Make Quilts Not War (3 page)

“It’s a little late for that now.” Jenny handed the flyer back to Mavis then stood and pulled on her leather jacket. “I’ve got to go,” she said, and left without another word.

“Well, that was weird,” Lauren said, breaking the silence that had ensued.

“Something’s going on,” Harriet agreed. “She’s been weird
about that quilt ever since Marjory asked her to let them hang it in the show.”

“I agree,” Robin said. Being an attorney, she was usually careful in her opinions, so her statement carried weight with the group. “She didn’t have to keep the quilt in a place where we could all see it at her house, and even then, she could have said no when the committee asked.”

“Yeah, but she’s the nice one of this group,” Lauren pointed
out. “Every group has one member who is nicer than everybody else, and she’s our designated nice person, so she probably
couldn’t
say no. It would ruin her reputation.”

Harriet looked at her.

“You’re nuts,” she said.

“Maybe she didn’t make it herself,” Carla suggested. “Did she
ever say she was the one who made it?”

“Good point.” Lauren looked at Beth. “Do we know the an
swer?”

“Now that you mention it, I’m not sure the question ever came up,” Beth replied.

“Why would it?” Harriet asked. “I mean, when I visit any of you and see a homemade quilt on a bed, I just assume you made it. I would never ask you if you’d done it yourself.”

“Clearly, there’s an issue,” Mavis said. “I’m sure Jenny will tell us all in good time.”

“We aren’t going to solve it today,” Aunt Beth said. “So, how is everyone doing on their quilt? Does anyone need help?”

“All I have to do is the yarn ties on mine,” Carla said.

“Mine’s done,” Robin volunteered.

“I’m binding mine,” DeAnn added.

The rest of the group reported they were similarly close to being done.

“Don’t forget, we need the hanging sleeve to be four inches deep to accommodate the metal pipes they’re using to make the hanging racks,” Mavis reminded them.

“All right,” Beth said. “We’ve got our wigs and costumes, and our quilts are nearly done. I declare the Loose Threads ready for a return of the nineteen-sixties.”

“Far out,” Harriet said.

“He didn’t tell you anything about your date except you should w
ear something smashing and be prepared for something
big?” Lauren asked for what seemed like the hundredth time.

“No, and if you ask me another hundred times, I still won’t
know anything else,” Harriet snapped.

She didn’t like surprises. When she was growing up, the word
surprise
in a letter or phone call from her parents usually preceded an announcement they were sending her to a new boarding school, or that she had to join them at some conference where they were going to be interviewed and wanted to come off like devoted parents. It was never good. Not once.

“You don’t have to bite my head off,” Lauren shot back.

She’d come by to go through the bags of costume pieces, claiming she wanted to see if there was a better blouse choice. But the tunic she’d already chosen was perfect, and they both knew she was there because Harriet had let it slip the day before she would be getting ready for a big date with Aiden Jalbert this afternoon.

“I’m just having a hard time believing you agreed to this gig without any more information than that. I mean, it’s no big secret there’s been trouble in paradise this winter.”

“I guess I won’t know if I don’t go, will I?”

“What if he’s making the grand gesture because of the reappearance of Tom? Would you want him to be committing to you just because another guy is showing interest?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Not that it’s any of your busi
ness, but things have been better with Aiden the last few weeks.
And there is no reason to believe that his ‘grand gesture,’ as you put it, has anything to do with commitment or anything else.”

“He’s sending a limo to pick you up, and he told you to prepare for something big. That sounds like a little more than a dinner out to me.”

“And you’re suddenly the expert on romance?”

“Just because I don’t currently have a boy toy doesn’t mean I’ve never had one. Besides, I read romance novels.”

“Really?”

“We all have our weakness,” Lauren said. “What jewelry are yougoing to wear with that?” She pointed at the little black dress
Harriet had laid on the ironing board in her studio.

“I’m still debating. You want to look at the choices?”

Harriet loaded her dress back onto its padded hanger and led Lauren through the connecting door into the kitchen and upstairs to her bedroom. She hung the dress on the closet door and opened a wooden jewelry box that sat on top of her dresser.

“Oh, my gosh!” Lauren said. “Is that stuff real?”

She pointed at the neat lines of jewel-encrusted gold and silver
necklaces that lay on the velvet surface of the top tray. Harriet
opened the first drawer of the box, revealing three strands of pearls. She sighed.

“Yeah, my parents thought jewelry could make up for their ab
sence on the holidays.” She held up a pearl choker with a
diamond-and-ruby clasp. “I wanted new riding boots one year for Christmas, but I got this instead.”

“That would look really good with your dress,” Lauren gasped, ignoring Harriet’s musings. “Did you get earrings to match?”

Harriet pulled open the middle drawer of the box, revealing a
tray of earrings. She removed a pair of pearl teardrops with
diamond-and-ruby accents. Lauren took them and held them up.

“You
have
to wear these,” she said, turning them until the rubies caught the light. “I’ve got to go back to my computer now, but tomorrow I have to meet Robin at noon. I’ll come by on my way, and I want a full report. If anything big happens, call me tonight. I’ll be up until at least midnight.”

“I’d have never pegged you for such a romantic.”

“Romantic? What are you talking about? I just love a good train wreck.”

Lauren set the earrings back in the jewelry box, turned and left. Harriet was still standing in her room when she heard the kitchen door open and close again.

“Are you up there?” called Aunt Beth. “Lauren said you were in your room.”

“Do you think I’m walking into a trap?” Harriet asked her aunt when the older woman had ascended the stairs and plopped her ample self into the red overstuffed chair beside Harriet’s bed.

“What on earth are you talking about? Aren’t you going on a date with Aiden? Or did I miss something?”

