“That is amazing,” Harriet said.
“Maybe you and your aunt can come over for dinner and meet her when she arrives. She’s coming a few days early so we can visit before your program begins.”
Harriet would rather have been trapped on an iceberg with a hungry polar bear.
“That sounds nice,” she said.
She and Michelle were never going to be friends, but the woman was Aiden’s sister; and now she was getting involved with Michelle’s children. If Michelle was willing to try, so was she.
Avalaine came into the kitchen carrying her jacket and a small backpack.
“I brought a notebook and a pen. Do I need anything else?”
“That sounds perfect,” Harriet told her and headed for the door. “Bye all.”
“When you’re making a quilt, one of the most important skills you need to develop is accurate cutting. For example, if you have six squares in a row on your quilt top, and each one is one-quarter of an inch off in size, what will happen?”
Lainie’s brows pulled together as she thought.
“Are they too big or too small or some of each?”
“Good question,” Harriet replied. “For our first example, let’s say they are all a quarter-inch larger.”
Lainie’s lips moved as she counted. Her eyes got big.
“That row would be an inch and a half longer than it was supposed to be.”
“What happens if the blocks in the next row are all a quarter of an inch too small?”
“Whoa, that row would be an inch and a half smaller. When you tried to sew them together they would be three inches different from each other.”
“Good,” Harriet told her and smiled. “You’d notice if your blocks were a quarter of an inch too big or small. If you had twelve blocks and they were only an eighth of an inch off, you’d have the same problem, but it would be harder to spot until you finished.”
“Or a sixteenth of an inch with twenty-four blocks.”
“You get the idea. In real life, what you asked first is more typical. Some blocks are a bit too big and others a bit too small so they can cancel each other out. But the truth is, it’s best to cut your fabric pieces as accurately as possible. We have plenty of tools to help us do that.”
Harriet spent the next half-hour showing Lainie various rulers, cutting guides and roller cutters. She had just started to demonstrate the suction cup handle used to hold bigger rulers when they heard a knock on the studio door. Aunt Beth and Mavis entered. Lainie’s look of relief was unmistakable.
“Have you been working this poor little thing to the bone?” Mavis asked. She set her bags down by the door and came over to Lainie, put her hands on the girl’s shoulders, and began massaging.
“I might have gotten a little carried away.”
“A little hard work never hurt anyone,” Aunt Beth observed.
“It’s really interesting,” Lainie said. “I had no idea it was so complicated.”
“I’m sure Harriet here is a wonderful teacher,” Mavis agreed, “but how about a little break so you can digest what you’ve learned.”
The smile on Lainie’s face was all the answer they needed.
Mavis went back to the door for her things. She held up a white paper bag.
“We swung by Annie’s on our way here, and she’d just put out a batch of cinnamon twists.” Mavis looked at Lainie. “Annie makes the best cinnamon twists, bar none.”
Beth looked at her friend.
“If you’ll stop talking and bring them in here, the girls might get to taste them while they’re still fresh.”
“I’m coming,” Mavis said and headed for the kitchen. “I just wanted to educate her on the finer points of pastry in Foggy Point.”
Harriet fixed tea for herself, Mavis and her aunt and poured a glass of milk for Lainie. They ate in silence until each of them had consumed their first twist.
Lainie wiped her hands on her napkin and took a drink of her milk before speaking.
“Do you like my mom, Harriet?”
Harriet choked on her sip of tea. Aunt Beth reached over and put her hand on Lainie’s arm.
“Honey, your mother has had a difficult year. Your grandmother died, and your mother has had trouble dealing with that.”
Mavis picked up the story.
“Sometimes people do things we don’t like, but that doesn’t mean we don’t like that person. We don’t like what they did, but we can still like them. Does that make sense?”
“I guess so,” Lainie said, all the while looking at Harriet.
“She’s right. Your mom has had a tough year, but the important thing is that she’s getting help.” Harriet passed her the plate of cinnamon twists, ending the inquisition. She was glad the girl had waited to ask the question until a time when her aunt and Mavis were with them. “Let’s have one more twist, and then we can get back to cutting out your first quilt.”
Lainie smiled at her and bit into a pastry.
“I think we have enough squares cut that you can start laying out your design next time.”
Another hour had passed. Harriet was starting Lainie on a simple lap quilt made from six-inch squares cut from a combination of solid and print fabrics; she’d let her pupil choose the material from her stash.
Lainie tilted her head to the side and looked at Harriet.
“How will I know what squares to put where?”
Harriet went to her desk and pulled a pad of grid paper from a drawer then picked a plastic mechanical pencil from a ceramic cup on her desktop. She handed everything to Lainie.
“When you get home, you can draw your quilt on this paper and then color the squares with crayons or colored pencils. You can try out different arrangements to see which one you like best. If you want, you can take a scrap of each of the colors to remind you what we cut out.”
“I can put the colors wherever I want?”
“Yes, you can. That’s the great thing about quilting—you can make whatever design you want.”
“Cool.”
“Let me find you a bag to put your supplies in.” Harriet went to a storage cupboard and rummaged around until she found a canvas bag with her company logo on it. “Here we go.”
