When Secrets Strike

by Marta Perry

  Allison nodded, clicking the buttons that set the printer in the back room humming.

  A thought flitted into Sarah’s mind, maybe because she’d just been worrying about Aaron and his brother. “With the computer, would it be possible to find out something about the company that bought Matthew Gibson’s farm?”

  “I don’t see why not. Every company has a web presence of some sort now. Why?”

  “It might give us an idea of what they plan to do with the land. Aaron says Harvey Preston was told it was an investment, but they wouldn’t be doing a survey for that, would they?”

  Allison shrugged, her fingers busy on the keys. “I have no idea, but I can certainly see what’s available on them. What did you say the name of the company was?”

  “Evergreen Corporation. Harvey said they were located in Delaware.”

  “Evergreen. Sounds like something to do with conservation, doesn’t it? And it’s common for companies to have headquarters in Delaware. There must be tax advantages to it. But let’s see what shows up.”

  Sarah wanted to stand behind Allison and watch the information pop up, but the shop phone rang, so she went to answer it. It was Julia, sounding impatient as always.

  “Julia, slow down. This is Sarah. What did you say?”

  Allison glanced up from the computer at the mention of Julia’s name, smiling.

  “I said I found the pictures I took of some of my quilts. The oldest one is from my grandmother’s family. It belonged to my great-grandmother, or maybe even great-great-grandmother. Isn’t there something called an album quilt?”

  Sarah’s interest perked up at the words. “Album quilts can be very special. Does it have a different image in every block?”

  “Yes, that’s the one.”

  Sarah did some mental calculating, based on Julia’s age. If the piece was an album quilt that had belonged to her great-grandmother, it might be quite valuable.

  “It certainly sounds special. If you—”

  “You need to come over right now and look for it.” Julia’s voice had its imperious note. “I’m not waiting for that lazy cousin of mine to get around to it.”

  Sarah sent a harassed look toward Allison. “I’d love to come over now, Julia, but we are so busy—” She stopped, because her partner was making shooing gestures with her hands.

  “Go,” she said. “You know she won’t be content until you do.”

  Sarah covered the receiver with her palm. “I don’t want to leave you alone in the shop again, but I’m afraid she might try to get up those attic stairs herself.”

  “It’s fine,” Allison said. “Go. If your mother or Esther and Becky come in before you get back, they know what to work on.”

  Sarah spoke into the phone again. “I’ll be over soon, Julia.”

  “Good. Don’t dillydally.” She hung up without a goodbye, but then, Julia never had been as particular about etiquette as her dear friend, Allison’s grandmother.

  Allison was looking at her with raised brows. “Don’t tell me she really has a great antique quilt. I thought it was a wild-goose chase.”

  “If what she’s describing is accurate, and if it’s as old as she says, and if it’s in decent shape,” Sarah said. “I can’t tell anything until I actually see it.”

  “You’d better get going, then. I’ll hold the fort.”

  Sarah reached down to retrieve her bonnet from under the counter. “I’ll try not to be too long. Before I go, did you find out anything about the Evergreen Corporation?”

  “No. Not a whisper.” Allison was frowning, maybe because she hated to admit defeat.

  “Well, you tried. I guess that’s a dead end.”

  Her friend shook her head. “You don’t understand. It shouldn’t be a dead end. If such a corporation exists, there has to be a record of it somewhere. Given time, I’ll find it. But it’s very odd that a company wouldn’t have a web presence. Very odd,” she repeated.

  “You’re sure? I mean, the quilt shop didn’t have one until you insisted.”

  Allison smiled. “Trust me on this one. I’ll keep looking. We’ll find something. Now go, before Julia calls again.”

  Nodding, Sarah hurried out. There was a lot to be said for their church district’s ban on having telephones actually in the homes. The ringing seemed to demand an answer, no matter what else a person might be doing. At least with the phone shanty, they didn’t hear that insistent ring.

