Robin squeezed a wedge of lime over her tacos.
“I hadn’t thought of that aspect. I’m just worried about gathering materials for the classes I’m taking. I’m also planning the stretching programs the organizing committee asked me to do.”
“So, back to the mixer idea,” Harriet said. “You said Friday? The official program starts on Sunday, doesn’t it?”
Aunt Beth wiped her mouth on her napkin before answering.
“Yes, the quilting program starts on Sunday. We offered out-of-town visitors the option of arriving Friday so they would have a day to recover before we got serious about stitching. The Chamber of Commerce organized some tours of Foggy Point and the surrounding areas. One of the Small Stitches called me and asked if we could do something with them Friday.”
“I heard they were offering a day trip by ferry to Victoria on Saturday,” DeAnn offered. “They hired a bus to take people to Port Angeles for departure.”
“That sounds fun,” Harriet said. “Maybe Sharon will want to go.”
Lauren sat back in her chair.
“What did you have in mind for the mixer?”
Connie went to the side table, picked up the iced tea pitcher, and carried it back, offering refills.
“I saw Glynnis at the store, and she told me that almost half of the people are taking them up on the Friday option. If even half of that half come, plus us and at least some of the Small Stitches, that will be too large a group for any of the restaurants in town.”
“I can check and see if the basement room at the church is available,” Mavis volunteered.
“We can ask Jorge to supply hors d’oeuvres,” Beth suggested. “The Chamber said we could have a small budget to work with.”
Lauren looked at Harriet and then back to Connie and Mavis.
“Harriet and I can come up with a get-to-know-each-other activity.” She looked back at Harriet and smiled.
“Now, that’s the spirit,” Aunt Beth said.
Lauren finished her tacos and laid her napkin on the table.
“I called an upholsterer in Angel Harbor,” she said to Harriet, “and they have some of that heavy muslin that’s on our class list. I know our teacher said she’ll have some for us to buy. I don’t know about you, but I’d like to practice on some of it before class starts so I can make sure I’ve got the best needle and thread combo. I’m going to get some this afternoon. Want to come with?”
“I guess I could spare a little time.” Harriet mentally reviewed her schedule. “I’ll have to stitch a couple of hours when we get back, but that should be no problem.” She stood up. “Anyone want us to pick up some heavier muslin?”
Everyone wanted at least a half-yard. Lauren made a quick calculation and tapped the number into her smart phone.
“You know, for a few brief moments, I thought this whole crazy quilt retreat week was going to be fun,” Lauren said as she backed her car out of the parking lot of Tico’s Tacos.
Harriet laughed. “Trade you my scarred model for your former nun.”
“No way. My ex-nun has potential. She sounds like she knows what she wants from life. Your model sounds depressing.”
Harriet looked out the car window. The sun was trying to push the clouds aside.
“I hope Carla isn’t given anyone too difficult. She has her hands full with Michelle and the kids and their entourage.”
“Connie told me she and Rod have been taking Wendy two afternoons a week. It’s partly to give Wendy special time but also to give Carla a little break.”
“That reminds me. I have Lainie coming to my house to quilt. I forgot to ask the Threads if anyone can come up with something her brother could do so he can get out of that house once in a while, too.”
Lauren turned onto the highway that led out away from Foggy Point.
“He’s a little young for me to teach him programming, but I ran into Tom Bainbridge in the coffee shop a couple of days ago. He’s designing an addition to the house of those people he stayed with during last year’s storm. I think he’s going to do some work himself on the existing structure, too. He might be willing to take on an apprentice.”
Tom’s mother had run a fiber arts school and retreat center the Loose Threads had attended the previous year in the town of Angel Harbor.
“Great idea.” Harriet closed her eyes. “My life isn’t complicated enough with Aiden and his sister and my past coming to haunt me for a week. Let’s stir the other man I’ve dated since I’ve lived here into the mix so Aiden can get all defensive and Sharon can go back to California and tell everyone how I’ve become a harlot.”
“Hey, you’re the one who needed ideas. You don’t have to rescue every stray puppy that comes along, you know.”
“Why does life have to be so complicated?”
“That’s a small town for you. If you want to be anonymous, move back to a big city.”
Harriet looked at her and shook her head.
“I’m assuming you have an idea for this mixer you volunteered us for.”
“Not really, I was just sucking up to Mavis and your aunt. After her lecture about the economy and all that, I figured I needed to do a little damage control.”
“What if we made color copies of crazy quilt blocks and cut them in half like puzzle pieces then gave every person who enters a half of the block? We could separate the halves into two groups; we locals would take from one pile and the visitors from the other. Everyone has to find the person with the matching half-block.”
“That sounds easy enough. Where will we get the pictures?”
“The teachers all sent pictures of their work for promotional purposes. I’ll email them and ask if we can use their quilt images for this,” Harriet volunteered.
“Let me know when you have the okay. I have a good color copier that will take card stock without eating it. We can use that.”
The women traveled in silence for a few minutes before Lauren spoke again.
“So, how are things going with Aiden? Is his sister really better?”
