Chapter 5
Mavis arrived at the studio promptly at eight the next morning, her quilt piece in a flowered cotton tote slung over her shoulder, a white paper bag with the Annie's Coffee Shop logo in her hand.
"Is that what I think it is?” Harriet asked as she stood aside so Mavis could enter.
"If you're thinking cinnamon twists, then yes, it is,” Mavis said with a smile.
"You're an angel."
"No, I'm just an old gal who knows how to get her project moved to the top of the list, do you want to see what I've done while the tea water's heating?"
Harriet took the flowered bag, pulled out the quilt piece and laid it on her large cutting table. She ran her hand along the seam between the cut edge of the quilt and the new border Mavis had attached.
"This looks good,” she said. “I think we should put some basting stitches between the two pieces to keep them butted against each other so they don't separate when my machine goes over them. If you have the time, you could do that while I work on Phyllis's quilt."
Harriet had put the kettle on the stove when she'd seen Mavis's car in the driveway. It whistled, and she led Mavis through the connecting door from the studio to the kitchen.
"Have you started your block for the dog quilt yet?” Mavis asked.
"No, I haven't had time. I worked on Phyllis's quilt last night."
"If you ask me, I think we gave up on the dog heads too soon."
"Some of them did look okay. I think part of the problem was we had too many styles. Jenny's appliqué block looked good."
"I know my paper-pieced version wasn't the best. I haven't done much paper piecing, so I probably shouldn't have tried it for this."
"I'll try my idea after I finish Phyllis's quilt and your border."
"Fortunately, we have a little time to fiddle with it yet. On a whole different subject, your aunt told me about the woman you met at the quilt store yesterday."
"Did she tell you about the coffee shop, too?"
"Yes, she did.” Mavis pulled the cinnamon pastries out of the bag and set them on a plate while Harriet poured hot water over tea bags. “What do you make of it?” she asked when she was settled on her stool at the bar.
"I don't know what to think. I have a hard time believing Aiden would get a woman in Africa pregnant and then just turn his back on her and go on with his life back home.” Harriet broke off a piece of cinnamon twist and popped it into her mouth.
"I think it's strange the baby's aunt would come all the way to Foggy Point, Washington, USA, without so much as a call to see if Aiden actually lived here.” Mavis took a bite of her pastry. “Mumm, these are so good."
"Maybe she did call Aiden,” Harriet suggested. “Although that's even harder to believe. If he knew he had a baby, and it was coming to live with him, he wouldn't be off in Ephrata."
"Something's going on here,” Mavis said. “And I don't think it has anything to do with Aiden being a father. I'll tell you something else. I went to the store to pick up some cat food after dinner last night, and there was a young black woman with a baby in line, two people in front of me. She was arguing with the clerk about a coupon she was trying to use, and she definitely did not have a foreign accent, African or otherwise."
"That could just be a coincidence."
"Oh, honey. You know as well as I do Foggy Point doesn't get that many strangers on a week night, and two young black women with babies of a similar age on the same day? It has to be the same person."
"I don't know what to say.” Harriet took a sip of her tea. “You can bet we haven't seen the last of her."
They finished their breakfast in silence, each lost in her own thoughts for a few minutes.
"I better get on my way,” Mavis said finally. “It's my day to make lunches for Meals-on-Wheels at the Methodist church."
"I've got a few more hours of stitching on Phyllis's quilt, and then I'll put your piece on the machine. I promised Aiden I'd look in on Randy, so I think I'll do that in between."
"Maybe I'll see you over there. I told Carla I'd come over when I finish at the church to help her get set up for tomorrow."
"Okay, maybe I'll see you later, then."
Chapter 6
The time went quickly, as it usually did when Harriet was guiding the big sewing machine head over a well-made quilt. Phyllis wasn't one of her more demanding customers; she usually had an idea for an image-flowers, swirls, gridlines-but she left the details up to Harriet.
She got up from her stool and stood with her feet together and her shoulders in the Mountain Pose, or at least she thought she was in the correct position. Robin, who taught yoga when she wasn't being a lawyer, was always encouraging the Loose Threads to adopt it as an antidote to long hours hunched over their sewing machines. Harriet met her halfway-she did the yoga stretches she could do from a standing position. Somehow, rolling around on the floor when she got up from her quilting machine held no appeal.
Robin continued to lobby for the additional moves, but for now, Harriet stood in Mountain Pose then went into Chest Expansion and, finally, the sideways-leaning motions of the Simple Triangle. With one last cleansing breath, she picked up her purse and went out the door.
It had rained while she'd worked on Phyllis's quilt. A large drop of water fell off a tree branch and slid down the back of her neck. She shivered and batted at it. Summer was definitely over. Soon, the hoodie she was wearing wouldn't be enough to ward off the cold, and she'd have to deal with getting a jacket that was more than just rain protection.
Shopping could wait for another day. Today, she needed to get on with checking up on Carla and her preparations.
A red-and-white taxi was pulling out of the long driveway to Aiden's house, and she had to wait as it made the turn onto the street. It was empty except for the driver, and Harriet assumed he or she had taken a wrong turn on his way to pick up a passenger.
It soon became clear, however, the taxi was not there by mistake. As she eased her car up the drive and into the parking area, she saw that the cab had left two passengers, one of whom now appeared to be in a rather heated discussion-if her gestures were any indication-with Carla.
"Neelie,” she called as she got out of her car, interrupting the two women. “What are you doing here?"
"You know what I'm here for."
"I told you Aiden is not in town."
"That's what I've been trying to tell her,” Carla said, “but she won't listen."
She was wearing a rose-pink long-sleeved T-shirt with stonewashed denim capri pants. Her long dark hair hung in loose curls around her shoulders and no longer had the stringy, greasy look it had when Harriet first met her. The young woman had come a long way in the last seven months.
"You're the one who won't listen.” Neelie was wearing skinny black pants and a lime-green sweater that had a designer look to them. Probably not Paris, Harriet guessed, but definitely not Walmart. “I get that he's out of town,” she shouted. “What you don't seem to grasp is I've got this baby.” She jounced the child on her hip for emphasis. “And she needs her father."
"I'm not sure what you expect us to do until Aiden gets back and can sort this out,” Harriet said in what she hoped was a reasonable tone.
"I'll tell you what I expect you to do,” Neelie said. “I expect you to give us a place to stay. It cost me dearly to come from Africa with a baby. Of course, I did this gladly because of my precious sister, but I can't give what I don't have. I don't have money to keep Kissa in a hotel until Aiden returns."
The rain that had eased up while Harriet made her drive began to come down again in earnest.
"Let's go inside,” she said and ran for the door.
Carla's eyes widened, and she looked like she was going to protest, but she kept whatever she'd been going to say to herself. She brushed past Harriet and went to the back door, holding it open for the others.