived and worked back in April. Then, she'd retired to a cottage by the water.
Harriet still thought of both as Aunt Beth's even though her aunt didn't.
"I have a first-time customer who provided her own thread, and it's giving me fits. I don't have too much more to do, though."
"You keep stitching, and I'll make some tea,” Beth didn't wait for an answer. She put her purse and coat on one of the wingback chairs in the reception area by the door and went through the door into the kitchen.
Aunt Beth backed through the connecting door again fifteen minutes later, a tray with a teapot, cups, sugar and spoons balanced in front of her.
"How's it going?” she asked.
"Perfect timing. I just finished. I'll take it off the frame when we're done with our tea."
"How are the preparations going?"
"I've got the sutler's area filled, no thanks to Carlton. And the Threads have our booth in good shape. As long as people actually buy our quilts we'll be good."
"Oh, honey, of course they'll buy our quilts."
"With this economy, I don't want to count on anything. I've tried to keep the expenses conservative just in case."
"That's a good plan no matter. If people don't spend much you'll be fine, but if they do, you'll have better profits.” Aunt Beth poured the tea and handed her a cup.
Harriet inhaled the fragrance of bergamot. “Hmmm, Earl Grey?"
"Good nose,” Aunt Beth replied. They both sipped for a few moments.
"I'm sorry you're stuck with Carlton,” Aunt Beth finally said. “I'm so used to working around him I didn't even think to warn you."
"What I don't understand is how people like him get good jobs and positions of authority when they're completely incompetent."
"In his case, it was easy—his daddy built a company and brought him up through the ranks. When Daddy died, his only son got the keys to the kingdom. As one of the bigger employers in the area, he gets his pick of the positions in the Business Association. Actually, until he got married to Bebe, he wasn't that bad. I'm not sure he ever had an original thought, but at least he worked when you handed him a task. Now, all he can think of is her."
"On a different topic,” Harriet said, changing the subject before she found herself ranting about Carlton for the hundredth time. “I took Mavis home from Loose Threads today and something really weird happened.” She proceeded to tell Aunt Beth about the incident at the cottage.
Aunt Beth took her time before replying.
"Gerald worked for Foggy Point Fire Protection Company back then. That was when it was called Industrial Fiber Products. He was some kind of chemist. He traveled all over the world visiting customers. He died in a car accident in Malaysia. What was weird was that for some reason they never got his body back. A few weeks later, his ashes arrived in an urn. No one ever went to Malaysia; none of the family was present for the cremation. I'm sure there was some good reason. Maybe they automatically cremate people within a certain time frame, or something like that. I don't know.” She rubbed her hands over her weatherworn face. “I guess everyone has their own way of doing things."
"Maybe that's why she got so upset at the sight of the quilt,” Harriet said. “Did you ever ask her why she didn't go there?"
"Honey, there are some things you don't ask a person. Not when they've just lost the love of their life. I just trusted that she had a good reason. My job was to support her in whatever way she needed, not to challenge her decisions.” She smiled. “I know what you're thinking, but you heed my words, some things are better left alone."
A tap on the studio door interrupted the silence that enveloped the room. Harriet got up and opened the door for Aiden, who carried a pizza box in one hand and a drink carrier in the other.
"I thought I might find you here,” he said to Aunt Beth as she took the drinks from him. Harriet closed the door then held the connecting door to the kitchen open for them.
"How's Carla doing?” Aunt Beth asked when they were all settled on stools around the kitchen island, the pizza within easy reach. Aiden had chosen a nontraditional pie that included artichoke hearts, Kalamata olives and goat cheese. He'd also gotten a large Caesar salad for them to share.
"Getting better.” He took a big bite of pizza.
Carla Salter was the youngest member of the Loose Threads. She'd joined after participating in a quilting group for unwed mothers that Marjory held at Pins and Needles. In addition to making a quilt for their own baby, each of the young women made a quilt to be donated to charity for other young mothers. Marjory gathered donated fabrics for the group to use, and when Harriet took over Quilt As Desired she'd also assumed Aunt Beth's donation of free machine quilting for all the quilts the group made.
Carla had caught the quilting bug and gotten a second job working at the quilt store to fund her new hobby. Unfortunately, she had lost her job at the vitamin factory Aiden's family owned and was living with her baby in a borrowed van until Harriet convinced Aiden to hire her to be his housekeeper.
"I stayed in my apartment over the clinic until a week ago,” Aiden explained. “I thought it would be better for her to get settled at the house before I moved back in.” He took another bite of pizza, and Aunt Beth waited patiently for him to finish chewing. “The first week I went to check up on her, and at seven o'clock at night she had the baby strapped to her back and was on the third floor scrubbing windows."
"Poor little thing,” Aunt Beth said.
"So, I told her to restrict her activities to the first floor until we could figure things out. Then she didn't go upstairs at all, and one of the plants in the sitting room up there died and she was in tears over that.” He sighed. “I had no idea how hard this was going to be when I agreed to hire her as a housekeeper."
