Quilt As Desired (30 page)

"I brought you your medicine,” she said, and held out a pill and a bottle of water—she wasn't sure Misty had heard her.

The young woman started humming again. “Hmmm, my brown-eyed girl ... hm hm hm hm hm hm, ohhh my brown-eyed girl.

"Misty?” She thought the woman was going to continue ignoring her, but suddenly Misty leaped at her and grabbed the pill. Harriet held out the bottle of water. She wasn't sure what she'd do if Misty threw the pill into the rag pile but was pretty sure she was going to find out.

They stood looking at each other for a long minute. Misty opened her mouth, tossed the pill in and tilted her head back, dry swallowing it. She sank onto the rag pile, picked up the tattered remains and began picking.

Harriet set the bottle of water on the floor and backed outside. She hoped one pill would cause enough of a difference to make the next easier to administer.

She stood for a moment outside the shed but realized there wasn't anything else she could do until the medicine had a chance to work.

Mavis was still in her chair asleep when she returned. Fred came out from behind the sofa and climbed on her lap when she sat down.

"So, what does it all mean, Fred?” She scratched his ears, and he started purring. “Is it just a coincidence that Misty is out there shredding her quilt? Could she have killed Avanell?” She looked at the cat. “If Misty is the killer, what motive would she have for trashing Aunt Beth's house or Lauren's quilt?"

Fred didn't have any answers. Harriet pulled a throw pillow down from the back of the sofa and propped it on the arm. She and Fred were both asleep a moment after her head hit it.

When she woke up, it was dark outside; and Fred was licking her face.

"Stop,” she said and sat up. She set the cat on the floor and went into the kitchen. The tea kettle was still warm. She pulled an English Breakfast teabag from the cabinet and poured water over it. Mavis came in as she was stirring sugar into her tea.

"Do you feel better?” Mavis asked.

"Yeah, I guess. My head doesn't hurt anymore, but my stitches are starting to itch, so I guess that's a good sign."

"I'm glad you're head is better, but I'm thinking that's not what was bothering you this afternoon."

"You're right. It wasn't my head. It was the two men I was with. First, Harold, who seems perfectly nice. He's very kind, but..."

"He doesn't light your fire,” Mavis supplied.

"I guess you could say that. But what was bothering me today was what Marjory said about him."

"What did she say?"

"Nothing specific. It's just a feeling she has, I guess. I know you don't know him, but did Avanell ever say anything?"

"Not much. I know he hasn't lived here that long. Bertrand hired him when their longtime finance guy left suddenly. Avanell was happy Bertie found someone so quickly. He's been active in various community groups. I guess I don't know any more than that."

"Do you know if he's seen any women since he's been here?"

"Avanell didn't say anything about it."

Harriet looked into her tea. “And then there's Aiden. I know you don't think he'd hurt his mother but now that we know what her will says, he does have the most to gain from her death. And apart from that, he's made it very clear he's ready to jump into a relationship. I'm not sure I'm ready for a relationship with anyone, much less a man ten years younger than me."

"Just hold on a minute. Are you sure you're looking at this situation right? I raised five boys and I don't mean to be indelicate, but I don't think it's a relationship that boy is hoping to jump into. Specially after three years in Africa. Maybe you're the one who's got relationships on her mind."

Harriet started to speak, but her protest died on her lips.

Mavis went to the sink, dumped the cold remains out of her cup, put a fresh tea bag in and poured hot water over it.

"Age doesn't matter one whit when it comes down to it. My dear Thomas was six years younger than me, and it didn't make a lick of difference. If you've got designs on that boy, you need to figure out whether you can get past his age, but if it were me, I wouldn't be counting my chickens before they were hatched."

A soft warmth crept up Harriet's neck and spread onto her cheeks. “I don't have ‘designs on that boy.’”

"He is a cute little thing, though, isn't he?” Mavis said and smiled.

"He's attractive, he's intelligent, and he has good energy."

"But?” Mavis asked.

"It's just all so much so quick. I haven't spent time with any man for five years, and now suddenly I've got two men calling me up and taking me out to dinners and wanting to go on drives and hikes and out to coffee."

