Scandal (20 page)

After the meal Magda and Sam took Mila home. The sheriff left. I took Lena home.

At her house she gathered her purse, and then turned to look at me. Her face was smooth,
without the lines of anger and fear. "I don't know what that was all about," she said, "but thank you
for being there. No matter what happens, I feel strong enough to get through it." She hugged me. It
was dusk and the outside light came on as she stepped onto the driveway. I watched her go in, and
then drove to Magda's.

We would sew and shop tomorrow at the nearest fabric store. I had a couple more ideas to
put into action, and was amazed to find that I was eager to talk it over with Magda, to get this quilt
done. With the ceremony I found that I'd freed up my hold on Roger, had let him go as well. I didn't
understand the how of it, but that night, after a late cup of chamomile tea with Magda and Sampson,
I slept like a baby. Free.

In the morning I slept late. I was leaving the bathroom a little after eight when I saw Sam
coming from Magda's room. He was wearing the checked robe, his hair was tousled, and when he
saw me he laughed.

"Caught like a rat in a trap!" His eyes were happy, his back straight.

"Well, well," was all I could say. "I'm going to make coffee. Will you two be wanting some?"
I swallowed a giggle which made my voice squeak.

"No. Yes. You make it. I'll come get some for me and Magda. We'll meet you in the sun
room." He slipped past me into the hall bathroom. Always a gentleman, he'd left the master
bathroom to her.

I went on into the kitchen, feeling more lighthearted than I had in...in maybe years.
Between the ceremony last night and this confirmation of my suspicions, the world seemed to be
full of light.

I had my coffee and English muffin in the sun room when the sweethearts came in, each
carrying a coffee cup, her with a bowl of green grapes, him with a plate holding two toasted muffins.
They settled the china on the coffee table and took their places in the swing.

Magda said, "We're going to go shopping, Sam. Get you your own robe." She snorted softly,
and her eyes sparkled. "That'll do it for today, but I'm making some big changes around here,
starting with cleaning out this house."

I'd not really known Magda very long, but still, this giddy happiness made her so attractive
that I would have sworn she was taller, more slender. Her skin had a rosy glow.

"Out with the old." She tugged on the arm of the robe. "And in with the new!"

He leaned over and kissed her.

I wondered if I should be somewhere else. But it was all right. "Good, you can leave me at
the nearest fabric shop while you shop for the right robe. For Mr. Cool, here, right?"

They both grinned at me.

"Okay. Just you and me. We've got some stores in McMinnville where I can get everything
we need. Sammy, any special color you want your robe to be?"

"Heck, no. Anything you pick out will be perfect. I do like a ribbed robe. What is that called,
kinda like a blanket?"

"Chenille."

"Hard to find. We'll see."

I stood up. "I'm going to get ready. Before we go shopping, Magda and I need to consult
about Sophie's quilt."

"Is it still Mom's quilt, or isn't it more yours, now?" Sam said.

"More like mine."

Sam said, "I've got to look at it. Sounds like it is going to be special. Zingy."

His statement gave me an idea, but I kept it to myself.

"Oh, gosh!" Magda said. "Time has slipped away from me. This afternoon is Quilt Squares!
Gotta be there. You must come with me, Annie." She started to get up, and then relaxed back down
beside Sam. "You get ready. I'm going to sit for a minute more with Sammy."

Magda wasn't able to leave me at the quilt store, and run; we looked at fabric together. She
didn't much care for the striped pattern I picked. "You have a different color sense than I do, that's
for sure. I have faith that you're seeing something I'm not."

Our next stop was at a specialty shop for men's clothes, where she found a light brown
robe, of wonderfully deep, soft terry. Accented with clear, red piping around the collar, cuffs and the
below-the-waist front pocket, the robe was, as Magda declared, "Smashing! Sammy will look
adorable in it."

Two events occurred that afternoon. Len called on my cell phone while I was enjoying the
late September sun on an outside bench while Magda finished up her shopping. I watched a black
and yellow bee working a mum in a container, no doubt enjoying the sun as much as I.

