Quilt As Desired

by Arlene Sachitano

  "I'm not hungry right now anyway,” Harriet said. “Besides, I need to go fix Lauren's quilt. Could you drop me off at my place? Then I can drive my car back when I'm done."

  "You aren't supposed to be alone at your house, though."

  "Everyone knows I'm staying with you, especially after the memorial service. No one will go looking for me at my house. It's probably safer for me there. If someone comes looking for me, it will be here."

  She could see Mavis was trying to work out a better plan in her head.

  "I suppose if you call me every hour while you're there. And just stitch, nothing else. Then you come right back."

  "Agreed."

  "Okay, let me put this chicken in the icebox and then we can go."

  Harriet used the time to call Sarah Ness.

  "I have your quilt on the machine. I'm leaving now, so just give me a few minutes to get it off the frame.” She rang off.

  "You know, the more you accommodate her the more she's going to expect,” Mavis said and leaned into the coat closet to retrieve her purse, cutting off any response Harriet might have made.

  Mavis drove around the lagoon and up the hill to Harriet's house.

  "I'm still not comfortable with you being here alone,” she said as Harriet got out.

  "It's going to be fine. I'll stitch the quilt and probably be back to your house before you are.” She retrieved the quilt from the back seat.

  "Don't worry,” she said as she shut the door.

  Mavis drove away, and Harriet fished the house keys out of her pocket. A low window to the left of the door was covered with a cream-colored sheer lace curtain to allow a maximum amount of natural light into the studio. She froze as the curtain slowly rippled. She started to back up and slipped off the landing onto the top step. The curtain slowly pulled to one side, and a furry face pressed against the glass.

  "Fred,” she said and let out her breath.

  She opened the door and stepped into the studio. The cat jumped off the windowsill and began to meow and rub his face on her shoes.

  "I haven't been gone that long,” she said.

  Fred wasn't buying it. It had clearly seemed an eternity to him.

  "Come on.” She set her purse and the quilt on a chair in the studio and went into the kitchen. She poured a scoop of catfood into one ceramic bowl and filled the other with fresh water.

  "There,” she said. “Just don't think you get to go on a food binge because I'm spending the night with Mavis."

  Fred made a purring noise and planted his face in his dish. Harriet propped the door open and went back into the studio.

  At the long-arm machine, she attended to Sarah's quilt. She loosened the tension block and unclipped the elastic tension pulls then removed it from the frame and laid it on her cutting table. She picked up a small, curved pair of scissors that would allow her to clip any loose threads close to the fabric's surface without cutting into it. She pulled a floor lamp over to the table and bent over the quilt. She was almost finished when she heard the door open.

  "It's almost ready,” she said without looking up.

  She heard footsteps approach the table then smelled a sickly sweet odor. She struggled to pull away the cloth that was clamped over her nose but only succeeded in breathing more deeply. She suddenly felt very heavy.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  "Harriet,” a voice called from far away. “Harriet, can you hear me?"

  She could hear, but it was too hard to answer. She tried to open her eyes, but it took too much effort. She slid back into the darkness.

  When she awoke again, she was lying in a dark room. She wiggled her feet and tensed her hands then released them. She could feel everything, including the IV line attached to the back of her left hand. That had to be a good sign.

  She moved her head, and a wave of nausea so powerful she couldn't quell it swept over her. She threw up in a kidney-shaped yellow plastic pan someone held for her. A cool cloth draped across her head.

  "Try not to move,” an unfamiliar female voice said.

  She opened her eyes again.

  "Don't try to talk,” the woman's voice said. “You're in the hospital. Sarah Ness found you slumped on the floor of your studio. She called nine-one-one and they brought you here.” She must have seen the panic in Harriet's eyes. “Don't worry. Your head is fine. It says on your chart you were hit on the head last night. Tonight, it would seem, you were drugged. From the smell of your clothes when they brought you in, it was probably ether or something similar. You'll have a bit of a hangover, but other than that, you should be fine by morning. I'll call the doctor and see if we can give you another shot of Compazine to control your nausea."

