Quilt or Innocence (21 page)

Really, no one in Dappled Hills seemed to sleep. Including Miss Sissy.

“What were
you
doing out that late?” asked Meadow, tilting her head curiously to one side. “Wasn’t it a little late for you to be out?”

“Not for Miss Sissy,” said Beatrice drily. The old lady was practically nocturnal. “I think you probably saw Georgia on her way home from dropping off a note on my front porch. She was worried that I was stirring up trouble because I told Felicity what her quilt was worth.”

“Georgia doesn’t like any trouble, that’s for sure,” said Meadow. “She’s much more likely to steer clear of it or warn people off.”

Miss Sissy looked even more relieved. Could Georgia have dropped a note by Judith’s house, too, to make sure she wouldn’t blab about Savannah? That little warning could have turned into something more . . .

Beatrice seemed to have caught Miss Sissy’s insomnia. The old woman was snoring emphatically from Beatrice’s guest room as Beatrice lay awake and tried counting sheep, cows, chickens—whatever country creatures came to mind.

Finally, she got up for the day at four o’clock. The only
nice
thing about getting up that early was the peacefulness of it all. The birds were still sleeping, too. She worked on her new quilt block a little in the quiet.

She’d thought that Miss Sissy might have gotten up by five thirty and they might have had an early breakfast, but she was still determinedly asleep. The pots and pans were a disaster in the cabinet, so she didn’t dare to try to pull one out. She could only imagine the clanging cacophony that would result.

Noo-noo had been watching her hopefully for some time, occasionally looking at her leash and collar with innocent brown eyes. Why not?

The air was crisp and foggy as Beatrice and Noo-noo set out on their walk, and it was still overwhelmingly quiet. The quiet after the constant white noise of omnipresent sound in Atlanta had been a hard adjustment, but it was growing on her now. And she found that it really wasn’t as silent as she’d thought it was; there was the chirping and tweeting of birds, the breeze rustling the leaves and buzzing bees visiting flowers.

Noo-noo’s ears lay back before popping back up as she trotted ahead at a brisk clip as though she’d seen or heard someone.

Coming out of the fog ahead was a small figure walking an equally small dog. Beatrice felt a little chill up her spine at the remarkable similarity between this morning and the one when she’d discovered Judith’s body.

But despite the foreboding feeling, she couldn’t really see anything but a gentle kindness as Posy joined her with a smile. Duchess, the beagle, happily greeted Noo-noo. Clearly, the
dogs
didn’t act spooked, and dogs were always more intuitive than people were. She straightened up and sternly squashed her jitters.

“It’s my fellow early riser!” exclaimed Posy. “I was just thinking yesterday that I should call you and set up an official walk. How nice to happen on you and Noo-noo this way!”

Beatrice smiled. Once again Posy had referred to an animal as if she were talking to a person. Noo-noo grinned at Posy with delight.

“I felt a little guilty that poor Noo-noo hadn’t gone out walking lately. Besides, I’ve been up forever—practically all night!”

Posy said, “You, too? I think I’m driving Cork a little crazy with my nocturnal wanderings. I’ll do a little laundry, put away some dishes, type in some shop accounting, putter around the house. I do believe he even misses Miss Sissy—at least if she were there, then I’d have someone to sit up and quilt with in the middle of the night. This whole tragedy with Judith—it’s been so sad. I don’t think I’ve slept a full night since it all started.” Her robin’s-egg blue eyes were full of sad curiosity. “What kept you up last night, Beatrice?”

Beatrice took a deep breath as they walked slowly to the park, retracing their steps from that morning as if subconsciously drawn there.

* * *

Later, Posy came by Beatrice’s house to pick up Miss Sissy and take her to the Patchwork Cottage. Beatrice spent a quiet day nursing a bit of a headache left over from her attack. Toward the end of the afternoon, she headed off to the Patchwork Cottage to shop for a little fabric and to take Miss Sissy back home. Meadow and Felicity were in the shop and Felicity, thankfully, seemed back to normal.

“I’ve got some great news to tell y’all!” she said, chin held high. “Amber, the clever girl, contacted an appraiser who specializes in quilts. He confirmed what Beatrice told us—that the quilt I’ve got is very rare and valuable and, he thought, in excellent condition!”

“That’s great news, Felicity!” Meadow hugged her.

