Arlene Sachitano: Quilt By Association

"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 custody 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 dog wood 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."

"Yeah, and if you believe that, I've got a bridge I'd like to sell you,” Lauren said.

"You ladies can go on ahead to the community center whenever you're ready,” Aunt Beth said. “I'm going to wait for Phyl to get here, in case she needs help setting up to sew her binding on."