  Harriet mumbled a thank-you and closed her eyes again. The woman picked up the pan and headed for the door.

  "I'll take care of this and be back to clean you up a little. Then if you feel like it, there's a gentleman outside who'd like to see you."

  True to her word, the nurse returned with a toothbrush and paste and a warm wet washcloth.

  "You just hold still and let me do the work,” she said. “The trigger for nausea is motion."

  She worked magic with a squirt bottle and several clean hand towels. Harriet had to admit, she did feel a tiny bit better.

  "You ready for your visitor?"

  "Give me a clue. Young? Old? Uniform?"

  "No uniform, very good-looking."

  Harriet nodded ever so slightly.

  "What happened?” Aiden said as he rushed into the room. He pulled a wheeled visitor's chair to the side of her bed and sat down, scooping her hand into his as he sat. “Mavis called and said you were going to your studio and she was worried about letting you go there alone. She said she tried to call you to check up and you didn't answer. She asked me to run by and see if you were all right. I passed the ambulance coming down your hill. I checked your studio, and the police were there—I guess Sarah Ness found you. I found Fred and locked him out of the studio so the police could do their thing."

  "Thanks,” Harriet mumbled. She pushed her suspicions aside and closed her eyes, knowing she was being weak but unable to fight it.

  The grey light of dawn made a pale rectangle of light on her bed the next time she woke up. A different nurse with a digital thermometer and a blood pressure cuff stood by her bedside.

  "This'll just take a minute,” she whispered. “I'll try not to wake your boyfriend. He can't have gotten much sleep wadded up in that chair.” She nodded her head toward an upholstered chair near the window.

  "He's not my boyfriend.” He could be the reason I'm here, she added to herself.

  "If he's not your boyfriend, he should be,” she said. “He hasn't left your side since you've been here. That's not easy to find in a man.” She wrote some numbers on Harriet's chart and left again.

  Harriet knew all about men who left. But the nurse was wrong. She didn't need a boyfriend, especially one who kept showing up without an excuse.

  She lay in her bed and listened to the rhythmic rise and fall of Aiden's breath. She must have dozed off again, because the next time she looked at the window bright light was streaming in.

  "Welcome back,” Aiden said. He was sitting in the wheeled chair beside her bed again. He held a cup of something steaming in his right hand. He swept the hair off her forehead with his left hand, his fingers trailing along the side of her face. “How do you feel?"

  She moved her head away from his hand. The area of the lump was still tender, but no nausea greeted her movement.

  "Better,” she said. “What happened to me?” she asked for a second time. “This time I want the long version."

  "I'd like to hear that one, too,” Officer Nguyen said from the door. “I stopped by to question you last night, but you were...” He paused. “...busy."

  Harriet moaned. She didn't remember much about last night, but she did know it had taken more than one dose of the anti-nausea drug before she had fallen into a drugged slumber.

 
"Let's start with Ms Truman's story. You can wait in the hall till I call you,” he said to Aiden. He pulled the visitor's chair up and sat down. His spicy cologne filled the room with its masculine scent.

  Harriet recounted the events from the night before. She started with her arrival at Aunt Beth's house and ended with waking in the hospital.

  "So, let's back up a little further,” Nguyen said. “It would seem that a lot of people knew you were staying with Ms Willis. Who knew you were going back to your house?"

  She thought for a minute. “Mavis, of course. Lauren Sawyer—I was there to work on her quilt. Someone had damaged it at the show in Tacoma, and we were repairing it.” She closed her eyes. “Sarah Ness. I had just taken her quilt off the machine when...” She trailed off.

  "When you were attacked?” Officer Nguyen suggested. “Was there anyone else?"

  "Aiden Jalbert. Mavis called him when she couldn't get hold of me—wait. I told him at the memorial that I was going to be working on Lauren's project. Oh, and Harold Minter. I went to coffee with him after the memorial service.” And Misty, she thought. She'd told her she had fabric for her at home. Maybe Misty had decided to take her up on it.