“He thought that, at auction, a collector would pay top dollar. I think it’s going to bring in the extra money that I need as a rainy-day fund for Hampstead Columns!” She took a deep breath. “Not only that, but Judith’s daughter decided to divest herself of her mom’s house, too. The developer called her up and made her an offer she couldn’t refuse. I was scared to mention it in case I jinxed it before. But the developer jumped on the deal, and now I’ll have even more stashed in my savings. And it’s perfect timing, because Hampstead Columns called me and said my name had just come up on the waiting list!”

Meadow’s eyes grew misty. “I’m really going to miss you, Felicity. And what will become of the Village Quilters if both you and Amber leave the group?” She rummaged around in her patchwork pocketbook and consoled herself with a pack of crackers.

“I can still participate in some of the group quilts,” said Felicity in a reasonable tone. “You can pop the kit in the mail to me and I can make a block. Lots of quilters are participating in guilds from long distance. Besides, Hampstead Columns isn’t much of a drive. I’ll be a frequent visitor.”

A few minutes later, the shop bell rang and Daisy Butler came in.

Daisy meandered around some fat quarter displays, peering over at the sofas, absently rubbing the poison ivy rash on her arm. “I’m glad you’re here, Daisy,” said Posy warmly. “I’d just gotten some new fabric in off the truck this morning, and I thought of you as soon as I saw it.” Daisy followed Posy behind the counter, where Posy dug in a cardboard packing box for the new fabric.

Beatrice couldn’t keep her eyes off of Daisy’s figure. Something just wasn’t right there. She’d noticed something about Daisy, but now she couldn’t put her finger on what it was she’d noticed.

“Do you smell something funny?” asked Meadow, wrinkling her nose.

“Hmm?” asked Felicity. She sniffed the air. “Oh, that’s just calamine lotion. Remember? Daisy has poison ivy.”

Calamine lotion. Beatrice’s heart felt like it had skipped a couple of beats. That was the familiar smell that she hadn’t been able to place the afternoon she’d been attacked.

A funny thing about Miss Sissy’s house, thought Beatrice—it was almost surrounded by poison ivy. There were lots of other vines—thorny vines, Virginia creepers, wisteria, honeysuckle—but poison ivy was what was really taking over the front of her house. Thinking back, Beatrice recalled how Daisy made quite a point at the guild meeting that she’d gotten poison ivy in her own backyard. She made it an opportunity to brag about how Harrison set her up with a yard service. But Beatrice was sure that Daisy hadn’t gotten her rash from her own immaculate yard.

A flood of other realizations hit her. Daisy’s resemblance to Judith—could it have been
Daisy
that Wyatt had seen leaving the park the night Judith was murdered? That placed Daisy at the scene of the crime, even though she’d said at the dinner party that she’d decided not to take a walk that night. And Miss Sissy had such a strong reaction when Daisy dropped by to check on Beatrice after the attack. She’d been more riled up than usual, fussing about liars and deceivers—and Russians. Did
Miss Sissy
know something about Daisy?

Beatrice raised her eyes from Daisy’s arm, feeling like she wanted to think things through and maybe figure out what Miss Sissy had been getting at.

Daisy was already checking out. “Sorry I don’t have more time to shop your new fabrics, Posy, but I’m running late for my dentist appointment. I’ll try to pop by later this afternoon, but it’ll probably be tomorrow. Two fillings. My face will be a puffy mess.” She quickly left the shop.

“I should go, too,” Beatrice announced. “Miss Sissy, are you ready? Noo-noo needs a walk before he gets fed, and I could use one, too.”

“Could you?” asked Meadow doubtfully. “Somehow it seems like it would be a better idea to go home and take a nap. Weren’t you just saying you’ve had an off-and-on headache?”

“I’m fine,” Beatrice said firmly, picking up her pocketbook and pulling her keys out of the bag. “It’ll be a short walk.”

Felicity looked sad. “I used to have a favorite walk. Right off downtown here. The pathways are tidy, the view is beautiful and my dogs could always handle the walk, even when they got old. Now
I’m
too old to walk it. The incline is just a little too steep. But the rhododendrons are gorgeous there this time of year.”

“Right off downtown?” asked Beatrice. “I’ve seen that turn but didn’t know where it led. Noo-noo is probably getting tired of the park and the same old smells. Thanks for the tip, Felicity—I’ll give the trail a try.”

