Darcy came through the door from the kitchen to the studio.
"We'll need to get fingerprint samples from you both for exclusionary purposes,” she said. “It'd be good if we could get prints from your aunt, too."
"I think she had to be fingerprinted when she signed up to teach quilting at the middle school,” Harriet said.
"I'll check when we get back to the lab, but that would help if she did."
"How does the rest of the house look?"
"Not too bad, actually. The studio was clearly the focus of the attack. A few drawers and closets were dumped, but it looks like they didn't do much more than pass through most of the rooms. I tried to wipe the print powder up as we went but watch for it. We don't need that on the quilts on top of everything else."
"Oh, my God,” Mavis said from the outside door. She picked up the brass bells that lay silent on the floor and hung them in their customary place on the doorknob. She crossed the room and pulled Harriet into a warm hug. “Oh, honey, I'm so sorry."
Harriet felt stiff in her arms. She wondered what she was supposed to do-stand like a sack of flower and let the air be squeezed out of her? Or was she supposed to squeeze back? How did one accomplish that when their arms were being pinned to their sides?
Mavis released her. “Jenny should be here any minute. Connie is babysitting her granddaughter while her daughter works the night shift at the Best Western in Port Angeles. She'll come as soon as her daughter picks up the little one. I left a message for Robin, and talked to DeAnn, who will be along soon, also.” She turned back to survey the room and seemed to notice Aiden for the first time. “What happened to you?” she asked.
Aiden had changed his bloody shirt and washed his face, but he still had an impressive-looking gash on his forehead.
"She hit me,” he said, and pointed at Harriet.
"Well, you must have needed it,” she said. She turned to survey the room again. She picked up a shoebox-sized plastic bin and handed it to him. “Here, pick up spools of thread and put them in this box.” She moved to the cutting table. “Let's take a good look at each quilt and then sort them by what type of repair they need. We can separate the show quilts from the rest, too."
Jenny arrived and joined them. The women spoke only when they needed to discuss the disposition of an item. Aiden picked up all the thread then started on scissors, pins, cutters and other small tools. A sense of calm returned to the room.
"Anyone want coffee or tea?” he asked as he discovered the electric hot water pot. “The cups in here are toast, but I could go look in the kitchen."
"I think that's a splendid idea, honey,” Mavis said. She looked at Harriet.
"Sure,” she said. “Cups are to the right of the sink, or at least they used to be. I'll come with you.” She folded Connie's quilt and set it on the pile that had come through the night's ordeal unscathed. She followed Aiden into the kitchen.
He had found the coffee mugs and was opening cabinets looking for coffee and tea when she came in.
"The coffee is in the refrigerator,” she said. “And the tea is in the cabinet to the left.” She pointed. “I'm going to look for a tray in the hall closet."
She stepped into the hall just as a streak of grey flashed down from the bookcase and raced up the stairs.
"Fred,” she called. “Here, kitty.” She headed for the stairs.
"He'll probably do better if you just leave him alone for a while,” Aiden said from the kitchen doorway. “Cats don't usually like help with their problems."
Harriet resented the implication that an outsider might know more about Fred than she did. 0n the other hand, she had to admit that most of the emotional support in her relationship with Fred had been one-way. She turned back, got a tray from the closet and went back into the kitchen.
"He'll probably be fine tomorrow,” Aiden offered.
"No, he won't,” she said. “He will never be fine again. His sense of security, which wasn't very good after the move anyway, will be gone. And he'll blame me."
Aiden looked at her. He grabbed a handful of teabags and put them on the tray along with six mugs. “I have a headache where I got clubbed, thanks for asking,” he said.
Harriet took the tray and headed for the studio. “You'll probably be fine tomorrow."
"Dios mio!” Connie said as Harriet walked over to the cutting table and set the tray down. “What happened?"
"A rival gang of quilters wanted to insure a win,” Aiden said, and tipped the piecrust table back onto its feet. He put the electric kettle on it and plugged it in. “Tea anyone?"
Connie ignored him. “What do you think happened?” she asked Harriet.
"I wish I knew. I can't imagine my aunt having enemies, and I don't think enough people even know I'm here for me to be a target. So far, it doesn't look like anything big has been stolen. The sewing machines are here, the TV, VCR and computer are all here. It really does look like the quilts were the target."
Connie raised her eyebrows, “Maybe Lauren really does want to insure a win."
"Come on,” Mavis said. “Let's not start any rumors."
"Okay, so what do we have here?” Connie asked.
"Harriet and I are sorting quilts,” Mavis said. “I think we've found all the show entries. The two piles on the cutting table are the barely damaged and the really hurting. Jenny is dividing the damaged ones into categories according to type of repair. The ones in the chair seem to be okay. They need to be checked a second time and dusted off if they were on the floor."
"I'll work on reattaching binding. Those quilts have a chance of making it.” With that, Connie grabbed a pastel floral-blended quilt and started pinning the binding back into place.
DeAnn arrived, and the women settled in to some serious stitching. Aiden stayed another hour picking up tools, spools and broken glass.
"Before I forget, I've got my mom's quilt in my car. Should I bring it in?” he asked.
Harriet nodded.
The dry cleaners had gotten most of the bloodstains out, and where they hadn't it looked like part of the dye pattern.
"At least one person in the group will have a repair-free entry,” DeAnn said.
Aiden shot a panicked glance at Harriet, and then looked relieved when she kept silent.
"Is there anything else you ladies would like me to do before I go?"
"Unless you can sew binding with an invisible stitch, I guess not,” Mavis said.
Harriet walked him to the door. “Thanks for your help tonight. And I am sorry about your head. I'll pay if you want to go to the doctor."
"I am the doctor. Besides, I've been in Africa, remember? This is just a scratch.” He lowered his voice to a whisper and looked intently at her with those big pale eyes. “Thanks for your help with my mom's quilt.” He held her gaze a moment longer then turned and walked out the door and got in his car.
Harriet took a deep breath and shut the door behind him. A slight flutter awakened in her stomach, but she pushed it down as quickly as it had appeared.
The women stitched for two more hours, fixing everything that could be salvaged without extensive reworking. DeAnn's quilt was a total loss, but she said she had one she'd made for her sister but had not yet mailed off she could substitute. Harriet agreed to pick it up on her way to Tacoma.
Mavis stood up and stretched. “I think we've done all we can here,” she said. “Try to get some sleep before you leave."
"You want me to stay here with you?” Connie asked. “Give me a pillow and a quilt, and I'm good to go."
Harriet was touched.
"No, but thanks. The police are going to drive by every hour. And Darcy gave me a door alarm to hang on my bedroom doorknob. She uses it when she travels."
After crawling into bed late one night when she'd returned from girl's night at the movies and rubbing her foot up Steve's cold dead shin, she'd needed several years of therapy just to be able to sleep in a bed again. Several more years with the shrink, and she'd learned that sleep is a great way to escape anything and everything. Probably not Dr. Weber's idea of a successful outcome, but the net result was the same.
The women left, and Harriet turned off the lights in the studio and went upstairs. When she came out of the bathroom in her pajamas, Fred was lying on her pillow. She set her alarm and crawled into the flannel sheets. In spite of everything, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep almost immediately.