  As she turned away from the door, a movement at the rear of the hallway caught Sarah’s eye. Now, what was Gus Hill doing here? Surely Julia hadn’t sent him with a message when they had just spoken on the telephone.

  No, that couldn’t be it. Gus must have seen her come out of the quilt shop, but he turned away immediately, staring into the window of the bookstore.

  Had Fielding ever caught up with Gus in his rounds of interviewing? Sarah hadn’t heard. Knowing Gus, it was just as likely he’d stay out of the investigator’s way, probably assuming he’d get blamed for anything that was going on. Certainly people were inclined to suspect him of petty thieving, even though he’d never been caught at it.

  Maybe she should tell him Fielding was looking for him. But even as she started in that direction, Gus scuttled into the bookshop.

  Shrugging, Sarah headed for the front door. She might mention it to Julia. If Gus hadn’t spoken to Fielding yet, he probably should, if only to keep the man from suspecting him. Julia could convince him of that if anyone could.

  CHAPTER TEN

  JONAH LEANED ON his shovel and mopped his forehead. “Nothing worse than shoveling stalls on a stinking hot summer day,” he muttered.

  “Watch your language.” Daad glared at him. “It has to be done, so get to it.”

  “I said it was stinking and it is,” Jonah said, flaring up in an instant the way he always seemed to do lately.

  Aaron sighed. Next Daad would respond, and then they’d be angry at each other again. There never seemed to be a good moment to bring up the danger of the fire investigator’s suspicions, and yet he had to warn Jonah.

  “Well, I don’t know if it’s the worst,” Aaron said, trying to intercede before they got going. “It seems to be that baling hay might be more miserable when it’s hot and humid and the hay sticks to you and gets in your hair.”

  That diverted Daad, at least. “You young ones don’t know what it used to be like. Before we had a baler, we piled the hay on the wagon and forked it up to the loft. I thought we’d never get all the hay off us.”

  “We’d have to hose each other down if we did that,” Aaron said, smiling with relief at having avoided a fight.

  Daad shook his head. “We’d run down to the creek, strip off our clothes and jump in. The cold water never felt so good.”

  Even Jonah smiled at that image of their father skinny-dipping, and Aaron felt encouraged. Now if he could get a few minutes alone with Jonah, maybe he could clear the air.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his brother, he reminded himself. Jonah would never lose himself so much that he’d set a fire, whatever Fielding might say about excitement. But the boy had to be warned.

  Aaron glanced down the row of stalls. “We’re nearly done, Daad. Why don’t you go get a cool drink? Jonah and I will finish in no time.”

  For a second he thought his father would flare up, like Jonah, and insist he could do as much work as either of them. But then he nodded, straightening slowly. “Maybe I will. Denke, boys.”

  Once Daad was gone, Aaron half expected Jonah to complain about being volunteered to finish the work, but aside from a sigh, he didn’t comment. Aaron studied his brother’s averted face. He and Jonah had been on better terms since that night at the last fire. He’d think that boded well for an honest discussion of the problem. On the other hand, he didn’t want
to ruin the fragile understanding, either.

  “Daad was looking awful tired,” he said finally. “I don’t think he’s up to as much work as he thinks he is, especially in this hot weather.”

  Jonah didn’t speak, but he seemed to be thinking over the words. “I guess,” he said finally. Then his face clouded. “But he doesn’t need to act like I’m not doing my fair share. Even if I’m out late, I still do my work.”

  Jonah’s late outing the previous night had been the subject of this morning’s heated debate with Daad, especially since Jonah’s only explanation of where he’d been was that he was out with friends.

  “Daad knows you’re doing your share. He just worries about you.”

  “He shouldn’t. I’m old enough to take care of myself.”

  Aaron’s thoughts went to his own small daughters. “Maybe so. But I don’t think Anna and Lena will ever be too old for me to worry about them. Not even when they have kinder of their own.”

