Quilt by Association

by Arlene Sachitano

  "I'm always nice. Especially when I want to be sure we get the latest information from the police."

  "I'll take you to the doctor Monday morning for your follow-up,” Mavis said. “Beth wanted to be sure she had the extra time for Phyl's quilt if she needs it."

  "You guys make me feel like I'm twelve when you arrange my affairs without asking me.” It wasn't the first time Harriet had mentioned this, but her heart wasn't really in the argument this time, since she wouldn't able to drive herself until the cast was off, and she had to admit all the pampering had been sort of pleasant.

  "What are we going to do about Iloai?” she asked. “I know Lauren thinks we should let the detectives handle it, but I think we owe it to DeAnn and her family to warn them what's about to happen. And I'm not sure it's an issue for the local police. I'm wondering if we should talk it over with Phyllis before we do anything else, too. I mean, Joseph is her employee, and if he's been involved with stealing children, she could be liable. At the very least, she'd know how to handle it."

  "We don't even know for sure Joseph was involved,” Mavis pointed out. “The orphanage on the other end might have pulled the switch. We need to talk it over with your aunt in the morning, but I agree we need to tell DeAnn before anything else happens."

  "Are we having a Threads meeting on Monday, or are people just dropping off quilts?"

  "I think people want to meet. Jenny and Robin both left me messages with reasons we needed to get together as a group, but I think they just want to know what's going on."

  "I'd like to see Connie and find out what, if anything, is happening with Kissa."

  "I'm curious about that myself—I haven't spoken to her today. Do you feel like watching a show?” Mavis asked, ending their discussion of quilts, The Loose Threads and the recent troubles.

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  Chapter 38

  "Do you think any of the Threads would be willing to volunteer to hold dogs?” Aiden asked the next day when he and Harriet were on their way to breakfast.

  "What do you mean?"

  "It's just a theory at this point, but I think these hoarded dogs would heal faster if we began the process of socialization. I want to try having volunteers come sit with the them, one on one, and pet them and hold them and generally give them attention. None of them are so big they couldn't sit in a lap."

  "I'm sure they would. Well, Sarah won't, and Lauren will complain first, but I think everyone else would be happy to do it. Where will you be doing this?"

  "Dr. Johnson said we could set up one of the storerooms with rocking chairs and a television and DVD player."

  "Sounds nice, actually."

  Aiden drove down to the waterfront in Smuggler's Cove and parked in front of a small storefront restaurant with a view of the dock. They both had eggs cooked in a cup-shaped slice of organic Black Forest ham. Cinnamon toast and sliced fruit completed the meal. Aiden drank coffee while Harriet sipped tea. For once, they met no one they knew and were able to enjoy a relaxing meal.

  "Want to play hooky and go for a drive?” Aiden asked. “Dr. Johnson told everyone they couldn't call me unless it was a dire emergency, which didn't include simple re-stitching jobs."

  Harriet agreed, and he did take her for a drive—to Port Angeles. They went to a double feature movie then drove to Port Townsend and had sushi at Ichikawa.

  "I can see why Ichikawa keeps winning the best Japanese food in Jefferson County award,” Harriet said as he paid the bill and they made their way to the front of the downtown eatery. He kept his hand lightly against her back as they strolled down the sidewalk.

  "I'm glad they caught Joseph,” he said.

  "Me, too. I just wish I knew why he attacked me."

  "Besides the fact you were trespassing and being a peeping Tom or Tomasina or whatever girl voyeurs are called?"

  "Do you think he could get off because of that?"

  "I'd be more worried about you getting arrested than him getting off. I haven't heard anyone say yet that they actually have any evidence against Joseph in the murder of either Rodney or Neelie. Given what you've dug up on them, it's quite possible someone connected to them followed them here and murdered them."

  "If that's true, we've ruined Joseph's career and maybe his life by helping make him a suspect."

  "That's what I was thinking,” Aiden said. “Almost makes you hope he's guilty."

