Crazy as a Quilt (A Harriet Turman/Loose Threads Mystery Book 8) (2 page)

Robin raised her hand, and Connie went around the table to pour.

“Rod and I will have a pair of sisters—I told them we could take two people. They said they were coming in from Colorado and Texas and were hoping to be near each other.”

“Well, you can’t get much closer than that,” Beth commented.

“On a slightly other subject,” Lauren said with a smile. “I ran into Tom Bainbridge in Angel Harbor last week. Guess who’s bringing a collection of crazy quilts to display at the workshop?”

Harriet lowered her forehead to the table.

“Oh, great,” she said without looking up.

Lauren’s smile broadened.

“Think of it this way. With all the romantic tension between your two men, you won’t have time to worry about your house guest.”

“You’re not helping,” Aunt Beth scolded.

Lauren shrugged.

Harriet sat up and sighed.

“Can this week get any worse?”

Harriet straightened and rubbed her low back.

“This is a real treasure trove.” She held up a strand of velvet ribbon from a bag on the attic floor. “This whole bag is velvet and satin ribbons, and the one beside it is cotton lace. Most of it is white or off-white, but we can dye it.”

“You should look at these satins,” Aunt Beth said from a table on the other side of the attic. “There are some pretty beiges and pinks.”

Lauren looked up from the bolt of wine-colored velvet she was unfolding.

“You aren’t going to go the traditional route?” she asked Harriet. “I figured your quilt would be all black and navy and wine.”

“I’m going to wait to make a decision until I see all the materials we have available.” Harriet rerolled the ribbon she was holding onto its spool. “I was telling Aunt Beth that if it’s possible, I’d like to try making a lighter-colored quilt.”

Carla unfolded a section of bright pink velour from a bolt she was holding in her arms.

“Are there any rules about color?”

Aunt Beth looked up from her satins.

“Honey, if you like that pink, I’m sure there will be a place for it in your quilt. I think the only rule is that there are no rules.”

Lauren set her bolt on the pile the women had selected.

“Keep telling yourself that. If there weren’t rules, we wouldn’t need to take a week-long workshop on how to make these things.”

Harriet picked up an armload of bolts and headed for the stairs. She paused and looked back at the group.

“I’ve got to go home and take Scooter out before Aiden brings his niece Lainie by.” She and veterinarian Aiden Jalbert had been dating off and on since they’d both returned to Foggy Point the previous year.

“So, are you the new nanny or something?” Lauren asked.

“No, their mother is visiting. Again. I’m not sure what kind of custody arrangement Michelle has with her ex, but she and her kids are here along with a tutor and a real nanny. Lainie asked Carla to teach her to quilt, and Carla passed her off to me.”

Carla pulled the bolt of pink fabric to her chest and cleared her throat.

“I could have showed her what I do, but I think she needs to get away from her mother sometimes. Did I do something wrong?” She dipped her chin to her chest so her hair fell across her eyes.

“No, honey,” Aunt Beth said, “you did the right thing. Being the housekeeper, you see what goes on every day in that house. If you think the girl needs a breather, I’m sure you’re right.”

Carla set the fabric on the table and came over to Harriet.

“Michelle is saying all the right things, and she’s being her version of nice to me, but she’s not good with the kids.”

Harriet shifted her armload of fabric and put her hand on the younger woman’s arm.

“Aunt Beth’s right—you did the right thing. I’m happy to help Lainie learn to quilt and to give her a break from her mother.”

Carla’s shoulders relaxed. Lauren stepped over and patted her on the back.

“You did good. We’ll make a full-fledged Loose Thread out of you yet.”

“She’s kidding,” Harriet said before Carla could react. “You
are
a full-fledged Thread. I better go. If you guys decide to go to Seattle to buy more supplies, let me know.”

With that, she eased her way down the staircase with her fabric.

Chapter 2

Aiden’s niece and nephew were playing with his dog Randy on the front lawn of the large Victorian home he’d inherited when his mother had passed away a year earlier.

“Harriet,” they both called as she got out of her car. Randy beat them to the driveway and started bouncing on her back legs, her front feet grazing Harriet’s thigh. She reached down to stroke the dog’s head, but the kids took it as an invitation to a group hug and almost knocked her over in their enthusiasm.

“Slow down, everyone,” she said as she regained her balance, hugging both kids as she did so.

“
Controlez-vous
,” said a voice in French from the porch. A gray-haired woman stood ramrod straight, her arms folded across her navy blue-cardigan-clad chest. Her thin lips were pressed together, and she shook her head. “Mademoiselle Avalaine, go get your coat and bag, don’t keep Ms. Truman waiting,” she continued in accented English. She turned to Etienne. “Go inside and wash your hands.”

She gave Randy a disgusted look, turned and went back into the house. Harriet looked down at the dog.

“What did you do to her?” she asked.

Carla came out the back door before the dog could answer. She stood at the top of the stairs.

“I guess you met the nanny.”

“She’s a real delight. Is she always that friendly, or is it me she doesn’t like?”

Carla swept a strand of her long dark hair behind her ear and looked down at Harriet.

“She’s like that all the time. Except when the kids step out of line, that is. Then she’s worse.”

“That’s awful.”

Carla came down the back porch steps and joined Harriet.