  That surprised a smile out of Jonah. “Seems funny to think of them all grown up.”

  “Seems even stranger to me, but it happens.” He was relieved enough at Jonah’s attitude to bring up the previous night. “You missed all the excitement at the Bitlers last night.”

  “Wish it had happened when I was looking around the place,” his brother said. “Maybe I’d have caught him.”

  “And maybe you’d have been hurt trying. He was rough enough with Sarah.”

  Jonah’s expression said he was tougher than any female. “Is Sarah sure she didn’t see enough to recognize the guy? Seems like she must have noticed something.”

  “You sound like that arson investigator,” Aaron said. “He was determined to get her to say she’d seen something, but she hadn’t. And you know Sarah wouldn’t lie.” He hesitated, but there was something more that should be said. “We’ll have to be cautious what we say about it. If the firebug thought Sarah could identify him, she might be in danger.”

  The idea seemed to scare Jonah nearly as much as it upset Aaron. “Is Sarah okay?”

  Aaron nodded. “More shaken up than anything, but it was pretty frightening.”

  Sarah must start being more careful about where she went and what she did. The difficult thing would be to convince this new, independent Sarah of that fact. He admired her independence, but found he still wanted to protect her. Irrational—that was what it was.

  “Ja, I guess it would be scary for her.”

  He was glad to see the boy taking it so seriously. Maybe it was safe to ask a direct question. “So where were you last night when all this was going on?”

  He’d guessed wrong. He could see that in the sudden change of Jonah’s expression.

  “I was out with friends. Why are you asking? So you can tell Daad?”

  “No, that’s not it. Listen, Jonah, that arson investigator—Fielding—he’s been asking questions about you. He’s got this idea that a young firefighter might be looking for the excitement—”

  Jonah threw down his shovel. “So that’s what you think? You think I’m going around setting fires? You’re even worse than Daad!”

  “Jonah, no, I don’t.” But he was talking to an empty stall. Jonah had run out of the barn.

  Aaron felt like banging his head against the stall door. He’d managed that badly, despite his good intentions. He’d probably created an even bigger chasm between himself and his brother. How was he going to protect Jonah now?

  * * *

  “WELL, WHAT DO YOU think?” Julia demanded an answer the moment she’d put the quilt photograph in Sarah’s hands. “What is it? Is it valuable?”

  Sarah tried to control her rising excitement. “I haven’t had time to look at it yet, ain’t so?” She carried the photo over to the window, where the light was better.

  The image was in color, which helped, but it was faded, some of the detail lost. Still, she could see enough to know that it was indeed an album quilt, with each block done in a different design of flowers, leaves, trees and animals on a white background. With a magnifying glass, maybe she’d be able to see more.

  She returned to Julia, who was leaning forward in her chair, fingers drumming on her cast.

  “It looks like a lovely example of an album quilt. Its value will depend on how old it is and what condition it’s in.” She’d best be cautious if she didn’t want Julia charging headfirst into finding it herself. “Do you know anything about the history?”

  The elderly woman shrugged impatiently, making a face. “History! That’s for that bunch of ancestor worshippers who talk about how their people came over on the Mayflower. I say it’s what you do with your life that counts, not what you came from.”

  Sarah had heard Julia on the subject in the past. She and Allison’s grandmother had had some lively arguments about it. If Sarah didn’t head Julia off, she’d be in for a repeat.

  “Ja, I’m sure you’re right. But if we can establish who made the quilt and when, it will affect its value. And think of the draw it could be at the quilt festival.” She didn’t want Julia to forget the reason they’d embarked on this search to begin with.

  “I don’t care about the value,” Julia said, still impatient. “I told you it was my great-grandmother’s. What more could I know?”

  “Well, sometimes folks talk about quilts to their family, so the kinder will know about their meaning. My mamm made a quilt for me that has a piece from every dress I ever had, back to when I was not much more than a baby.” Sarah smiled at the thought. “She can even say how old I was with each one. It’s a nice memory to have.”

