Arlene Sachitano - Quilt As Desired

"I'm not sure I want his help at this point. I can't get past the fact he's the one person who seems to have a convenient reason to be close by whenever something happens to me."

"I've known that boy his whole life. He could never harm anyone. He's a vet, for pity's sake. When he was a boy, he'd cry when he saw a dead squirrel in the road. And I've raised enough boys to be able to tell when one is sweet on a girl, and you mark my words-that boy is smitten with you."

"It's highly likely you're going to know whoever attacked me, and probably whoever killed Avanell, too. I don't want it to be Aiden, either, but until I figure it out, I can't take any chances."

Mavis didn't say anything. She picked up a plaid wool shirt jacket that had been her husband's and slipped her arms into the sleeves.

"Let's get this over with, then."

Harriet grabbed the purple sweatshirt and her purse and followed Mavis to the car. The silence during the ride was a bit strained. Mavis finally spoke as she pulled up to the curb a block away from Pins and Needles.

"You tell the group everything that's happened, and I'll bet they'll have some ideas about what's going on around here, and it won't be Aiden."

She got out of the car, locked it and headed up the block to the fabric store. Harriet had to hustle to keep up.

"Good morning, ladies,” Marjory said as they came through the front door. “Connie's in the breakroom making coffee, but no one else is here. How are you doing, Harriet? I heard you spent the night in the hospital again."

"I'm fine. I've got a little bit of a headache, but I'm much better than I was. I just wish I knew what was going on."

"It does seem like someone's got it in for you, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, that's the easy part. The why is what I don't get.” Maybe Jeanne still lives here, she thought.

"That's what we're going to try to figure out,” Mavis said. “As soon as everyone gets here."

Right on cue, the door opened and Robin McLeod and DeAnn Gault entered, each with a colored canvas totebag bearing a faded logo commemorating a quilt show many years past hooked over her arm. They dropped their bags and coats in the big classroom and went into the breakroom for coffee. Jenny Logan arrived carrying a wicker basket in one hand and a travel mug with a teabag string pinched between the lid and the rim in the other. She dropped her black leather coat on a chair, put her basket on the table and set about extracting the teabag from her mug.

Harriet's neck muscles tightened a little more with each arrival. Sarah Ness arrived in a cloud of complaints, and Darcy called to say she would be joining the group a little later and to save her some cookies. That left only Lauren. Hollywood couldn't have scripted it better.

She and the other quilters moved the worktables around to form one big rectangle then sat down with their stitching projects and hot drinks. Harriet picked a green-and-yellow baby quilt from Marjory's charity shelf then found a pastel rainbow-stripe fabric to bind it with. She cut binding strips then picked up one of the two sewing machines Marjory kept in the store for students who weren't able to bring one when they took a class. Connie gave her a spool of thread, and Mavis provided scissors. She had machine-stitched the binding about halfway around when Lauren entered carrying a red totebag with a stylized cat appliqued on its side.

"Oh, Harriet, I'm glad you're here. I can reapply the binding to my quilt and then take it back to Tacoma this afternoon. That way, it can at least be on display for the weekend. They expect the largest crowd on Saturday."

The room had gone silent.

"What?” she said. She looked around the table. “Where's my quilt?"

Mavis looked at Harriet and then pulled a large Ziploc bag from her tote. She set the bag of scraps she'd scooped from Harriet's floor the night before onto the table.

Lauren looked around for an explanation. Mavis opened the bag and dumped the contents on the table in front of her. The younger woman picked a handful of the fluff up with stiff fingers. The color drained from her face.

"Lauren,” Harriet began, “I'm really sorry."

Lauren dropped straight down, her tailbone hitting with a jarring thud on the edge of her chair. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.

"After the memorial service, I took your quilt to my studio,” Harriet continued. She didn't think the other quilters needed to know about her date with Harold. “I had Sarah's on the machine, but it was finished. I took it off and laid it on the big cutting table and was trimming threads when someone knocked me out. The next thing I knew I was in the hospital. Mavis picked me up the next morning, and when we went back to the studio to finish your quilt…” She looked at Mavis, hoping she wouldn't expose the small lie. “All we found was this.” She pointed to the pile of quilting debris.

"How could you?” Lauren finally choked out. “I can understand you wanted Avanell's quilt to win the competition, especially with her being dead and all, but why did you have to destroy mine?” She looked at Harriet and burst into tears.

"Get her a cup of tea,” Mavis ordered Connie.

The small woman got up and hurried to the breakroom. DeAnn pulled a handful of tissues from her purse and handed them to Mavis. Mavis dabbed at Lauren's face then pressed the tissues into her hand. She patted it.

"It's going to be okay, you'll see."

Lauren looked up, her face red in uneven patches and wet with tears.

"It won't be okay, ever. This was my chance. I used my credit card to pay for advertising, and to have patterns printed up and I needed the win. Avanell didn't care if she won or not. Couldn't she have just stepped aside this once and let me have my chance? Was that so much to ask?"

"Diós mio,” Connie said as she came back and set a cup of steaming tea beside Lauren. “You can make another one. And if you were silly enough to spend money you didn't have, well, that's your mistake. Avanell is dead. She didn't do anything to you."

Lauren turned back to Harriet. “I trusted you with my quilt,” she accused.

Harriet stood up.

"I'm sorry about your quilt, but I can't do this right now.” She turned off the sewing machine and left the room. She saw Connie start to follow, but Mavis stopped her.

"Just give her a few minutes,” she heard her say.

She went into the retail area of the store and was looking at a row of new arrivals without really seeing the fabric when she glimpsed Misty outside the store window.

"Misty, wait,” she called as she hurried to the door and stepped onto the sidewalk.

Misty turned the corner and disappeared. Harriet broke into a run and rounded the same corner. She stopped and didn't see anyone. She was about to turn back when she heard a soft voice.

"Hush, little baby, don't say a word,” the voice sang tunelessly.

Harriet continued slowly up the block. Misty was huddled on the stoop of an abandoned office suite. A faint odor of rotting food permeated the area. Misty pressed her body against the doorjamb.

"It's okay,” Harriet said softly. “I don't want to hurt you. I just want to talk."

"Mama's gonna buy you a mockin'bird…"

"Will you let me help you?"

She didn't answer. She stopped singing and started picking at a patch of raw skin on her elbow. A trickle of blood snaked down her forearm. Harriet took a step toward her, but Misty cringed away, so she crouched down in front of her.

"Misty, can you tell me what happened to Avanell at the factory a few nights ago? Were you there?” She felt a brief stab of guilt-Misty had enough problems of her own. But this couldn't wait.

Misty started humming, occasionally breaking into song for a few phrases. Harriet listened.