I don't suppose you have any ideas,” Harriet asked her fluffy gray cat Fred the next morning. Fred wove in and out of her ankles then meowed. “I know-you'd make it a cat quilt."
"Who are you talking to?” Aunt Beth asked as she came into Harriet's sunny yellow kitchen. “I see you've got that purple quilt off the machine."
Beth had let herself in through the studio she'd added when she became a long-arm quilter, having owned the house for more than thirty years before giving both it and the shop to her niece earlier in the year.
"How late did you have to stay up to finish it?"
"Not all that late. Aiden canceled dinner, so I grabbed a quick snack and kept working until it was finished."
"Trouble in paradise?"
"He's leaving for Ephrata.” Harriet looked at her watch. “In about two hours."
"What's he doing in eastern Washington?"
"He's not supposed to be talking about it, so you have to promise not to tell everyone,” Harriet cautioned. She knew her aunt could keep a secret when she had to, so she continued. “A really bad pet hoarder situation was raided a week and a half ago. So far, they've kept it from the press, but Aiden says it's horrendous.
"It's by far the biggest animal abuse case in the history of Washington State and maybe even in the country-just awful. And it's hard on the vets who have to work on the animals, both physically and emotionally, so they rotate them in and out from animal clinics all over the state."
"I suppose Aiden has to go because he's still the newest vet in the clinic,” Aunt Beth guessed.
"Actually, it's because of the research he was doing in Uganda. He also worked at a free clinic in his village, and I think he saw more extreme problems than the average vet stateside."
Harriet got Fred's prescription cat food from the refrigerator and scooped a gob into his fish-shaped ceramic dish.
"How long will he be gone?"
"He said their schedule is a work in progress. The first vets on the scene worked thirty-six hours straight and then collapsed. They're hoping he can stay a week. He thinks he'll be able to do more, but that could be his youth speaking."
"Are you ever going to let go of the fact that he's ten years younger than you?” Aunt Beth scolded. “Age isn't all about the calendar, you know."
"I'm not talking about our age difference. I'm just making a general observation about the self-perceived invincibility of youth."
"Good, because frankly, we're all getting a little tired of your constant harping about it."
"I don't harp."
Aunt Beth rolled her eyes. “You ready to head out?"
"Let me get my bag and sweater,” Harriet said.
Beth followed her into the studio then out to the driveway, where they got into Beth's silver Beetle and made the short drive to Pins and Needles.
"Hi, Carla,” Harriet said as she came into the quilt store. Carla Salter was the youngest member of the Loose Threads and worked part-time at Pins and Needles. She no longer needed the extra income since Aiden Jalbert had hired her as his fulltime housekeeper, but clerking at the store allowed her to get out. Her toddler Wendy enjoyed going to the drop-in day care at the Methodist church, too, so it worked well for all concerned.
"Did you guys make any progress on the dog quilt yesterday?” Carla asked. She had missed the meeting because of Wendy's well baby checkup.
"Our quilt blocks didn't go very well together, and then Lauren arrived, and she had just seen the quilt the Small Stitches were working on, and it was our idea, only better. They used coordinated fabrics instead of going scrappy, like we did. I guess they did similar dog faces, too."
"That's sort of weird,” Carla said as she folded the half-yard piece of fabric she'd just cut.
"That's what I said, but Lauren pointed out there are only a few specifically dog-related images, and dog faces are probably on everybody's short list."
"I guess."
"That's why we're meeting again today. We're shelving our dog-face blocks and trying to come up with another plan. Will you be able to help us?"
"Yeah, Marjory said I could take a break for the meeting, but I'm just making half-yard cuts of the new Jo Morton fabric that came in. If no one cares, I thought I could move my cutting mat into the meeting room and keep working while we talk."
"I'm sure the Threads will applaud your industriousness,” Harriet said, causing Carla's cheeks to turn a becoming shade of pink.
