by Marta Perry
“I found out because of the quilt festival, but I’d have discovered it eventually, anyway. How did you think you’d get away with it?” Julia’s tone was grim. “Or did you think I’d die and no one would ever know?”
“Of course I didn’t. I’m telling you I don’t know anything at all about your quilt or the silver whatever-they-were. Sarah probably didn’t look in the right place.”
“I searched carefully.” Sarah surprised herself by speaking up.
“We’ve traced the album quilt,” Allison interjected, her tone icy. “We know it was sold.”
Donna transferred the glare to Allison. “Not that it’s any of your business, but if it was sold, my cousin probably did it herself. She got rid of a lot of things when she moved into this house. That’s the answer, and you’ve got a lot of nerve fixing on me—”
“I traced the sales records,” Allison said. “It was sold in the past six months.”
If that was a blow, Donna didn’t let it show. “I don’t know anything about it. Julia probably sold it herself and forgot all about it. You don’t know how she forgets things these days.”
“The dealer identified you as the woman who brought the quilt in.” Allison seemed unaffected.
That silenced Donna for a moment, and Sarah could sense her mind working feverishly behind that rather foolish face. “Oh, that old quilt,” she said. “Yes, I know the one you mean. Cousin Julia asked me to sell it for her.”
Julia gasped. “That’s an out-and-out lie. I never did anything of the kind.”
“You’ve forgotten, that’s all.” Donna sounded a bit smug, maybe satisfied that she’d hit upon the perfect defense. “Everyone knows how you’re forgetting things.”
Sarah couldn’t let that pass. “Has Julia’s doctor confirmed that? Because as far as we can tell, you’re the only one who’s been saying that, Donna.”
“I’m the one who sees her every day. Not you. Not the doctor. If I were to tell you of all the things she’s forgotten, like leaving the stove on and mixing up her medicines—”
“Liar!” Julia thundered. “I never thought to hear you being so malicious, Donna. You may as well admit it right off. That’s the only way you’re getting out of this without my calling in the police.”
“You wouldn’t. You said you didn’t want a cousin of yours in jail.”
“I’ll do it if I have to.” Julia was firm, brooking no argument. “Who was the man? How was he involved?”
That rocked Donna. Sarah could see it. The woman didn’t speak for a long minute. Then...
“I suppose you’ve been eavesdropping. Yes, I have a man who is interested in me. He doesn’t have anything to do with any stupid old album quilt.”
“So you admit you took it.”
Donna traded being indignant for a sullen face. “Well, what if I did? That old quilt wasn’t worth all that much, but the dealer offered me five hundred for it. So I took it. I needed money, and I didn’t want to hear another lecture from you about living within my means.”
“So you turned to stealing.”
Julia’s tone expressed so much contempt that Sarah began to feel sorry for Donna. She’d hate to be spoken to that way.
“It’s not really stealing,” Donna protested. “After all, it will all come to me when...” She stopped, maybe realizing that wasn’t a very good argument.
“When I die,” Julia finished for her, her face grim. “Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched, Donna. I might be better off leaving everything to charity rather than to a thief.”
“You wouldn’t! Julia, we’re kin. I admit it, I’ve been foolish, but I never meant you any harm. You know that, don’t you?”
“You’d better tell me the rest of it.” Julia seemed to take advantage of Donna’s dismay. “What about the silver?”
Donna hesitated for a moment. Wondering how much they knew? Finally she shook her head. “I don’t know anything about it. Maybe it’s in some other storage box.” She seemed to gain assurance from their expressions. “All I ever took was the quilt.”
Julia didn’t press the matter, which was just as well as far as Sarah was concerned. She doubted that even Allison could figure out how to trace something like that.
“I repeat, how does the man fit into this? Did he suggest you might take something of mine?”
“No! He’d never do anything like that.”
“If he turned your head with flattery and used you to get at my property, I might not blame you so severely.” Julia held out the bait.
Did she mean it? Sarah forced herself not to fidget. This confrontation seemed to contain plenty of pitfalls.
Donna straightened, her head coming up. “You’re wrong. You think no man could be interested in me, but he is, and he’s a better catch than either of you two could get.” She glared at Allison and Sarah with something near hatred. “You’re jealous of me, but you’ll never get me to say a word against him. Never!”
“That’s enough.” Julia’s voice cracked like a whip. “I’ve heard enough from you to last me quite a while. Get out, and don’t come back unless I send for you.”
“Fine! Take care of yourself, then. See how far you get.” Donna grabbed her purse, flounced to the door and went out, slamming it loudly behind her.
For a moment the bang seemed to echo in the sudden quiet. Julia sagged in her chair, all the fight going out of her. Sarah was at her side in a moment.
“That was so hard on you. Tell me what I can do for you. Do you want a cup of tea? Coffee?”
“A stiff drink would do me more good.” Julia waved her away. “All right, stop hovering. I’m fine.” She snorted. “Donna always was a fool. I don’t know why I’m surprised that hasn’t changed.”
“Still, she’s right about one thing,” Allison said, her tone practical. “You need help, at least until that cast comes off.”