Meadow said, “Noo-noo will have a real smorgasbord of smells—deer, squirrels, foxes. Maybe the occasional bobcat. He’ll be in olfactory heaven.” Meadow’s pocketbook suddenly started blaring a folk song. She pulled out her phone. “What? Not again! But I
did
make sure he didn’t get out! He’s probably out to nip over and visit with Beatrice, Ramsay. All right, all right.” She hung up. “Beatrice, if you could, please keep an eye out for Boris. He seems to think you’re buddies now. Ramsay went home for lunch—and didn’t wait for me to make the tomato sandwiches!—and says that Boris is AWOL again. Heaven knows how long he’s been out.”

Probably the beast has broken into the house and is snarfing up all my food, thought Beatrice gloomily.

* * *

As soon as Beatrice and Miss Sissy walked in the door, Noo-noo grabbed her leash and ran circles around Beatrice, with the leash trailing behind her suggestively. Beatrice leaned down to rub her and she flopped over onto her back for a tummy scratch, leash still clamped in her teeth. “We’ll have a little walk. You’ve had a rough time lately, haven’t you? Boris wants to be friends with both of us, but I guess we’re both a little standoffish. Aren’t we?”

There was a tugging at her sleeve and she looked down a bit at Miss Sissy’s wizened face. “I have something for you,” she said gruffly, opening her hand and holding out her silver whistle with the red cord. “Wear this while you’re gone. To keep you safe,” she said in a tone that brooked no disagreement.

Beatrice took it from her gnarled fist. “Thanks, Miss Sissy.” She opened her purse to drop it in, but Miss Sissy snatched the cord back. “No! Around your neck.” Beatrice sighed and bent her head down obediently so that Miss Sissy could slip the cord around her neck. Miss Sissy emphatically nodded at the sight of the whistle in place, then wandered off into the back of the house again, presumably to take another nap.

She smiled. Miss Sissy couldn’t have paid her a bigger compliment.

* * *

Beatrice decided to drive to the trail. Downtown and back was a walk in itself, and adding a mountain trail to it was more than Beatrice thought she should handle—especially after she’d gotten such a bump on the head recently. She laced up her walking shoes and she and Noo-noo headed out to the car.

As Noo-noo happily stuck her head out the car window, Beatrice thought again about Daisy. She could easily have been the person behind Miss Sissy’s attack. And why would she have done it if she hadn’t killed Judith? It wasn’t as if Daisy was trying to protect anyone . . . All she really seemed to care about was herself and her status in Dappled Hills as the doctor’s wife.

Daisy had probably lurked in the vines while looking for a way into Miss Sissy’s house. The house wasn’t exactly Fort Knox—there were probably all kinds of unlatched windows and unbolted doors. Miss Sissy was crazy, but she was clever. She’d never have let Daisy in if she thought she was any kind of a threat. Daisy likely had a scuffle with Miss Sissy and lost her cell phone in the process. Could the poison ivy be the plague of contagion that Miss Sissy had been babbling about?

Daisy had been misleading them all. Beatrice was convinced that
she
was the one who had persuaded Judith to dye her hair until it was similar to Daisy’s own. Meadow clearly hadn’t made the suggestion, despite what Daisy claimed. Daisy hadn’t received the recent threatening letters that she said she’d gotten—Georgia said that she hadn’t sent any letters to anyone but Beatrice for at least a year. Why would Daisy lie about something like that? The only reason that Beatrice could come up with was that she wanted to claim that
she
was the intended victim, not Judith.

Beatrice parked the car at the small graveled area at the base of the trail. Noo-noo jumped eagerly out of the car, and they started up the incline. The vegetation on the sides of the trail was gorgeous and lush, just as Felicity had said. She and Noo-noo seemed to be the only ones out on the trail. The way Noo-noo was bounding up the trail, it wouldn’t be long before they were at the summit.

A quick rustling behind them from a tree alongside the path made Beatrice jump and Noo-noo spin around.
Daisy
. Beatrice’s heart sank as she saw the spiteful expression on her face. The path was narrow, and Beatrice hugged closer to the rocky wall beside her, pulling away from the treachery of the jagged cliff on the other side.

“You decided to go on your walk after all,” said Daisy with a malicious grin. “Mind if I walk with you a little?” She gave a mocking chortle. “What’s wrong, Beatrice? You’re looking at me as if I had horns on my head.”

