Arlene Sachitano - Quilt As Desired

"You're the first ones here,” Marjory said. “I put coffee on in the breakroom a couple of minutes ago, so it should be ready soon."

The Pacific Northwest is the birthplace of Starbucks and Seattle's Best, so people expect coffee to be exceptional even when it's served from a Mr. Coffee. Marjory's did not disappoint.

"I want to take one last look to see if I can find something better than what I have for the binding of my quilt,” Avanell said. “What I've got cut just doesn't feel right."

Binding is the small but important finishing step in quilt-making. A narrow strip of fabric is folded into an even narrower strip and then sewn onto the edge of the quilt, encasing the raw edge of the top, the batting and the back. Judges expect the binding to be uniform, to have perfectly mitered corners and to be filled completely with quilt-that is, to not have any empty places or bulges in the edge. The color choice needed to be the finishing accent of the piece, not obvious but missed if absent, much like a frame on a picture.

"I just unpacked a box of new batiks,” Marjory said. “I'm checking them in. You want to take a look?"

Avanell did, and followed her to a back room strewn with plastic-wrapped bolts of fabric. Batik originated in Indonesia and involves painting wax designs on fabric then dyeing the fabric, sometimes incorporating tie-dye techniques as well. The result usually has a background mottled with several coordinated colors and may or may not include the line-drawn images that are left when the wax is removed. Experienced quilters like the depth and movement batik fabric lends to their projects.

Harriet went into the larger of the two classrooms. Classes are an integral part of a successful craft store, and Marjory kept hers busy most afternoons and evenings with fabric-buying students and stitching groups with names like “Mumm Club” and “Peaceful Piecers."

"Hi, Jenny,” Harriet greeted her friend as she came in and sat down. “How's your binding coming?"

They discussed the pros and cons of single layer versus double layer bindings until Mavis Willis arrived, followed by Connie Escorcia. At seventy, Mavis was the oldest member of The Loose Threads. She had tightly curled hair that in its prime had been copper-colored but had faded to a rusty grey. Mavis was a handpiecer-after cutting the fabric pieces that would make up her block, she did all her stitching by hand.

Her current project was an intricate series of triangles that formed a kaleidoscope pattern in shades of straw and khaki and putty, with connecting squares in a walnut color that stopped just short of orange. She was making it for her oldest son's birthday. Having raised five sons who had produced fourteen grandchildren, she was always working on something for a birthday or confirmation or some other occasion.

Harriet could hear Connie before she arrived in the room. Her laughter was infectious.

"Honey, I'm home,” she called out as she entered the shop. “Where is everyone?"

"Back here,” Harriet answered.

"What are you two doing sitting around?” she said and popped her head into the classroom. “There's new fabric out there. Come on, let's check it out."

Jenny and Harriet looked at each other, shrugged and got up to look at fabric. Hurricane Connie was a force to be reckoned with.

"Help me find a binding,” Connie said. She held scraps from her quilt in her left hand and used her right one to drape cloth from the bolts over them.

Her offering would be in the art category. The upper right corner had irregularly shaped pieces stitched together in increasingly larger segments as they approached the center panel. The bottom left was a base of hand-dyed fabric with an abstract floral applique that flowed up toward the center and overlapped the pieced area. Connie's color palate was a warm one. This design had orange peel as the base color with pistachio, dusty mauve, peach and toffee shades as the accent. It would be a challenge to find a binding color that wouldn't distract the eye from the central pattern.

Sarah Ness arrived as they returned to the classroom; her cheap, designer knock-off perfume preceded her into the space. Mavis sneezed. Connie had decided to bind with a fabric that echoed the color in her hand-dye and gone to the cutting area with Marjory.

"Harriet,” Sarah said. “I've been trying to call you."

"I haven't gotten any messages,” Harriet said. “When did you call?"

"I've been calling all morning,” she said.

It would be pointless to state the obvious, so Harriet moved on to what she was pretty sure was coming.

"What did you want?"

"I need my quilt stitched,” she replied. “I have to have it bound and back to you by Thursday to take to the show, so I guess you'll have to do it this afternoon."

"Do you have it with you?” Harriet asked.

"I have the top in the car and I'm going to stitch the backing together while we're here."

"You're cutting it a little close, aren't you?” Mavis asked. “You know, Harriet might have someone else scheduled this afternoon."

"Well, do you?” Sarah demanded.

"This afternoon will be fine,” Harriet assured her. “As long as I have it in my hands when I walk out of here."

Mavis shook her head and turned away to press a seam.

"I've been busy,” Sarah said. “I've had meetings every night this week. And last weekend, I had a workshop in Seattle that started Friday afternoon and didn't end until noon Sunday. And I have to give a speech at the school board meeting next Monday night."

"I'm surprised she has time to grace us with her presence,” Avanell muttered.

"What?” Sarah said and turned toward her.

"I was just saying I don't see how you get all your work done and still have time to quilt,” Avanell said in a loud, slow voice.

Sarah's shoulders slumped a little in her crisp khaki blazer.

"It is hard,” she said, “but I promised Marjory I would enter a project using her fabrics so it would help draw attention to Pins and Needles. I need to get some thread,” she added and went out of the classroom and over to the notions hutch.

"I wonder if Marjory knows how dependent she is on Sarah's quilt,” Jenny said with a smile.

Mavis pressed her lips together and studiously watched Harriet line up the two triangles she was about to stitch.

The group sat down around one of the larger tables and settled into their stitching routine. Lauren came a few minutes later and made a point of sitting at a smaller table by the window so she could talk but, at the same time, keep the work she was binding hidden below the tabletop.

The women spent a few minutes discussing their absent members. Robin McLeod had to take her daughter to the orthodontist. DeAnn Gault had a painter at her house and didn't feel comfortable leaving him there by himself. When they were satisfied they had accounted for everyone, they moved on to what everyone was doing this week. Harriet was not anxious to share her activities. How would she put it?

I'm going to see my aunt's attorney and undo the havoc she's wrought in my life.

Or maybe she'd just report on the stuff she was stitching then disappear quietly into the night as soon as Aunt Beth returned and leave them all guessing. That would keep them yakking for weeks, she thought and smiled to herself.

They had not yet asked Avanell what was happening in her life when the six-foot-three answer walked through the door.

"Hi, Mom,” the young man said, and absently flicked a strand of his chin-length black hair over his ear. Harriet could see the resemblance to Avanell in his angular face, but his eyes were unlike any she had ever seen.

The color was a pale yellowish-blue that stopped just short of white. They were large, and angled slightly, giving them a feline quality. His dark tan spoke to time spent somewhere much farther south than Foggy Point.