"Is anyone else here yet?” Jenny asked as she came through the door. She was dressed in chestnut-colored corduroy pants and an olive-green sweater, one of the first in the group to concede that summer was truly over and pull out her fall wardrobe.
"Aunt Beth is in back there somewhere,” Harriet said and gestured toward the classrooms. “This is as far as I've gotten, so I don't know who else is."
"Mavis and Connie got here just before you,” Carla volunteered.
"Am I late?” Sarah asked as she breezed in, late as usual.
"See you inside,” Jenny said and headed for the back.
"The meeting hasn't started, if that's what you're asking,” Harriet told Sarah.
"I hope they plan on starting soon. I have to be back to work in…” She glanced at her watch. “…fifty-two minutes."
"You better get in there, then, and get everyone organized,” Harriet said.
Sarah hurried to the back of the store, brushing Harriet as she passed.
"You're bad,” Carla said when she was out of earshot.
"Mavis and Connie can handle Sarah,” Harriet told her.
"I thought Mavis said Sarah's parents owned the senior center where she works."
"They do. If you're thinking she can't be fired, you'd be thinking right. In fact, I'd be willing to bet money the other people working at the center are hoping our meeting runs long."
Carla smiled and gathered her rotary cutter and three bolts of fabric and headed to the meeting. Harriet followed, and was settling in her customary place at the table when Robin McLeod and DeAnn Gault entered the room.
"Anyone want coffee or tea?” Robin asked after she set her bag on the table.
"I'll take some tea,” Harriet said, and after a few minutes Robin delivered a steaming mug then took her seat at the table.
"Well, ladies,” Mavis began. “Did anyone have any brilliant ideas overnight?"
The Loose Threads spent the next hour brainstorming. They didn't allow any criticism of the list until it had ten designs on it. This didn't mean Lauren and Sarah didn't comment on every choice; it only meant everyone tuned them out more than usual.
"Okay,” Robin said and laid her pen down. “We should be able to come up with something out of all this.” As the member who always had a tablet and pen in her purse, she invariably ended up facilitating any planning functions the Loose Threads did. “Shall we discuss them one by one?"
"Why don't we see if anyone has an outright objection to anything on the list?” DeAnn suggested and looked around the table to see if anyone agreed with her.
A soft rap on the doorjamb interrupted the discussion before it got started.
"Marjory told me it would be okay to come back and talk to you,” said a slender, sandy-haired man-Joseph Marston, a social worker for a local adoption agency.
"Hello, Joseph,” Mavis said. “Come on in."
He did but remained standing. A large pink-and-green pastel-colored quilt was folded over his right arm.
"Here, set that down,” Aunt Beth said, and took the quilt from him. Connie got up and helped her lay it on the end of the table.
"What have you got there, Joseph?” Mavis asked.
Marston cleared his throat.
"Someone donated four quilts to the agency, and I'm not sure what to do with them,” he said. “They're really big, so I brought one to show you."
The agency Joseph referred to was Little Lamb Adoption Services. Harriet wouldn't have known about the place except that DeAnn was in the process of adopting a baby girl, and Marston was the social worker overseeing the process. Most of their Loose Threads meetings lately had begun with DeAnn describing the various interviews and inspections she and her family were going through. Joe was a gentle, soft-spoken man, an attribute that helped his clients keep their sanity as they negotiated a stressful undertaking.
"Let's see what we've got here,” Aunt Beth said.
She unfolded the quilt, and the Loose Threads cleared their bags and cups off the table and helped spread it out. The quilt had been done in an overall pattern of large pinwheels separated by equal-sized blocks of plain fabric. Harriet estimated the blocks were ten-inch squares.
"We don't really have a use for bed quilts,” Joseph offered. “Baby quilts would have been more useful."
No one said anything for a minute while they examined the quilt, turning edges over and rubbing the fabric between their fingers.
"This one's in great shape,” Connie said. “Grab the other end, mi'ja,” she told Harriet. “Let's fold it into quarters."
Harriet did as requested, and they re-centered the folded blanket on the table.
