The time went quickly, as it usually did when Harriet was guiding the big sewing machine head over a well-made quilt. Phyllis wasn't one of her more demanding customers; she usually had an idea for an image-flowers, swirls, gridlines-but she left the details up to Harriet.
She got up from her stool and stood with her feet together and her shoulders in the Mountain Pose, or at least she thought she was in the correct position. Robin, who taught yoga when she wasn't being a lawyer, was always encouraging the Loose Threads to adopt it as an antidote to long hours hunched over their sewing machines. Harriet met her halfway-she did the yoga stretches she could do from a standing position. Somehow, rolling around on the floor when she got up from her quilting machine held no appeal.
Robin continued to lobby for the additional moves, but for now, Harriet stood in Mountain Pose then went into Chest Expansion and, finally, the sideways-leaning motions of the Simple Triangle. With one last cleansing breath, she picked up her purse and went out the door.
It had rained while she'd worked on Phyllis's quilt. A large drop of water fell off a tree branch and slid down the back of her neck. She shivered and batted at it. Summer was definitely over. Soon, the hoodie she was wearing wouldn't be enough to ward off the cold, and she'd have to deal with getting a jacket that was more than just rain protection.
Shopping could wait for another day. Today, she needed to get on with checking up on Carla and her preparations.
A red-and-white taxi was pulling out of the long driveway to Aiden's house, and she had to wait as it made the turn onto the street. It was empty except for the driver, and Harriet assumed he or she had taken a wrong turn on his way to pick up a passenger.
It soon became clear, however, the taxi was not there by mistake. As she eased her car up the drive and into the parking area, she saw that the cab had left two passengers, one of whom now appeared to be in a rather heated discussion-if her gestures were any indication-with Carla.
"Neelie,” she called as she got out of her car, interrupting the two women. “What are you doing here?"
"You know what I'm here for."
"I told you Aiden is not in town."
"That's what I've been trying to tell her,” Carla said, “but she won't listen."
She was wearing a rose-pink long-sleeved T-shirt with stonewashed denim capri pants. Her long dark hair hung in loose curls around her shoulders and no longer had the stringy, greasy look it had when Harriet first met her. The young woman had come a long way in the last seven months.
"You're the one who won't listen.” Neelie was wearing skinny black pants and a lime-green sweater that had a designer look to them. Probably not Paris, Harriet guessed, but definitely not Walmart. “I get that he's out of town,” she shouted. “What you don't seem to grasp is I've got this baby.” She jounced the child on her hip for emphasis. “And she needs her father."
"I'm not sure what you expect us to do until Aiden gets back and can sort this out,” Harriet said in what she hoped was a reasonable tone.
"I'll tell you what I expect you to do,” Neelie said. “I expect you to give us a place to stay. It cost me dearly to come from Africa with a baby. Of course, I did this gladly because of my precious sister, but I can't give what I don't have. I don't have money to keep Kissa in a hotel until Aiden returns."
The rain that had eased up while Harriet made her drive began to come down again in earnest.
"Let's go inside,” she said and ran for the door.
Carla's eyes widened, and she looked like she was going to protest, but she kept whatever she'd been going to say to herself. She brushed past Harriet and went to the back door, holding it open for the others.
"I've got to go check on Wendy,” she said, wiping the rain from her face. “She's napping."
Harriet ushered Neelie and Kissa into the kitchen; she didn't want to take her any farther into Aiden's house than she had to.
"Can I get you something to drink?” she asked. “Tea or coffee?"
"I'm fine,” Neelie said. She sat down and rubbed her hand across her forehead.
"Are you okay?” Harriet asked. “I mean, besides the baby drama."
"I just need to talk to Aiden Jalbert.” Neelie's chin dropped to her chest. Her hand shook as she grabbed the edge of the table for balance.
"Are you diabetic or something?” Harriet asked as she opened the refrigerator door and pulled a gallon jug of milk out so she could look behind it.
The summer before her late husband Steve died, his nephew Brad had stayed with them in Oakland for a few weeks while he attended a math seminar in Berkeley. Brad was a fragile diabetic, and after half a dozen episodes, Harriet had learned to recognize the signs of low blood sugar. She set the milk on the counter and picked up a carton of orange juice, opened the cupboard she knew held drinking glasses, selected a tumbler and filled it with the juice.
"Drink this,” she said, and to her relief, Neelie drained the glass. Harriet refilled it. “How long has it been since the baby's had anything to eat?"
"A couple of hours, I think."
"Does she drink milk or formula?” Carla asked as she came back into the kitchen, a monitor receiver in her hand.
"Milk,” Neelie said.