  "If he isn't guilty, he's acting pretty weird. You saw how stressed he was at the coffee shop and then he no-showed at work and disappeared when I was attacked and Rodney was killed."

  "He could just be scared. Wouldn't you be, if everyone in town thought you were a murderer?"

  "I don't know what to think,” Harriet said with a sigh. “I wish Neelie Obote never came to our town with her pretend baby and claims about her nonexistent dead sister."

  "If what you learned from her foster mother is correct, it's her town, too. She was coming home."

  "I know I'm not being generous but I don't care if this was home. She should have stayed away."

  "With Joseph in jail and my dogs all on the mend, maybe we can leave the drama behind and get on with our mad, passionate love affair."

  "Don't even think the word affair around my aunt or Mavis,” Harriet warned as he stopped and pulled her into his arms for a slow kiss, ending all discussion.

  "Where have you been?” Aunt Beth asked from the porch as Harriet hobbled up the path toward the front door.

  "We went to breakfast,” Harriet replied with a smile.

  "For eight hours?"

  "It was a long breakfast."

  She made her way into Aunt Beth's living room and sat down on the sofa.

  "I'd like to go home,” she said.

  "Honey, I know you were jerked around by your parents, and I know that left you feeling helpless. I also know that you compensate by being stubborn about your independence. Ordinarily, I'd try real hard to respect that, but tonight, I'm just too pooped to peep.

  "As long as you're on crutches, you need help, whether you think so or not. Mavis or I would have to go to your house, and after running the long arm machine all day, I just want to sit in my chair and watch one of my programs and then go to bed. Tomorrow, when you get your walking cast, I'll move you back home."

  Harriet held out her hand, and her aunt came to sit beside her on the couch.

  "I'm sorry. I'm being selfish. I do appreciate how much work it is for you when I'm out of commission. Not only have you taken good care of me and Fred, but you've had to do all my quilting. Meanwhile, I'm acting like a spoiled brat."

  "Oh, honey. You're allowed to be out of sorts when you're hurting."

  "I'll just take myself off to bed and you can rest."

  Aunt Beth offered and Harriet declined both dinner and a snack. She and Aiden had gotten ice cream cones for the trip home, and she was pretty sure she'd never be hungry again.

  "I think I'll go upstairs and read,” she said. “I enjoyed my day out, but I am pretty tired, and tomorrow is a big day,” she said and wiggled her encased foot.

  "See you in the morning,” Aunt Beth said with a yawn.

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  Chapter 39

  "Don't stress out if it takes longer than an hour at the doctor,” Aunt Beth said as she picked up her purse and coat the next morning. “I've got a little more to go on Phyl's quilt, so I'll be at your house when the Threads arrive. I can entertain them until you get done."

  "I thought you said Phyl's quilt was going to be simple,” Harriet said. She balanced on her good foot as she reached into the coat closet and pulled out her gray hoodie and put it on. She was wearing jeans that had the side seam split open to the knee to accommodate the soon-to-be-removed cast.

  "It could have been, but I'm doing a dense stippling pattern in the cream-colored background areas. It looks real nice, but it's taking me a little time."

  "Anyone waiting for a taxi?” Mavis asked with a smile as she came through
the door without knocking.

  "I promise, I'll make this up to you two,” Harriet said. “I'll drive you everywhere when you're not allowed to drive anymore."

  "Honey, I plan on going to my grave with the keys to my Town Car in my hand,” Mavis said and laughed.

  "I'll see you ladies at Harriet's,” Beth said as they all went outside.

  Harriet wasn't sure how it was that you could have the first appointment of the day at the clinic and still be made to wait for twenty minutes before they called you in. She spent another twenty minutes getting the heavy cast removed before she was able to finally move into the doctor's examination room.

  The wait turned out to be worth it when Dr. Eisner came in and proclaimed her healing process to be better than average and offered her a lighter, removable air cast if she would promise to continue to mostly use her crutches for another week. She agreed, and after a few probing touches to her still-tender kidney, she was released back into Mavis's care.