“I’ve already arranged it.” It was Julia’s turn to look smug. “I knew I wasn’t going to want Donna around any longer, no matter how this turned out. I have a girl coming in a few hours a day to help me. I should have done that to begin with, but Donna was so insistent about taking care of me that I didn’t.”
“I’m sure she’ll apologize and try to make amends.” Sarah wanted to make things better, but suspected that wasn’t possible. And Julia wasn’t one to look for someone else to shoulder her burdens, anyway.
“She’s trying to protect some man. She’ll come to her senses when he dumps her.” Julia was cynical about it, but it might well be true.
At least Julia didn’t seem to mourn over people she couldn’t change. Sarah could learn something from her.
* * *
AARON HAD BEEN a little surprised when Becky came home with the information that Sarah would like to go with him to the theater building to make plans. Somehow after their last conversation he’d had the feeling that she’d want him to keep his distance for a bit.
But if she felt able to get back to their usual friendly terms already, he certain sure wasn’t going to argue. At least he’d have time to consider where his relationship with Sarah was going. She’d shown she cared, hadn’t she?
When he reached Blackburn House, Sarah was waiting. She climbed into the buggy clutching a notebook and evading his glance.
“I have some possible arrangements for the festival that we’ve made up. Mostly based on things that other festivals posted online, according to Allison. She says there’s no point in starting from scratch if someone else has already worked out the best way to do something.”
So they weren’t back to their usual friendship, after all. Sarah was talking too quickly, too intent on business to be anything near normal.
Well, it was his fault, wasn’t it? He’d upset the balance of their friendship with that kiss, and he’d probably made m
atters even worse by telling her about what had happened with Mary Ann.
Why had he? He never talked to anyone else about it, not even to Daad and Mamm. Why had he burdened Sarah with his guilt and self-blame?
Because she would listen without blaming, he supposed. That was one of Sarah’s gifts, and he’d taken advantage of it. He stole a glance at her, but her head was averted and the bonnet’s brim cut off any view of her face. He had to try to return things to their usual friendship, and didn’t know how. If he didn’t manage to...
That didn’t bear thinking about. Sarah was a valued friend, and he couldn’t lose that. During the years of his marriage he’d felt separated from her in a way, but somehow that hadn’t changed their easy friendship. A return to that was the best he could hope for, at least until life returned to normal. How could he think of other things until he was free of the shadow of Matt Gibson’s death? Of the arsonist haunting their valley?
Aaron cleared his throat, trying to hit upon a subject that would not be personal but would show he still considered her his friend.
As often happened, she saved him the trouble. “How is Jonah doing now? Feeling better? The police don’t suspect him of the arson now, do they?”
“As to that, Mac is satisfied. He says Fielding is still being stubborn, saying maybe the attack on you had some other cause entirely. As if you went around making enemies left and right.”
Something flickered in her face at that. “But Jonah?”
“Jonah is better himself, I think.” Aaron frowned a little, thinking of his brother. “He’s been staying home instead of running around every night, for one thing. And he seems a lot more serious all of a sudden.”
“Maybe the trouble has helped him mature,” Sarah suggested. “It affects people that way. If so, it’s good, isn’t it?”
“For sure. Daad’s happier, anyway, so they aren’t arguing as much. Makes supper a more pleasant experience,” Aaron added lightly, and looked for her answering smile.
But Sarah seemed distracted, frowning at some thought of her own.
He hesitated. “If you are worrying about what happened between us...”
“Ach, no.” Sarah seemed so surprised at the idea that he was instantly reassured.
“I’m sehr glad of that. But what are you fretting about, then?”
She sighed. “It’s nothing I can do any more about, I suppose. I told you a little about the problem with Julia Everly, ain’t so?”
“That some things were missing from her house, ja,” he said. “Is something more missing?”
“No, but we—Allison and I—were able to trace the quilt. It was exciting, in a way.” A smile teased at Sarah’s lips. “We felt like real detectives, following the trail.”
“You had an adventure, ain’t so?” It surprised him, in a way, that Sarah had undertaken such a thing. Maybe it was a measure of how much she’d grown and strengthened in the past few years.
“Ja, but then when we found out it had been stolen by Donna...” She hesitated, and the smile vanished. “That was painful. Julia wanted to confront her cousin about taking her album quilt and selling it, and Allison and I felt we should stay and support her. It wasn’t pleasant, but Donna finally admitted it.”
“That’s gut, surely. But I’m not sure why you had to be there.” He tried to keep the words from sounding as if he questioned her judgment. She’d jumped on him before for that mistake.
“We were concerned that Donna might have become involved with some man who was using her to cheat her cousin. Harvey Preston was telling me about some people...con men, I guess...who take advantage of elderly people, especially those who don’t have family to protect them. We were afraid it might be that, and, well, we thought it would be safer for Julia to have witnesses.”
“It was unpleasant for you. You shouldn’t have had to be involved.” He couldn’t seem to help himself.
