Harriet spent more time than she needed to feeding and playing with Randy. She wanted to give Mavis, Connie, Carla and the two babies time to load up and leave. When she returned to the kitchen, only Aunt Beth remained.
"I figured you were waiting until everyone left,” Aunt Beth said. She was loading Aiden's dishwasher with cups from the aborted meeting. “What do you say we swing by Pins and Needles and see if we can schedule a room for Monday afternoon? We can pick up some children's fabric and make a couple of baby quilts for Joseph, since we can't work on our dog blocks yet."
"I suppose,” Harriet said.
"Would it help if we went by Tico's on the way home for some lunch?"
Harriet forced a smile. “We could try it and find out."
They chose several pre-printed panels each, large pieces of fabric anywhere from three-quarters to a full yard with an over-all image printed on it. For larger panels, a quilter could simply choose a backing fabric, layer the batting in and start the quilting process. The panels could also be made to look more original by adding a border of simple pieced blocks. Harriet and Beth each had large enough collections of fabric in their at-home stashes they didn't need to purchase more for the pieced blocks.
"That's bizarre,” Marjory Swain said from her perch by the cash register when Aunt Beth finished telling her about the events at Aiden's house that morning. Harriet had gone to the back of the store where Marjory kept the larger spools of thread used on long-arm quilt machines. She didn't really need more thread, but she also didn't want to relive the ordeal through the telling. She brought her spools of thread to the counter as her aunt finished the tale.
"Don't you worry,” Marjory said with a glance at Harriet. “It will sort itself out. These things always do."
Harriet tried to smile.
"Come on,” Aunt Beth said. “You'll feel better after you eat."
The two women rode in silence for the few blocks it took to arrive at Tico's Tacos.
"Hey, chiquitas,” Jorge greeted them as they came through the door. “Are you dining in or taking out today?"
His warm smile touched Harriet.
"We'll be staying,” Aunt Beth answered.
Harriet was in front, but she was pretty sure Aunt Beth was raising her eyebrows or nodding her head or in some other way communicating silently to Jorge.
"Right this way,” he said, and led them into the large private dining room. No one was at either of the two large picnic-style tables that sat in the center of the room.
He left briefly, then returned with a basket of chips and a large stoneware bowl that contained three avocados, a tomato, a small cup of salsa and a lime. He emptied the bowl's contents onto the table and pulled a paring knife from the pocket of his apron.
"So, what's the trouble, chiquita?” he asked Harriet as he began to peel the avocados.
"There's no trouble."
"I keep telling you-you are no good at lies. You know you'll feel better after you tell me. Besides, maybe I can help. It has been known to happen, you know."
"Okay, fine,” Harriet said, and picked a chip out of the basket. “Do you want to hear about the unconscious woman we found, or would you like to go straight to Aiden's fit?"
"How about you start at the beginning?” Jorge suggested as he continued creating the guacamole as they watched. “I got time."
Harriet recited the events of the morning, concluding her story just as Jorge set the finished bowl of guacamole in front of her. She buried her chip in the chunky dip.
"This is fabulous,” she said and closed her eyes.
"Do you really think Aiden would leave a pregnant woman in Africa?” Jorge asked.
"Well, not if he knew about it,” Aunt Beth said bluntly, “but the timing is such she would have gotten pregnant just before he left."
"I don't believe it,” Jorge said. “Aiden is like a son to me, and I taught him and Julio better than that."
Jorge's son Julio was an environmental lawyer in Seattle, and he and Aiden had been inseparable since kindergarten.
His eyes flashed with anger. “I don't know who that woman is or whose baby she has, but it is not Aiden's. You can put money on that."
"I should have known that,” Harriet said, tears welling in her eyes.
"Now, chiquita,” Jorge said, his face softening. He handed her a clean napkin from the table. “We'll get this straightened out."
"So far, we aren't getting anywhere,” Aunt Beth said, and dipped a chip into the guacamole. “Every time we turn around, we find another question."
"Let me get you something to drink,” Jorge said, scooping the avocado and lime peels into the empty salsa container with one large hand. “Limonada?"
