Arlene Sachitano - Quilt As Desired

He came around the table and kissed Avanell then held her at arms-length.

"You look really good."

"This hairy young man is my youngest son, Aiden,” Avanell said, and tucked another unruly lock of hair behind his other ear. A slight blush darkened his cheeks. “He's been doing a research project in Uganda for the last three years, where they apparently don't have barber shops."

"How very nice to meet you,” Lauren said. “We've heard so much about you."

"All good, I hope,” he said, reminding Harriet of her own reaction to the same pronouncement and making her wonder what he might have to hide. He straightened up and turned toward the table full of women.

Avanell's oldest son was a few years younger than Harriet and had been a pimple-faced teenager with a crush on her when she'd left for college. Her daughter was a few years younger than that, and Aiden was the proverbial afterthought. He must have been around when Harriet had lived with Aunt Beth, but she was pretty sure she would have remembered those eerie eyes if she'd seen them before. Then again, she had been pretty self-absorbed in those days. Her anger at her parents for once again dumping her with Aunt Beth while they partied their way across Europe under the guise of academic research pretty well eclipsed anything that was happening in Foggy Point.

"My, how you've grown,” Jenny said. “I can remember you eating Popsicles at my kitchen table with Mark. He's married and has a baby boy, but somehow it didn't occur to me that you'd be growing up, too.” She smiled. “I guess when your mom said you were coming back to town, I expected to see that gangly boy with eyes too big for his face. Funny how your mind works when you get old and senile."

"You're not old,” Aiden said. “And even though I've grown up, I really missed your Popsicles while I was in Africa. We had a small refrigerator run from a generator, but we had to stuff it full of animal medications."

"Aiden is a veterinarian,” Avanell explained. “He just took a job at the clinic on Main Street."

"Welcome home, mijo ,” Connie said and stood up to give him a hug. Even when she stretched to her full height, Aiden had to bend down to receive her greeting.

Connie claimed she was five feet tall, but no one believed her. She had been the favorite first grade teacher of everyone who had passed through the doors of Joseph Meeker Elementary School in Foggy Point for the thirty years she'd taught there, including all three of Avanell's children.

"Will you be seeing cats?” Sarah asked. “My Rachel has been sneezing and I'm not sure if she has a cold or an allergy."

"I don't start for two more weeks, so I don't really know what I'll be doing. For all I know, I'll be scrubbing the kennels."

"Rachel can't wait that long,” Sarah pressed. “Do you make housecalls?"

"I really can't see animals until I officially start at the clinic. I don't have access to medications until then. I'm still waiting for my stuff to arrive, too-I don't have my bag or anything,” he said. “Sorry."

Harriet looked over at Avanell. Avanell rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

Sarah returned her attention to the seam she was sewing in her backing material.

Avanell was anxious to visit with Aiden, and no one could blame her.

"Go ahead and go with your son,” Harriet said. “I've got to wait until Sarah finishes her backing, and I'm sure she won't mind driving me and her quilt back to my place."

Aiden gave her a curious look.

"I don't want to take my mom away from what she's doing,” he said. “I know how important her quilting is."

"You always could charm the socks off a zebra,” Mavis said. “But we all know your mom is going to win best in show even if she does take the afternoon to catch up with you, so you just go ahead. And we'll make sure Harriet gets home, don't you worry, Avanell."

It was a toss-up whether Sarah or Lauren had the nastiest glare for Avanell's retreating back. Harriet knew Sarah would have made an excuse to avoid driving her if it hadn't meant she would be walking home carrying the woman's quilt.

It only took Sarah an additional hour after the meeting broke up to finish her quilt back, and it became obvious to Harriet that if she sat in the same room with her, she would never finish. There seemed to be no end to the young woman's ego or her desire to talk about it, so she went to the kitchen and sat at the table with the latest copy of Quilters World until Sarah was done.

Harriet dropped Sarah's quilt off in the studio and went into the kitchen. Fred wove figure-eights between her legs, making forward progress nearly impossible.

She picked him up. “Well, Fred, we survived our first Loose Threads meeting on our own."

Fred meowed.

"And we discovered that Avanell has been holding out on us. She has a really hot-looking son we never knew about."

Fred jumped to the floor and fluffed his tail.

"Don't worry, Fred, you're the only man in my life and that's not changing.” After what Steve and his family had done, she would never share her heart again. “Besides, Avanell's son is too young for us. He's probably younger than you are in cat years."

Fred flicked his tail and sauntered to the pantry where the kitty treats were stored. Harriet opened the door and gave him three fish-shaped kibbles from the foil pouch. She wondered what she'd do if she didn't have him to talk to. She'd like to think she wouldn't talk to herself, but you never knew.

Before Steve had died, she'd had girlfriends she could call anytime, even if she just had a random thought to share. She should have known. They had been Steve's friends. They knew the truth, and even after all the nights they'd stayed up laughing and crying when one of them had broken up with her boyfriend, and the days they'd spent bringing food and cleaning house for another one after she'd had a miscarriage-after all that, still, no one thought she was important enough to be let in on Steve's secret.

Harriet had spent the first year after Steve's death wallowing in self-pity. She rarely left their apartment, and spent her days going over their life together, trying to figure out if there had been clues she'd missed. She'd been sure it was her fault. If she'd just been less involved in her business, or spent less time with her faux friends, maybe she would have seen the signs of Steve's condition. And if she'd seen the signs, maybe she could have found some new treatment or therapy that would have saved him.

Eventually, she'd agreed to see a therapist; and now, most of the time, she believed what had happened was out of her control. Steve had suffered from Marfan's syndrome, an inheritable genetic disorder that was often fatal without aggressive medical intervention. Until as recently as 1977 there was little that could be done to reverse the damage to connective tissue it caused, particularly in the heart. Perhaps if his parents had sought medical intervention when he was younger things could have been different; but by the time she'd met him the die had already been cast.

She opened the refrigerator door and reviewed her options. Aunt Beth had disapproved of the pounds she had gained over the last five years. In spite of her own comfortable bulk, Aunt Beth had insisted Harriet was using her weight as a way to stay disconnected from the world. To this end, she had binge-proofed the house before she left on her cruise. There wasn't a chip, cookie or sweetened fat nodule of any kind. The refrigerator was filled with cleaned carrot sticks, pickled beets, tomatoes, cucumbers and precooked boneless, skinless chicken breast meat in several flavors.

Harriet pulled out a plastic bag and poured herself a bowl full of romaine lettuce pieces. She tore up two slices of chicken breast and added them to the lettuce. Her hand skimmed past the fat-free Italian salad dressing in the refrigerator door and settled on the bottle of creamy organic sesame, clearly an oversight on Aunt Beth's part. She promised herself a trip to the grocery store when she got all of the show quilts done.