"Are you thinking we should cut it into quarters and rebind them?” Aunt Beth asked.
"Good idea,” Jenny said. “We can remove the old binding completely so we don't have to try to match the fabric."
"We could add a four-inch border to each piece, too,” Robin suggested. “That way, we'd have fresh fabric to apply the binding to. We could put batting in the border like you do with the quilt-as-you-go technique."
"I like that,” Harriet said. “It would insure the quilts are crib-sized. I could stitch pinwheel designs in the borders with my machine. It looks like they did stitch-in-the-ditch for their quilting,” she added, referring to the technique where quilt stitches are hidden by placing them very close to the seams in pieced quilt tops. She flipped the top layer of the folded quilt over, revealing the backing fabric.
Jenny ran her hand over the stitched fabric, tracing the patterns she found.
"Definitely stitch-in-the-ditch,” she pronounced.
"How does that sound?” Beth asked Joe.
"If I understood all that, you're going to cut the quilt down into baby-sized blankets,” he said. “That sounds great. When we have them, we like to send a quilt home with each child we place."
"When do you need these?” Jenny asked.
He looked embarrassed.
"Yesterday, I take it.” Mavis guessed.
"Since we rely on donations, the inventory ebbs and flows,” he said. “In fact, our shelves are bare at the moment. What money we have for such things is going toward pajamas and underwear-often the children are wearing rags when we pick them up, and we want them to look nice when they go to their new families."
"Say no more,” Beth said. “We'll get these out right away, and then see what we can do to make sure your shelves don't go bare again."
"Thank you so much,” Joseph said, and took her hands in his. “You don't know how much this will mean to our children. Shall I go get the other three quilts?"
Aunt Beth arranged for him to drop the quilts off at Pins and Needles on his way home from work that afternoon, and after he left, she went back to the Loose Threads meeting.
"I suppose you expect all of us to work on those quilts, too?” Sarah whined. “I barely have time to do all these dog blocks."
"All one of them?” Lauren shot back. “It must have killed you."
"Ladies,” Connie said, standing again and giving a stern look to each woman in turn. “No one has to do anything they don't want to. If Sarah is too busy to do charity work, that's her business."
"Well, maybe I could sew the binding on one while I'm manning the front desk at work,” Sarah conceded after a moment of silence. “But only if we're not busy."
Lauren rolled her eyes skyward but kept silent.
"We will appreciate anything you can do,” Connie assured her.
"What did I miss?” Beth asked. “Did you choose a new design while I was getting Joseph squared away?"
"We waited for you,” Harriet said. “So far, we have several options on the list, but that's all."
"It's hard to tell without seeing a sample,” Jenny said. “We all thought the dog faces were a good idea until we saw them."
"Why don't we divide up the list and each of us make a one-block sample?” Robin suggested. “Two people could do each idea, not including DeAnn, who needs to finish getting ready for the baby."
She looked around the group and saw no objections. Even Sarah kept quiet for once.
"Shall we meet again tomorrow?” Beth asked. “If you can't get your blocks done, come anyway, and we'll see what we have."
"But try,” Connie added, and looked over her black-rimmed reading glasses directly at Sarah.
"I didn't say anything,” Sarah protested.
"Speaking of the new baby,” Robin said. “DeAnn and I better get going. We've got some last-minute shopping to do. Put me down for any of the blocks and let me know later."
The two women got up, and Robin ushered DeAnn out ahead of her, then turned back when her friend was out the door and made the universal hand sign for call me while mouthing the words.
When the remaining Loose Threads heard the tinkle of the bells on the outer door, signaling that Robin had DeAnn out of the building, the discussion turned to the baby shower they were planning.
"Aiden said it was okay for us to have the shower at his house,” Carla said.
Aiden's mother had been a member of the Loose Threads, and the older members of the group had attended many gatherings in the large formal dining room of her grand Victorian house. Aunt Beth had suggested his young housekeeper be the one to ask, knowing he would agree but giving Carla an out if she felt hosting the event was too much for her. She was pleased the younger woman hadn't used it.