"I imagine it's a little overwhelming. But you know you don't have to take things any faster than you want to, honey. Any man worth having will be willing to take things however slow you need to go. If he isn't willing to put on the brakes, well, then that tells you something right there."

"That's easier said than done. I had a counselor tell me once that my problems stem from an unwillingness to set boundaries. She'd probably think my willingness to let Aunt Beth give me her business without a moment's notice is a prime example of that. And I suppose it's true."

"There has to be a difference between setting boundaries and just rejecting everything out of hand."

"There is. In the case of Aunt Beth's gift, she felt that I needed to make a change and I wasn't going to make it without a boot in the rear end. It happens it might have been the right thing to do. I didn't think so at first, and I'd like to think that if I truly believed coming to Foggy Point is the wrong thing to do I'd leave. But frankly, other than at the hospital, I haven't considered anything but staying here and making a new life for myself."

"I'm glad to hear you say that, ‘specially given what's been happening lately. How about I heat up a couple of frozen dinners and we put on a movie and escape for a while?"

"Sounds good to me,” Harriet said. She was beginning to have a real appreciation for Mavis's well-developed ability to avoid reality.

Harriet woke early the next morning but waited until she heard Mavis turn on the shower to pull on her jeans and sweatshirt and slip out the back door into the woods. Carla was already in the potting shed when she pulled the door open.

"How's she doing?” she asked.

"I'm here, too,” Misty said. “Don't act like I'm not."

"She didn't mean anything, Misty. Harriet here is a friend. She got your medicine for you."

"She doesn't care about me,” Misty said. “She just wants what she wants."

"I'm sorry, Misty. I really do want to help you. I just think you can help me, too."

Carla must have arrived just a few minutes earlier; she had a fast food bag in her hand. She dug two white Styrofoam boxes from the bag and handed one to Misty.

"Here, I brought you some breakfast. You might feel better if you eat. It's time to take another pill, too.” She opened her own box and started wolfing the contents.

"I don't want to talk about Miz Jalbert and her family.” Misty wrapped her arms around herself and started to rock. “That family is bad, bad, bad."

Carla opened the top of Misty's box, revealing two pancakes, a pale yellow clump of scrambled eggs and two strips of bacon. A ball of whipped butter slid from the pancakes to the side of the box. She stabbed a white plastic fork into them.

"Try to eat something, okay? I gotta go to work, but I'll come back when I get off.” She pulled a paper-wrapped bundle from the bag and set it on the wooden box that served as a table. “They don't make nothing but breakfast food in the morning, but I got you an egg sandwich you can have for lunch.” She took the pill bottle from the windowsill where Harriet had left it and shook one out into her palm. “Here,” she said and handed the pill to Misty.

She picked up the bottle of water from the floor and held it out. Misty didn't say anything, but she took the pill and swallowed it. This time she did follow up with a long drink of water.

Carla put her empty container in the fast food bag and took it with her as she went to the door. She held the door open, and Harriet realized she was waiting for her to leave, too.

"She should be better by tonight. She'll be more normal when she's been on her medicine for a while, but that don't mean she'll remember everything that happened when she was off it. I mean, she remembers, but she can't tell what was real and what wasn't."

"I have to try to talk to her. I think it's very possible she saw Avanell's murder."

"I liked Miz Jalbert. I hope they catch whoever killed her, but if it depends on Misty, don't get your hopes up too high."

Harriet followed her out of the shed. Carla disappeared down a path, and Harriet went back to the house. She came in just as Mavis emerged from the bathroom.

"My turn?” she asked.

Mavis looked at her. “It's all yours."

Harriet was thankful she didn't ask more.

After her shower, she dressed in her jeans and one of her thrift shop shirts. Mavis was in the kitchen. Harriet watched as she loaded a thermos, two bottles of water and several plastic baggies filled with carrot and celery sticks into a padded carry bag. She started toward Harriet then turned back and grabbed a box of crackers.

"We can't be too good,” she said with a sheepish grin.