They both nodded, and in a few minutes, he was back with three large glasses of freshly made lemonade.
"Now,” he said, “back to our situation. That woman was in here last night, after all you quilters had come and gone. This time, she was with a different man."
"What man?” Harriet asked.
"A stranger,” Jorge replied. “A black man-someone I've never seen before. If he's from around here, he doesn't eat Mexican."
"How did they seem?” Harriet asked. “Did they seem friendly?"
"Did you hear anything they were talking about?” Aunt Beth asked.
"I think they were arguing, but they didn't want anyone to hear. They were leaning toward each other-you know how people do. Their heads were close together. They stopped talking every time someone came near their table."
"What makes you think they were arguing?"
"Please, chiquita,” he said in an injured tone. “Give an old man some credit. I know arguing when I see it, even if they were trying to keep it quiet."
"I wonder who he is,” Aunt Beth said, and took a sip of her lemonade.
"He didn't have an accent like she did,” Jorge said. “I made a point of going by the table-you know, asking how their dinners were."
"We're not convinced her accent is real,” Harriet said. “Mavis heard her yelling at someone in the grocery store, and she didn't have one."
"What do you think is going on?” Jorge asked. “Did she come to town to try to scam Aiden? Surely she'd realize he'd know if he had fathered a baby."
"We didn't,” Harriet pointed out. “Maybe she knew him in Africa and made some assumptions about a relationship he did or didn't have."
"We're going to have to find out what Aiden knows,” Aunt Beth said. “If he knows this woman, maybe he can figure out what game she's playing. If he's never met her, it's a whole different ballgame."
"Don't look at me,” Harriet said. “He's not speaking to me anytime soon."
"We need to give him some time to cool down. That and time to rest. He'll come around.
"Now,” Jorge said as he stood up. “What would you ladies like to eat?"
Harriet had her favorite green enchiladas, and Aunt Beth went with a chicken tostada. They spoke only a few words while they ate.
They were nearly finished when the door opened, and Jorge ushered Robin in.
"Hi,” Harriet said. “What's up?"
"I wish I were here to eat,” Robin replied, looking at the remains of the guacamole. “Unfortunately, I just left the hospital. Neelie Obote died."
"How?” Aunt Beth asked.
"From what?” Harriet asked at the same time.
"Here, sit down,” Beth said and patted the bench beside her. “Start at the beginning."
Jorge returned with a glass of iced tea and a small plate of raw vegetables. He set both in front of Robin. The Loose Threads were frequent-enough customers he knew their preferences.
"As you know, I went to the hospital after we all left Aiden's.” She picked up a carrot stick and took a bite. “No one would tell me anything, but that was to be expected. She was in the emergency room, and at first it seemed like everyone was hustling around. The ER was pretty quiet today.
"After a while, it seemed like people weren't moving as fast. Then the doctor came out and spoke to me. He asked if I knew Neelie, and if I knew her next of kin. I explained how I knew her-or didn't know her, as it were. He's new, so he isn't one of the doctors we know. He didn't want to tell me what had happened, but he had no one else, and I think he got that I was going to wait there until someone told me something."
"And?” Harriet prompted.
"He said Neelie had been in a diabetic coma, and that she had passed away. He asked me if I knew anything about her management of her diabetes. I said no and asked him if there was something unusual about what had happened.
"He wouldn't tell me, but his silence spoke volumes. We need to call Darcy and see if she's heard anything,” she concluded, referring to Darcy Lewis, a local criminalist and part-time Loose Threads member.
"I think we're better off not knowing,” Harriet said. “I mean, she's a stranger, and it appears she was up to no good. It's sad that she died, and I don't know what that means regarding the baby, but all signs point to the fact she was attempting some sort of scam."
"I'll call Mavis and Carla when we're done here,” Robin said. “There's probably no point in trying to call social services until Monday."
"What do you think they'll do with the baby?” Harriet asked.
"I think that will depend on whether they can figure out if she has relatives in Africa. If they can't find anyone for her, then I imagine she'll go into foster care here."