"Hello,” she said. “Yes, I'm Harriet."
"Good morning, ladies,” a voice boomed from the landing. Harriet covered her free ear and stepped into the hallway in order to hear her caller. She saw Avanell's brother Bertrand come into the parlor with a plate of doughnuts.
"I brought you some doughnuts to have with your tea,” he said. “I do appreciate what you're doing here."
Harriet finished her phone call and rejoined the group.
"That was weird,” she said to no one in particular.
"Is there a problem?” Bertrand asked.
"I'm not sure. That was the woman in charge of hanging the quilts at the Puget Sound Quilt Show. She was informed of Avanell's passing, and it raised the question of whether her quilt still qualified to be hung in the group category or not. Technically, the quilt is now being shown by an owner, not a maker, and that's a different category.
"She realizes this is a rather unusual circumstance and said she'll get back to me as soon as she can get the board of governors together to make a decision."
"That's ridiculous,” Bertrand said, a faint hint of his French accent apparent for the first time.
"Well, I'm sure they'll sort it out. According to Aunt Beth, Avanell has won the grand prize for quite a few years running. That has to count for something."
"I'll leave you girls to your work, then,” he said, and turned with a flourish and went down the stairs.
"I'll bet he was a real Cassanova in his day,” DeAnn commented.
"In his own mind, anyway,” Jenny said. “He was in grade school when his parents moved here from France, but he always tried to impress the girls with his European heritage."
"Did it work?"
"Not really. He married a mousy little girl who was two years below him in school. Does anyone have a pile started for metallic overlays?” she said, effectively ending the topic.
Harriet went upstairs for another box; and while she was gone, Connie arrived. The shorter woman pulled her into a hug when she came back downstairs.
"How are you doing today?” she asked.
"I'm good.” Harriet pulled awkwardly away.
Connie set her carafe down on the table.
"Anyone want tea?” she asked. “It's peppermint today."
Harriet held up her empty cup and allowed Connie to fill it with hot liquid.
"So, has anyone heard anything about Avanell's case,” Connie asked after she'd gotten settled in her spot at the table.
"Shh, not so loud,” Jenny said. “The whole family is downstairs."
"I'm sure they want to know as much as we do,” Connie countered.
"Darcy came in for a movie last night, but if she knows anything more she's not saying,” DeAnn offered. “She said the sheriff is still working on the premise it was a robbery gone wrong."
"He knows better than that,” Mavis protested. “When have we ever had a robbery where they killed someone? That may happen in the city, but not in Foggy Point, Washington."
"That's what I say,” Connie agreed.
"If not robbery, then what?” asked Harriet.
"I'm not sure,” Jenny said. “But I for one don't believe that your break-in and Avanell's death happening on the same night was just a coincidence."
"But who would want Avanell dead?” Harriet persisted. She looked into the serious faces of her aunt's friends.
"On TV they usually say it's the person who has the most to gain from the death."
"That's easy,” said Lauren.
"Who?” several others chorused.
"Aiden, of course."
"What does he have to gain from it?” Harriet asked.
"He inherits a big pile of money from his grandmother."
"What does that have to do with Avanell?” Jenny wanted to know.
"Grandma Binoche was a crazy old lady. And she hated Avanell. She had the room next to my grandma Oliver at the Muckleshoot River Assisted Living Center. She would come to my grandma's room when I came to visit. I don't think she had many visitors.
"Anyway, she told me the lengths she'd gone to so she could be sure Avanell would not benefit in any way from her death. She left her estate to Aiden, but it's held in trust until Avanell's death. So he not only inherits whatever Avanell left him, but he also gets whatever Grandma Binoche left, and from the way she talked, it wasn't a small amount, either."
"That's it?” Harriet said. “That's the evidence you have against Aiden? What about Michelle?"
"That, and the fact that he lives by himself and has no alibi,” DeAnn added. “Michelle didn't come to town until Thursday afternoon."
