Make Quilts Not War

by Arlene Sachitano

  Chapter 2

  “Who needs a wig?” Harriet asked as she set a large shopping bag on the cutting table in her quilting studio.

  Mavis and Beth sat in the two wingback chairs by the bow window in the reception area, each holding a mug of steaming tea. Jenny was in a folding chair to their left, a large black tote at her feet. Robin and DeAnn stood with Lauren at the short end of the cutting table, a pile of clothing between them.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Carla said, stripping off her wet rain coat as she came in from the outside parking area. “I’m sorry, did I interrupt?” Her cheeks, red already from the cold, reddened further.

  “Harriet was just asking if anyone needs a wig,” Beth told her. “And I’m pretty sure we were all going to say yes.”

  “Ewww, where did they come from?” Lauren asked. “You didn’t get them from the thrift store, did you?”

  “Maybe,” Harriet said evasively. “I got a deal from a wholesale wig place in Seattle for six of them. I got four more from DeAnn.”

  She paused, and DeAnn took up the story.

  “When Nana first got dementia and we didn’t know what was going on, she went on a huge catalog shopping spree. It didn’t matter what sort of catalog came in the mail. If she got it, she ordered something—or many somethings. She must have gotten a wig catalog at some point, because we found a box with five brand-new ones in it.”

  “That’s handy,” Lauren said. “What about the thrift store?”

  “Okay, I did find three killer wigs at Trash and Treasures.” Harriet reached into her bag and pulled out a handful of black fluff and held it up. “I found this afro, and it was too perfect to pass up. I washed it three times.”

  “Toss it over,” Jenny said and held her hands up to receive it.

  Harriet carried the wig around the table then lobbed it. Jenny caught it then turned it in her hands to orient the cap before pulling it onto her head.

  “Is it me?”

  “Tuck your hair in around the back,” Lauren suggested, “unless you like looking like a skunk.”

  “Let me help you,” Carla offered. She set the mug of tea she’d just poured on the big table and stood behind Jenny, tucking stray strands of hair neatly under the wig cap.

  Harriet laughed. “It’s perfect,” she choked out. “Let me get a mirror.”

  She disappeared through the door into her kitchen and the house beyond. She returned a moment later with a hand-held mirror and gave it to Jenny.

  “Oooh,” Jenny said. “It’s definitely me.”

  “What else do you have?” Mavis asked. “Anything in red?”

  Harriet pulled all the wigs from her bag and passed them around. After a few minutes of trial-and-error, everyone except Lauren had chosen new hair.

  “I’m going to go with my own,” Lauren said and ran her hand through her long, straight blond hair, pulling out a hair clip that had been holding it away from her face. “I’ve been growing my bangs out ever since we started talking about this, so I can cut them just above my eyes like that singer Mary from that old sixties folk group.”

  “Well, honey, you’re the only one in this group that could pull that off,” Mavis told her.

  “I hope Connie likes her bob,” Jenny said.

  “What’s not to like?” Aunt Beth asked and laughed.

  “Sorry I missed last week,” DeAnn said. “The kids all had a stomach bug, and I didn’t want to risk sharing it with you-all.”

  “And we thank you for that,” Harriet told her.

  “You didn’t miss anything,” Lauren added. “A bunch of people went to Seattle to shop for costumes, so only a few were left to work on their quilts.”

  “We weren’t just shopping. We were picking up the posters and flyers and some other signs,” Mavis informed DeAnn. “The committee got a donation from a big printing company. It worked out that we were able to do a little shopping for our costumes while we were there.”

  Jenny got up and dumped the contents of her bag onto the cutting table as Robin pushed the pile of clothes near her to the center.

  “Dig in,” Aunt Beth said. “Mavis and I put the stuff we thought you ladies would be interested in on the table, but we have several more bags in the garage. The organizing committee asked us to bring back some selections for them, too.”

  “Where did you find all this stuff?” Harriet asked.

  “We found two vintage clothing stores that had a lot of sixties stuff that was reasonably priced. Then, we went to a theatrical costume store. The fringed vests and beaded headbands came from there; some of the bell bottoms, too,” Mavis reported.

  “I brought some things from the church clothing drive closet,” Jenny said. “We’ve been pulling out anything that looks to be of that vintage and setting it aside for this event.”

  “And we hit a military surplus store on our way back,” Aunt Beth added.

  “Is everything here up for grabs?” Jenny asked as she held up a long-fringed cowhide vest.

  “Yes,” Beth replied. “Mavis and I already have our costumes.”

  “That vest will be killer with your ‘fro,” Harriet said.

  “Can I interest anyone in brownies?” Harriet asked when everyone had decided on an outfit and either taken it to her car or stowed it in her stitching bag.

  “Even I won’t say no to chocolate,” Robin said.

  “I’m not sure why you bother to ask,” Lauren added and got up to follow Harriet to the kitchen.

  They returned with a large platter of chewy brownies and a stack of pink paper plates and matching napkins.

  “Anyone need a refill on their drink?” Harriet asked. “I got some of that holiday spice tea on sale at the Steaming Cup yesterday if anyone wants one last cup of it before it goes away until next Christmas.”

  Lauren retrieved the coffee carafe from the drip machine in the kitchen and topped off the cups of the three people who were drinking coffee while Harriet did the same with hot water from the electric kettle for the tea drinkers.

  “Can we see a copy of the flyers you picked up?” she asked when she and Lauren were through with their hostess duties.

  Mavis reached into the canvas tote on the floor by her chair, pulled out a trifold brochure, and handed it to Harriet.

  “Oh, nice. Look, Jenny, your quilt is on the front.” She held up the flyer for all to see.

  “I wish they hadn’t done that,” Jenny said, the color draining from her face. She pulled the flyer from Harriet’s hands and examined it. “I told Marjory she could display my quilt, and I didn’t really want to do that. She didn’t say anything about putting it on her advertising materials.”

  “You must have let them take the picture,” Lauren pointed out.

  “I let them take a few pictures, but Marjory said it was just for layout and planning purposes. No one said anything about using it for anything else.”

  “It’s a pretty quilt,” Carla said in a soft voice. “And it looks like it’s in really good condition.”

  “That’s not the point,” Jenny snapped. “It’s ancient history, and it isn’t anything like what I do today.”

  “I think that’s the whole point,” Mavis said. “And if you feel that strongly, I’m sure Marjory will take it down and give it back to you.”

  “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 answer?”

  “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.

  Chapter 3

  “He didn’t tell you anything about your date except you should wear 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 business, 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 absence 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, everyone 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.

  Chapter 4

  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?”