  "Can you think of anyone else?"

  "The quilt group all rode to the memorial service together. It wouldn't be outside the realm of possibility that they talked about it on their way home."

  "So, what do you have that someone wants bad enough to break into your home twice for?"

  "If I knew that, I'd be the first to tell you. As near as I can tell, they didn't take anything when they trashed the place. They ruined a few quilts and messed up a bunch of stuff."

  "Who would benefit if the quilts were damaged?"

  "No one. Well, the other quilt groups in the show, I guess. Lauren, maybe. I just can't believe anyone wants to win the competition that bad. It's not like there's some big prize. It's mainly about bragging rights."

  "Someone wanted something bad enough to come back for a second look.” He stood up. “Okay, Mr. Jalbert, you can come in now."

  Aiden returned and sat in the visitor's chair. Officer Nguyen moved to the wide windowsill.

  "Start with what you were doing before you went to Ms Truman's."

  "I was at my apartment—I have a studio over the vet clinic on Main Street. I was picking up my dog. I'd left her in the outside kennel at the clinic while I was at my mom's funeral. I took Randy for a walk around the block and had just poured her some kibbles when my phone rang."

  "Did you talk to anyone, see anyone?"

  "Only the dog,” he said with a tight smile. “The phone rang, I put Randy back outside and went to check on Harriet. I passed the ambulance on my way up the hill. I'm sure your buddies told you what I did after I got to the house."

  Officer Nguyen shut his notebook. “They did,” he said. “I'm sure we'll have more questions for you later, but this is enough for now.” He turned back to Harriet. “We'll have patrol cars swing by your house a couple of times a night, but I strongly recommend that you continue to stay with Ms Willis until we catch the guy that did this to you."

  "Okay, everybody out,” a square-shouldered doctor with a thin sandy-colored ponytail said from the door. “How are you feeling this morning, young lady?"

  Harriet tried to smile. “Better than when I came in."

  "You were lucky your friend found you so quickly. Ether is nasty stuff. It's pretty easy to overdo it. And they apparently left you facedown. You weren't breathing too well when we got you. Luckily, it wears off with time, and we gave you a few things to help the process. You should have no lasting effects. You were fortunate you didn't hit the bump on your head again.

  "You did pop a stitch, though, which probably happened when they were putting the oxygen mask on you. I'd like to go ahead and do a little repair on that, and then I think we can let you out of here."

  A nurse came in, and the doctor did a more thorough check of her vital signs then repaired the wound on the back of her head.

  He left, and Mavis came in, alone. Apparently, Aiden had gone without a backward glance.

  "Oh, honey,” Mavis said. “I knew I shouldn't have let you go to your house alone."

  "It's not your fault. I'm a big girl. Besides, it makes no sense that someone would come and drug me. How could you have anticipated that?"

  "My mama radar was working overtime. I knew you shouldn't go there, and I went ahead and let you go alone. Your aunt Beth is gonna kill me."

  "It's done and I'm fine, so how about we work on getting me out of here?"

  Mavis held out a paper bag. “The police took your clothes as evidence. The nurse said I should bring you an outfit, or they would be sending you home in scrubs."

  Harriet took the bag. She pulled out a new pair of jeans, a pink T-shirt and a purple sweatshirt. She could see packages of new socks and underwear in the bottom of the bag.

  "What's this?” she asked.

  "I wasn't about to go back to your house alone. I took a run to the Wal-Mart. You needed more clothes anyway."

  Harriet appreciated the effort, but she vowed to go shopping somewhere else as soon as she was able. Her old clothes may have been loose and black, but they were designer label loose and black.

  "You didn't need to go to so much trouble, but thank you."

  She eased herself to the edge of the bed and stood up. She'd been to the bathroom with the nurse earlier and had learned after a few missteps that moving slow was the key. She slowly changed out of the hospital gown and, with a little help from Mavis, got dressed.