"Darcy did mention that no one related to Avanell had an ironclad alibi. She heard the beat officers complaining because it was more work for them trying to find people who had chanced to see them, since they did pretty much nothing all night."
"That sounds pretty thin,” Mavis scoffed. “And besides, Aiden has a skill that will earn him a good salary once he gets established. He wouldn't kill his momma for money."
"You never know what motivates people, though. Money does funny things to folks,” Jenny said.
No one spoke after that. She was right—money did do funny things to people.
* * * *
"Does anyone care if I take some of the thirties reproduction prints for one of the girls in Marjorie's Thursday night group?” Harriet asked, referring to a group of pastel fabrics printed with images that had been popular in the 1930s. She looked around the table.
"I think that would be fine,” Jenny said. Connie nodded agreement.
"Let's put these stacks back in the boxes and label them. Harriet and I can take the Goodwill boxes and the ones that go to Foggy Point Assisted Living Center. Connie, could you take the box for the Friends of Seasonal Workers?” Mavis asked.
Connie nodded again.
"I can take the charity boxes that go to Marjorie's. I'll put them in my car and then bring them to Pins and Needles on Tuesday, if that's okay with everyone,” offered DeAnn.
"That sounds great,” Jenny said. “If everyone takes some of the boxes with them, we'll only have the project bags to deal with."
"I vote we take the bags with us, too, and finish deciding about them at Loose Threads or Harriet's or somewhere that isn't here,” suggested Mavis.
"We can take them to my studio,” Harriet said.
With a plan in place, the women said their goodbyes and agreed to meet at Pins and Needles on Tuesday and carpool to Avanell's memorial service.
"I'm glad that's over,” Harriet said when she and Mavis were in the car and headed down the driveway.
"Me, too,” Mavis agreed. “I asked Michelle if she needed help going through Avanell's clothes. She's got the house on the market, so she may have to deal with it sooner than she thinks. She said she'd get back to me."
"It does seem kind of weird that she's got the house for sale before Avanell's even buried."
"Everyone grieves differently, honey. Some hang on to stuff and some can't get rid of it fast enough, almost like death is a disease you can catch."
"I think I'll go to the quilt show tomorrow morning,” Harriet decided. “It sounded like they took Avanell's quilt down. I'm not sure if they'll leave the spot blank while they decide what to do, or if they'll move one of our others. It could cost the group votes in the Most Popular category. I thought I'd rearrange the rest if they're going to keep Avanell's off display for very long. What do you think?"
"I think that's a good idea. You want some company?"
"Sure. I need to leave early, though. I have to stitch something for Sarah Ness tomorrow when I get back."
"I get up with the birds, so you just let me know when you want to leave and I'll be ready."
They agreed to meet at seven the next morning.
Harriet was tired after her poor night's sleep the night before, but she knew she'd rest better if she started Sarah's quilt. It took more than an hour to load. She knew Aunt Beth told quilters to leave a genero
us fabric border to allow for the natural take-up that occurs when lines of stitching are put into the fabric and batting layers, but Sarah had left a very minimal edge for her to work with. She ended up having to take the top off the machine and start over two times before she got it to line up with the backing. She resolved to charge Sarah for the extra set-up time.
Once she had the quilt in place, Harriet decided to go ahead and finish it. She stopped at eight o'clock for a quick salad and boiled egg then continued stitching until she was done.
At ten o'clock, Fred pushed through the door from the kitchen into the studio and meowed.
"I know—it's time to go to bed, and this time by ourselves."
She clipped the thread and turned the long-arm machine off. She could unload it when she got home from Tacoma tomorrow.
She was tired, but glad she was done. She picked up Fred and carried him upstairs.
Chapter Twenty
"Shall we swing by Dannay's Donut Shop on our way out to the highway?” Mavis asked. “I'll buy."
