"Let me at least get you some ice.” She dug in a drawer for a sandwich bag then opened the freezer and filled the bag with ice cubes. She wrapped the bag in a dish towel and handed it to him.
"I'm calling James,” Ben said. “He should be in on this."
James, Mavis's second son, was an attorney in Port Townsend.
"We don't need to drag James over here this late,” Gerry said around his ice bag.
"You don't get a vote,” Ben said. “You didn't think we needed to know about Dad, either."
Harriet thought about calling Mavis but decided it wasn't her place to tell the boys’ mother. She also didn't want to draw attention to the fact she was still there listening.
"Dad is dead. Just because he wasn't dead for the last twenty years doesn't change the fact that he's dead now,” Gerry said.
"Things are going to get crazy when everyone finds out. We need to understand the implications,” Ben said. “We need to prepare."
"Prepare for what?” Gerry shouted.
"If Dad wasn't dead, Mom's been falsely collecting his insurance.” Ben ticked his points off on his fingers. “And maybe getting Social Security payments. And we still don't know why he left.” He looked at Gerry. “Do we?"
Gerry shook his head indicating they didn't.
"We don't know if Dad was involved in something shady—I mean, he left suddenly. People don't leave like that unless they screwed something up."
"Ben, everyone already knows this stuff,” Harry said, rubbing the knuckles on his right hand.
Harriet noticed for the first time how red and swollen it was. She prepared another bag of ice and handed it to him.
"The police have Dad's body,” Harry continued, “all the old timers in town know Dad died twenty years ago. What's new?"
"If Gerry knew Dad was alive, other people probably did, too. This changes everything,” Ben said.
"Ben,” Harry said, “I agree we need to tell James—and Pete, too,” mentioning Mavis's middle son for the first time. “But not tonight. Gerry's ‘secret’ changes things for us, but only for us. Not for Mom, not for the police. Two and Three are coming tomorrow anyway.” He used the number nicknames he had invented when he was a toddler, trying to master his four brothers’ names.
"Have you been in touch with Dad all this time?” Ben asked, putting his cell phone back in his pocket and finally asking the question Harriet wanted answered.
"No, I haven't.” Gerry got up from the floor and started pacing again. “It's not like Dad and I made some plan together. He called me to his office one day. He gave me a piece of paper with the address of a post office box and a polymer formula. He said he was leaving on a business trip the following day. He said no matter what I heard after that, I shouldn't believe it. He told me not to tell anyone else what he'd said. Then he told me that if I ever started seeing orders for that polymer come across my desk, I should send a postcard to the address. A blank postcard. That's it."
"And you didn't hear anything else all this time?” Harry asked.
"I heard nothing for almost twenty years. When Dad left, I was a clerk in the purchasing department. When I became manager of the department, I made a habit of reviewing all chemical purchases, just in case. For nineteen years, nothing out of the ordinary happened. I caught a few counting errors by my own employees, but no sign of the polymer.
"Then, about two and a half months ago, someone ordered a small quantity of the stuff. I didn't do anything right away, because the product development people order small quantities of all sorts of chemicals, and besides, I wasn't sure Dad was still out there.” He picked up his ice bag and held it to his jaw again.
"Sorry,” Harry said, and hung his head momentarily.
Gerry put the bag down and took the two ibuprofens Harriet handed him.
"I decided to check out who was using the chemical and what they were using it for,” Gerry continued. “I went down to the production area, and I got the run-around on who had placed the order. The best I could get was that a new project was coming up, and they were preparing for it. Brett, one of the production managers, said he'd heard Carlton had purchased a new product from a company that was closing. He said they were relocating their own managers and technical people. He said they had probably ordered the stuff under Carlton's account number because they aren't set up here yet."
"So, you sent the postcard.” Ben said.
"I did. And to tell you the truth, I didn't think anything would come of it. The first couple of years, I thought Dad would show up with some explanation so all this would make sense. Then, for a few more years after that, I told myself he probably did have an accident, or a heart attack or something. If he'd really left us behind, no one would know to notify us."