  "Well, what did he say?” Mavis asked when they were back in the car.

  "He said I was healing nicely. He said if I use my crutches most of the time, I can wear this removable air cast."

  "We should be only fashionably late to the Threads meeting,” Mavis said. “What did he say about your kidney?"

  Harriet gave her a full report as they drove back to her house, where they found the driveway full of Loose Threads cars.

  "Harriet,” Lauren said as she came through the door to the studio, “I was just telling DeAnn you'd found some really interesting information on your computer."

  "Lauren,” Harriet said in exasperation, “what happened to not running the world and letting the detective deal with things?"

  "Oh, so if you meddle it's a virtue, but if I open my mouth I'm a troublemaker?” Lauren grabbed her long blond hair and swept it off her shoulders to her back.

  "What are you two talking about?” DeAnn asked.

  Harriet glared at Lauren, who merely shrugged and turned to talk to Jenny, who was sitting on her left. She looked for Mavis or her aunt, but neither woman was in the studio. They were probably in the kitchen getting refreshments.

  "If you know something, spill it,” Robin urged. She was dressed in the fall version of her usual yoga outfit, the seasonal difference being that her black stretchy pants were full-length and she'd added a fitted pastel hoodie to her costume. Her clothing might have been casual, but she was using her best courtroom voice, and Harriet found it very compelling.

  "This is more of a show than a tell,” Harriet said, and crossed to her computer desk. She turned the machine on and pulled up the website with the picture of the Samoan family. She'd also e-mailed herself a copy of Lauren's cleaned-up version of the picture, and she displayed that, too.

  DeAnn was silent. A minute passed, then two. Without saying anything, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed the tollfree number listed on the screen under the picture. She listened, and then said, “English."

  Harriet returned to the sitting area, giving DeAnn privacy to deal with what had to be a very painful conversation. Robin joined her.

  "That's really tough,” Harriet said.

  "I'm sure DeAnn's thinking it's nothing compared to what that family has to have been going through, thinking they might have lost their daughter forever."

  "So, what's the next step?"

  "I'm going to recommend to DeAnn they have a DNA test done, just to be certain, but I imagine they could learn all they need to know by showing the picture to the little girl."

  "Should we call Phyllis?"

  "She'll have to be told, so she can figure out where the breakdown in her system occurred. It could be Joseph, or it could be they were dealing with a corrupt person on the other end who produced good quality forgeries for the required documents,” Robin explained. “I don't think she needs to be involved right now. This...” She pointed to DeAnn. “...will be between two families and be about doing what's right. The blame game can come after that."

  "I need to go home,” DeAnn said when she'd finished her phone call. “The quilt is in my bag. Can you deal with it?” she asked Robin.

  Robin assured her her family should take precedence and offered to drive her home, but DeAnn insisted she was okay to drive.

  "It's really for the best, don't you think?” Lauren said when DeAnn was gone.

  "Actually, yes,” Harriet snapped. “I do. My problem is with you. We agreed to one thing, and then you did the exact opposite. If we're going to work together on projects, it isn't going to work for me if you always do the opposite of what we agree on."

  "That's a two-way street, you know,” Lauren fired back.

  "Shall we look at the quilts, ladies?” Connie stood, speaking in her best schoolteacher tone, silencing them both.

  A knock sounded on the door, and Carla came in with Wendy balanced on one hip and a canvas quilting bag on the opposite shoulder.

  "I hope it's okay that I brought Wendy with me,” she said. “We're going to Toddler Time at the library when we're done."

  Connie took the little girl from her.

  "Wendy's always welcome,” she said and tickled the child's tummy, causing her to shriek in delight.

  Carla sat on one of the folding chairs Aunt Beth had set up in a circle around Harriet's gray easy chair.

  "I'll start,” Jenny said, and unfolded the dog-bone appliqué wall hanging. She turned it around so the chocolate-brown back showed, revealing the label and sleeve, both sewn into their proper place with almost invisible stitches.

