Arlene Sachitano - Quilt As Desired

"Sorry,” Carla said. “She don't make much sense most of the time. Every once in a while she'll come out with somethin’ and sound just like she used to, but now I'm not sure them spells is any more real than when she's singin’ and rockin'."

"Can I do anything to help?"

"No, I think she'll stay put here. She seems to do okay when she's hidin'-I think she feels safe out here. The counselor at the church shelter gave me some vouchers to use at the Foggy Point Market. I'll get her some food and water. If you could go to Myca's House Counseling Center tomorrow and pick up her perscription, it would help. I can call and tell ‘em you'll come by."

"Yeah, sure. I can do that. Is there anything else? Do you want a ride to the market or anything?"

"Seems to me you got your own troubles to worry about, but thanks for offerin'. If you get the medicine and give her a dose as soon as you can, that should do it."

"I better go back to the house. Mavis might come looking if I don't come in soon."

It turned out she needn't have worried-Mavis was stretched out in the recliner sound asleep when she came in the door. She woke up when Harriet touched the remote control dangling from her hand, and pulled the lever that brought the chair jolting upright.

"I was about to call the emergency room again,” she said.

"I can see that.” Harriet smiled.

"That must have been some walk."

Harriet explained the events of the afternoon over a cup of fragrant orange-spice tea.

"I can't believe Michelle was trying to steal her brother's inheritance,” Mavis said when she had finished. “Avanell had been worried about her. She told me Michelle and her husband were living way beyond their means. She tried to work with them, but she said she was tired of throwing good money after bad. I'm not surprised she changed her will."

"Unfortunately, her new will only confuses things. On the one hand, if Michelle didn't know it had been changed, she would have a motive to kill her mother, but it sounds like she did know. On the other, if Aiden knew about the change, it would give him one."

"I just have a hard time believing he could do something like that. And besides, that doesn't explain your part of all this. If it was simply the family trying to get Avanell out of the way, why would they be coming after you?"

"The killer must think I pose some kind of threat to them."

"What possible threat could you pose to anyone in Foggy Point? You've hardly been back a month."

"If we could figure that out, I think we'd know who killed Avanell."

Mavis got up, poured more water into their cups and pulled a box of mixed teabags from the cupboard over the stove. She held the box out; Harriet chose green tea this time, and Mavis put the box back. They were staring into their cups when the phone rang.

Mavis got up and answered it and had a short conversation that consisted of uh-hm's and yeses, and finished with “I think that's a fine idea. I expect we'll pick it up when the show closes on Saturday."

She came back to the table and sat down.

"That was Bertrand. He said he'd like to hang Avanell's last show quilt in the lobby of the Vitamin Factory. He says it will be a permanent tribute to Avanell's two loves."

"I'm guessing he either doesn't know about the new will or he thinks no one else does."

"There is another possibility. He's either already talked to Aiden, or it hasn't occurred to him that he needs to."

"I suppose. And it would be a nice tribute."

"Since you're the quilt depot, I thought maybe we could go to Tacoma on Saturday morning, have a good look at the exhibits and see who won, then have lunch and check out All About Quilting over on Thirty-first Street, then come back and pick up the quilts when the show closes at four. What do you think?"

"As long as you let me do the driving, I think that would be fine. I'm worried that you're getting worn out being my bodyguard and waiting on me hand and foot."

"Your aunt Beth would do the very same thing if one of my boys were in trouble. And just because I'm not as young as I once was doesn't mean I'm weak."

"I know. This is just so hard. I know Aunt Beth is trying to give me a kick-start in getting on with my life. I was mad at first, but maybe she's right. Maybe I do need to make some changes. And I was, for a couple of days. And I liked it. Now things are even worse than they were before I left Oakland. There, at least, my limits were of my own making. I'm very comfortable here, and I truly appreciate how much you're putting yourself out to protect me; but I'm not free to come and go, much less work, and the worst part is, I don't even know why or, more important, when this will all be over?"

"How about I make us ham and cheese omelets and toast and then we put aside our troubles, just for the night. I rented a couple of movies from DeAnn the other day and they're due tomorrow. Maybe we could watch one of them before they go back."

"That sounds so good. I could use a break. And I'm starving."

Harriet woke early the next morning; between her walk with Aiden and watching the romantic comedy with Mavis, she'd gotten a good night's sleep.

Mavis was already in the kitchen and had the kettle on when she came out of the bathroom.

"How are you feeling this morning?” Mavis asked.

"I slept really well. I'm getting a little tired of pink and purple, though.” She held out the hem of her pink shirt. “Is there any chance we could go by my house and pick up some clothes?"

"Oh, honey, I don't think that's a very good idea. You've only been out of the hospital for two days. Until the police have some idea what's going on, I think you need to stay away from there. We could ask Darcy if that skinny blond woman who drives the patrol at night could go over and pick up some clothes for you."

"I don't want some stranger going through my clothes. I don't care if it is a woman."

"We could go by the thrift store on Second Street if you want, or if you feel up for a drive, we could go to the Wal-Mart."

"The thrift store is fine. Surely, they'll have something I can wear-I really only need a couple of shirts and maybe another pair of jeans."

"I usually go to my hand-piecing group on Friday mornings at Pins and Needles,” Mavis offered hopefully.

"That sounds like fun,” Harriet said without much enthusiasm.

"We can stay here if you're not up to it."

She needed to go into town. She had to get Misty's medicine and give it to her. The girl might not have seen Avanell's murder, but Harriet was sure she knew something.

"I think a trip to town would be great. I can stop by the thrift store and then maybe I can find a hand project I can do at Pins and Needles."

"Do you do hand piecing or do you prefer redwork?” Mavis asked and started a conversation that lasted through breakfast.

Harriet was surprised at Mavis's defense of the controversial trend of painting on art quilts. There were a few artists painting images on fabric then stitching around the image and entering them in competition. Harriet understood that the predecessors of pieced quilts were bedcovers made by doing intricate stitching on a single large piece of fabric, but in that case the stitches were the art. She definitely was on the side that felt sewing a backing onto a painting didn't make a quilt.

In the end, though, she had to concede that images painted in dye and combined with art stitching were, in fact, art quilts.

They moved on to discuss various hand-piecing styles, and by the time they got into the car, Harriet was pretty sure she was going to try doing some Grandmother's Flower Garden blocks using English paper piecing style, where hexagonal images were cut out of paper, a circle of fabric hand-stitched around the paper piece and then the edges of the hexagons whip-stitched together, removing the paper from the back when all the stitching was done.