"Cow's milk?” Carla pressed.
"Of course. I bought two percent at the grocery store. It was all they had."
"Is that what your sister fed her?” Carla asked, the shock plain in her voice.
"Where we come from she was lucky to get that,” Neelie said defensively.
"Let me fix her a bottle."
Carla held out her hand. Neelie stared at it.
"Don't you have an empty bottle in that bag?” Carla pointed at the tote slung over the other woman's shoulder.
Neelie set the baby on the floor and rooted around in the bag, finally producing a dirty bottle. Carla took it in two fingers and dropped it into the sink. She opened a cupboard and pulled out a clean bottle, nipple and ring, filled the bottle with milk then held it under hot tapwater and finally handed it to Neelie, who set it on the table and took another drink of her juice.
Kissa began to cry and reach for the bottle. Carla picked the child up and tilted her back in her left arm in one smooth move, plugging the bottle into her mouth at the same time. The baby drained it and promptly fell asleep.
Harriet was wondering who had stolen her shy friend Carla and replaced her with this mother lioness. Neelie sipped on the remains of her orange juice and didn't say anything when Carla took the sleeping baby out of the room. She returned a moment later without her.
"Wendy's portable crib is in the front parlor,” she explained. “It's quiet, and that baby looks like she needs a little of that."
Neelie glared at her, but before either woman could say anything, the back doorbell buzzed. Harriet opened it and let Mavis in.
Mavis made a show of taking off her plastic rain bonnet and shaking the drops off in the sink.
"How is everyone doing this fine afternoon?” She took off her coat and hung it on the back of the chair opposite Neelie. Harriet could tell the older woman had sensed the tension in the room. “Carla, honey, could you make me a nice cup of tea?"
Carla turned from the group, banging the kettle onto the stove.
"You must be Neelie,” Mavis said, and held her hand out to the young woman. “Welcome to Foggy Point."
Neelie took it and smiled.
"I guess you don't get too many Africans in your town,” she said in her lilting English.
"That's a fact,” Mavis said. “I'm so sorry you're here under such sad circumstances."
"Yes, it is a terrible thing that happened to my sister."
"It's hard to lose someone close to you. You were close?"
"When we were younger, we were like twins. After we grew up, I moved to the city, and my sister stayed in our village, so we didn't see each other as often as we wished."
"Well, that makes it more difficult, I'm sure,” Mavis said.
"It has been very hard. And also the baby…"
"Beth told me you've brought your sister's baby to Aiden.” Mavis looked her in the eye. “Why is that?"
Neelie sat back in her chair. “I should think that would be obvious. My sister Nabirye told me to bring the baby to her father, and she gave me his name and address."
"So, this was a plan you two had, just in case?” Harriet asked.
Mavis glared at her.
"My sister was very ill. When it became clear she could not live, she asked me to take baby Kissa to her father. There was no plan. It was her wish in death, so I had to do what she asked, though I spent all the money I had paying for the doctor to try to save my sister, an effort that failed."
"If you spent all your money on the doctor, how did you get here?” Harriet persisted, in spite of the murderous look Mavis was giving her.
"My sister's church gave me a ticket and a small amount of money, which unfortunately is now gone,” Neelie snapped. “Things are very expensive in America."
"Let me call Pastor Hafer at our Methodist church and see if there are any emergency funds for this sort of thing. I'm sure he can help us sort this out."
"She can stay here,” Carla said.
Mavis and Harriet both whirled to face the younger woman.
"That baby looks exhausted,” Carla went on, “and they have all kinds of baby stuff in the nursery here for when Avanell's grandchildren came to visit. Besides, they're already here."
"I'm not sure that's a good idea,” Harriet said.
"I can ask Aiden when he calls."
"No!"
Harriet knew her response was a little too loud. Carla's cheeks burned.
"What I mean is, I was hoping we could save all this…” She waved toward Neelie. “…until Aiden is back. He's dealing with a very stressful situation at work, and he can't do anything about this until he comes home anyway."
"They could stay with me at my place,” Mavis offered.
"It's kind of you to offer,” Harriet said, “but I think Carla's right. This place has a full nursery setup and lots of room."
Mavis raised her left eyebrow as she turned and looked at Harriet. Harriet gave her a slight nod.
"Well, honey, if you think it's the right thing to do…"
"I'll show you to your room,” Carla told Neelie as she set Mavis's tea on the table. “You look like you could use some rest."
Neelie got to her feet. She wobbled a little, then followed Carla out of the kitchen.
"Okay, why are you so agreeable about this stranger staying with our Carla? And what's wrong with that girl?"