“Yes, I’m going on a date. No, you didn’t miss anything. Lauren stopped by to give me a pep talk. I think.”

“Well, that explains it,” Beth said.

“I accused Lauren of being a romantic, and she said she just wanted a ringside seat to the train wreck my date is sure to be. She thinks Aiden is reacting to the threat of Tom.”

“Tom Bainbridge? Why would Aiden be threatened by Tom?
He was in Foggy Point during the big storm in December, but didn’t he go back when the slide was cleared?”

Harriet and the Loose Threads had met Tom when they’d attended a retreat at his late mother’s folk art school in the community of Angel Harbor early the previous year, and had renewed their acquaintance when he’d been trapped in Foggy Point by a landslide that had blocked the highway.

“He did.” Harriet turned her back to her aunt as she began rearranging her sock drawer.

“Have you been seeing Tom?”

“Define
seeing
,” Harriet said in a careful tone.

“Oh, honey, tell me you’re not using Tom to pressure Aiden into making a move.”

“I’m not using anyone to do anything. Tom and I have had coffee a few times. He is well aware that Aiden and I are working on our relationship, and he is fine with being friends.”

“Does Aiden know you’re still seeing Tom?”

“It’s none of his business—or yours, for that matter—but yes,
eve
ryone knows about everyone else. I’m starting to get a bad feeling about this whole surprise date thing, and not just because of
Lauren, either. Even you think it’s not on the up-and-up; I can hear it in your voice. You think he’s asking me out on a special date because of Tom.”

“I didn’t say that. I was just
asking
you if that’s why. It’s entirely possible he’s making a grand romantic gesture because he wants to
knock your socks off. Maybe all the trouble you’ve been having
lately
has made him realize he could lose you, all on his own, without
help from anyone.”

“Still, that’s not a good reason to make a grand gesture. And I’m afraid of what that gesture might be. He’s been afraid of any sort of commitment. What if he swings to the other end of the scale?”

“You think he plans on
proposing
?” Aunt Beth asked, the color draining from her face.

“I don’t know. That’s the problem. And why does the idea make you look so pale?”

“Oh, honey.” Beth patted her hand over her heart. “It just
seems sort of sudden, given everything. And what would you say?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. It’s equally likely he’s just taking me to a good restaurant for a romantic night out. I could cancel. Then you and Lauren wouldn’t have to worry about it.”

“I raised you better than that,” Beth scolded.

“Did you come over for something besides my tortured lack of a love life?”

“Yes, I came to see if we had a pair of bell bottoms in a size sixteen. DeAnn’s mother is going to help take tickets at the quilt show, and she’s got a tie-dyed shirt but needs something to wear with it.”

“I think there might be a white pair,” Harriet said. “The bags of clothes are down in the studio.” She glanced at the clock radio on her nightstand. “I’ve got time. Shall we go look?”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to wait with you until Aiden
comes to pick you up?” Aunt Beth asked Harriet when they’d found the jeans for DeAnn’s mom and then had tea.

“You don’t need to stay and hold my hand. Besides, Aiden isn’t coming to pick me up—he’s sending a limo to take me to wherever it is we’re dining.”

“Call me tomorrow and let me know how it went, either way.”

“I know, and if it’s really exciting, you’ll be up till midnight. I got the same instructions from Lauren.”

“Mavis and I are playing Bunko at Marjory’s tonight, so we
will
be up late…if you want to call.” Beth smiled and put her coat on.

The limo Aiden had promised arrived at seven sharp.

“What do you think, Fred?” Harriet asked her fluffy gray cat as she twirled in a circle and came to a stop in front of the mirror in her front hall. The sleeveless black crepe cocktail dress skimmed the top of her knees. “Are the earrings too much?”

She held her hand over one ear, blocking the sparkle of the
diamonds as she turned her head from side to side, evaluating each option in turn.

The doorbell rang, ending the debate.

“Enjoy your night alone,” she called to Fred.

She’d taken Scooter, her little dog, to Connie’s house for an overnight visit. Scooter had recovered dramatically after being rescued by Aiden from a hoarding home. He’d been well enough to leave the animal hospital several weeks ago but still required medication several times a day.

Connie and her husband Rod had agreed to take him for an overnight visit so Harriet wouldn’t have to come home early to administer his nightly dose.

She opened the front door to a short middle-aged man with
gray hair. He was dressed in some sort of formal livery. Harriet wondered if Aiden had paid extra for the costume.

“Ms. Truman?” he asked. “I’m Mr. Jones, your driver. Your car awaits.”

“Let me get my coat,” she said and grabbed her black dress coat from the antique rack by the door.

“May I pour you a glass of champagne?” Mr. Jones asked when Harriet was seated in the white leather passenger area of the limo.
He’d picked up a chilled bottle from an ice bucket, wrapping it
deftly with a white towel.

“No, thank you, I’m good.” Harriet’s palms were beginning to sweat. She was happy that Aiden was making an effort, and excited to see what came next, but at the same time, she worried this whole limo-and-champagne routine was a little over-the-top.

“Let me know if I can do anything to make your journey more enjoyable,” Mr. Jones said, and when no requests were forthcoming, he closed the door and got into the driver’s seat.

If the limo was taking her anywhere in Foggy Point, it would be a short ride, Harriet thought. It soon became clear that Mr. Jones was driving a serpentine route around town, finally arriving at their destination precisely thirty minutes later.

The limo came to a stop, and a moment later, Mr. Jones opened the door. Harriet recognized the location immediately. They were in Smugglers Cove at a restaurant owned by her friend Harold’s buddy James. Harold had brought her to the place when she’d first returned to Foggy Point.