Beatrice felt a chill run along her spine and hoped for a second that Noo-noo would suddenly turn into a vicious attack dog and save them both. She grimaced as the corgi flopped over on her back for a tummy rub. Daisy smirked.

“I’m guessing you’re not here to check out Felicity’s favorite trail,” said Beatrice briskly. “Particularly wearing those ridiculous shoes.” She raised her eyebrows to indicate the heels that Daisy was wearing. “So I suppose you realized at the Patchwork Cottage that I was on to you. You might be morally bankrupt, but you do seem to have a very healthy sense of self-preservation.”

Daisy’s eyes narrowed until they were mere slits. “What I don’t understand is how you figured it out. And why you figured it out at Posy’s shop, of all places.”

“That nasty rash of yours,” said Beatrice, nodding at Daisy’s arm. “You’ve been putting calamine lotion on it. Which is curious, really,” said Beatrice with a sniff, “considering you’re married to the good doctor. It’s sort of an old-fashioned remedy, isn’t it? And I finally was able to place that smell from the night I was attacked at Miss Sissy’s house. Forgot your phone there, didn’t you? You were probably wondering what had happened to it . . . until I mentioned that I’d seen one in Miss Sissy’s house.”

“But why,” said Daisy, lazily stroking Noo-noo, “would you think that I would want to kill Judith? What possible good would it have done?”

Beatrice cleared her throat quietly. She had no desire to show this woman how shaken she was by her. She raised her chin a little. “You’re living quite a lie, aren’t you, Daisy? You’ve built your whole identity around being the doctor’s wife. It’s more than a status thing, although Miss Sissy had that part nailed. You
are
the doctor’s wife—it’s not just a
part
of who you are; it’s
all
of what you are. You’re using your status in town to be part of or run all these different clubs and organizations. It’s given you a sense of importance and self-worth. When Amber started having an affair with your husband”—a look of distaste pulled the corners of Daisy’s mouth down—“it threatened more than just your marriage. It threatened your whole identity.”

“Why, then,” asked Daisy in a quiet voice, “wouldn’t I have killed Amber? Why would I have killed Judith?” She sounded almost curious, as if she wanted to hear the answer.

“Because you didn’t really mind who your husband slept with,” said Beatrice. “That wasn’t something that worried you. You knew your husband wasn’t going to leave you for a girl like Amber. And, in fact, you were planning on ‘helping’ Amber move to a large city. Judith must have seen the two of them together, I’m guessing. And she wasn’t the kind of person to let things go. At the quilting bee, she said something about you not being what you seemed. And she said that what you
were
was about to change. She knew something, all right. Maybe she saw Amber and your husband together one day. She knew your status was about to change. And, considering the fact that she’d tried blackmailing Meadow, I suppose she probably tried blackmailing you, too—unless she simply enjoyed holding it over your head.”

Daisy’s eyes were cold. “She was always jealous of me.”

Noo-noo stirred restlessly at Beatrice’s feet, apparently concerned over the angry tone of the conversation.

“You spent a little time thinking about how to get rid of her. Public humiliation wasn’t something you’d tolerate. You set up the crime in advance, telling Judith she’d look great with red hair like yours. Then you followed her out to the park that night and took the opportunity to murder her. What did you use as a weapon? Something portable—maybe something you could keep in a handbag. A hammer?”

“A rubber mallet,” said Daisy between gritted teeth.

Beatrice continued. “It must have seemed easy at first. But nothing is really as easy as it seems, is it? Miss Sissy was the first problem. Who’d have thought that she had any rational thoughts in her head at all, with all her crazy talk about Russians and
Little Orphan Annie
radio shows? But she did. Maybe her rational thoughts come and go and maybe they’re overshadowed by craziness most of the time, but she still
can
make sense. She mentioned to Posy and me that she’d ‘seen them kissing.’ I’m thinking she must have seen Amber and your husband together. Maybe she saw you follow Judith out to the park that night. She even had a handle on your motive for murdering Judith: it was all about money and status. Without your husband, you’d lose your comfortable lifestyle and place in society. And you were desperate to hold on to them.” Beatrice’s disdainful tone made Noo-noo give small growling sounds under her breath. “What was on the papers you took from Miss Sissy’s house? When I regained consciousness after you attacked me, they were gone.”