"We need more information, and what better way to get more information than by having Neelie and the baby where we can keep track of them. Besides, from Carla's behavior, I'm guessing she doesn't think Neelie is taking care of the baby properly."
"I was getting that feeling myself. Neelie looks like she's not doing a very good job of taking care of herself, let alone a baby."
"She was looking pretty shaky before you got here. I asked her if she's diabetic, and she didn't answer, but she did perk up after I gave her some orange juice, so she either was starving or she is diabetic."
"Something about her story just isn't ringing true,” Mavis said. “And by the way, she is the one I saw arguing with the checker-minus the accent."
"I wish Aiden was here. He could clear this up in a minute."
"No sense dwelling on that. If he's not going to be home for a week or so, we'll just have to deal with it ourselves."
"Do you think Carla will be safe here with that woman under her roof?"
"It's a little late to be worrying about that now, isn't it? Besides, our meek little friend seems to turn into a tiger when a baby is involved."
"I wonder what Terry's up to these days,” Harriet said, referring to Terry Jansen, Carla's new Navy-investigator boyfriend.
"I asked Carla at our last meeting, and after much blushing and stammering, she told me he is still very present. I wonder if maybe we should put a bug in his ear about the current situation."
"Too bad I lost my contacts when my phone got crunched. I had his number."
"Fortunately, when he was questioning us all about what happened last month, he gave me his number, too. Being the hip yet old-fashioned grandmother that I am…” Mavis smiled. “…I not only put it in my cell phone, I also wrote it in my address book at home, just in case I lost my phone or something."
"Well, aren't you the smart one."
"I'll call him about Carla's situation when I get home. Maybe you could give Lauren a jingle and see if she can she can find anything out about Carla's new house guest."
"Sure. I haven't had a good dressing down by Lauren in, oh, I don't know, three days, maybe."
Mavis smiled. “I'd say you're due, then."
Carla came back into the kitchen, ending the conversation. She was still holding the receiver to Wendy's monitor.
"Did I just make a big mistake?” she asked Mavis as she collapsed into a chair. Her cheeks turned pink.
"No, honey,” Mavis said and patted her hand. “You were speaking from your heart."
"She's been starving that baby. Did you see how thin her little legs are?"
"It sounded like she's only had the baby for a few days,” Mavis said. “And they did come from Africa."
"But she's not in Africa now, and she's still not feeding the baby right."
"Now, honey,” Mavis soothed. “She isn't a mother herself. This is her sister's child. She might not know how to take proper care of a baby."
"Well, I do know how to take care of a baby, and as long as she's here, she's getting three squares."
"I'm sure she'll appreciate that,” Harriet said. “As long as they're going to be here, try to find out what you can about them. Keep it friendly-don't make her suspicious, or we won't get anything-but keep your eyes and ears open."
"I can do that.” Carla's cheeks turned a darker pink.
"Not to change the subject,” Mavis said, doing exactly that, “how are the shower preparations coming along?"
Carla stood up. “Come see,” she said, and led the way across the hall to the formal dining room.
Mavis and Harriet spent the next twenty minutes admiring the pink streamers and balloons Carla had hung from the chandelier, checking the placement of forks, knives, spoons and napkins as well as Carla's choice of china teacups and saucers. Harriet was proud of her young friend, and knew she'd had a daunting collection of china and silver to choose from at the Jalbert house. Aiden's mother had been an avid collector of both.
"This looks great,” she said.
Carla looked down at her feet. “I got a book from the library to see how to set the table."
"You did a fine job,” Mavis agreed.
Carla lifted the lid of the delicate floral china sugar bowl. “I got that special turbine sugar."
"Turbinado?” Harriet said.
"Yes, and I got white cubes in case people don't like the brown kind.” She lifted the lid of a cut-crystal sugar bowl.
"Seems like you're all ready,” Mavis said. “It's a good thing, too, since now you're going to be playing host to Neelie and Kissa."
"I don't mind,” Carla said quietly. “I know how hard it is."
"Just don't let her take advantage of you,” Harriet cautioned.
"Don't you worry,” Mavis said and put her arm around Carla's thin shoulders. “It's a good thing you're doing for that baby, and I don't believe for a minute you can't handle Miss Neelie."
"I need to go stitch your quilt,” Harriet told Mavis. “Carla, call me if you need anything, and I do mean anything. I'll see you both tomorrow."
She understood why Carla was reaching out to Neelie, but she didn't like leaving her vulnerable friend with a stranger who seemed to have only a passing acquaintance with the truth.
Then she prepared to endure the abuse she was sure to get from Lauren-it would be worth it if she could find out who Neelie Obote really was and why she'd come to Foggy Point.