"I ordered the cake,” Mavis volunteered. “I asked Kathy to decorate it in pink and purple. I wanted it to be a little more girlish and not quite so much like it's for a newborn baby."
DeAnn's new daughter was a three-year-old toddler.
"I've got the paper plates and napkins,” Harriet added.
"Sarah?” Aunt Beth asked.
"I haven't got the mints or Jordan almonds yet, but I'll have them by tomorrow afternoon, a full day ahead of the event."
"My husband put the last coat of paint on the little table and chairs,” Jenny said. She'd found a gently used table and chair set at a garage sale and given her husband the task of stripping and repainting it for DeAnn.
Aunt Beth looked at Lauren.
"I already told you I've had the jogging stroller for weeks,” she said, referring to the present the group had pooled their money to buy.
She used both hands to sweep her long blond hair back away from her face. The purchasing task had fallen to her, since she was the best computer researcher in the group, and they wanted to be sure they were mindful of the latest safety ratings before they made their purchase.
"Okay,” Aunt Beth said. “Now that we have the shower on track, we've got dog bones, dog houses, stars with dog centers, and snowball blocks."
The last one referred to a traditional hexagonal pattern made by stitching a triangle of contrasting-color fabric to all four corners of a square piece-in this case, a dog print fabric with contrasting corners.
"That doesn't come out even,” Sarah pointed out.
"I have an idea I'd like to try out,” Harriet said. “How about I try my idea, and if it works, I'll present it to the group?"
Aunt Beth looked around the table. “Everyone okay with that?"
No one objected, and the group quickly divided up the remaining work and said their goodbyes.
"If you don't mind, I'm going to look at fabric for a minute,” Aunt Beth said. “I'd like to make a couple functional dog blankets for the shelter. I know we said any quilts that aren't purchased will be donated, but that hasn't happened in years, so they're going to need bedding."
"I noticed Marjory putting a fresh batch of fabric on the sale shelf when I went to the restroom a while ago,” Harriet said. “Let's go see what we've got to work with."
Aunt Beth had three bolts of cotton print fabric in various shades of blue laid out on a cutting table in the middle of the store, and Harriet was comparing first one and then the other of the two bolts she held in her arms to the grouping to see which one would work best as a backing. The first was a good match for color, but she wasn't sure how well the plaid print went with the quilt-top choices. The second fabric was white dots on a mottled beige background-a better pattern, but she wasn't sure about the color. Aunt Beth was back at the sale shelf trying to come up with a better option.
Harriet was still debating the choice when the front door of the quilt store opened, and a short, heavyset woman with white cotton-candy hair came in. She walked with a sort of rolling limp that was partly because of her arthritic knee but mostly because she carried her substantial weight almost entirely in her hips.
"Harriet,” Phyllis Johnson said when she reached the center of the store. “I'm glad I caught you. I have a quilt I need to have done. My niece is getting married next weekend, and I was hoping you might have space in your schedule to fit her quilt in."
Harriet had enough long-arm quilting business to keep her machine stitching for as many hours as she was willing to run it, but she purposely kept a block of time free each week for just this sort of “emergency.” She did a quick mental rearrangement of her schedule.
"If you don't want anything too complicated, I could have it for you the day after tomorrow,” she offered.
"That would be perfect,” she said. “Am I correct in assuming you'll be at DeAnn's shower?"
"Yes, and I'd be happy to bring your quilt to you there."
"Thank you,” Phyllis said. “I'm so excited for DeAnn. I know she loves her boys, but she's so happy she's finally going to have a little girl. This is the part of my job I love most. It's just a win-win when we can place a precious orphaned child with such a deserving set of parents."
Phyllis Johnson was the owner and president of Little Lamb Adoption Services. Harriet had learned from DeAnn that Phyllis had started her agency more than thirty years ago and had provided adoptions to the citizens of Foggy Point ever since. Her agency specialized in international placements.