“Everything is improving. Michelle is never going to be my favorite person, but she seems to be trying. Her law license has been suspended, although if she can document that her actions were driven by a diagnosed mental illness that is now controlled by medication, she might have a chance of having the suspension lifted.”
“Is she hanging out at Aiden’s house while she waits for that to happen?”
Harriet smiled. “Believe it or not, she’s doing volunteer law clerk work in the legal aid office.”
Lauren glanced at Harriet then looked back to the road.
“Seriously? That really is a miracle.”
“I told you, I think she’s really trying.”
“Want to stop for a drive-thru coffee?” Lauren asked. “There’s a Dutch Bros coming up at the next exit.”
“We haven’t been driving for thirty minutes yet.”
“And your point?”
Harriet laughed. “Sure, I’d love a coffee.”
Chapter 4
The sky had turned the dark blue-gray that immediately follows sunset in the northwest.
“I’ll call you when we have the go-ahead to use the crazy quilt pictures,” Harriet said as she got out of Lauren’s car in Jorge’s parking lot.
“I’ll wait with bated breath.”
Alone by her car, she debated going into the restaurant; but dinner was in full swing, so Jorge would be busy, and she needed to get home and stitch on her customer’s quilt.
She took the route past Mr. and Mrs. Renfro’s tidy home. They had been friends of Tom’s mother’s, and he stayed with them whenever he was in Foggy Point for more than a day. It wouldn’t hurt to see if his car was in their driveway, she reasoned.
It was, and before she could think about it, she was on their porch asking if Tom was there.
“Come in, dearie.” Mrs. Renfro guided Harriet into a small entrance hall. “Tom will welcome the rescue. We don’t get much company, so m
y husband has him trapped in the kitchen, talking his ear off.”
The small woman took Harriet’s coat, and before she knew it she was seated with Tom in a cozy kitchen eating nook, dining on homemade lasagna and green salad.
“I feel like I’m intruding,” she told her host. “I really just wanted to talk to Tom briefly.”
“It’s no trouble at all,” Mr. Renfro assured her. “We don’t get much company since the grandkids are all off in college. Mamma still cooks like the whole tribe is coming over every night.”
“I’ll take the extra over to the homeless camp,” his wife assured Harriet. “And I have a whole other pan for them cooling on the screened porch.”
“Tom, here, made the camp folks an outdoor cook stove so they can reheat it,” Mr. Renfro added proudly.
Harriet looked across the table at Tom. He smiled and raised his eyebrows.
“What did you want to talk to me about?”
“I’m looking for a project for a young man who needs to spend some time away from his iron-fisted nanny and annoying mother.” She looked at each of the people seated at the table, waiting a beat for a reaction. When one wasn’t forthcoming, she continued. “Aiden’s niece and nephew are staying at his house with their mother, tutor and nanny. His niece is taking quilting lessons with me, and I’d like to find a man to spend some time with her brother. I was hoping you might be doing some sort of home-handy project Etienne could help with.”
Tom put his hand to his chin and rubbed absently.
“I’m doing some design work for the Renfros, but I can’t think of any hands-on activity I could include a child in. We won’t start the construction phase for a few months. I take it he’s young?”
Harriet’s shoulders sagged slightly. “Yeah, he’s nine or ten, I think.”
Mr. Renfro cleared his throat.
“I could use a lad like that. I’m about to start working on the wooden toys I make for the church Christmas bazaar. It takes me most of the year to make enough to sell as well as some to donate to the hospital children’s wing. He could help with sanding and painting…and cleaning up, of course.”
“If you’re sure, that would be great. I think Etienne will be thrilled. I was willing to teach him to quilt, but Carla didn’t think the old-school nanny and tutor would go for it.”
Mrs. Renfro passed her a basket of warm French bread.
“Here, dear, have some bread, and then you can tell us all about this quilt retreat we’re hearing about all over town.”
Harriet spent the rest of the dinner explaining what crazy quilting is and telling her hosts about the planned events.
“I’m going to be bringing a collection of quilts my mother had,” Tom added when Harriet was through. “My whole life, my mother stopped at every garage sale, estate sale, yard sale or any other type of sale you can imagine searching for quilts. Most of the time, the stuff she found had been badly abused, but every once in a while she found real treasure. She has three crazy quilts she got at an estate sale that were made by the deceased’s grandmother in the late eighteen-hundreds. They had been stored properly and are in mint condition.”
“That’s amazing. Considering how many women have quilted in the past, relatively few quilts have survived in perfect shape. And speaking of that, I need to go home and work on a quilt for one of my customers.”
She thanked the Renfros, collected her purse and coat and headed for the door, followed by Tom. He stopped when they reached her car and put his hands on her shoulders.
“How are things with you and the good doctor?”
Harriet was silent for a moment.
“I guess you could say we’re still in a holding pattern. His sister is back in town living at his house with her children. She’s on medication and seems to be recovering from her problems. She and Aiden are working on building trust again.”
He squeezed her shoulders gently.
