Arlene Sachitano - Quilt As Desired

She also wondered if Aiden's easy acceptance of their age difference would stand the test of time. Sure, he might find her attractive while she was not yet forty, but would he feel the same when she was fifty or sixty? Not that he had suggested a long-term relationship, but she'd already loved one man who'd promised her a future he didn't provide. She wasn't anxious to set herself up only to end up alone again. Her heart couldn't take it.

She looked back at Mavis. She did look like she could use a little rest. Harriet had brought a lot of excitement into her life in the last few days.

"Okay, I guess a little fresh air wouldn't hurt,” she said.

"Randy will be happy to hear that. Do you have a coat?"

Harriet picked up her purple sweatshirt and put it back on.

"Let's go then."

He led the way to his rental car. Randy was curled up on the backseat next to the box of personal items Aiden had removed from Avanell's office at the Vitamin Factory. The dog bounded out of the car when he opened the door and ran into the bushes to take care of personal business.

"Kind of sad when your whole career at a place can be reduced to two cardboard boxes,” he said, indicating them.

"Have you gone through the stuff to see if there's anything that could shed light on what happened to your mother?"

He looked at her long and hard. “I didn't fall off the turnip truck yesterday, you know."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be presumptuous.” She was silent for a moment. “Did you find anything?"

"My mother had very few personal items at the factory. She kept her awards and business gifts at her home office."

"So, what did you find?” Harriet asked. She was pretty sure she knew the answer, but she wanted to hear what he said anyway.

He unfolded the flap on the first box. “We have a tissue box cover decorated with seashells.” He held it up then put it back. “Some sort of voodoo hat.” He displayed the small stuffed pincushion, glass-headed straight pins stabbed in its crown.

"It's her pincushion,” she explained.

He set it back in the box.

"Here we have a broken hand mirror and a hairbrush with glass fragments stuck in the rubber handle. I'm not sure why she kept a broken mirror, but it must have some significance."

"Wait,” Harriet said. “Maybe she kept it because it wasn't broken. Maybe it only broke when whatever happened to her happened."

Aiden turned the mirror and looked at it from all angles. “If it means something, I'm not sure what it would be.” He set it back in the box and picked up the brush. “I can't imagine this brush being involved in anything sinister. I think it had the misfortune of being in close proximity to the mirror after it broke.” He replaced the brush and retrieved the mug with the faded casino logo on its side. “This is a mug Uncle Bertie and Aunt Sheryl brought Mom the first time they went to Las Vegas.” He returned it to the box. “There's not much else here. A bunch of pictures of us kids, some red fabric scraps, not much else. I left the bathroom supplies. Whoever Bertie hired to replace Mom…"

His voice trailed off, and his eyes filled with tears. Harriet took the framed picture he had been holding from his hand, put it in the box and shut the car door.

"I think Randy's ready now,” she said and took his hand.

She led him away from the car toward the edge of the woods. Randy was sniffing and pawing at the ground. When she saw Aiden moving toward her, she ran to him and danced around his feet, wagging her curved tail. He bent down, and she rapidly licked his face, wiping away the tears that had threatened to spill down his cheeks. He smiled and ruffled the hair on the dog's head.

"Let's follow this path down to the water. The founding fathers decided Foggy Point's beaches should have a buffer from civilization, so they created a long narrow green space that runs from Smugglers Cove all the way to the Point. We can connect up to a trail that goes to my mom's house."

"How do you know so much about the secret paths around here?” Harriet asked, hoping to distract him.

"Four years of running cross-country at Foggy Point High School. I think we ran every road, trail or animal path on this peninsula. It comes in handy now. There are short cuts through almost every neighborhood if you just know where to look."

Given recent events, she didn't find that fact very comforting.

"Follow me,” Aiden said and headed down the path, Randy hot on his heels.

They'd gone less than a thousand feet when the woods thinned out and the path joined the trail that circled the end of the peninsula. Harriet could now see the water. Randy ran through the remaining brush to the water's edge. In this area, there wasn't anything you could call a beach. A weedy area led to a strip of round rock that led directly into the saltwater of the lagoon.

They stood and watched Randy as she dashed into the water and out again, barking and biting mouthfuls of the salty liquid.

"Has anyone asked you about your mom's show quilt?” Harriet asked.

"Wanting to buy it, maybe? Not a one. Why?” he asked.

"Just a theory the group came up with.” She explained about the duplicate backing fabric. “So, it's possible that even though it was Lauren's that got destroyed, someone who wasn't familiar with the front image on your mother's could have confused the two."

He looked at her, his nearly white eyes wide. “That's it? That's the big revelation? Whether it's my mom's or Lauren's, what's so important about any quilt that someone would repeatedly break into your house to get at it and destroy it?"

"We haven't figured out that part yet, but I think it's significant that it could have been your mother's someone was after, given what happened."

"Is it worth a lot of money or something? I hate to admit it, but I'm totally clueless when it comes to quilts. I know Mom always won prizes, and a couple of hers appeared in people's books as examples of their style after she took classes or workshops."

"Her work is valuable, but if that were the reason someone was after it, it seems like they would have taken the ones out of your house. Aunt Beth said a couple of her quilts won awards at the International Quilt Festival in Houston. Those would be worth more than the one that's being shown now, just because they've already got a history."

"You know, now that you mention it, I can't say if Mom's other quilts are still at the house or not. Each of us kids has the ones she gave us, but the rest are in one of the bedrooms. She has them in these glass cabinet things that have little wooden closet poles to hang them on. Maybe we should go have a look. If we follow this trail for another mile, it will go right by the yard."

"I wonder if she's ever had them appraised,” Harriet said and fell in step behind him as the gravel path narrowed.

"Do people do that? I mean, when they're alive? Are they worth that much?"

"Quilts can vary, but I wouldn't be surprised if your mom's were valued in the fifteen hundred to two thousand dollar range. The ones that won national awards could be higher than that. It's none of my business, but you should check about the appraisals before your sister sells any of them at the estate sale. I'd hate to see her give them away."

Aiden was silent. The trail turned away from the shore and wound back into the woods as it climbed. She had to concentrate on the path in front of her to avoid slipping on the damp rocks. There was a brief break in the trees, and she could see the water well below them now.

"Are you doing okay?” Aiden asked as he stopped, causing her to bump into his back.

"I was until you stopped without warning,” she said. “My head is pounding a little as we're climbing, but I think that has more to do with my lack of conditioning than the bump."