Make Quilts Not War (14 page)

“Lauren said she can meet us at the Steaming Cup,” Harriet reported when Aunt Beth finished telling her neighbor about the goings on at the festival.

“Penny said she’s just taken Brownie out for a quick potty break, so we’re good to go. I didn’t know the Cup stayed open that late.”

“Lauren says it does, and she spends a lot of hours on her computer with her coffee cup in hand. I think she knows every late-night spot in town.”

“I’m usually in my jammies by now, so I wouldn’t know.”

“I can take you home, if it’s too late for you.”

“I think I can bear up,” Aunt Beth said with a grin.

Harriet parked next to Lauren’s car in the lot and led her aunt into the coffeehouse. Lauren was sitting in a large upholstered chair near the door.

“Where’s your computer?” Harriet asked.

“I finished my work and was about to leave when you called. I figured you two would like cushy chairs, so I moved over here. Get your drinks, and let’s talk.”

“Hot chocolate?” Harriet asked, and when her aunt nodded,
she
went to the counter to order. Beth sat in a purple chair with a
matching ottoman and put her feet up. Her ankles looked swollen, and Harriet made a mental note to ask about it when they were alone.

“So, Bobby Cosgrove lives in the St. Martin de Porres Shelter on Alaskan Way in Seattle,” Lauren reported when Harriet had delivered her aunt’s chocolate and settled in a chair with her own cup. “My sources tell me the shelter specializes in homeless men over the age of fifty. They, of course, wouldn’t tell me anything about him other than to verify his address when I pretended to be a prospective employer.

“So far, I can’t find anything about him on the Internet. Either Bobby Cosgrove isn’t his real name, or it’s possible, if he’s been long-term homeless, that he’s just never done anything that leaves a trail out in the ether. I’ll keep digging, though.”

“We learned he’s Jenny’s brother,” Harriet reported. She described the tire-slashing incident.

“Wait a minute,” Lauren said, holding her hand up for empha
sis.

Harriet had been about to take a sip of her chocolate but
stopped.

“What time did this happen?”

“We’re not sure. Tom and I came out of the movie at eight-thirty. Jenny was at her car with its shredded tires.”

“Bobby didn’t do it.”

“But we don’t know when it happened,” Harriet said. “Most of the parking lot emptied at five when the exhibit hall closed. He could have slashed the tires any time after that.”

“Wasn’t Bobby,” Lauren insisted.

“How can you be so sure?” Aunt Beth asked.

“My guys had so much fun tracking him down they went into overdrive. They decided to follow him and see if they could find out where he’s staying locally. Before you say anything, they didn’t tell me until he went to ground. They’ve had eyes on him all night.

“He hung around Annie’s after we left, hitchhiked to the Catholic church, where they were serving dinner for the hungry or homeless and then he got a ride to Fogg Park, presumably to stay in the homeless camp. He was last seen walking into the woods in that direction. My watcher drove around the perimeter then took up a post just beyond the access road into the park. He hasn’t moved.”

“Then who slashed Jenny’s tires?” Beth asked.

“Don’t ask me,” Lauren replied. “All I know is, it wasn’t Bobby.”

“Detective Morse said it wasn’t likely a sniper would also be a tire-slasher. She said the shooter would likely have taken a second chance to shoot.”

“Sounds logical, but clearly, Bobby didn’t slash her tires, so who did?” Lauren asked.

“That’s the question,” Aunt Beth said thoughtfully. “Jenny made a good case for why it should be her brother. I guess it’s within his character.”

“I just wonder if Jenny is telling us the whole story yet,” Harriet said.

“Well, we aren’t going to solve this tonight,” Aunt Beth said. “And if Jenny is holding something back, I’m sure she has a good reason.

“You ladies going to the prom tomorrow night?” Lauren asked.

“No,” Harriet said at the same time her aunt said, “Yes.”

“Really?” Harriet asked, turning to look at Aunt Beth.

“Don’t sound so surprised. Jorge asked me, and I said yes.”

“I’d have guessed you’d be going with one of your many beaux,” Lauren said to Harriet.

“Aiden and I had planned on going, but after the other night, that’s not going to happen. Tom would probably go if I wanted, but my outfit matches Aiden’s, and somehow that doesn’t seem right, so I’m going to sit this one out.”

“What about you?” Aunt Beth asked Lauren.

“I’m going to be leading an antiwar protest at the entrance. Before you get on my case—the festival committee asked me to organize it. They thought it would add authenticity to the event. I don’t know if I’m insulted or flattered that they assumed I wouldn’t be going to the prom, but as a concession, they’re letting us protest inside the entrance so we don’t freeze to death, so I figured, what the hey, I wasn’t going to go, and this way I get to see everyone’s costumes.”

“This could be useful,” Harriet said and leaned back in her
chair.

“What? You want to join our protest?”

“I believe I do. I think it will be the perfect excuse to keep an eye on things.”

“Need I remind you that Foggy Point has a police force, and you’re not on it?” Aunt Beth said.

“You’re starting to sound like Detective Morse,” Harriet chided. “Besides, I’m not going to do anything but keep my eyes open.”

“I’ve heard that one before,” Aunt Beth said and drained the last of the chocolate from her cup. She stood up. “I’m going to need my beauty rest if I’m going to be ready for the big dance.

“Let me know if you hear anything interesting from your surveillance team,” Harriet said as she also stood up and zipped her coat.

“Will do, chief,” Lauren said with a mock salute.

“Do you know who else is going to the prom?” Harriet asked as she and her aunt walked to the car.