  "That came out really nice,” Harriet said. “The dog faces capture the essence of small dogs everywhere."

  "I love the way the flower stems intertwine with the bones to form the wreaths,” Robin said.

  "Kind of makes you feel sorry for the Small Stitches and the bone blocks they're copying,” Lauren said.

  "Why is that?” Sarah asked. “If they do a decent job of copying my design, they should be great blocks."

  "I'm sure they won't copy them with anywhere near the skill you made the original with,” Lauren said with a wicked smile. “It's really too bad we couldn't use them, but after they copied them it was out of the question."

  Harriet whacked her on the arm.

  "Behave yourself,” she muttered, but she couldn't stop herself from smiling.

  The group revealed the rest of the quilts one by one, oohing and ahhing over the finishing work and the overall result. Mavis's and Beth's snowball quilt had come out beautifully, and Harriet's tumbling block design with its three-dimensional effect was striking. The star block quilt had perfect points and charming fussy-cut dog images. Connie and Lauren's doghouse quilt was raised from nice to exceptional thanks to their skilled choices of color. They declared themselves as done as they were going to get, and Aunt Beth retreated to the kitchen to fetch a plate of brownies Jenny had brought.

  "Have you had any news about Kissa?” Robin asked Connie.

  "Absolutely nothing,” Connie replied. “I've taken her for her well baby exams, and other than being a little underweight for her age, she's healthy. She's meeting all her developmental milestones, too."

  "Do they have any idea where she came from?” Lauren asked.

  "She seems to be African, but that's guesswork on our part. So far, no missing person reports match her. They did a simple blood-type matching between her and Neelie Obote and Rodney Miller and she doesn't match either of them, but that only rules them out as potential parents as a couple. One of them could still be her parent if you assume she got her blood type from the unknown parent."

  "So, what will happen to her?” Jenny asked.

  "Officially, she's in foster care. If they find no one to claim her, I imagine she'll become a ward of the state and eventually be eligible for adoption—hopefully by someone younger than Rodrigo and me."

  "Has anyone heard any more about who killed Rodney Miller or Neelie Obote?” Carla asked.

  "All I know is they have Joseph Marston in cus
tody and he's not speaking,” Harriet said. “Aiden was pointing out that, given the fact we now think Rodney was Neelie's pimp, there's a good chance someone followed them here and all of it had nothing to do with Foggy Point or anyone who lives here."

  "Rodney was a pimp?” Sarah said, the excitement clear in her voice.

  "Coffee or tea, anyone,” Aunt Beth asked, before she could get started.

  The Threads ate brownies, sipped coffee or tea and congratulated themselves on a job well done. They were divided whether they thought Harriet's tumbling block design, Jenny's dog-bone wreaths or the doghouse quilt would be chosen for the raffle quilt. They agreed that while Beth's and Connie's quilt was quite lovely, the fact they had used dogwood fabric instead of actual dog fabric would go against it in the judging.

  "Can everyone come help hang the quilts this morning?” Aunt Beth asked. “The judging is supposed to start at two."

  Sarah assured everyone the senior center would grind to a halt if she didn't rush back and put things right. This, of course, was not unexpected, as this was the excuse she always used when there was work to be done. Carla had to take Wendy to story time, and the group assured her Wendy's library time was more important than hanging quilts. She apologized profusely then left, baby once more on her hip.

  The phone rang, and Aunt Beth answered, speaking in low tones to her caller. When she'd finished, she turned to Harriet.

  "That was Phyl. I told her I'd finished her quilt, and I hope I didn't speak out of turn, but I said that if she'd bring her binding over and machine stitch it to her quilt, you wouldn't mind doing the hand-stitching part, since you have to sit in your chair with your foot up while we go hang quilts."

  "That's fine with me,” Harriet said. “At least then I'll feel like I'm contributing something, even if it is for the other team."

  "Now, honey,” Mavis said. “You know all the quilts go for the same good cause. It doesn't matter who makes the raffle quilt as long as it brings in a lot of money for the shelter."