"Did you ever try to find him?” Ben asked
"How was I supposed to do that?” Gerry protested. “Don't forget, it was twenty years ago. Everything wasn't a computer keystroke away. He was supposed to have died in Malaysia, but other than that, he could have been anywhere. I couldn't leave my job and go searching the world. Besides, I couldn't afford to go anywhere."
"So the first thing we need to do is hire an investigator and figure out where he's been,” Ben suggested.
The brothers bickered for a minute about how to go about hiring and paying for an investigator. It was clear Mavis hadn't told them about Ilsa yet. Harriet didn't want to be the one to break the news, but it couldn't be helped.
"Guys,” she said, and held up her good hand to silence them. “I can save you some time and money."
"Do you know something?” Harry asked.
"Of course, she knows something,” Ben said, “Why do you think she said that?"
"Does anyone need more coffee?” Harriet stalled.
"Let me do that,” Ben said, and took the coffeepot and refilled their mugs.
When everyone was settled again, Harriet took a deep breath and began.
"There's no easy way to tell you all this, so if you could, let me get it all out before you ask any questions.” She proceeded to tell them about Ilsa and the Netherlands, and then Lauren's discovery about their dad's sale of his invention and the resulting money.
"Dad remarried?” Harry said.
"Dad's a millionaire?” Ben said at the same time.
"What do we know about this woman?” Gerry asked.
"I don't think we know anything about Ilsa, except for what she told us,” Harriet said. “She claims to have followed your dad here. I'm not sure how else she would have ended up here unless she got the information from him in some way, or followed him. I know it doesn't mean anything, but I've spent a few hours with her and she seems sincere. From listening to her talk to your mom, she either knew your dad for some amount of time or did really thorough research."
"We should be able to call Dad's cousins in Holland. At least we could verify that much,” Gerry said.
"Lauren did find the information about the fiber formula under Gerard Van Auken, which is the name Ilsa knew him by, so that must mean something, too,” Harriet said.
"I can't believe our dad left us and married someone else,” Harry said in a hollow voice.
"This is all pretty unbelievable,” Gerry agreed.
"There's one more thing,” Harriet said. “I'm not sure if this was a coincidence or if it's connected, but your mom was called to go babysit for your brother Pete during most of the re-enactment. She got back just before we saw your dad lying at the edge of the forest. She told me she thought something was off about the request. Pete told her their babysitter had to attend an out-of-town funeral, and then Mavis ran into the girl at a coffee shop. She fled when Mavis recognized her."
"You're not trying to say Pete's in on this, are you?” Gerry asked. “Why would Dad ask Pete, of all people?"
"I don't know what I'm trying to say. It just seemed weird. It came up all of a sudden, and then the girl was in town when she was supposed to be gone. I think that's a pretty big coincidence."
&nbs
p; Gerry stared at the ceiling. “This just keeps getting better,” he said.
"What's so important about that particular polymer?” Harry asked. “Is it poisonous or environmentally dangerous?"
"No more so than any of the other chemicals we use to make the fireman's turnouts. None of the stuff we use is without its dangerous properties, but nothing radical. But I'm a business guy, what do I know. We can ask one of the chemists tomorrow, if you want."
"Speaking of tomorrow, it's going to be here before we know it.” Harriet took her cup to the sink and rinsed it before putting it in the dishwasher. “I'm going to bed. Can I trust you not to tear the place up?"
"I'll behave,” Harry said. “I'm sorry I over-reacted. This has been a lot to take in."
"I'll take responsibility for the coffeepot,” Ben offered.
Harriet thanked him, called Fred and went up to bed.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 18
Mavis was drinking tea in the kitchen the next morning when Harriet and Fred came downstairs.
"How's the shoulder, honey?” she asked.
"It's getting better each day. I'm really tired of this tie-down though.” Harriet wiggled the fingers on her injured side.