Daisy gave her a scornful look. “Crazy ramblings. Her usual thing—wickedness, evil, trespasses. And my name all over the papers.”

“Then I was the next problem,” said Beatrice. “I was just getting settled in the town, was recently retired, and was looking for something to do. When I mentioned Miss Sissy’s cell phone at the guild meeting, you obviously figured out what had happened to your phone and that you were going to have to go back for it. Would you have attacked me that day if I hadn’t burst in on you? I’m thinking I wasn’t enough of a threat to you at that point. Was I?”

“I guess you’ll never know,” answered Daisy coolly. “Since you had this
horrible
, tragic accident on your walk today.” She lunged at Beatrice as if to hurl her over the side of the mountain.

Beatrice was ready for her, though. She reached around her neck, pulled out Miss Sissy’s whistle and blew an extended, piercing blast that made Daisy cower. Noo-noo, after gaping at her mistress, started frantically barking. Beatrice ducked out of the way and grabbed on to Daisy’s arms, grappling with her at the cliff’s edge. Noo-noo continued barking and darted back and forth at Daisy’s legs. Daisy’s grip was stronger than it looked, and Beatrice helplessly felt herself being propelled toward the sheer rocky face of the mountainside.

A tremendous crashing noise through the bushes made Daisy freeze, her grip tightening on Beatrice’s arms. And suddenly lunging toward them with a determined look on his face was Boris. With a deep-throated bark, he galloped at Daisy, hitting her in the side and making her release her hold on Beatrice. Daisy stumbled as the huge animal charged again at her. She took a lurching step to regain her balance, but tripped over Noo-noo and crashed backward onto the narrow path, hitting her head resoundingly on the rocky surface. Beatrice, shaking, fumbled for her phone to call for help.

* * *

She found that Daisy wasn’t the only one who needed help getting off the mountain. Beatrice, who never liked asking for help, needed assistance to get back down the mountain. Her legs simply weren’t going to support her descent. There she sat on the hard ground, knotty roots poking her in the behind while she was in danger of being licked to death by Boris and Noo-noo.

The medical exam that she impatiently submitted to showed she was completely healthy. Fortunately, under the circumstances, the exam was
not
conducted by Dr. Butler, but by physicians in nearby Lenoir. Beatrice breathed a grateful sigh at finally being back in her bungalow, sinking into her overstuffed gingham sofa.

Since it was Dappled Hills, the news of Daisy’s accident and arrest and Beatrice’s close call rapidly spread through the village. Piper had rushed to her side while she was at the doctor’s office and was now bustling around the small cottage, covering Beatrice with unwanted blankets, handing her cups of weak, undrinkable coffee (Piper was a tea drinker), and clucking over everything she did.

Meadow had unfortunately decided that her presence was vitally required—
unfortunately
because she seemed to be one of those people who when the waterworks turn on, you’d have to have a plumber to get them to stop. But she’s really the only person in the cottage who can brew a decent cup of coffee, thought Beatrice with a sigh.

“One of the things that touches my heart about today,” said Meadow in between sobs, “is that my own, dear Boris played a part. Dear Boris—such a treasure!” She broke down again.

Beatrice, who was ordinarily conflicted over Boris’s intentions over
anything
(since food was a likely motive for most of the beast’s actions), had to agree. If Boris hadn’t been there . . . well, she didn’t think she and little Noo-noo would have had a chance against Daisy.

She shivered again, leading Piper to put another cup of watery coffee in her hands. This one, thought Beatrice, peering closely at the brew, had actual grounds floating around it in.

There was a light tap at the door, and Piper peered out before opening up for an apologetic-looking Posy and a fiery-eyed Miss Sissy, who had a blue-veined hand gripping her wooden cane with ferocious strength. “I’m sorry,” said Posy to Piper in her gentle voice. “Miss Sissy felt . . . very strongly, actually, that she needed to come by and talk to Beatrice.”

This, thought Beatrice, I have to hear.

Miss Sissy flitted across the room. “Wickedness!”

Beatrice frowned. “Daisy, you mean?”

“Death comes to the wicked,” said Miss Sissy, nodding smugly. “She lied. Lied!”

