The Quilt Before the Storm (8 page)

“No, Fred and I were doing our yoga stretches Robin gave us, so I had on the new age music we’re supposed to play when we do them. What happened?”

“It turns out those ‘watch for slides’ signs have finally born fruit. The road out of Foggy Point is blocked in that wooded stretch before you reach the highway.”

“How bad is it?”

“The hillside slid all the way from the top and went across the road and into the river. It only partially blocked the Muckleshoot, but it isn’t good.”

“Was anyone hurt?”

“One truck was hit, but they were mostly past so it just knocked them around.”

“Where are we meeting?”

“The Steaming Cup.”

“I can be there in about fifteen minutes,” Harriet said; Mavis told her that would be perfect.

Harriet wore a long-sleeved T-shirt, her gray hoodie and jeans under her hip-length Gore-Tex jacket, and she was still cold when she went outside. She’d slipped on the ankle-high rubber-coated boots her aunt had suggested when Harriet was catalog-shopping for winter wear—as usual, Beth had been right. The wind and rain combined with dropping temperatures was brutal, but at least her feet were warm and dry.

The Loose Threads who were still in town were already sitting around a big table in the coffee shop when she arrived. Carla’s toddler Wendy sat in Mavis’s lap drinking chocolate milk from a lidded cup with a straw.

“Does everyone still have power?” Robin asked. One-by-one the women nodded assent. “Well, at least that’s something.”

“Go get your drink,” Aunt Beth instructed Harriet. “We’ve got things to talk about.”

Like an obedient child, she did as instructed, returning a few minutes later with a large hot chocolate and a warm cinnamon roll.

“So, what do we have to talk about, other than the weather?” she asked when she sat down.

“Harriet and I finished the last two quilts in progress last night,” Lauren volunteered.

“There’s still a lot of fabric if anyone wants to start more,” Harriet added.

“Marjory’s in trouble,” Aunt Beth said, abruptly changing the subject. “I called her this morning on her cell phone. She’d left town early to drive her mother’s car to Seattle. Got out just in time before the slide, too.”

“What’s the problem?” Connie asked. “Does she need us to take care of the store?”

“I wish it were that simple,” Beth said. “It’s much worse, I’m afraid. I was talking to her, and then I heard a siren in the background. She said she had to go, that the police were pulling her over.”

“Why?” Connie asked.

“How should she know?” Lauren answered. “Beth just said she hung up.”

“I didn’t say she hung up,” Beth corrected. “I said she told me she had to go. She was so rattled she just dropped the phone on the car seat. I couldn’t hear clearly, but I got most of it. The policeman said her mother’s car had been reported stolen.”

“
What?
” Harriet said.

“He said the car had been reported stolen, and Marjory was to keep her hands where he could see them and get out of the car.” Beth paused for effect. “Marjory apparently did so, but she was hollering up a storm. She said she was going to kill Pat.”

“Who is Pat?” Carla asked in a quiet voice.

“Pat is Marjory’s sister,” Mavis said. “She’s been giving Marjory a hard time about their parents’ estate. She’s supposed to be coming here uninvited to visit Marjory and talk about it.”

“So what happened?” Harriet asked.

“I’m not positive, but I think they arrested her. At the very least, it sounded like they took her into custody.”

“Did you call the police?” Robin asked.

“That’s why I called all of you,” Beth said. “I called Foggy Point Police, and they didn’t know anything. I tried Seattle, but all I got was the run-around. I’m pretty sure she wasn’t that far, anyway. I don’t know what jurisdiction she’s in, so I don’t know who to call.”

“Let me see what I can do,” Robin said and pulled her cell phone from her purse before walking away from the table.

“That’s really bizarre,” Connie said. “What could they possibly arrest Marjory for? It’s her parents’ car…and isn’t she the executor of their estate?”

“If it was really reported stolen, don’t you think it was her sister?” Harriet asked. “Who else would be in a position to know Marjory would be driving a car that wasn’t hers on this particular day?”