“That’s great, but, Harriet, I think you know what I’m asking. Are you and Aiden a couple or not?” He pulled her into his arms. “I know I keep telling you I won’t pressure you, but I need to know if I’m fooling myself here.”
She rested her head on his shoulder.
“Why do relationships have to be so complicated?”
He dropped his hands to her waist.
“They don’t have to be.”
“If you’re tired of this dance we’re doing, I’ll understand if you want to opt out.”
He held her out at arm’s length so he could look into her eyes.
“Don’t put words in my mouth. I just want to know if I’m still in the game. As long as you haven’t made any commitments, I’m willing to wait and see how this all plays out. My money is on the good doctor self-de-structing. He can’t figure out how to put you first, and I’m thinking you’re going to get tired of always taking a back seat to his family.”
Harriet leaned back against his chest.
“Did I tell you the wife of my dead husband’s best friend is coming to stay with me during quilt week? The friend that blames me for Steve not getting treatment.”
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry.” He kissed the top of her head. “Can I do anything to help?” He laughed. “Besides stop asking you to make a decision?”
“Thanks for offering.” She moved out of his arms but held on to both his hands. “I’m not sure why you’re so good to me.”
“Maybe it’s because we’re friends? No matter what happens in the future, we’ll always be friends.”
“I better get going—I really do have to work tonight. Can you tell Mr. Renfro I’ll call him to set up a time for Etienne if everyone on that end of things agrees?”
He pulled her car door open for her.
“I will pass the message along, and if you think of anything I can do to help, let me know—and not just about the boy.”
Harriet got in her car and opened the window, smiling up as he leaned in through the window and gave her a quick kiss.
“If anything comes to mind, you’ll be the first person I call.”
Tom straightened up, and she backed down the driveway, not closing her window until she reached the street.
Instead of heading up the hill to her house, she went downhill toward Foggy Point and the Steaming Cup coffee shop. Her head was swimming after talking to Tom. She knew if she tried to stitch right now she’d likely destroy her customer’s quilt.
With Tom safely two hours away in Angel Harbor, she could pretend she didn’t feel anything for him and concentrate on whatever her relationship was with Aiden. However, as much as she tried to deny it to herself, when she was around Tom, her body reacted to him. Maybe it wasn’t the liquid fire that raced through her when Aiden kissed her, but her toes did tingle at Tom’s touch. There was no denying it.
“I thought you were quilting this evening,” Lauren said from behind her as she stood at the coffee bar waiting for her drink to be prepared.
Harriet’s shoulders sagged. Lauren moved to her side.
“I know that look. Which of your men have you just seen?”
“Do you really want to hear about my sorry love life?” Harriet picked up her cup from the counter.
Lauren glanced at the face of her smartphone.
“I’ve got a few minutes. Lay it on me.”
Harriet led the way to two overstuffed chairs near the fireplace. When they were seated, she gave her friend a short version of her visit to the Renfros’ and the subsequent dinner.
“Do you think I’m hanging on to an impossible relationship with Aiden because he was my first relationship after my husband died?”
Lauren took a sip of her mocha.
“Does this mean Tom is a contender again?”
Harriet leaned her head in her hand, her elbow braced on the arm of the chair.
“I don’t know what it means. All I know is I like Aiden, but everything is hard. I like Tom, maybe not in exactly the same way, but I like him—and he’s so uncomplicated.”
“
Is uncomplicated another way of saying boring?” Lauren asked her.
“No, it’s not, and that’s what’s so confusing. I really do like Tom, and he’s an interesting guy. He’s definitely there for me when I need him to be. I can’t say the same about Aiden. He’s there as long as his family doesn’t need anything at the same time.”
“But if Tom was all that, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
Harriet sighed. “That’s why I’m sitting here instead of at home doing my work. I can’t figure out if I’m not allowing myself to fully engage with Tom because I’m not willing to commit to someone who’s really available. Maybe I’m sticking with Aiden no matter how unavailable he is for that very reason. If he’s never available I don’t have to risk losing someone again.”
“Whoa, back up. I thought your husband was a liar and your marriage a sham.”
“I’m not sure where you got that. Steve did keep his health problem a secret, along with his misguided decision to not seek treatment for it. But why do you think it hurt so much? I loved him, and I know he loved me. I may not understand why he did what he did, but I know he loved me. We were happy.”
Lauren set her cup on a table beside her chair and leaned toward Harriet, staring her in the face.
“Do you feel guilty about his failure to get treatment? Like it was somehow your fault? You have to know that’s not true.”
“I do know that. I also know his friends think it was my fault. After Steve died, I went to a therapist for a while. A lot of what we talked about was personal responsibility and our inability to ever truly know why other people do what they do.”
“But?”
“In my dark moments, I wonder if, deep down inside, part of me still believes I could have done something different that would have resulted in a different outcome.”
“And that makes you think you don’t deserve to be happy?”
Harriet attempted a weak smile.
“Something like that.”
Lauren straightened in her chair and picked her drink back up.
Crazy as a Quilt (A Harriet Turman/Loose Threads Mystery Book 8) Page 3
