Arlene Sachitano - The Quilt Before The Storm

“If you think of anything else you’d like us to do while we’re here, let us know. Otherwise, we’ll get to it,’ Aunt Beth said.

“Thank you for coming today. I know you’re living in less than ideal conditions yourselves.”

Mavis and Aunt Beth headed toward the doors across the gym that led to the interior of the church and their destination.

Harriet spotted Kate standing at a roll-up window that separated the kitchen from the gym. The church volunteers had set up a coffee station on the counter with multiple large thermal carafes with pump spouts.

“Hey,” Harriet said as she approached her. “How’s it going?”

Kate attempted a weak smile.

“It’s going,” she said.

“Is this a permanent move?” Harriet indicated the gym around them.

“Nothing is permanent in our life,” Kate said and took a sip from the paper cup she clutched in both hands.

“Is that a bad thing?” Harriet asked. “I mean, that must go with the territory when you decide to become long-haul truckers.”

Kate squeezed her cup so hard the hot liquid spilled over the lip and onto her hand. She dropped it and grabbed for a napkin. Harriet handed her napkins from a nearby table and put several more on the spilled coffee.

“I’m sorry,” she said when she’d cleaned up the spill. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s not you,” Kate assured her as she took a fresh cup and poured it half-full of coffee. “It’s our situation. It’s just so frustrating. And it’s our own fault. Well, not our fault , really, but our stupidity.”

Harriet waited for the woman to elaborate and began to think she wasn’t going to when Kate sighed.

“This is so embarrassing, but…we live in our truck…because we lost our house. In fact, even the truck isn’t ours. It belongs to Owen’s brother. He has a trucking business, and if he hadn’t let Owen drive for him, we’d have been in a homeless camp somewhere, too, just like Joyce and Brandy.”

Harriet wasn’t sure what the appropriate response was in this sort of situation.

“Like I said, it’s our own fault. We had a custom cabinet business in Sequim. We weren’t rich, but we did okay. One of Owen’s suppliers told him about this financial fund that seemed too good to be true. He said he’d been investing his money there for ten years, and it was as near to bulletproof as a fund can be. He told Owen that not just anyone could put their money in it. You had to be nominated by a current investor and had to meet a rather high minimum deposit. To meet that minimum, we had to use all our money.”

“I’m guessing things went bad when the economy tanked.”

“As bad as it can go,” Kate admitted. “We lost it all. It turns out we had given our life savings to a Ponzi scheme. We later learned this sort of scheme always has a few people who actually are paid their earnings. The people who run it choose people who will be withdrawing money from their account. The investors are so amazed by the returns they’re willing to sell the fund to their friends. And of course, the company had all kinds of dummy reports and full-color glossy brochures.

“So, for those lucky few, it was the deal of a lifetime. It’s the rest of us poor schmucks who got shafted. Owen and I were in that majority who had their money in the fund for the long haul. We marveled over how rich we were each month when we opened our statements, but we never tried to withdraw any of it.” She made a strangled noise that Harriet thought was supposed to be a laugh. “We were so naive.” Tears welled in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” Harriet repeated. “Is there no way to recover any of your money?”

Kate shook her head. “We don’t even know who was in charge of the fund. The government white-collar crime people are trying to untangle the mess, and there’s some small hope they’ll be able to find whatever remains of the funds, but even if they do, it will be pennies on the dollar.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Harriet said. “That’s just awful.”

“You can imagine how we felt when everything started happening at the homeless camp. Things will never be the same for us, but we’d been starting to achieve some sense of normalcy. Owen’s brother keeps him busy with driving jobs and pays him a decent wage, so with that and the sale of our business and home, we’ve managed to pay the debts we ran up when the housing bubble burst. We were living on credit when the jobs dried up, thinking that either the work slump would end or we could cover our debt with money from our investment fund.

“I thought we’d finally turned a corner. Then we had the misfortune to have our heater break in Foggy Point, Washington. What seemed like it was going to be a fun adventure has turned into a nightmare. I know it may seem cold, and I’m really sorry those two men died, but frankly, I can’t cope with any more bad news. I just want to get as far away from here as fast as I can.”

“I can’t say I blame you,” Harriet said.

“I’m starting to feel like this big black cloud is following us around and we don’t know why. We’re not bad people. We pay our taxes, go to church on Sundays. We both have good relationships with our families…” she trailed off with a sigh.

Harriet stood with her for a few minutes, neither of them speaking. She hoped it was helping in some small way. She was staring into her own coffee cup, lost in thought, when Aiden came striding up to them.

“I need to talk to you,” he said in a cold tone, his jaw so tense she could see the muscle jump. He grasped her arm in a rough grip and pulled her toward the door.

The moment they were out in the hall, he whirled around to face her.

“Is it true?” he demanded. “Are you involved in not one but two murders? Again?”

“So what if I am? What business of yours is it? You’ve made it very clear-we’re through. I get it. I don’t like it, and it took me a few tries to hear the message, but I finally did. Aiden and Harriet are no more. So, again, what business is it of yours if I’m involved in two murders or twenty murders or anything else, even?”

“Just because I said I can’t be with you doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I don’t want to see you get hurt, by me or anyone else. That’s the whole point of all this.”

“All what?” Harriet said in a louder voice than she’d intended.

“Don’t change the subject. What about the dead guys? Why are you involved?”

“I’m not involved, not that it’s any of your business.”

“You are involved. I came here to take care of a dog and a cat that got into a fight. The two owners were talking about the people who had arrived from the homeless camp. They mentioned you by name. They said you were there when they found both bodies.”

“That’s not exactly true, but again-not your business.” Harriet whipped around, pulling her arm from his grip and went back inside the gymnasium.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Mavis asked when she spotted her leaning with her back against the wall just inside the gym door. Harriet wiped at the tears that streaked her face.

“Aiden’s here,” she said and took the tissue Mavis pulled from her sweater pocket

“Come on,” she said and led Harriet out of the gym again. Aiden was no longer in the hallway. “Here.” She guided Harriet into the closet where she and Aunt Beth were sorting through the donated clothing, looking for items that might be useful to the displaced people in the gym.

Aunt Beth stuck her head out from behind a rack of coats. She started to say something, took one look at Harriet and Mavis and retreated around the rack.

“I’ll be back here if you need anything,” she said.