“You could,” suggested Beatrice in what she thought was a very mild voice, considering, “have given us a hint. I might have been more careful around her.” She stopped herself, though. Miss Sissy’s lucidity was intermittent and her occasional flashes of brilliance were mostly overshadowed by confusion. She reached out to hug the old woman, who drew back in surprise before fiercely returning the hug. “Did you know, Miss Sissy, your whistle and Meadow’s dog saved my life? I blew it just as hard as I could, and that’s when Boris came crashing out of nowhere and helped distract Daisy enough for me to escape.”

Beatrice watched in surprise as the old woman actually seemed to choke up. She quickly took charge of herself again, though, and said gruffly, “She always acted like she was from a rich family.”

Beatrice looked to Posy for some translation. She cleared her throat. “Daisy mentioned in the past that she was from a wealthy Charleston family. Actually, that her family was among the first colonists to settle in the Charleston area. She even dropped once that she was a member, although an inactive one, of the DAR.”

“Russians!” hissed Miss Sissy with delight. “They were all Russians! I knew her grandparents. They didn’t live in Charleston; they lived only twenty miles from here. Russian immigrants who were dirt-poor. She cared about money because she’d never
had
money. Greedy.” Miss Sissy beamed, showing off the fact that she’d forgotten to put her teeth in.

Meadow sobbed again, and Miss Sissy’s thin mouth twisted downward in disapproval of the sound. “What a waste! Who cares about money, anyway? It’s
life
that’s important.”

“Love of money is the root of all evil,” crowed Miss Sissy.

Posy stood up quickly. “Beatrice is looking a little spent. Shall we continue our visit at the shop and let her have a rest?”

Beatrice watched with relief as they made their good-byes and left. Piper sank into a large armchair, kicked off her shoes and curled her legs underneath her. She started picking at some flaking polish on one nail, which Beatrice knew was a sign that she was anxious about something. “All right, spill it, Piper. You’ve got something on your mind, don’t you?”

Piper blew out a breath. “Well, now that Meadow is gone, I guess I can talk about it. It’s horrible timing, that’s all, especially considering everything that happened today. But I can’t
not
think about it, and if I don’t say anything, then I’m going to feel guiltier than ever!”

Looking at Piper’s flushed face, Beatrice saw a happy glow underneath the anxiety. It was a glow she’d been seeing for the past week, and she had a feeling she knew who was responsible for it. “Is it something about Ash, Piper?”

Piper looked relieved. “Yes, it sure is, Mama. He’s gone back to California, as you know. He had to get back to work, since he’d been here on break. The thing is, well, I think our relationship might have a chance.
We
think the relationship might have a chance. I’ve got some money saved up, and I bought a plane ticket and made hotel reservations for myself to spend a week in California. Sightseeing and, well, and Ash-seeing, too.” She swallowed and looked at her mother with big eyes. “But with all that’s happened . . .”

Beatrice reached out and squeezed Piper’s hand. “It’s all over now, though. Go on and head on your vacation. You don’t have too long before school starts back, so fit it in while you can. I’m absolutely fine.”

Piper smiled at Beatrice. “Can I get you something? Maybe some more coffee?”

God forbid. “No, sweetie. I’m fine.”

“So, what do you think, Mama? I know it’s all crazy. You retired from your dream job in Atlanta to move to a tiny town in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do but get attacked by murderers.”

“Actually, only one murderer,” demurred Beatrice.

“And I haven’t been spending the time with you that I’d planned on! I’ve brought you to Dappled Hills and proceeded to ignore you,” said Piper ruefully.

“I
did
follow you here to Dappled Hills. You were actually the
only
reason I moved here. But since moving here, I’ve found reasons of my own for wanting to stay. I’ve made my own connections—to the town, the people, the way of life . . . even the quilting.”

Piper looked absolutely thunderstruck. “You don’t mind the silly shows at the plaza, and the town’s ridiculous newspaper and Bertha’s Heart Attack on a Plate? And Meadow always bursting in on you with the huge beast?”

“Well, the huge beast helped save my life today. And I’m learning tolerance,” said Beatrice with a bob of her head. “I’m even giving meditation a go—with varying degrees of success. But what I’ve found here in Dappled Hills is
me
. I’ve been buried in ancient artifacts for so long in Atlanta that I wasn’t even sure I could be excavated. But I have been.” She pulled a block from a tote bag next to the coffee table. “Take a look at my block for the group quilt.”