The drive to Tacoma seemed shorter this time, but Harriet supposed that was the result of having made it so many times it was becoming familiar. Mavis looked at her watch as they pulled into the show grounds.

"We're early,” she announced. “What do you say we go find a cup of coffee or tea and some kind of pastry? That should give them time to open."

Harriet agreed, and Mavis directed her back out on the highway and off again at the next exit.

"Any exit that has more than two gas stations has to have a coffee shop,” she announced.

She was right.

The show was open when they pulled into the parking lot the second time. They bought their tickets and proceeded to spend the next three hours looking at all the exhibits in great detail. It always amazed Harriet to see the infinite number of ways people could combine color and fabric and thread and stitching to create truly unique works of art.

They saved the Loose Threads display until the end and were not disappointed. There was a small sign where Avanell's quilt had hung. Viewers were directed to the display of prize winners in an alcove at the front of the building.

"This can only mean one thing,” Mavis said. “Avanell must have won the overall."

"Look,” Harriet said. She pointed at Robin's blue-and-yellow log cabin. It had a red rosette pinned to its corner.

"Looks like Jenny did all right, too,” Mavis said. The pink rosette pinned to Jenny's quilt was a perfect complement to its berry-and-sea-foam-green color scheme.

"Let's go to the quilt store and get some lunch, then we can come back and start taking these down and bagging them for the trip home."

Mavis drove them across Tacoma, first to the quilt store then to an Italian restaurant called Tremonte's. Frank Tremonte had been a friend of her husband Thomas when they were in the Air Force together. She told Harriet she and Thomas had been among the first customers when Frank and his wife Rosalie opened the place and continued to eat there a few times a year ever after. Tremonte's specialized in the hearty dishes of southern Italy. It was located in a two-story bungalow-style house painted the same green that made up the end stripe of the Italian flag.

Harriet breathed deep as they walked into the warm room. The smell of garlic and oregano permeated the air. A narrow shelf rimmed walls with a display of colorful patterned plates she recognized as Sicilian. A slim young woman in a green apron led them to a corner booth.

"Where are your parents off to now?” Mavis asked the dark-haired man who brought a basket of crusty French bread to their table moments later. “Harriet, meet Tommy Tremonte. His parents turned the restaurant over to his capable hands when they retired. Seems like they've been traveling ever since."

Harriet made the appropriate small talk, and the two women placed their orders. Her fettuccine Gamberi featured shrimp and basil in a cream sauce. Mavis chose the hearty Tuscan chicken and vegetables, and Harriet could quickly see this was one of those places where everything on the menu was worthy of selection.

"I guess this will be dinner, huh?” She asked.

"This might be all we need until next week,” Mavis said and groaned. “I guess we better go back and get our work done. Moving around a little will do us some good."

Harriet was folding Avanell's quilt when Jeri approached her. The long-limbed blond woman was dressed in navy-blue wool flannel pants and a white oxford-cloth shirt. Her sleeves were rolled up to the elbows. She held out a manila mailing envelope.

"Could you take this to your group?” she asked. “The individual prize premiums are in sealed envelopes inside. Since all the winners were within your group entry, you might as well save us the postage."

Harriet reached for the envelope. The woman pulled it back a little.

"You'll need to sign the receipt indicating you're taking responsibility for the funds.” She held a slip of paper and a pen in her other hand. “We weren't really sure where to send Avanell Jalbert's prize money.” She lowered her voice. “I understand her daughter put her house on the market right after the funeral."

"Things have changed,” Harriet said. “But I'll take it anyway."

She wasn't sure if Michelle had actually left Foggy Point or not, but if she'd been Aiden, she'd have changed the locks the minute his sister walked out the door. She could imagine Michelle waiting until he left in the morning then going in and taking the prize money and anything else she thought she could get away with. With him having been out of the country for three years, anything Avanell had acquired while he was gone could be fair game.

She finished folding Avanell's quilt. She looked in the tote bag she'd used to carry the quilt sacks in, but it was empty. She knew the quilt had arrived in a pillow slip, but it was nowhere to be found.