"I know DeAnn and her husband and the boys are excited."
"My quilt is on the front cutting table-I was choosing the binding fabric, but I've decided on one. You can take it with you now, if that's convenient, or I could drop it by after work if that's better."
"Now is fine. Do you have a bag for it?"
Phyllis produced a pillowcase that matched the quilt top and put the top and backing inside then handed it to Harriet. “Do you have bulk batting available like your aunt did?"
"Yes, just tell me which one you want."
After a brief discussion of batting, Phyllis chose wool and then went to the front checkout area to pay for her binding fabric.
"Are you ready?” Harriet asked her aunt.
"I suppose.” Beth had replaced the blues with greens but was still struggling with the backing.
"I don't think the dogs care what backing you use."
"I can walk back to your house if you're anxious to leave."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to rush you. Phyllis gave me a quilt she needs done right away. I told her I'd give it back to her at the shower."
"Have you used your emergency spot for the week?"
"No, but I was going to play with my idea for the auction quilt with that time."
"I'm about done here,” Beth said with a sigh. “Neither one of these bolts is going to change color, so I'm just going to choose one and be done with it."
"I'll go look at fat quarters for my dog block idea,” said Harriet, referring to the eighteen-by-twenty-two-inch quarter-yard cuts of fabric favored by quilters.
She was pawing through a basket of red-toned fat quarters set on an antique chair by the front door when a tall, slender black woman came in, a baby less than a year old perched on her left hip, its back to Harriet. The woman strode to the checkout counter, where Marjory was ringing up Aunt Beth's purchases.
"Do you know Aiden Jalbert?” she asked Marjory without waiting for her to finish with Aunt Beth. The woman's voice had a lilting accent Harriet couldn't place.
"Why do you ask?” Marjory countered.
"What business of yours is it if we do or we don't?” Aunt Beth asked.
"I need to find him, and I went to every veterinary office in town, and no one would say anything. Finally, a lady in the waiting room of the last one said to ask at the quilt store."
"We know him, but it's not going to do you much good.” Beth said.
"Let me be the judge of that."
The baby started fussing, and the woman jiggled her hip and at the same time reached into her pocket and pulled out a lint-covered pacifier she shoved into the child's mouth.
"He's working out of town,” Harriet said. “We don't know when he'll be back."
The woman's shoulders sagged briefly; then she squared them again.
"Can you recommend a good hotel nearby?"
Aunt Beth could have suggested The Fogg Victorian Hotel, which was located three streets over, or even The Harborside, which was, as the name implied, located at the waterfront. Instead, she gave her the name of two chain hotels out on the main highway. She sketched a simple map and wrote the names on a piece of paper provided by Marjory, and handed it to the young woman.
"If you see Aiden, tell him Neelie Obote is looking for him."
The woman turned to leave. The baby lifted her head from the woman's shoulder and smiled at Aunt Beth, her pale-blue eyes trained on the older woman.
The bells that hung on a ribbon from the front door tinkled then fell silent as Neelie and the baby left the store. No one moved.
"I think I'll go see how Carla is coming with that fabric,” Marjory said when the silence had stretched to the breaking point. She handed Aunt Beth her purchase and headed for the classroom.
"Okay,” Aunt Beth said. “I'll address the eight-hundred-pound gorilla that just left the room. That baby's eyes bear a passing resemblance to those of a certain veterinarian of our acquaintance."
"A passing resemblance?” Harriet said in a cold voice. “Passing resemblance?” she repeated. “Aiden has an extremely rare eye-color. It sure looked like that baby does, too."
"That doesn't mean anything,” Aunt Beth said.
Harriet glared at her.
"Okay, it might mean something, but let's not jump to conclusions without hearing what he has to say about it."
"Are you ready to go?” Harriet asked.
"Let me go get my bag.” Aunt Beth went to the classroom and came back a moment later with her canvas tote on her arm and her purple nylon purse slung over her shoulder.