  "Doctor wants to see you in a week,” the nurse said when she came with the requisite wheelchair. “And you need to take it easy for a few days. Try not to come in through the back door again,” she said with a smile.

  Mavis was waiting in the Town Car when the young Hispanic attendant wheeled Harriet out.

  "Nice ride,” he said with a smile that flashed a gold tooth.

  "Yeah, isn't it?"

  The young man set the brake and held Harriet's arm as she got out of the chair and into the car.

  "Thanks,” she said and waved as they drove off. She lowered her window when they were underway. The air was heavy with the salty smell of open water, and she breathed deep. The moist air made her feel stronger.

  "I'm taking you right home,” Mavis said.

  "I need to go to Aunt Beth's."

  "No way. We're going home and only home."

  "I have to get Fred. I can't just leave him. Aiden locked him in the kitchen. He's probably scared. It'll be fine. There are two of us, and the police are driving by often in case anyone comes back."

  "We just get the cat, and then we go home,” Mavis insisted.

  Harriet didn't argue. She had every intention of looking around her studio—there had to be more to the break-in. Whatever someone wanted, they wanted it bad enough to come back twice. And they weren't afraid to hurt her to get it.

  She didn't want it to be Aiden, but once again he was Johnny on the spot when she was hurt. And he had no alibi for the time before she was found.

  Mavis pulled up the hill and into the circular driveway.

  "In and out,” she ordered. “And we stick together."

  They got out of the car, and Mavis pulled a key from her purse and unlocked the door. It swung open, and she stood frozen on the threshold.

  "Will you look at that?” she said and pointed.

  A fluffy pile of shredded batting and slivers of multicolored cotton fabric sat on the floor by the cutting table. The predominant fabric color was red.

  "What is—or, rather, was—it?"

  Harriet stepped around her and knelt down by the heap. She picked up a handful and ran it through her fingers. She repeated the action twice more.

  "I think it used to be Lauren's quilt."

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Harriet grabbed Fred and his travel cage, his dishes and his bag of food. Mavis all but walked in the heels of her shoes, which made the task take twice a
s long as it might have.

  They were back at the cottage before they dared speak about what they'd seen.

  "Lauren is going to have kittens when she hears the news,” Mavis said. “In fact, I don't think you should tell her in person."

  "I have to tell her. Her quilt was in my possession when it got ruined."

  "But when it was damaged in the first place, you weren't there. In fact, if we hadn't arrived at the show when we did, it probably would have been destroyed on Monday."

  "I just don't get it. What could anyone gain by destroying Lauren's quilt?"

  "The real question is who would be willing to kill you to destroy Lauren's quilt?"

  The kettle Mavis had put on to heat whistled, and she got up and poured hot water into their waiting mugs. She set the mugs on the table and was putting homemade gingersnaps on a plate when the phone rang. She handed the cookies to Harriet and searched for the cordless phone. She found it on the table beside her chair in the living room and answered just as the caller hung up.

  "Dial star-six-nine,” Harriet suggested.

  She did, and Harriet could hear the phone on the other end ringing.

  "Hello?"

  Mavis listened, said a few uh-huh's and finished with “We'll be there."

  "Aren't you just the clever girl,” she said to Harriet when she keyed the phone off and returned it to its base. “That was Jenny. She said the Loose Threads want to meet tomorrow to deal with the project bags from Avanell's. What she didn't say is that they all want a first-hand account of what happened to you. I hope it's okay that I said you'd come."

  "If we're going to be joined at the hip, I guess I don't have a choice,” Harriet said. She realized she sounded like a petulant teenager, but she was tired and feeling boxed in.

  "I can call her back if you're not up to it,” Mavis said, trying to hide the hurt in her voice.

  "I'm sorry, it's not you. It's my life. Aunt Beth was right—I was hiding in Oakland. But I thought I came here to help her. Then I find out I'm really here to take over her business and start my life again. I was even starting to believe it could work when all hell broke loose. I'm living like a fugitive, afraid of I don't know what. My life in California might not have been perfect, but I was safe and free."