“Tell me about it. I feel sorry for the kids. At least Wendy and I can escape to our rooms. They’re stuck with Madame all the time except for her half-day off on Sunday.”

“Do you think they’d let Etienne come quilt?”

“Oh, no, it’s not manly enough. She’s real old school, and Michelle lets her do whatever she wants.”

“I’ll see if I can figure out something for him.”

“Do you want to come inside and wait?” Carla asked.

“Not really, but I guess I should.” Harriet locked her car and followed Carla into the house.

“Harriet, thank you so much for agreeing to teach Avalaine to quilt,” Michelle said. She was sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in one hand and a pencil in the other. She set the pencil down on a folded segment of newspaper. “I was just trying to finish the Sunday
Times
crossword puzzle.”

Who cares?
Harriet thought, but she didn’t say anything.

Michelle took a long sip from her cup.

“Did Carla tell you that one of my friends is going to be staying with us while she goes to the workshop you all are going to?”

“She mentioned that Aiden had agreed to host someone.”

“It was amazing.” Michelle set her cup down on her newspaper, leaving a wet ring on her crossword puzzle. “It could have been anyone, and it turns out it’s an old friend of ours.”

“That is amazing,” Harriet said.

“Maybe you and your aunt can come over for dinner and meet her when she arrives. She’s coming a few days early so we can visit before your program begins.”

Harriet would rather have been trapped on an iceberg with a hungry polar bear.

“That sounds nice,” she said.

She and Michelle were never going to be friends, but the woman was Aiden’s sister; and now she was getting involved with Michelle’s children. If Michelle was willing to try, so was she.

Avalaine came into the kitchen carrying her jacket and a small backpack.

“I brought a notebook and a pen. Do I need anything else?”

“That sounds perfect,” Harriet told her and headed for the door. “Bye all.”

“When you’re making a quilt, one of the most important skills you need to develop is accurate cutting. For example, if you have six squares in a row on your quilt top, and each one is one-quarter of an inch off in size, what will happen?”

Lainie’s brows pulled together as she thought.

“Are they too big or too small or some of each?”

“Good question,” Harriet replied. “For our first example, let’s say they are all a quarter-inch larger.”

Lainie’s lips moved as she counted. Her eyes got big.

“That row would be an inch and a half longer than it was supposed to be.”

“What happens if the blocks in the next row are all a quarter of an inch too small?”

“Whoa, that row would be an inch and a half smaller. When you tried to sew them together they would be three inches different from each other.”

“Good,” Harriet told her and smiled. “You’d notice if your blocks were a quarter of an inch too big or small. If you had twelve blocks and they were only an eighth of an inch off, you’d have the same problem, but it would be harder to spot until you finished.”

“Or a sixteenth of an inch with twenty-four blocks.”

“You get the idea. In real life, what you asked first is more typical. Some blocks are a bit too big and others a bit too small so they can cancel each other out. But the truth is, it’s best to cut your fabric pieces as accurately as possible. We have plenty of tools to help us do that.”

Harriet spent the next half-hour showing Lainie various rulers, cutting guides and roller cutters. She had just started to demonstrate the suction cup handle used to hold bigger rulers when they heard a knock on the studio door. Aunt Beth and Mavis entered. Lainie’s look of relief was unmistakable.

“Have you been working this poor little thing to the bone?” Mavis asked. She set her bags down by the door and came over to Lainie, put her hands on the girl’s shoulders, and began massaging.

“I might have gotten a little carried away.”

“A little hard work never hurt anyone,” Aunt Beth observed.

“It’s really interesting,” Lainie said. “I had no idea it was so complicated.”

“I’m sure Harriet here is a wonderful teacher,” Mavis agreed, “but how about a little break so you can digest what you’ve learned.”

The smile on Lainie’s face was all the answer they needed.

Mavis went back to the door for her things. She held up a white paper bag.

“We swung by Annie’s on our way here, and she’d just put out a batch of cinnamon twists.” Mavis looked at Lainie. “Annie makes the best cinnamon twists, bar none.”

Beth looked at her friend.

“If you’ll stop talking and bring them in here, the girls might get to taste them while they’re still fresh.”

“I’m coming,” Mavis said and headed for the kitchen. “I just wanted to educate her on the finer points of pastry in Foggy Point.”

Harriet fixed tea for herself, Mavis and her aunt and poured a glass of milk for Lainie. They ate in silence until each of them had consumed their first twist.

Lainie wiped her hands on her napkin and took a drink of her milk before speaking.

“Do you like my mom, Harriet?”

Harriet choked on her sip of tea. Aunt Beth reached over and put her hand on Lainie’s arm.

“Honey, your mother has had a difficult year. Your grandmother died, and your mother has had trouble dealing with that.”

Mavis picked up the story.

“Sometimes people do things we don’t like, but that doesn’t mean we don’t like that person. We don’t like what they did, but we can still like them. Does that make sense?”

“I guess so,” Lainie said, all the while looking at Harriet.

“She’s right. Your mom has had a tough year, but the important thing is that she’s getting help.” Harriet passed her the plate of cinnamon twists, ending the inquisition. She was glad the girl had waited to ask the question until a time when her aunt and Mavis were with them. “Let’s have one more twist, and then we can get back to cutting out your first quilt.”

Lainie smiled at her and bit into a pastry.