"Fine with me,” Harriet said. “Just don't tell Aunt Beth—she's got me on a diet of lettuce and water."
"Your aunt Beth is one of Dannay's best customers."
"Aunt Beth also believes in the old ‘do as I say, not as I do’ brand of parenting."
"This'll be our little secret,” Mavis said and smiled.
Traffic slowed to a crawl as they approached the city, and it was nearly nine-thirty by the time Harriet pulled into the parking lot of the show hall. A sign on the entrance door indicated the show didn't open to the public until ten.
"Good,” Harriet said and pointed at the sign. “We have time to make whatever changes we need to before the show opens.” She pulled the door open. No one was in the ticket booth.
"Hello?” she called.
Mavis crossed the lobby to the office door. She tapped on it with her knuckle and, receiving no response, opened it and leaned her head in.
"Nobody's home,” she said and shut it again.
"Let's go fix the display, and then we can try to find someone,” Harriet suggested.
The safety lights were the only illumination in the cavernous hall.
"It's kind of creepy in here without the big lights on,” Mavis said.
Darkened quilts swayed gently in the air current created by the building's ventilation system. She moved closer to Harriet.
"What's that noise?” she whispered.
Harriet stopped. A dull thwack was followed by a metallic jangle.
"Hear that? It sounds like it's coming from the next row."
"That's where our exhibit is,” Harriet said. “Come on."
She strode into the next row. The center quilt in the Loose Threads display was jerking and bucking. The rod pocket ripped.
"Stop!” she yelled.
The quilt went limp. She heard a scuffling sound. Each quilt in the display billowed in turn, as if someone were pushing it out from behind.
She ducked behind the row but was only in time to see a door swing shut. She pushed her way back out between two quilts.
"This is really weird,” Mavis said. “Looks like someone was trying to rip Lauren's quilt down from the display."
"Lauren's quilt?” Harriet said. “Lauren entered her quilt as an individual display, remember? We hung it up at the front."
Mavis held up a corner of the large quilt with its bottom edge now sagging to the floor.
"This is definitely Lauren's. There's no mistaking the image of Kathy the Kurious Kitty."
"I wonder what it's doing back here."
"Well, wherever it belongs, it needs to be repaired before it can go on display anywhere. Here, help me get it down."
"Wait,” Harriet said. “Let me get a chair so we can unhook the rod from the hanging chains.” She went to the end of the aisle and pulled one from a cart that had been placed there for the use of exhibitors.
"Who's there?” a voice called. A woman in a wheat-colored denim jumper came down the main aisle toward her. When she got closer, Harriet could see it was Jeri, the registrar they'd met on their previous visit.
"It's Harriet Truman, and Mavis Willis,” she said. “We're with the Loose Threads display."
"No one is supposed to be in here until ten o'clock.” She crossed her arms tight across her chest, her alligator loafer tapping a nervous rhythm on the cement floor.
"We stopped at the office on our way in, but no one was there."
"That didn't make it okay for you to come back here."
Well, excuuuuse me, Harriet thought.
"It wasn't clear from our conversation yesterday if you were taking Avanell's quilt down or not,” she explained. “We wanted to rearrange the display if that was the case."
"You need to talk with your group members.” Jeri paused to allow her contempt to envelope them. “Lauren Sawyer already spoke to me last night. She instructed us to remove her entry from the individual display and put it on the rod Ms Jalbert's had been hanging on. She said the group agreed that quilt should be off display until a decision was made about its classification."
"Excuse me, Jeri,” Harriet said, emphasizing the woman's first name. “I think it's you who needs to talk to your group—your security group. When Mavis and I came in here this morning, someone was in the process of trying to steal Lauren Sawyer's quilt. It's been damaged, and believe me, I'm going to let her know on whose watch it happened. We're going to have to take it down and repair it, if it even can be repaired. I'm sure you'll be hearing from Lauren shortly."