Aunt Beth filled Harriet in on the Loose Threads prom plans on the ride to her cottage on the Strait of Juan de Fuca. A chill wind swept in from the water as she got out of the car and hurried to her door. Everyone talked about the “Summer of Love” when they were discussing the nineteen-sixties, Harriet mused as she drove away, but there must have been winters, too, weren’t there?

Harriet’s headlights illuminated a dark figure sitting on the steps to her studio as she drove up her driveway, past the studio, and into her garage. She got out, dropping her purse and coat in the kitchen as she hurried to the studio. She unlocked the door.

It was Aiden. His cheeks and nose were bright red, and his fingers were like ice as she grabbed him by the hand and pulled him inside.

“Are you trying to kill yourself? It’s freezing out there.”

He stood inside the door, rubbing his arms with his hands.

“Come into the kitchen and let me make you something hot to drink. Then you can tell me why you’re trying to commit suicide by hypothermia on my porch steps.”

He followed her without saying anything.

Harriet put a paper filter in her single-cup filter holder and set it over a large mug. She scooped coffee into the filter and put the water kettle on to boil. Scooter was bouncing around Aiden’s feet as she worked. He picked the little dog up and examined the nearly healed wound on his back.

“He’s almost better,” he said with approval.

“I’m going to take him out real quick. If your water boils, pour it, okay?”

She didn’t wait for a reply. She crossed the kitchen and pulled Scooter’s sweater and leash from the broom closet and put them on him before carrying him outside.

Aiden was sitting hunched over his cup of coffee at the kitchen table when she returned. She put a small scoop of food in Scooter’s dish and a larger scoop of Fred’s hypoallergenic cat food in his dish then turned to the man at her table.

“Okay, why are you here?”

“I don’t know. We need to talk, I guess.”

“You
guess
?” She moved closer. “I think you said all that needs to be said the other night. Oh, that’s right, you didn’t say anything, because you weren’t there. That said everything that needed to be said.”

“I’m so sorry for that. You have no idea. Let me make it up to you.”

“You know, that might have meant something a couple of nights ago, but now is a little too late for a simple sorry.”

“You can’t mean that.”

“Yes, I can. I do.”

“You have to let me make it up to you,” he repeated. He ran his hands through his silky black hair.

“No matter how many times you say it, it’s not about making up for our missed dinner—and we both know it.”

“Then tell me what it’s about.”

“Aiden,” Harriet took his hand in both of hers. “We’ve had this discussion…more than once. It’s really quite simple. You want a relationship, but you’re not available.”

“What do you mean?” he challenged. “You think I’m seeing
someone else?”

“Of course not. But that doesn’t mean you’re available. We keep talking about this over and over again, but in the end nothing changes.”

“It’s my sister, isn’t it?”

“Do you think?”, Her frustration was clear in her voice. “This is what I mean. The fact that you have to ask says it all. A relationship is two people, not three.”

“But everyone has family. You have your aunt. I would never stand in your way if your aunt needed you.”

“My aunt would never try to keep me from being with you or anyone else.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Have I been replaced already?”

“No! The point is, I don’t believe your sister hates me, not really. She hates sharing you with
anyone
. She’ll do this no matter who you’re seeing.”

“But she’s my sister. What am I supposed to do? Our parents are dead. I’m all she’s got.”

“See, that’s the trouble. You’re
not
all she has. She has another brother, and a husband and two children who need her.”

“Her husband left her. That’s why she did what she did. And she and Marcel don’t get along.”

Harriet took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Nothing’s changed, so why are you here?”

“I want to fix things. How can we make this better? There must be some way to make it work. Tell me. I’ll do anything.”

“Don’t say things you don’t mean. I’m not willing to be part of a triangle. You want two women in your life, and she will never accept that even if I could.”

“It’s not her decision,” he protested, but Harriet could see from his face that even he knew it wasn’t true.

“Look, I don’t want to fight with you, and I don’t like ultimatums. Having said that, I also can’t allow you to treat me the way you did the other night.”

He started to protest, but Harriet let go of his hands and put
her fingers against his lips.

“Let me finish,” she said. “I know you believe your sister was having an authentic emergency. But even if she was, you didn’t call
me. Not that night, not the next day. Not at all. Once she…”
Harriet grasped for words that wouldn’t be offensive to him. “…did what she did, I ceased to exist for you.

“And
that
is the problem. That’s the part of all this that you refuse to take responsibility for. Even now, you walked through the woods and sat on my steps freezing so she wouldn’t know you’d come here, didn’t you? You’re afraid of what she’ll do or say if she knows you’re talking to me.”

Aiden’s chin dropped to his chest.

“What am I supposed to do?” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

“Grow up” comes to mind
, Harriet thought, but instead of giving voice to it, she moved around to his side of the table and pulled him up. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on the top of her head.

“Only you can figure this out, Aiden. I can’t, and Michelle certainly won’t.”

He bent his head down and grazed her lips with his. When she didn’t protest, he deepened the kiss. She threaded her hands under his shirt and stroked his back.

“This has never been our problem,” she said when their lips finally parted.

He hugged her, swaying slightly as he held her.

“I’ve missed this,” he said. “Us. You.” He breathed in deeply. “I love the way your hair smells.” He held her silently. “Maybe we could run away somewhere,” he murmured into her hair.

Harriet leaned back and looked into his face to be sure he didn’t seriously believe that was a viable solution.

“Let me give you a ride home,” she said and turned away from him. “I promise I’ll drop you at the end of your road so your sister doesn’t know where you were.”

“When can I see you again,” he asked.

Harriet stopped and turned back to him.

“I’m not going to play the other woman, sneaking around behind your sister’s back. You’ve got some decisions to make, and I’ve got my hands full with this festival and everything.”

“Has something else happened? Everyone’s been talking about the murder, but it sounds like they suspect her husband.”

She told him about the tire-slashing.