A Quilt in Time (A Harriet Turman/Loose Threads Mystery) (36 page)

Harriet studied the ceiling, hoping for advice from on high to descend on her. Finally, she sighed.

“Okay, fine.”

“You won’t regret it, I promise.”

“That remains to be seen,” Harriet said. “See you in an hour.”

“We go to a boarding school in Seattle,” a dark-haired girl of about ten was explaining to Carla in a serious voice.

She was wearing an expensive-looking navy blue pleated skirt and matching cardigan. Harriet wasn’t good with children’s ages, but she could recognize a private school uniform at twenty paces.

“They have tutors so if we miss school when we visit Mother they can catch us up.”

Harriet had another brief flash of déjà vu.

It was clear from the expression on Carla’s face she didn’t know what to say to that. Harriet stepped from the back porch into the kitchen.

“Knock-knock.”

“Oh, hi, Harriet,” Carla said with relief. “Have you met Aiden’s niece Avelaine?”

Harriet extended her hand to the girl.

“We met at my house a few months ago. I’m Harriet.”

The girl shook the hand and looked up at her.

“I’m Avelaine, but people call me Lanie.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Lanie,” Harriet let go of the girl’s small hand and slipped out of her jacket, setting it and her purse on a kitchen chair. “I hear you and your brother are working on a family genealogy project.”

Lanie smiled. “We’re tracing my mother’s family. My grandmother came from France.”

“Yes, I know,” Harriet told her. “My aunt and your grandmother were very good friends. When I was just a little older than you are right now, I went to a boarding school in Bordeaux, which is where your grandmother lived before she moved here.”

Lanie’s smile faded.

“She died last year.”

Harriet didn’t think it was appropriate to tell a ten year-old what she knew about that.

“That’s very sad, but it’s terrific that she left you so many family albums and diaries.”

“Have you seen them?” The girl asked.

“Yes, Aiden showed some of them to me. You’re really lucky that your grandma was such a family historian.”

“My brother Etienne is up in the attic now with Uncle Aiden. They’re going to bring the one with the family tree in it down here. We’re going to do DNA tests, too. My mother bought them for all of us. They’ll tell us if we have Neanderthal in our background and what percent.”

Harriet wasn’t sure what to say about that. She hoped the family wasn’t going to have any nasty surprises. With Michelle involved, anything was possible, but surely she wouldn’t suggest it if there were a chance the kids weren’t full siblings or, worse, if her husband wasn’t the father of either.

Right on cue, a dark-haired boy in navy blue pants and a matching pullover came clattering down the kitchen stairs, followed by Aiden carrying two large bound books.

“Hi,” Aiden said. “I see you’ve met Lanie.”

“She was just telling Carla and I about the genealogy project you all are working on.”

A squawk emanated from the baby monitor receiver on the counter and she turned and went up the stairs to retrieve her toddler Wendy. Aiden crossed the kitchen to the door that led to the dining room.

“Let’s put the books with the rest and clear a space on the table.”

Etienne followed him, and Harriet went to the oven where she found three pizza boxes. Carla had laid a stack of paper plates and napkins on the counter. Harriet stacked the paper goods on the pizza boxes and followed the men to the dining room.

Harriet leaned over the table to get a good look at the family tree Lanie had drawn. They had finished their pizza, and the children had each taken a turn explaining what they’d learned about their French ancestors. Being eight years old and a boy, Etienne’s report was heavy on the military connections. Lanie’s emphasized how many generations back she could go. Apparently, her best friend didn’t have nearly as many branches filled out on her tree.

“That’s amazing,” Harriet told them each in turn. “I’m sure you’ll both get As.”

“Of course they will,” said Michelle from the entryway. Everyone was so intent on the presentations no one had heard her come in.

Carla grabbed Wendy and slipped back into the kitchen.

Michelle removed her fur coat and put it carefully over the back of a dining room chair.”My children always get As.” She turned to look at Harriet, her expression carefully blank. “Hello, Harriet, I’m glad you’re here.”

Harriet stared at her but said nothing.

“I suppose my brother told you I wanted to talk to you.” Michelle pulled out another chair and sat down. “Avalaine, Etienne, go find something for dessert in the kitchen.”

The children got up silently and left the room.

“I’ve discovered through my therapy that I may have been misguided in some of my conclusions and, therefore, my actions. I’d like to apologize. I’m sorry for all the problems I’ve caused you and your friends.”

Harriet remained silent.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” Michelle asked. “I worked very hard to be able to say those words.”

“I appreciate how hard it was to say them,” Harriet finally said. “I hope you’ve also learned in therapy that words are cheap and what really matters is actions. I’m willing to wait and see if your actions match your words.”

Michelle smiled and held her two hands up in front of her.

“Fair enough, that’s all I can ask. My counselor told me to expect skepticism.”

Harriet started picking up crumpled napkins and pizza-stained paper plates.

“I
am
a good person, you know,” Michelle said. “I sang in the church choir when I lived in Foggy Point.”

Harriet carried the stack of garbage into the kitchen without looking back.

“Give her some time,” she heard Aiden say before the door closed behind her.

Michelle’s children were sitting at the kitchen table. Etienne’s chin rested on his crossed arms on the table. Laine was leaning back, her chair rocking on two legs. She picked at her full lower lip.

“Did you guys find anything for dessert?” she asked them. They both shook their heads. “Want some ice cream? I happen to know your uncle never has less than three flavors of ice cream in his freezer.”

Etienne straightened up.

“I love ice cream.”

Laine pursed her lips.

“I guess I could have a little.”

“Okay, then. Lanie, can you get three bowls, and, Etienne, could you get spoons?” She could hear the murmur of voices from the dining room, but she couldn’t tell what they were talking about. “Let see.” She opened the door to the side-by-side freezer. “We have mint chocolate chip, rocky road and lemon sherbet.”

“Rocky road,” Etienne said at the same time his sister said, “Mint chocolate chip.”

Harriet pulled the two cartons out and began scooping ice cream, putting a little of each in her own bowl.

“Do you think my mother really is better?” Lanie asked in a quiet voice.

“I hope so,” Harriet told her. “I guess we have to wait and see what happens.”

Etienne took his bowl and carried it to the table.

“Do you think my dad will let her move back home?”

Harriet thought for minute while she let a bite of rocky road melt in her mouth.

“No one can figure that out but your parents. Whatever happens, your parents both love you, and nothing will ever change that.”

Your mother just has a very strange way of showing it
, she added to herself. Michelle probably loved her children as much as she was capable of, but her love affair with herself didn’t leave much room for others—even her own kids.

“You know,” she went on, “I took a photography class when I was in school in France, and I have a lot of pictures of Bordeaux. If you want, I can give them to Uncle Aiden, and you can look at them. Then, if you want, we can make copies for your report.”

Lanie smiled. “That would be really cool.”

“Hey, did you leave any ice cream for me?” Aiden asked as he came into the kitchen.

The kids laughed and that made Harriet smile.

“Well, that was awkward,” Harriet said when Aiden came back into the house after walking the kids to Michelle’s car.

He pulled her into his arms.

“I’m with you—talk
is
cheap. I’m willing to give her a chance, but a cautious chance.” He rested his chin on her head.