Arlene Sachitano - Quilter's Knot

"I'm sorry,” she stammered. “I thought I could cut through a classroom and get there more directly.” Her face was flaming hot.

"Let's try this again. Who are you hiding from?” Tom sat on the edge of his table.

"Is it that obvious?"

"It's been my experience that people don't usually close a door with that much care unless they are trying to avoid detection. So, tell me, do you have an angry stalker? Or maybe a quilting rival?"

Harriet pulled out the nearest chair and sat down.

"I'm afraid it's nothing that exciting. It is embarrassing, though, which is why I'm hiding from my friends."

Tom dragged over a chair and sat down opposite her, taking her hand.

"It can't be that bad,” he said “You can tell Uncle Tommy. Come on, you'll feel better."

"I'm not sure how publicly confessing my social ineptness is going to make me feel better."

"Try it and see,” he urged with a wolfish grin.

"You're right, this evening can't get any worse.” She proceeded to tell him about being stood up, and how her rational mind knew Aiden had probably gotten stuck in surgery, but that her irrational mind didn't want to be seen by Sarah or Lauren, both of whom knew she was supposed to be meeting Aiden and both of whom would not be able to resist making a comment.

"See? Don't you feel better?"

"No, I feel foolish, and I feel awful for dumping my silly problems on you when your mother is in the hospital. How is she doing, by the way?"

"I think the jury is still out on that. Her cardiologist isn't sure what's going on with her heart. Apart, that is, from her being seventy-five years old and still working at a demanding business. She was awake and insisted I come take care of business. Her doctor is hoping to know more tomorrow when they get some of her test results back."

"I'm sorry,” Harriet said.

"I've tried to get her to slow down a little, maybe hire another assistant, but she insists she and Patience can handle things."

"Maybe she'll listen to you now."

"I doubt it, but one can hope. Now, back to your problem. Why don't you let me show you the exhibit? I'm sure your friends won't say anything in front of me. And then maybe you could join me for a late dinner."

"I'd love to have a tour of the exhibit, but I should call Aiden after that and see if he finished at the clinic. He's probably starving if he's been in surgery all this time."

"Fair enough,” he said. “I'll take whatever time I can with the lovely lady.” He smiled his rakish smile at her. She had to admit he was charming. “Now, let me show you a real shortcut,” he said and led her to the opposite side of the room and through a door that opened into the central supply room. He turned left as he guided her across a circular space and through another door into the large windowed room that held the main exhibit.

"This first section features work by a group of advanced students who worked with experimental glazes,” he said and pointed to an array of four-inch tiles artfully arranged on a pale green wall. They ranged from finely textured pastel colors to ones that looked like pieces of wet stone. “These bowls,” he said, and gestured toward a dozen bowls on a tabletop, each of which sat on a color-coordinated hand-woven mat, “are from a throwing technique class. Notice how thin they are-the more skilled the potter, the thinner the wall of the bowl."

"These are amazing,” Harriet said. “How do-"

Before she could finish, Tom pulled her around a free-standing display wall, turning her away from the crowd and putting his arm around her shoulders. The momentum jostled her into the back of a tall man who was looking at a free-form piece on a wooden pedestal.

"Excuse me,” Harriet apologized.

And turned to find herself looking into the ice-blue eyes of Aiden Jalbert.

"I'm sorry,” Tom explained, “your friends were coming around the corner."

"I assumed you were too busy to call,” Aiden said. “I can see I was right."

"Why aren't you in surgery?” Harriet demanded.

The muscle in Aiden's jaw tensed.

"Have you seen enough? I'm hungry,” said a tall, slender blonde with a pixie haircut and gold pirate hoop earrings. She had a little girl's voice and was wearing black-and-white striped tights and a strip of leather that might have been a skirt. She looped her arm through Aiden's and pulled him toward the door. He turned as he went and looked back at Harriet, the hurt plain on his face.

"I'm guessing that was your date?” Tom said.

Harriet nodded. She stood rooted in place, looking at the door.

"Come on,” Tom said, and pulled her through yet another door into the center room. “Let's go get something to eat."

The shock of seeing Aiden with the blonde prevented her from protesting. By the time she could speak, she was already outside, following him down a wooded path that led to a gravel parking lot.

"I think I want to go back to the Tree House,” she said.

"Do you really think facing your friends back there and trying to explain what happened is going to be easier on an empty stomach?” he asked. “Besides, wouldn't you rather come home late from a date with a mysterious stranger and keep them guessing?"

"When you put it that way, how can I refuse?"

"That's what I thought.” He opened the passenger door of a black Ford Explorer.

He pulled out of the parking lot and followed the access road off the school property. When they reached the crossroad, he turned toward Angel Harbor.

"What kind of food do you feel like?” he asked as they approached the downtown area.

"I'm not really hungry,” Harriet said in a flat tone. A small voice in her head was telling her she should have known better than to trust a man again. Her husband Steve had lied to her. Look where that had gotten him. He was dead. She'd sworn she was never going to trust a man again, hadn't she?

"Italian? Wow, that's just what I was thinking,” Tom said as he pulled to the curb.

When he'd parked, he got out and came around and opened Harriet's door. “Come on, help me out here. If I have to undo your seatbelt I'm going to feel like I'm with my grandmother instead of out on a hot date."

She finally smiled.

"What? Was that a smile I saw?” Tom asked hopefully.

Harriet laughed. “I'm sorry. I'm acting like a sulky teenager, and you're being nothing but charming."

"Hey, I'll take what I can get. It's not every day a beautiful woman breaks into my business meetings, and a damsel in distress, at that. I'll guarantee that things will seem better by the time dinner is over."

"I feel better already,” Harriet said and wanted to believe it.

Tom led her into the restaurant.

"Hey,” said a dark-haired man with a white cloth apron tied around his waist.

"Hey, Giovanni. Got a quiet corner where we can drown our sorrows in pasta?"

"Right this way,” he said with a not-too-subtle wink at Tom.

"I suppose you come here all the time.” Harriet realized she'd probably be the topic of tomorrow's gossip. At least she didn't know anyone in Angel Harbor.

"I might have been here a time or two."

"Please tell me you don't take all your first dates here."

"Okay, I won't. Tell you, that is.” His eyes danced as he tried not to laugh.

Harriet sighed. This was turning into a nightmare. “Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.” She started to get up.

"Fine,” he said. “The truth is, I don't date.” Harriet's discomfort turn to horror. “I'm not married or anything,” he added quickly.

She sat back down, letting her relief show on her face. She wasn't about to complicate her life by dating someone who was already entangled.

"I was married,” he continued, “but I've been divorced for two years."