I wondered if the bee sensed the end of summer, taking with it the bounty of nectar. Maybe
it lived in the moment as I was doing. The ring of the cell in my pocket was an irritation, but when I
saw it was Len I was curious enough to answer. "Hi. What's up?"

"Where are you?" His tone was demanding. "I've been by your house and your cat's
alone."

Huh? I'd already put him in my past, didn't appreciate realizing that just a couple weeks
ago I'd of been flattered that he missed me. I wouldn't have heard that propriety tone in the same
way. I'd of thought it was cute. Now it annoyed me.

"At Magda's." I'd almost said, Sam and Magda's but he was no longer in my circle of people
who needed-to-know anything about me or mine. In a new way, Magda was "mine", too. "We had
some things to take care of yesterday so I stayed over. Plus..." This I did feel like sharing with him.
"I'm close to having Aunt Sophie's quilt done."

"How could you? You don't know what you're doing." He tried to offend me with the
truth.

I laughed. "I didn't, but Magda's been teaching me. Guess what? I'm liking it, and seem to
have some talent at it."

"You? Well, it must be in your blood." I knew when his tone changed from, 'Ha, you?' to
eager interest that he wanted something from me. "Can I come over and see it? You know, I might
have something to offer. You do remember the blue ribbon on
Tumbling Blocks
, don't
you?"

How could it hurt? "Sure. Okay, but not until I'm back home. I'll be bringing it back to work
on. Lunch tomorrow maybe? You could pick up sandwiches from a deli in town? We can talk
quilting, but don't expect to stay long, I've got a lot to do on it to be ready to enter it into the show.
You're lucky, already being accepted. By the way, where was your signature? You did sign it,
right?"

"You didn't see the signature? It's down at the bottom right, but small.
L. Bolder.
2010
. We can talk about that, where you put your name and date. Whatever." He was
completely "old friends" now. "I'll bring the sandwiches. Maybe we can even eat outside, by the
river."

"That'll depend on the weather. See ya tomorrow. We can talk rulers and mats and
arithmetic."

I clicked off the phone, not sure I'd been wise to ask him to lunch. But what the hey, maybe
he could help me understand the math. I hadn't mentioned to Len that Sam would be there with me.
Sam wanted to visit his friend in the retirement home again.

Having Len and Sam in the same house could be troublesome, but I'd have Sam as a
shield.

The robe fit Sam perfectly. I swear it made him look younger. Or maybe that was an effect of
their romance on both of them? "I'll just leave it here." He smiled his roguish grin.

The meeting of the Quilt Squares was in the room above Sunshine's thrift store on Main
Street. Magda led me to stairs attached to the side of the building.

At the top we entered a room that reminded me of an empty hay loft in a big old barn.
Windows from all sides plus a skylight lit up the room with natural illumination. Pole lamps at
either end of the frame highlighted the work space.

Six women were gathered around a quilt frame. "This is the whole of the guild, except Lena,
who's at home today." The first three I'd met with Magda at the Fair. Marge was wearing a quilted
vest. Sunshine lifted a mug, asked me if I wanted a cup of coffee.

I shook my head.

Judy smiled a hello as she checked threaded needles on the quilt. Mariah looked to be a
twin of Marge. Karleene sent me a reserved smile, and Gretchen, patted my shoulder. "Any
questions, just ask."

Magda said "We're working the door prize for the show. A queen. Made of our favorite kind
of stars."

Magda directed me to sit at the quilt frame and showed me how to use the thin, threaded
needle in front of me to take small stitches. "Just do your best. Four to an inch, or so. A quiltzilla like
Lena will do 10 to 15. Perfectly."

"Quiltzilla?"

"A person," said Sunshine, "who is obsessed with quilting."

"Perfect quilting. Unlike us," amended Karleene.

It was a comfortable afternoon, despite the fact that they talked a special language, casually
mentioning 'paper piecing', and 'stitch-in-the-ditch'. I decide these women are, despite their
protestations of being perfectionists, quilt culters. I feel myself falling into their finely woven net of
waxed quilt thread. I was through displaying my ignorance, would look it all up on the Internet,
later.