"You must have had some idea—your mother had a housekeeper, didn't she?” Harriet asked.
"Of course, no one could take care of that huge house without help. I just didn't pay attention to who did what. And I was in school. I only know who took the garbage out—that would be me. And my sister was supposed to walk the dog, but she never did, so I did that, too."
"I've got a little time,” Aunt Beth offered. “How about I go over and spend some time with Carla, and we can make a list of what she should do and a list of what things you should hire out. I know who your mama had do her windows and a few things like that."
"That would be great,” he said with relief. “And could you ask her to stop calling me Mr. Jalbert? And also, when you make the list, you can give me some stuff to do, too. I never expected to have someone wait on me hand and foot. I know my mother still did some stuff around the house even though we had Rose. And like you said, she had other people who did stuff."
"We'll get things straightened out in no time."
"One more thing,” Aiden said. “See if you can find out who her new friend is."
"Does she have a boyfriend?” Harriet smiled.
"Yeah, and he's not from around here."
"Did you check him out?” Harriet asked.
"No, I didn't check him out. She's a big girl. Besides, I just moved back, and she was already seeing him. If Beth can find something out, that's different."
Talk turned to Aiden's work and then the upcoming re-enactment. When they had eaten as much pizza and salad as they could, Aunt Beth got up and started clearing the remains.
"I'd better get out of here so you can get that quilt off the machine,” she said.
"I better go, too,” Aiden said. “Carla's friend was supposed to be dropping by tonight while I was at work."
"Okay,” Harriet said. “I've got to go finish the quilt."
Aiden brushed his lips over her cheek in a quick kiss and left. She stood at the door looking down the driveway long after his car had rounded the turn and gone out of sight.
How pathetic am I? she wondered.
Aiden had spent months assuring her their ten-year age gap was meaningless, yet here she was wondering what it meant when he rushed off to check on Carla, of all people. In her heart, she knew he wasn't interested in Carla in that way, but an irrational part of her was hurt that he couldn't spare just one minute to kiss her goodbye properly.
Harriet was in
her sunny yellow kitchen the next morning when someone knocked on the studio door. It was barely eight o'clock, and she wasn't expecting any customers.
"Coming,” she called out and set her empty cereal bowl in the sink and ran a splash of water in it before going through the connecting door and unlocking the exterior door.
"Hey, Chiquita,” Connie said as she came in. She held a garment bag in her left hand. “I have your costume ready to try on."
Connie had volunteered to make Harriet's outfit since Harriet had no free time between making her own quilts and stitching everyone else's. After some discussion, they had agreed Harriet would quilt Connie's charity projects free of charge in exchange for the costume.
"Oh, Connie, I completely forgot you were coming this morning.” Harriet put palm to forehead in a mock smack.
"Is this a bad time?"
"No, I was going to go check on Mavis, but that can wait."
"This won't take long,” Connie said as she unzipped the bag and pulled out three hangers, each holding an element of the costume.
"The bodice and skirt aren't connected. Since it's hot out, I decided to make two different bodices to go with the skirt so you can have one to wash and one to wear.” She had used simple cotton reproduction fabric in a pale brown that had a small light-blue flower in an all-over print. “Everything was in pieces in those days. Diós mio!” She pulled another hanger out of the garment bag. This one held a pale-blue apron. Clipped to the same hanger were three white cotton collars. “They didn't attach the collar to the shirt, so here are three of those. I was making one for each bodice, but they were so easy to do, I made you a spare."
"They wore all this stuff every day?"
"This is a simple outfit,” Connie said. “The fancy outfits were much more complicated, with extra petticoats, under-sleeves and cuffs."
"I could make a lap-sized quilt with the fabric in this skirt,” Harriet said as she pulled it on over her shorts.
"Take your shorts off,” Connie ordered. “The waist has to fit well if it's going to hold all that fabric up."
"Yes, ma'am.” Harriet wriggled her shorts off under the skirt.
"By the by, chiquita,” Connie said around a mouth full of straight pins. “I went to coffee this morning with your aunt and Jenny and Mavis. It sounded like Mavis is leaving town for a couple of days. Her son in Portland called and said their babysitter had to go to an out-of-town funeral and asked if Mavis could come fill in until she gets back. I think she's going to do it. She told him she needed to be back for the re-enactment."
"Wow, that's kind of sudden,” Harriet said, mentally scanning her remaining to-do list to see if she had any items with Mavis's name on them. She realized that what she'd needed from Mavis was moral support. Everything else was well on its way to being done.
Connie was just putting the last pins in the hem of the skirt when the door opened and Bebe Brewster came in without knocking, a cloud of designer perfume entering with her.
"Hi, Harriet,” she said. “I need Mavis to remake Carlton's vest. She dropped it off this morning, way too early, I might add. Anyway, there must have been some mistake.” She pulled a wool vest out of the paper bag she was carrying. “It's all dull and gray.” She held it with two fingers as if it were contaminated then dropped it on a wingback chair. “This won't do. She needs to make another one out of a brighter fabric, something to match my dress."