"I'm sorry the boys misbehaved last night. They confessed as soon as I got here this morning."
"Where are they?"
"Harry is out running, and Ben went to get doughnuts."
"Did they mention what we talked about last night?"
"Yes, and I'm sorry you had to be in the middle of all this, honey. I'm sure it was no picnic telling them about their dad's new wife."
Harriet looked away. “I wasn't sure if I should be the one to break the news, but they were getting worked up about hiring an investigator. I felt like I had to stop them before they actually did something."
"Well, I'm sorry, honey.” Mavis reached over and patted Harriet's good arm.
"Have you decided what you're going to do?"
"About what?"
"Ilsa, the funeral, all of this?"
"There's not much I can do. Ilsa's the one whose husband just died. Gerald Willis has been dead a long time. Ilsa seems pretty sensible. I thought I'd see what she wants to do about a memorial. If she doesn't want to do anything public, then the boys and I will do something private ourselves."
"Have you talked to James yet?” Harriet asked. “You need to find out where you stand legally. We're assuming Ilsa is the widow here, but if Gerald was never dead, than you were still his wife when he died. It doesn't matter if he changed his name or married a second time or anything."
"Honey, I'm trying to avoid thinking about the insurance money I've been getting all this time. I suppose there's nothing for it, though. James has to be in court this morning, but he said he'd come over when he's finished and see what he can figure out."
"What a mess this all is. I wish we knew what was so important about that polymer. It doesn't make sense. If something made Gerald leave, what about a polymer could make him come back?"
"I think I hear Aunt Beth arriving,” Harriet said. “I'm going to check in with her, and then I'm going to Pins and Needles. The needle I'm using for my hand-piecing doesn't feel right. I realize it could be the fact that I have to hold my work at a weird angle, but my hand gets a cramp if I work for very long. I thought I'd try a short needle."
"I'm going to wait here with the boys until James arrives,” Mavis said. “Could you check and see if Marjory has that extra-wide backing fabric in a pale yellow while you're there?"
"Sure,” Harriet said, and went through the connecting door into the studio.
* * * *
Driving was a little harder than Harriet had anticipated, and she had to park three blocks away from Pins and Needles in order find a spot big enough to lurch her car into.
"Hey, Carla,” she said as she came into the quilt store. Her young friend was behind the counter. She explained her needle problem, and Carla showed her the array of needles Marjory stocked. Harriet ended up choosing a Jean Lyle big-eye quilting needle. It was short and should prove easy to thread.
"I heard one of the teachers in Angel Harbor say we should try quilting thread for our hand-piecing. She seemed to think it was easier to use,” Carla offered.
"I'll try anything. It's hard to keep my thread from tangling when I use sewing thread, so maybe this will be the answer."
"Mavis told me to cut my length of thread shorter and it wouldn't tangle so much.” Carla looked at her feet. “She said it didn't pay to be lazy."
"Threading a needle every five minutes isn't my idea of fun, so I guess I'm lazy."
"Mavis showed me how to wax the end of my thread on a candle and then load a whole package of needles onto my spool. You tie a knot in the end of the thread and then each time you want a new needle, you grab it and pull some thread out, then clip the thread and needle from the spool and retie the end of the spool piece."
"She's been holding out on me,” Harriet said. Carla blushed. “That technique could really help me now. I think I'll get two packages of needles. My aunt can thread them on for me, and then I can stitch for quite a while without having to bug her."
Carla followed Harriet to the checkout counter, carrying the thread and needles for her. She rang up the purchase then hesitated as she put the items into one of the flowered bags Pins and Needles used for that purpose.
"Can I ask you a question?” she asked, looking everywhere except at Harriet. “About men,” she added, her face turning the familiar red color.
"Sure,” Harriet said, not sure she knew much more than Carla did where men were concerned.
"It's about the dinner I made the other night."