I never thought I'd have so much fun, sewing. These women kept me in stitches. Seemingly
oblivious to Magda and Lena's situation, they satisfied some of my curiosity about the quilting
history of their town by telling me a true story that involved what the media of 1915 called a
Murder Quilt. A woman was accused of murdering her husband but the local women, her friends,
didn't believe it. To support the cost of her defense they collectively made a quilt, with scenes from
the incident, working on their squares in the courtroom, and raffled it off.

"How'd it all come out?"

"The jury didn't agree with the wife's friends. The story's in a local book, and the quilt is in
the archives of the Oregon State Historical Society, in Portland," said Mariah. They went back to
stitching.

They went on to gossip about one of the gals who wasn't there. One bit in particular caught
my attention. "Didja hear," put in Gretchen, "that Katie Heap is getting a new car?" In an aside to me
she said, "Katie is a local gal who sits in with us at the frame now and then. You'll meet her at the
show." She continued to the group, "She left that old husband, got a new car, a sporty thing that only
seats two. A convertible. Don't think she'll have it long, she's always buying stuff at garage sales and
selling it at her booth here at Sunshine's place."

"Yeah," said Marge. "That car is a piece of fancy work, like her T-bird."

"What color is it?" Mariah said.

"Baby blue. Pretty much the same as her 'Bird."

Couldn't be.
There are lots of old T-Birds around, lots of them blue
.

"That car wouldn't be practical in this part of the country. Could rust up quick in the rain,"
said Sunshine.

"Don't think that's a problem. She's got a place she stashes it, with a quilter friend from
Portland." Gretchen paused to grin, before adding, "Something somebody said made me think the
friend might be at our show. You won't miss seeing that car if it shows up, though I doubt if the top
will be down in November."

My thoughts were spinning. Maybe Len knows this Katie person. After all, he did win a blue
ribbon and these quilters appear to know each other. I'll have to ask him tomorrow.

In a quiet moment Gretchen said to Magda, "I am so very sorry about what happened to
your husband. What a thing!" She pointed her needle at Magda. "I'm glad that you and Lena are all
right. But, it's been so long that your husband's been gone that I'd nearly forgot you were
married."

"Well, I am...was," replied Magda, setting aside her needle for the moment. "Yes, it was
ugly. Frankly, much of the marriage was, too."

The others at the table kept their needles busy, but everyone was listening.

"It all seems like a bad dream."

"Ugly, but sometimes that's the way it is. I'm ready to move on."

There was a collective sigh. They all were glad someone had brought up Tom's death. The
women each added their condolences. We turned again to our needles. Magda sat thinking and then
said, with a little snort of laughter, "Oh, I hope our story never ends up in a book." The women
looked at each other, someone started to giggle, and soon they were all hooting, including
Magda.

I sat quietly, concentrating on my stitching and listening as they explained
"paper-piecing".

Marge said, "You put your fabric right sides together then pin the paper on top, the paper
with the diagram of what you're sewing. You sew on the lines then fold it back and trim away the
excess paper, leaving a small seam allowance. It's a perfect image."

I thought
impossible
, as they rolled the quilt on the frame to expose more top, and
went back to quilting. Mariah started talking about a new technique called, "Paperless
piecing."

That set me off. I said, "This is all just impossible, and isn't paperless piecing where we
came in?" They wanted to demonstrate the techniques to me, but I demurred, "One thing at a time,
ladies. You've got me at a quilt frame, more than I ever thought I'd do. I'm going to finish my aunt's
quilt, and be done with it. I won't be needing any of that extra info."

A couple rolled their eyes, and someone said, "That's what I thought, too."

I ignored their responses.

I'm amazed at myself. I'd thought that older people were past passion.

Wrong.

'Course I've been carrying a torch for Sammy since I met him in Cannon Beach twenty
years ago, when I looked into his blue eyes, heard him laugh, watched him paint a cabin door. But
I'd kept my feelings to a low flame. I was married. So was he. Potential trouble.

I don't care what the neighbors, or anyone else, think about me being with Sammy so soon
after Tommy's death. He's been gone from me for years. Sammy is here to stay.