The house had once belonged to a pretty wealthy New York family who used it on weekends. I'm sure most people thought it was too large for a single elderly woman, but somehow Eleanor filled the space. Her bedroom was a sparsely furnished one at the top of the stairs, with photos of my grandfather Joe and their children and grandchildren on the walls, and a large blue and white check quilt on the bed.
With Barney by my side, I walked to the other end of the hall, to the massive sewing room that had once been a master bedroom. It was the only place in the house that could be called cluttered. There were at least a half dozen unfinished quilt tops, three sewing machines, including a black Singer Featherweight, and probably more fabric than Eleanor had at the shop. It looked a bit chaotic, but I knew it all made sense to my grandmother.
On either side of the hallway next to the sewing room were two small rooms. One had been my uncle's, and was now an office with a desk and sleeper sofa. The other had once been my mother's and still held some of her dolls and other toys. But more important, it had a comfy queen-size bed in the middle of it and two quilts piled on top. It was the perfect guest room, and I looked forward to it every time I came to visit.
Suddenly my body felt heavy and tired, so I pulled the thick velvet drapes closed, shutting out the light and the world at the same time. I climbed into bed, got under the covers, and closed my eyes.
The last sound I heard as I fell into a deep, hard sleep was Barney circling and collapsing on the floor.
Four hours later when I finally returned to consciousness, the room was completely dark. Aside from the sound of Barney's breathing, everything was quiet. For someone used to city noise, with honking cars and people talking and laughing in the street below, the house had become almost spooky. And very, very dark.
I felt around for a light and turned on a small Tiffany-style lamp on the nightstand. That much was easy, but getting out of the warm bed was proving to be more difficult. According to my watch it was almost nine o'clock. I knew there wasn't much to do in this house, or in the town for that matter. By nine o'clock every business would be shut down for the night. Except Someday Quilts. And that I couldn't face. Inside the shop were my grandmother's friends. Women who didn't even know me but had labored over a wedding quilt for me. And now I would never use it.
Rather than lay there and feel sorry for myself, I got out of bed and headed down the hallway. In my apartment I kept the television on for company almost constantly. But the only television in Eleanor's house was in the kitchen, so my grandmother could watch the news in the morning while she made breakfast. Other than that, she didn't see the point in, as she saw it, wasting valuable time. The kitchen was as good a place as any for me, though. I could have another snack.
I hadn't even found the remote for the television before Barney woke and came after me, nudging me and whimpering. I've never owned a dog, but even I understood the meaning. Barney wanted out.
"Give me a second," I told him. I was about to grab his leash when I thought about what my grandmother had said about my looking like hell. "I'll wash my face and we'll go for a walk."
Barney whimpered in response. He looked at me, his happy face showing stress and anxiety. Either he really had to go or there was something in the darkness outside that demanded his attention.
Barney was already at the front door by the time I'd found my shoes. It had been warm in New York in the morning, and among the many things I'd neglected to bring was a jacket. I reached inside the coat closet in the entryway and found one of my grandmother's wool cardigans, gray and intricately knitted. There were patches on the elbows, to cover spots worn from years of use. It smelled of my grandmother and it comforted me. At that moment if I could have borrowed her unwavering ability to face life, good and bad, I would have, but I settled for the sweater.
Barney did his business quickly but made it clear he was not going back to the house. Instead he trotted ahead of me, sniffing happily and turning occasionally to make sure I could keep up. I'd forgotten to take his leash, so I had no choice but to follow him and hope he knew where he was going. But as we got farther and farther from the house I realized he knew exactly where he was going, and I didn't like it one bit.
"Come back, Barney," I called out. "We have to go home now."
Instead, he kept walking. I wasn't sure if this time he ignored me because of his hearing problem or because he had his own plans. I walked a little faster, but I couldn't quite keep up. Barney seemed to be making a game of it, staying just a little out of my reach, going up the road leading into town.
When we arrived on Main Street, Barney took one last look at me and slowed his pace a little. He looked as if he might stop at the diner next to my grandmother's shop. If I could catch him while he was in front of the diner, then I might be able to drag him away before anyone saw us. In all the times I had visited my grandmother I'd managed to avoid her Friday Night Quilt Club. It wasn't that I had any objection to the club or to the women who made up the group; I just didn't want to sit around being polite to a bunch of my grandmother's friends. I tried to explain this to Barney. He must have understood because he teased me by sitting right outside the diner, directly in front of a huge FOR LEASE sign in the window. Three more steps and the light from the quilt shop would ruin my plan. I moved slowly. Barney watched me, the corners of his mouth turned up into a slight grin. I inched toward him. And just when I was about to grab his collar, he barked, jumped up, and bounded for the door of Someday Quilts. I didn't move. I clung to the hope that I might be able to escape.
"Are you okay, miss?"
I looked up to see a man walking toward me. As he passed the shop, he stopped for a moment to pet Barney, who wagged delightedly and jumped all over him. They were clearly old friends. The man's suit looked as though it had just come from the cleaners, but he didn't seem to mind getting it messed up. He looked about thirty, with dark hair and small, intellectual-looking glasses. I would have guessed history teacher or accountant, but when he leaned over I saw a metal object underneath his jacket. As I looked at it, I realized it was a gun.
"Yes, I'm fine," I said. I didn't know whether to be scared. Barneyclearly wasn't. But then I was becoming alarmed about something else. His presence was attracting attention from inside the quilt shop. The man waved at someone in the shop, then looked back at me.
"I'm Jesse Dewalt," he said to me as he stretched out his hand. "You're Eleanor's granddaughter, I guess."
"How did you know that?" I asked as I shook his hand.
"It's a small place."
"And who might you be?" My eyes were on the gun peeking out from under his suit coat. He adjusted his coat to hide the gun.
"Sorry, I should have introduced myself," he answered in a quiet, serious tone. "Chief of Police here in town. I'm out making my nightly rounds."
"You don't look like a cop," I said stupidly. "I mean, you're not in uniform or anything."
"No, not tonight." He didn't crack a smile.
I smiled, if for no other reason than to show him how it was done. But he didn't return the gesture, just waved at Barney, nodded toward me, and kept walking. He hadn't exactly been friendly, but Barney liked him and that was as good a reference as a person can get. I found myself watching Officer Jesse walk off into the darkness.
And that was a mistake. It was just the opening Barney was looking for. He scratched at the entrance to the shop and barked a friendly hello. There was really no way to leave Barney there and sneak home. My grandmother would be upset if she thought I'd let the dog go off on his own. And it was clear now, thanks to my momentary interest in Officer Jesse, that Barney was outside. I was left with no choice. So I made the best of it. I opened the door.