  Julia actually seemed to be listening, instead of just waiting for her chance to argue. “I suppose I did hear a few things about that...what did you call it? An album quilt? My mother got it from her grandmother, I think. I believe there was some story about it being made for her wedding.”

  Sarah nodded. “That’s pretty common for an album quilt. A group of girls will each contribute a patch to a quilt for the bride. Sometimes they put their names on their patch, sometimes not. Were they from around here?”

  “No, no, that’s the Herrington side of the family. They were from Baltimore. My mother moved here when she married my father.”

  “Baltimore.” Sarah repeated the name, her mind calculating how old the quilt must be if it had belonged to Julia’s great-grandmother. “That could be important. Album quilts became very popular in Baltimore in the mid-1800s, and a quilt in good condition from that period would be a wonderful good find.”

  “I suppose it would be...” Julia seemed to lose track of her thoughts. She leaned her head on her hand, frowning a little as if trying to focus. “What was I saying?”

  Sarah pulled a footstool closer and sat down next to the older woman, feeling concerned. This sudden fuzziness wasn’t like the Julia she knew. “You were thinking about how old the quilt might be.”

  “Oh, right. My grandmother’s quilt.” She frowned again. “No, my great-grandmother. I just can’t seem to think how long ago that was. Let’s see. I was born in 1938, so my mother...”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Sarah said quickly. “Maybe you have something in writing that would help?”

  “Wait a minute.” A bit of the usual spark came back into Julia’s eyes. “I did keep my mother’s Bible, and I think I remember that there was a family tree in the front. I’ll look for it. It’s here someplace.” The wave of her hand seemed to take in the whole house.

  “That’s fine, but don’t tire yourself out with hunting for it.” Sarah watched her with some concern, Donna’s words about Julia’s forgetfulness coming back to her.

  “I am tired,” she admitted. “Don’t know why, when all I do is sit here.” Julia seemed to rouse herself with an effort. “Anyway, let’s find the quilt first, so you and Allison can see it. I’m sure it’s in an old trun
k along with some other quilts and a few odd things. A silver chafing dish.” She snorted. “I ask you, what does anybody need with that? Should have gotten rid of it years ago. Some other useless stuff in there, too. Just bring it all down, and we’ll sort it.”

  Knowing how many trunks she’d seen in the attic, Sarah suspected that wasn’t going to narrow the search much. Though Julia claimed to have no use for such sentiment, it had seemed to Sarah that the attic was crammed with things she’d kept.

  “Do you remember what the trunk looks like?”

  “Of course I do,” Julia snapped. “It’s one of those big, rounded-top traveling trunks. Shouldn’t be that hard to find. Let’s get at it.”

  Sarah had her doubts, but at least this time Julia had focused in on a particular type of trunk. With any luck, she’d be right.

  Sarah obediently headed for the attic steps. A moment later, she stood at the top, staring rather helplessly at the assortment of crates, bins and trunks. At least there weren’t too many of the rounded-top variety, assuming Julia was right about that.

  Starting at one end, Sarah began working her way methodically through the contents of the attic, smiling when she remembered Julia’s comments about those fancy dresses she’d found the last time.

  But her thoughts were on Julia, who periodically shouted questions and instructions up to her. Had those moments of seeming confusion signaled a serious condition? Should Sarah talk to Donna about it? The woman often claimed to be Julia’s only relative, but Sarah had no idea if that were true.

  Somehow the idea of talking to Donna behind Julia’s back left a bad taste in her mouth. She really didn’t think she could do that, especially since the two women were so often on the outs.

  She could talk to Allison, though. Allison was trustworthy, and her grandmother had been Julia’s closest friend. The thought cheered Sarah. Even if Julia knew, she wouldn’t feel betrayed at the thought of Sarah and Allison worrying about her. And if there really was something wrong with her, they could figure it out together.