Arlene Sachitano: Quilt By Association

The fourth book in the Harriet Truman / Loose Threads Mystery series, 2010

OIt looks hideous,” Harriet Truman stated. She pushed her chair back from the table and stood up. “Anyone else need a refill?” She held up her empty mug and looked at each of her fellow Loose Threads in turn. Several raised their cups, and Harriet took them, cradling her own in her elbow.

"I'll help,” Robin McLeod said. She picked up the mugs of the two women on either side of her and joined Harriet in the small kitchen of Pins and Needles, Foggy Point, Washington's, best and only quilt store.

Harriet filled the large electric kettle and turned it on. Robin did the same with the coffeemaker then proceeded to execute a painful-looking yoga maneuver. She inhaled deeply then slowly let her breath out.

"I don't think more tea is going to help,” Harriet said as she dropped fresh tea bags into the mugs. “But staring at those blocks isn't getting us anywhere."

When the drinks were ready, they returned to the women seated around a large table in the bigger of the two classrooms at the back of Pins and Needles. Having distributed the hot beverages, they returned to their own seats.

The Loose Threads quilt group had turned the interior wall of the classroom into a makeshift design wall by tacking a large flannel-lined plastic tablecloth, flannel side out, onto it. Assorted quilt blocks were arranged on the flannel, and they studied the resulting pattern as they sipped their tea.

"I'll say it if no one else will,” Connie Escorcia said. She stood to emphasize her point, an effect lost thanks to her less than five feet of height. “This is a disaster. Our quilt blocks all look great by themselves, but together?” She broke into rapid-fire Spanish that even Harriet, who was fluent in seven languages, couldn't follow.

"There has to be some way to make them work,” Harriet's aunt Beth insisted.

"Don't waste your time,” Lauren Sawyer said as she entered from the hallway. She went to an empty place at the table and set her canvas quilting bag and stainless steel travel mug down before pulling out the chair and sitting.

"Would you like to explain?” Aunt Beth asked.

"The rival gang is meeting at the senior living center right now, and they have this same quilt on their wall, only theirs looks good,” Lauren reported. “Sarah asked me to help-by that, I mean she sat at her desk and I did the work-install a software upgrade on the center computers. When I walked by the cafeteria, I noticed they had a design wall up, so I made an excuse to go in, and the Small Stitches were there working on their raffle quilt. I'm telling you, theirs looks good."

Connie collapsed into her chair. “Dios mio."

"I thought they were doing a Maggie Walker appliqué pattern,” said Jenny Logan, one of the group's more mature members.

"I'm telling you, they've changed their plan,” Lauren insisted. “They have twelve appliquéd blocks, each one with the face of a dog-our Rottweiler.” She pointed to one of the blocks on the wall. “Only they all used the same six shades of brown and black, and they used the same background for all the blocks."

"Using the same background would have helped us,” Jenny mused.

"Help me understand the rules again,” Harriet said. “I thought this was a benefit, not a competition."

"It is a benefit-for the Foggy Point Animal Shelter,” Mavis Willis replied. At seventy, she was currently the group's most senior quilter. “In the old days, the Clallum County Quilt Guild was the only quilt group in town. They provided one raffle quilt plus a stack of functional doggie quilts every year at the shelter fundraiser.

"As the Guild grew, smaller groups formed, and each year one of those groups had the task of making the raffle quilt. The shelter's needs also grew, and somewhere along the line, all the groups started making quilts for the event. One is chosen to be the raffle quilt, and the rest are sold in a silent auction. Any unsold quilts are donated to the shelter for functional use."

"So, our quilt could end up in a dog cage if it's too ugly,” Harriet said.

"We would never turn in anything that was in danger of that happening,” Jenny protested.

"Having your quilt chosen for the raffle is a matter of group pride,” Aunt Beth explained.

"One this group takes very seriously,” Connie added. “We've won every year but one since I've been retired. How long has that been?” she asked Mavis.

"Long enough,” Mavis replied.

"Nothing in the rules says we can't submit more than one quilt,” Robin said. An attorney by trade, she always knew the rules. “Let's set these blocks aside and see if we can come up with an idea for them later. I say we pack it in for today and meet again tomorrow to brainstorm ideas for a new quilt."

"I'll go reserve the room,” Jenny said and got up from the table.

Harriet leaned back in her chair.

"I'd like to know how they ended up with our same design."

"Well, duh,” Lauren said. “Don't you think dog faces are an obvious choice for an animal shelter raffle?"

"I guess.” Harriet gathered her scissors, thread and pincushion and put them back in her tote bag. “I've got a quilt on the long-arm machine I have to finish. I'll see you all tomorrow."

I don't suppose you have any ideas,” Harriet asked her fluffy gray cat Fred the next morning. Fred wove in and out of her ankles then meowed. “I know-you'd make it a cat quilt."

"Who are you talking to?” Aunt Beth asked as she came into Harriet's sunny yellow kitchen. “I see you've got that purple quilt off the machine."

Beth had let herself in through the studio she'd added when she became a long-arm quilter, having owned the house for more than thirty years before giving both it and the shop to her niece earlier in the year.

"How late did you have to stay up to finish it?"

"Not all that late. Aiden canceled dinner, so I grabbed a quick snack and kept working until it was finished."

"Trouble in paradise?"

"He's leaving for Ephrata.” Harriet looked at her watch. “In about two hours."

"What's he doing in eastern Washington?"

"He's not supposed to be talking about it, so you have to promise not to tell everyone,” Harriet cautioned. She knew her aunt could keep a secret when she had to, so she continued. “A really bad pet hoarder situation was raided a week and a half ago. So far, they've kept it from the press, but Aiden says it's horrendous.

"It's by far the biggest animal abuse case in the history of Washington State and maybe even in the country-just awful. And it's hard on the vets who have to work on the animals, both physically and emotionally, so they rotate them in and out from animal clinics all over the state."

"I suppose Aiden has to go because he's still the newest vet in the clinic,” Aunt Beth guessed.

"Actually, it's because of the research he was doing in Uganda. He also worked at a free clinic in his village, and I think he saw more extreme problems than the average vet stateside."

Harriet got Fred's prescription cat food from the refrigerator and scooped a gob into his fish-shaped ceramic dish.

"How long will he be gone?"

"He said their schedule is a work in progress. The first vets on the scene worked thirty-six hours straight and then collapsed. They're hoping he can stay a week. He thinks he'll be able to do more, but that could be his youth speaking."

"Are you ever going to let go of the fact that he's ten years younger than you?” Aunt Beth scolded. “Age isn't all about the calendar, you know."