“You mean besides us?” Lauren asked.

“None of us reported that car stolen, and you know that,” Mavis said.

“Hey, I was just answering the question.” Lauren slouched down in her chair and gripped her mug of coffee in two hands.

Robin paced in the entrance area, her cell phone to her ear. She stopped and opened the door when she reached it, stepping aside to let a small group of people enter. Ronald, Joyce and Duane from the homeless camp stepped to the counter and ordered coffee drinks before crossing the room to the Loose Threads’ table.

“Thank you so much for the flannel quilts,” Joyce said.

“I slept a lot warmer last night,” Duane added. “And I’m pretty sure Brandy did, too.”

“We’re happy to help out.” Aunt Beth said with a smile.

Harriet couldn’t help but stare when the trio’s drinks were called and Duane retrieved them, bringing back expensive latte and mocha concoctions.

Ronald looked sheepish.

“I know this looks crazy,” he said. “But my daughter gave me a Latte Lovers gift card here for my birthday. She had no idea I was losing the house and could have used a night at a hotel, or cold hard cash, much more than frivolous coffee drinks.”

“The milk part is nutritious, and they’re warming,” Joyce said. “And Ronald was generous enough to share with us.”

“Which we greatly appreciate,” Duane added.

“How did you get here?” Lauren asked. “The park is a long way from here.”

Mavis glared at her.

“What my friend is trying to ask is if you’d like her to give you a ride home,” she said.

Lauren’s eyes got big as she stared at Mavis.

“That would be nice,” Joyce said. “We got a ride in from a young couple in a semi. They were on their way to the hardware store to buy parts to fix their heater. They said they’d check to see if we needed a ride back before they left town.”

“I hope they were able to fix their heater,” Harriet said. “With the slide, they’re likely to be stuck here a few days, at least.”

“What slide?” Ronald asked.

The Loose Threads told them about the slide that had closed the road in and out of Foggy Point.

“That’s terrible,” Duane said.

Joyce smiled.

“It’s not like we were going to be leaving town anytime soon,” she said. “I wonder if the young people got out. The group that was at the church when you were delivering the quilts to us was planning on heading south for the rest of the winter.”

Robin returned. The group looked at her expectantly, but she said nothing.

“Come on, fellas,” Joyce said. “Let’s take advantage of those soft chairs over there.” She led the men to a grouping of upholstered chairs on the far side of the room. Aunt Beth smiled thanks at her; then, everyone turned to Robin.

“Well?” Beth encouraged her.

Robin sat down and picked up her cup.

“I called in a few favors and represented myself as Marjory’s counsel, which she may or may not back up, but I did find her.”

“Where is she?” Beth asked.

“As I said, I had to pull in a few favors, but even then, because of confidentiality laws, my source couldn’t directly confirm this information.”

“For crying out loud,” Lauren snapped, “where is she?”

“I believe she’s being held under a fifty-one-fifty order.” Several of them began to speak, but Robin held her hand for silence. “Washington State’s Involuntary Treatment Act allows designated reporters to invoke a seventy-two-hour hold at a mental health facility on behalf of anyone they believe is a danger to themselves or others. Depending on exactly where they picked her up, she’s either at the Snohomish County facility in Mukilteo or at Stevens Hospital in Edmonds.”

“You can’t be serious,” Harriet said.

“How can that be?” Aunt Beth said at the same time.

“Diós mio,” Connie said and covered her face with her hands.

“How do we get her out?” Carla asked.

“Unfortunately, until the seventy-two hours are up, we don’t,” Robin replied. “She can’t leave, and she isn’t entitled to legal representation until she’s been evaluated and then appears in court after the hold expires. And, by the way, the seventy-two-hour clock doesn’t tick on weekends or holidays, so I can’t even see her until next Monday.”

“What do you think happened?” Mavis asked. “Surely, they can’t have locked Marjory up because she said she’d kill her sister for reporting the car stolen.”

“My suspicion is that whoever reported the car stolen probably also painted Marjory as an unstable person, likely to harm herself or others. Unfortunately, it sounds like she played right into the hands of whoever did that.”