"But it's too late to make a substitution,” Jeri spluttered. “The public will be entering in fifteen minutes. We can't have an empty rod. It will spoil this whole row."
"Look, lady...” Harriet was ready to unload her frustration on this narrow-minded woman.
"Where is Avanell Jalbert's quilt?” Mavis interrupted.
Harriet glared at Jeri but kept her mouth shut.
"We have it in the office,” Jeri said and stiffened as she guessed the implied solution.
"The group just decided it wants Avanell's on display while you make your decision about its classification,” Harriet said. She could see from Jeri's face the woman didn't like that idea but knew she couldn't oppose it without the consent of the show committee.
Jeri turned on her heel. “I'll get the quilt from the office,” she said over her shoulder as she stalked away, squaring her shoulders in an obvious attempt to regain her composure.
"She's just a breath of fresh air,” Mavis said with a smile that was little more than a grimace.
"Here,” Harriet said. “Hold my chair, and I'll get Lauren's quilt down."
Mavis held the folding chair steady while Harriet stood on it to release the hanging rod from the chains suspended from the ceiling. She bundled the quilt to her chest and stepped down.
"Boy, someone really wanted this down,” Mavis said as she ran her fingers over the torn red batik on the back. The rod pocket had been pulled loose along nearly half its length. It wouldn't have been so bad if the pocket had become unstitched, but this wasn't the case. The pocket had been torn from the backing where it had been stressed.
Harriet laid the pocket back in its proper position. “I suppose she could take the binding off the top edge and then reapply a larger rod pocket to cover the damaged area."
Mavis ran her gnarled fingers over the pocket and the torn fabric under it.
"It will have to be a fairly large pocket, and if she does that, it might show when the quilt is actually hanging on it. We'll have to think about this a little. She might have to put a new piece of backing on along this top edge."
"But then she'd have to pick out her stitching in that area and re-do it."
"I didn't say it was going to be easy. Here, take the other end. Let's fold it up."
Jeri returned with Avanell's quilt clutched to her chest.
"You realize the committee is meeting at one o'clock this afternoon, and they may well decide to take this right b
ack down again."
"We'll take our chances,” Mavis said, and pulled the quilt from her grasp. Mavis turned her back on the woman and pulled the folding chair back into place under the display hooks.
Jeri stormed back down the aisle toward the office.
"I thought she'd never leave,” Mavis said. “I was hoping I wasn't going to have to get up on that chair."
Harriet handed her the wooden dowel that would slip into the rod pocket. They fed the rod into the opening, and when it was in place, Harriet climbed onto the chair and placed it into the hooks.
"How does it look?” she asked.
"Scoot it a little to the left."
She did as instructed.
"That's better,” Mavis said.
"Funny, I never noticed before that Lauren used the same backing fabric Avanell did."
"Yeah, it's funny, all right,” Mavis agreed. “Lauren tends to attract coincidences like that."
"I guess it was all for naught. I don't see how she can get her quilt repaired in time to make any kind of showing here."
"You never know with that girl. I guess we'll see."
"Can we look at the other displays, as long as we're here?"
Mavis looked at her watch. “It's still a few minutes until opening, but what the heck. The worst old Jeri can do is throw us out, but I don't think she'll bother."
Harriet was amazed by the variety in the exhibit. It was hard to believe that quilters could continue to come up with new and different ways to combine color and shape, and render the result in fabric.
Several groups were following the popular trend of combining a book club with quilting. The members read a book chosen by the group then designed and created quilts that depicted the designers’ take on the story. Journal quilts also continued to be popular. She stopped in front of a clothesline-style display of journal pages.
"I don't see how they have time to do a quilt every month all year."
"They're a lot smaller than a bed quilt,” Mavis pointed out.
"Yeah, but they're a lot more dense with imagery and stitching, plus they still have to back and bind them, and that's time-consuming no matter the size."
"It's all about priorities, I guess."
Quilt As Desired Page 13