She handed the bag to Lainie.
“Why did you name your business Quilt as Desired?”
“I didn’t,” Harriet explained. “My aunt started this business, and she named it. She told me lots of people get frustrated by quilt patterns that tell them how to put the pieces together to make the quilt top but don’t give any hints about how to quilt it. The patterns say to ‘quilt as desired.’ She thought that would be a good name for her business.”
Lainie sat on one of the wheeled chairs and put her pad, pencil and fabric scraps into the canvas bag.
“Your aunt is cool. She said nice things about my mom even though I can tell no one thinks my mom is a good person.”
“Has something happened? You seem pretty worried about what people think about your mother.”
Lainie spun her chair around, avoiding eye contact.
“Carla picks up Wendy and takes her out of the room any time my mom comes in. And she won’t speak to my mom except to say ‘yes, ma’am’ and ‘no, ma’am’. And Uncle Aiden’s jaw twitches when she talks to him. He says normal things to her, but his voice never sounds happy.”
“Sweetie, everyone understands that your mother was sick. It’s just that sometimes it’s hard to pretend something never happened, especially if it was something that scared you. Your uncle Aiden loves your mother, and he’ll keep talking to her until he can do it with a happy voice again.”
Lainie jumped up and threw her arms around Harriet.
“You’re the best.” A smile lit up her face.
Harriet hugged her then rubbed the girl’s back.
“I think things are going to get better from now on. You can stop worrying about your mom and start worrying about something important—like who is your favorite music group this w
eek or what are you going to wear now that you don’t have to wear a school uniform every day.”
“Did you have to wear uniforms at your boarding school?” Lainie asked.
The ensuing discussion lasted until Harriet pulled to a stop at Aiden’s back door. Carla leaned into the open window when Lainie was back in the house. She held the receiver to Wendy’s baby monitor loosely in her left hand.
“So, you’re telling me I have to be nice to Michelle?” she asked when Harriet had related her conversation with Aiden’s niece.
“I didn’t say that. But it was sad hearing Lainie ask if we all hated her mom. She’s a sharp kid. I decided I’m going to make a better effort to accept Michelle.”
“As long as Michelle keeps her hands off Wendy, I guess can try,” Carla offered.
“Do the kids say anything about their father?”
“Not much, but...”
“What?”
“I shouldn’t say anything if I don’t know for sure.”
“Come on. If I’m going to be spending time with Lainie, I need to know if you think something’s going on.”
Carla’s expression became serious.
“Don’t tell anyone I said anything.”
“I can’t promise that, but I won’t tell anyone something they could use against you. How’s that?”
“It’s not that big a deal, I just don’t need any more trouble than we’ve got here already. I’m pretty sure Michelle’s husband has moved on.”
“Wow, that was quick, if it’s true. What makes you think so?”
“Well, first of all, when Michelle was going off the rails, the kids were with their dad full time—I heard Aiden say he didn’t want Michelle to have any visitation. I guess the dad was quite vocal about it. He talked about having Michelle’s parental rights terminated. Now, the kids are here with the nanny and the tutor, and he’s the one arranging visitation.”
“That might have been a court decision. They’re both lawyers, after all.”
“There’s more. He bought a new car. He used to drive a big sedan the kids could fit in with all their stuff. Now he drives a Porsche Nine-eighteen Spyder. I didn’t even know what it was; I had to look it up on the Internet. And the last time he came here, a pair of women’s sunglasses was hooked on the passenger seat visor.”
“I don’t suppose they could have been Lainie’s?” Harriet asked.
Carla stared at her.
“I guess not, huh? Well, that is an interesting twist on things. It’s especially interesting since Michelle always complained about how poor they are. That’s why she was trying to get Aiden to give her money all the time. Now, her husband can buy a car that, if I’m not mistaken, costs well into the six-figure range.”
“I’m sure he has money she doesn’t know about it. My mom always hid money from her boyfriends. We hid our escape money in my doll.”
“If the car is his, I’m guessing Michelle’s husband hid his escape money in the Cayman Islands.”
“I feel sorry for the kids. Now nobody wants them.”
“Their mom is getting better, and their uncle Aiden loves them. Plus, they have their uncle Marcel and his family.”
Carla twirled a strand of her dark hair.
“I still feel sorry for them.”
“Well, for as long as they’re here, I plan to do my best to give Lainie some quality one-on-one time. I’ll think about what we can do for Etienne, too.”
“I guess that’s all anyone can do. I better go check on Wendy. She fell asleep in the playroom, and if I don’t wake her up pretty soon, she’s going to want to party all night when she does get up.”
Harriet smiled. “Good luck with that. Are you going to be able to come to lunch at Jorge’s tomorrow? We’re supposed to talk about our visitors and what, if anything, we’ll do as a group apart from the workshop.”
“Wendy has playgroup at the church, so that should work.”
“See you then.”
Harriet drove away, deep in thought about Lainie and her quilt project.
Chapter 3
Connie picked up a glass from the side table in the back room at Tico’s Tacos and filled it with iced tea.