“What if the river rises while she’s gone?” Carla asked. Wendy squirmed in Carla’s lap and tried to get down. Her mother pulled a small wooden puzzle from her purse and dumped the pieces onto the table in front of her.

“Water will fill the basement and part of the first floor at Pins and Needles,” Lauren said.

“And unless we move Marjory’s fabric, she’ll lose it all,” Mavis added.

“How are we supposed to do that with her locked in the loony bin?” Lauren asked.

“Don’t you think Marjory would want us to break a window or something to get in if it meant we could save her inventory?” Connie pointed out.

“Not when we have a key,” Aunt Beth announced.

“We have a key?” Harriet asked.

“Carla?” Aunt Beth said.

Carla reached into her bag and fished around, bringing out a bright-pink rubber keychain. She held it up for everyone to see. She’d worked part-time at Pins and Needles after being laid off from her job at the local vitamin factory the previous spring. Aiden had hired her as his full-time housekeeper when he inherited his mother’s large Victorian home, but they’d both agreed she could still work for Marjory a few hours a week while Wendy went to a toddler program at the Methodist church, so Marjory wouldn’t be left in the lurch.

“She gave it to me to use in case of emergency.” Carla said.

“I think flooding qualifies as an emergency.” Lauren took a drink of her latte. “And let’s not wait until the water is at the doorstep. It’s going to take a while to move that much fabric if we have to go up and down that attic ladder of hers.”

“Does anyone know how close to flood stage the river is?” Mavis asked.

Carla pulled a smartphone from her purse and, with a glance at Lauren, tapped on its face. Lauren looked on like a proud parent. She’d undoubtedly had something to do with Carla’s newfound technical prowess, Harriet thought.

“Two more feet to reach flood stage,” Carla reported, her cheeks turning pink.

“It’s another three feet or so to street level,” Harriet said. “But once it goes over the street it’s right into the basement.”

“I didn’t know Marjory had a basement,” Connie said.

“She doesn’t keep anything of consequence down there,” Mavis said. “The people she bought it from warned her about the flood potential. She just stores spare shelving and tables.”

“I’m with Lauren,” Harriet said. “If we’re going to have to do a major move, I think we should start sooner rather than later. The rain isn’t supposed to let up, and if the windstorm knocks any big trees over the roads or even in the river near here, the shop could be in trouble without much warning.”

Ronald had gone for a refill and stopped by the Threads’ table on his way back to his chair.

“I couldn’t help but overhear your concern about the quilt store flooding. I’d like to offer my services to help move inventory,” he said. “I’m sure Duane and Joyce would be happy to help also. It’s not like we have homes or families to take care of.” His face reddened as he said the last part. “It might help us feel more normal.”

“Thank you,” Aunt Beth said. “We’ll let you know the plan before we all leave.”

He went back to his companions and recounted his offer. Harriet saw Joyce nodding thoughtfully as he spoke.

“I guess that’s it, then,” Aunt Beth said. “When do you all want to start?”

“I’d just as soon get it over with, before the wind picks up,” Harriet said.

Connie and Mavis agreed.

“I’ll need to check with Aiden,” Carla said. “I need to see if he wants me to do anything for his sister now that she’s stuck here.”

“Michelle is still here?” Harriet felt the muscle in her jaw tighten and willed it to relax.

“She was going to leave yesterday,” Carla explained. “But they talked so late last night, she decided to stay over. She was still in bed when Wendy and I left for here.”

“Hey, is this a party?” Tom Bainbridge asked. Rainwater
dripped from his hair. Harriet had been so focused on Carla’s news she hadn’t noticed him arrive.

“You’re stuck here, too?” Lauren asked.

“I think that’s obvious, don’t you?” he shot back. “I ran into one of my mom’s old friends yesterday and stayed for dinner with her and her husband. I let them convince me it was too late to drive home in all this rain.” He gestured toward the chaos outside the window. “So, here I am.”