“I was the one who started it all, by looking for that album quilt of Julia’s. How could I not be involved?” Sarah hesitated for a moment. “In a way, it was good to see that Julia is as strong willed as ever, even if it was difficult to witness.”
Sliding his hand across the bench seat, Aaron clasped hers for a moment. “You feel responsible, and maybe a little bit guilty, ain’t so? But much as I hate to admit it, you couldn’t have done anything else.” He suspected he sounded rueful. “So I hope you’re not going to be mad at me again.”
That surprised her into a soft laugh. “No, I won’t be mad at you.” She glanced at the theater, coming up on their right. “I think you can safely leave the horse and buggy along the side of the building.”
He nodded, accepting that the subject was closed. Finding a shady spot for the horse, he sprang from the seat and was in time to offer Sarah a hand as she climbed down. She fished out a key as they approached the door.
“We’re entrusted with a key, since we’ll be going in and out with the quilt racks and so forth.”
She opened the door, and they stepped into the lobby. Light flooded in the front glass doors, laying a pattern on the freshly tiled floor.
“Will you be using the lobby for the festival?” Aaron measured it mentally.
“We think it should be a welcome area, where people buy their tickets to the quilt show. We’re undecided about having some food vendors in here. We wouldn’t want careless people spilling drinks on the quilts.”
“You could post a few signs, saying No Food or Drink Past This Point, but people might still try to bring things in.”
“We’d have someone on each door to make sure folks obey. In any event, if we allow vendors, they’ll bring their own setup. Ellen Whiting says she’ll borrow as many folding tables and chairs as we need from her church. But Allison thought we’d need something here in the center of the lobby to hold a big banner or a quilt.”
He scanned the woodwork and ceiling. “Shouldn’t be a problem. I can suspend a rod from the ceiling for that, making it as high or as low as you need.”
“Good. We’ll want it to be high enough that people can’t brush against it.” Sarah scribbled something in her notebook. “Most of the display racks will be in the main part of the theater.” She led the way to the nearest swinging door and pushed it open. Darkness loomed beyond. “I hoped the custodian would have left the lights on for us.”
Aaron moved next to her. “Do you know where the switches are?”
She nodded, and he felt the movement of her head, her kapp brushing his shoulder. “They’re midway along the left-hand wall. Seems like an inconvenient place to put them, but that’s where they are.”
“We can prop this door open to give us enough light to find them.” Aaron grabbed a folding chair that had been left leaning against the wall. Flipping it open, he wedged it into the doorway, double-checking to be sure it wouldn’t slip away.
“Good.” Sarah sounded a little breathless. Probably the dark contained bad memories of her struggle with her assailant. “This way.”
She caught his hand, leading him to the wall and back along it, stretching out her other hand to feel her way as they moved farther from the light. His fingers tightened on hers, and a wave of unwelcome feelings surged through him. He had to stop this, or at least learn to ignore it for the time being.
“Here they are.” Sarah sounded relieved, and he heard the swish of her hand against the wall. There was a click, but no welcoming light came on.
“Is there more than one switch?” he asked, feeling for the panel himself, his hand brushing hers.
“Several.” She drew back as he flipped switches, to no avail.
He could hear her quickened breath and knew she was afraid. “There must be a circuit box somewhere around. You can wait in the lobby until I find it.”
“I know where it is.” Sarah seemed to force herself to speak normally. �
�There’s a door opposite us but closer to the entrance. You can just make it out, see? The box is there. I’m sure I saw it when the custodian showed us where cleaning equipment was stored.”
“Go back to the lobby,” Aaron said, pressing her gently in that direction.
“I’ll wait here,” she replied, her tone firm and decided now. “You’ll need me to tell you when you get the right switch.”
“Sarah...” he began.
“Just go. I’m not going to start being afraid of the dark at my age.”
He understood, but he didn’t like it. Still, he did as she said. Sarah was usually the most gentle of creatures, but she could turn stubborn as a rock when it came to something she considered a duty.
He made his way across the room, moving surely until he bumped into a folding chair that clattered noisily to the floor.
“Aaron?” Sarah sounded alarmed.
“It’s nothing,” he said quickly. “I knocked a chair over.” Feeling around, he set it up again. “The owner ought at least to have made sure the lights are working. What if you or Allison came here alone?”
“Better not let her hear you say that,” Sarah said.
He had to smile, thinking of Allison’s probable response to that. If there was something Allison Standish feared, he had yet to see it. Maybe her courage was helping Sarah to recognize her own.
“I’m at the door,” he said, when he felt the handle. “It’ll just be a minute now.” Or possibly longer, since the inside of the closet was as dark as a cave. He felt along the wall until he touched the cool metal of the circuit box and fumbled for the handle. “Got it.”
He groped for the top switch, holding the closet door open with his foot. “Let me know—”
The chair he’d set to hold the lobby door open clattered to the floor. The door swung closed, plunging them into complete darkness. He heard the sound of Sarah’s gasp from across the empty theater.
His own breath caught. Empty? How was it then that he heard movement somewhere near the front? It couldn’t be Sarah—she was farther back along the wall. And she couldn’t have knocked the chair away.