“I don’t understand why that woman would want to stay with you after everything that happened.” She came back to the table and sat opposite Harriet. “Didn’t you say you weren’t on friendly terms when you left California?”
Harriet stirred a packet of sugar into her own glass of tea.
“I wouldn’t put it that way, exactly. We were never friends to begin with. Steve had a group he’d gone to high school with. When they all got back from college and were working, they took up where they left off, and all us partners were along for the ride. The men went to football and baseball games together, and we women joined them for group meals. We barbecued or went to the theater in smaller groups, but always still in a group.
“A couple of the wives had gone to the same high school, and I’m sure they did things together without the guys, but the rest of us didn’t. We were all too different. Steve’s friend Jason had four kids in three years, so his wife rarely got out of the house. Sharon was still modeling back then, so she was always off to LA for this, that, or the other photo shoot.
“Niko went back to Japan and married the girl his parents had picked out for him shortly after his birth. To their surprise, they fell in love after he moved her here. She was nice, but she spoke little English, which made it hard to exchange heartfelt secrets.
“Anyway, when Steve died, and I found out they’d all known about his condition, I pulled away from them. They didn’t exactly fall all over themselves offering help or anything, but the few who did I ignored.”
“I still don’t see why you have to host one of them,” Connie said.
“I can’t believe she wants to stay with me. I’m assuming it’s out of a misplaced sense of guilt. I could be wrong, though. And I’ll admit I’m curious.”
Lauren had arrived while they were talking. She plopped her bag on the bench beside Harriet and pulled out her tablet computer.
“Want me to see what she’s been up to in the intervening years?”
“Yes,” Connie said at the same time Harriet said, “No.” Harriet looked at Connie.
“Okay, I guess I am a little curious.”
Harriet spelled the full name for her friend.
Lauren’s fingers tapped the face of her tablet.
“Oh, wow.”
“What?” Harriet asked.
Lauren was silent while she continued reading and scrolling.
Connie put her hand over her heart. “The suspense is killing me. What have you found?”
Lauren clicked and scrolled for another moment.
“First of all, when she was modeling, she went by the name Charin, spelled C-H-A-R-I-N. And it looks like your friend suffered quite a career reversal. She was in a terrible car accident, and according to this, it may have been her fault. One of her legs was badly scarred. Not a good thing for a model.”
“Were other people involved?” Connie asked.
Lauren turned back to her tablet and read some more.
“It says here that her passenger was another model, and she was also injured bad enough they airlifted her to the hospital. The other car held a mother and her two kids.” She clicked to the next page. “One of the kids suffered a spinal cord injury; it doesn’t mention the second child.”
“Was she drunk?” Connie asked.
“No. It sounds like the other car came through an intersection at the end of a yellow light, and Harriet’s friend was looking at her phone. The court decided they both were to blame. The press crucified Charin, though—I’m guessing because she was a celebrity as opposed to any determination of greater liability.”
Harriet sipped her tea.
“Great, that’s all I need. Someone else with issues.”
Lauren put her tablet to sleep and put it back in her bag.
“Maybe she figured you two o
utcasts could bond over your ostracism.”
“Let’s hope not. Speaking of bonding with strangers, have you learned any more about your roommate?”
“Rumor has it she’s a former nun.”
“Diós mio,” Connie said.
“What have I missed?” Robin asked as she breezed into the room, picking up a glass for tea as she passed the side table. Aunt Beth and Mavis came in before anyone could respond.
Connie slid over to make room for the new arrivals on the bench.
“We should wait to talk about our guests until everyone is here.”
“You’re no fun,” Lauren said, but her smile softened the complaint.
“What do you all think about having a mixer Friday night when our guests have arrived?” Aunt Beth asked when everyone was present and Jorge’s server was delivering their lunches.
Jorge entered with a basket of warm chips in one hand and a pitcher of lemonade in the other.
“Anyone need a refill?” He looked around the table. Harriet held her glass up, and he came to her spot. “This is a first.”
She looked up at him. “What?”
“The entire group is eating the same meal.”
“What’s not to like about fish tacos made with halibut?” Deann asked him with a smile.
“Good point,” he said and laughed. “I heard you mention a mixer. Would you like me to prepare some refreshments?”
“There’s an idea,” Lauren said. “If people have food in their mouth, they can’t talk to us, and we don’t have to talk to them.”
Mavis set her glass down.
“Stop that right now,” she scolded. “We want this event to be a success. If we all go into it with that kind of attitude, it’s guaranteed it will be a flop.”
Lauren broke the tortilla chip she was holding.
“Sorry, I was just kidding.”
“I know you were, but I’m serious,” Mavis said. “The success of this event not only reflects on the quilters in town, it reflects on our community as a whole. Just because it wasn’t our idea doesn’t mean it isn’t a good idea.”
“She’s right,” Aunt Beth added. “With the economy the way it’s been, any opportunity to bring tourists into Foggy Point is important. Maybe they’ll come back with their families in the summer.”
Crazy as a Quilt (A Harriet Turman/Loose Threads Mystery Book 8) Page 2
