Arlene Sachitano: The Quilt Before The Storm

The fifth book in the Harriet Truman / Loose Threads Mystery series, 2012

Writing my stories is a long arduous process that would not be possible without the support of friends, family and a host of others. To those who listen, comfort, badger, buy hot chocolate, and all the other activities that make my writing possible-Thank you all.

I’d like to say a special thanks to my family: Jack, Karen, Annie and Alex, David, Ken and Nikki. I am inspired on a daily basis by my grandchildren, Malakai, Amelia and Claire, as well as Kellen and Lucas. I learn things about innovative thinking every time I talk to them. Also, thanks to my sister Donna, a major influence on my early creativity.

Thanks to my sister-in-law Beth and her family for her unending support of my marketing endeavors and her persistent encouragement to write every day. Thanks also to Kay and Sally.

I’d like to acknowledge Susan and Susan for all the things they do, large and small, that make life flow more smoothly.

Special gratitude goes to Betty and Vern Swearingen of StoryQuilts for their help, support, encouragement and the great dinner adventures at Quilt Market.

Thanks also to Ruth Derksen for the fun times during the Northwest quilt shows.

Lastly, thanks to Liz at Zumaya Publications for making all this possible.

The wind threw rain laced with pine needles at the bow window, gusting and swirling before it moved on down her tree-lined driveway. Harriet Truman glanced out at the gathering storm.

“You know, I could just cook something for us to eat here so we don’t have to go out in the weather,” she said.

“About dinner.” Aiden Jalbert tipped his head downward and glanced up at her with his catlike white-blue eyes, a crooked half-smile on his lips. He was sitting in one of the two wing-backed chairs in the reception area of her long-arm quilting studio. Harriet sat opposite him in the other.

She hated the term “boyfriend”-it sounded so high school-but she had yet to find a better word to describe the relationship status of a woman twenty years past high school and a man not long out of veterinary school. If the truth were to be told, boyfriend is exactly how she thought of Aiden, and she was okay with that.

He reached out and took her hand, pulling her toward him. She stood and shifted over onto his lap.

“Please don’t tell me you have to work,” she said, studying his face. As the new guy at the clinic, he often got stuck with after-hour duties when problems arose.

“No, it’s not work.” He sighed.

“But you’re ditching me,” she prompted as she stroked a stray strand of silky black hair from his eyes.

“I’m not ditching you,” he protested. “Well, I am, I guess. But not because I want to. Believe me, I’d much rather be eating dinner with you than talking to my sister.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him. She leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Your sister? You’re ditching me for your sister?” she moaned into his fleece-covered shoulder. “You don’t even like your sister. She tried to sell your house out from under you, for crying out loud.”

“I know.” He leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. “She said it was important.”

“And you believed her?” Harriet sat up straight. “How can you believe anything that comes out of that woman’s mouth?”

“I can’t. I don’t. But she’s my sister. I have to at least hear what she has to say.”

“You can’t do that over a quick cup of coffee? She has to ruin our dinner plans?”

Harriet knew she sounded like a spoiled child, but Michelle had made a bad situation much worse for Aiden when their mother was murdered earlier in the year. She had tried to steal his inheritance, and standing up to her, while necessary, had been very hard on Aiden.

He pulled her back to his chest.

“I think this is one of those times when being an only child has limited your perspective. No matter what Michelle has done in the past, or what else she’ll try in the future, she’s still my sister. I won’t let her get close enough to do any harm, but I at least have to hear her out.”

“I might not know anything about siblings, but I know greed when I see it, and your sister has ‘what’s in it for me’ written all over her face.”

“She can’t touch my money or property. The lawyers have made sure of that.”

“It’s not your things I’m worried about. It’s you,” she said, and poked her finger into his chest.

He leaned his face down and kissed her gently on her mouth.

“If it makes you feel any better, I told her to meet me at Jorge’s place,” he said referring to Tico’s Tacos, a Mexican restaurant run by Jorge Perez. Jorge was the father of Aiden’s best friend Julio, and he had stepped in to fill the role when Aiden’s own father passed away while the boys were still in grade school. “That way, she can’t even start the discussion about what’s in the house and how Mom meant for her to have it.”

“She’s done that in the past, I take it?”

Aiden sighed. “Once or twice.”

“Did you give her stuff?” Harriet asked, her voice louder than she’d intended.

His pained silence answered her question.

“What did you give her?” she pressed.

“Not much. A necklace. A couple of teacups. Nothing I couldn’t spare. My mom had a lot of stuff, you know.”

“That’s not the point.”

“I know-you’re not the only one I’ve had this discussion with. Jorge told me the same thing. He says she’s toxic. And he said she’s probably selling whatever I give her online as soon as she gets home.”

Harriet brushed at the errant lock of hair again. He took her hand in his when she’d finished and brought it to his lips before setting it back in her lap.

“It’s just complicated,” he said in a quiet voice.

“I know. Just be careful,” she said and pressed her lips gently to his. He tightened his arms around her and deepened the kiss.

A loud whoosh of wind rattled the bow window again, causing them to separate as tree debris pinged against the window.

“Hard to believe this isn’t the worst part of the storm yet,” Harriet said as rain fell in sheets outside.

“I’ve got go,” Aiden said with a glance at his watch. “Michelle’s supposed to be here in an hour, and I have to go by the clinic to check on a dog.”

“I have fabric to cut anyway. Mavis says we need six more charity quilts for the homeless camp, and she wants them done before the storm hits.”

She stood up and waited while Aiden stood and put on his outer jacket and a baseball cap with the Main Street Veterinary Clinic logo on the front.

“Call me?” she said and gave him one last kiss.

“If it’s not too late,” he said. “Michelle tends to drag our discussions out. She likes to bring up sentimental stories from when we were young to try to soften me up.”

“Do they work?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” he said. “No one knows your life like the people who’ve lived it with you. Plus, there’s a part of me that really doesn’t care if she has all the stuff. I know it’s not what my mother wanted, and I know it only encourages her when I give in, but still-it’s just stuff.”

“Okay, go.” She pushed him toward the door.

She watched out the window until his car disappeared into the rainy gloom then turned back to her cutting table. She had cut four different colors of flannel before Aiden’s arrival and stacked them in piles; her gray cat Fred was batting at the stacks, trying out a new design.