Harriet's mind immediately went to the practice meal Aiden had dumped her for, and wasn't sure if she'd be able to talk about it without her anger being obvious.
"I cooked dinner for Terry, my friend, the other night,” she started then faltered. Of course—she was going to talk about the main event, Harriet thought with relief. Why would she give the practice dinner a second thought?
"And?” she prompted. “What happened?"
"He cancelled. I'd already prepared the do-ahead stuff and everything. What did I do wrong?” Carla pleaded.
"What did he say?"
"Nothing. We'd been talking about food. He said his mom wasn't a very inspired cook. I can't think of anything we talked about that would have scared him away."
"It probably wasn't anything to do with you,” Harriet said. She put her good hand on Carla's shoulder. “Sometimes things happen that have nothing to do with us,” she added, thinking that little bit of wisdom applied to most of her childhood.
"He had come over for coffee and we were talking about food. I was getting him warmed up so I could ask him, and then his phone made a noise and he looked at it."
"Could you see his phone screen?"
"I saw it light up, but I couldn't see if he got a text or what. I asked him if he could come to dinner that night, and he said no, so I said how about tomorrow and he said no, and I was afraid to ask anymore."
"Something must have come up. Someone contacted him, and he had to meet them or do something for them. Have you seen him since?"
"He stopped by here, but he made excuses for why he can't come to Aiden's house at night, and he did it before I could even try to invite him again. I'm starting to wonder if he's a vampire or something."
"It's daytime that vampires don't like, not night. Besides, you said he eats, right? And drinks coffee?"
"Just because they live on blood doesn't mean they can't eat food. They just don't need to. And they have to hunt at night."
"You don't seriously believe in vampires, do you?” Harriet couldn't believe she was having this conversation with Carla, of all people. If there was anyone acquainted with the real world, it was Carla.
Carla pulled a thick book with a black cover from under the counter, one of a popular teen vampire series.
"Come
on, you know that's fiction."
"It sounds so real, though, the way the young man protects her."
"Oh, Carla, it's a nice fairy tale, but he's just like your knight when you were little and your mom locked you in the closet. He helped you through a rough time, but he wasn't a real person.
"I know,” she said with a crooked smile. “But sometimes when people do weird stuff it's easier to believe in fairy tales."
"Do you think Aiden said something to him?” Harriet asked, pulling the conversation back to reality.
"Not that I know of. He's always been really friendly when Terry is there, and he usually goes to some other part of the house when Terry visits."
"Terry said he's trying to find people his dad worked with. Maybe he did."
"I don't think so. He doesn't like to talk about his dad."
"I'm not putting Terry down,” Harriet said, “but there's something strange about his search for information about his father."
"What?"
"I'm not sure. He seems like a smart guy, but he's trying to find out about his dad by just asking around in a town they lived in once. It would make sense if his dad was still alive, but he isn't."
Carla leaned against the back counter and picked at her lip.
"I'm sorry I don't have better answers. I'm not that great with men myself.” Harriet picked up her bag and started to leave. “Oh, before I forget, Mavis asked about extra-wide quilt backing.” She described what Mavis was looking for, and Carla showed her the options, two of which seemed like possible choices.
"Tell you what,” she said. “I'll talk to Aiden tonight and see what he thinks. He's a guy, maybe he can enlighten us."
Carla busied herself straightening a stack of postcards telling about an upcoming guild show.
"I could cook dinner for you,” she said in a quiet voice.
"What?” Harriet asked, not hearing her clearly.
Carla looked up.
"Could you come to dinner tonight? I can try out another recipe your aunt Beth taught me."
"I think that would be delightful,” Harriet said with an encouraging smile.
She left the store, heading for her car. Going home wasn't an appealing option right now, with the Willis family reunion going on, so she pointed her car toward Foggy Point Fire Protection. Like Gerry, Carlton had been a newly minted college graduate who had just joined the company twenty years ago. Now he owned the company—if anyone had answers, Carlton would.
Quilt As You Go Page 13
