“That sounds good. I do have a few last-minute Christmas gifts to make.”
Harriet managed to use up most of her remaining time choosing fabric and a pattern to make three holiday table runners.
“I’ve got a few more minutes, if you want to cut me some of the charity fabric,” she said to Marjory when she finished paying for her purchase.
“Let’s just load the bolts into your car. I’ve got to drive my mom’s car to Seattle tomorrow to be serviced and detailed so I can sell it. If all goes well, I’ll be leaving it at a dealership.”
“How will you get home?”
“I can do a one-way car rental-I checked.”
“Do you want me to drive you?” Harriet asked, mentally reviewing her next day’s schedule.
“That’s sweet of you, honey, but you’ve got quilting to do, and frankly, I could use the time alone to ponder this situation with my sister.”
“If you change your mind, just call.”
“Let’s get this new flannel into your car,” Marjory said, ending the discussion.
Chapter 4
Hail began to fall as Harriet pulled into the parking lot of The Steaming Cup and turned her car off. She sat for a moment, hoping the icy precipitation would pass, but realized the parking lot was only going to be more treacherous to walk on as the hail accumulated, so she got out and dashed for the door.
“Boy, it’s nasty out there,” Tom said as he joined her in line at the coffee counter. He shuddered, and little ice balls fell to the floor from the shoulders of his jacket.
“I’m glad I’m not going to be weathering this storm in the homeless camp.”
“You and me both. It’s becoming clear our local homeless people are a pretty diverse bunch. The group at the church was different yet from the ones you met. They’d obviously been living outside for a long time and are skilled in acquiring hot meals and services.”
“I’d like to know Joyce’s story.” Harriet paused while she ordered her latte and waited while Tom ordered a mocha. “I mean, she doesn’t seem like a typical homeless camp resident by anyone’s measure.”
“That was my thought, too. I asked the group at the church, but they’re a close-mouthed bunch. One guy told me that if Joyce wanted her story known, she’d tell us.”
“Well, all right, then.” Harriet was quiet for a moment; then, she and Tom both laughed.
“So, how have you been since I last saw you?” he asked, watching her carefully.
“Good,” she said. “Things have been good.”
“And Aiden?”
“What about Aiden?”
“Are things good with Aiden?”
She paused to consider her answer.
“That’s all I need to know,” Tom said.
“Things are fine with Aiden,” she said in a rush.
“Protest all you want, but your hesitation said it all. That and the fact that it’s been more than half a year since we met and you and Aiden have progressed to…what? Dating?”
Harriet turned to leave, but he put his hand on her arm, stopping her.
“I’m sorry. I know it’s none of my business, but back when we first met, I told Aiden I wouldn’t interfere with your relationship. I also told him that my largess came with an expiration date.”
“I’m not some kind of prize in your juvenile competition.” Harriet’s eyes stung with angry tears. Her drink was called, followed by Tom’s, and she grabbed them both.
He led the way to a table away from the other coffee shop patrons, pulled out a chair for her and, when she was seated, sat opposite her.
“I’m making a mess of this,” he said. He put his head in his hands and looked down at the table for a moment. “What I’m trying to say is this. If you and Aiden are progressing toward a lasting relationship, say the word, and while I hope we can be friends, I’ll back off. On the other hand, I’m checking in. If things are merely convenient and not moving toward a more meaningful relationship, I’d like to offer an alternative.”
Harriet sat back in her chair.
“I can see I’ve taken you by surprise,” Tom continued. “And, hey, I’m not proposing marriage or anything. But we connected. I know you felt it, too. I’d like to take you out to dinner. Just dinner.”
“Wow,” Harriet finally said. “I wasn’t expecting this.” She looked into his clear hazel eyes.
“I know, and it’s probably not fair for me to spring it on you. I see some of your Loose Threads at the Folk Art School, and I’ll admit-I ask them about you. I came here knowing a little about where things stood with you and Aiden. At least as far as your fellow stitchers know.”
“You’ve been spying on me?” Harriet asked, outraged.
“No, I’m not spying. Your fellow quilters are full of stories about the recent murders in Foggy Point and your part in solving them. They invariably mention that handsome young vet you’re seeing. But always in those terms-‘that young vet she’s seeing.’ Not your lover or fiancé or anything else that would indicate a deepening of the relationship.”
Harriet’s face had gone from pink to red.
“If our relationship had advanced to that point, the Loose Threads would be the last people I’d tell.”
“So you admit things aren’t progressing?” Tom said with a smile.
Harriet groaned, but she couldn’t suppress a smile.
“How about this,” he said. “Let’s put dinner on hold for now. Let’s just have simple coffee between two friends. How did your visit to the homeless camp go?”
“Okay,” Harriet said and paused. “My tour of the camp was eye-opening, to say the least. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t Joyce and company.”
“I hear you. I wasn’t sure what the homeless camp would be like, but I was thinking more along the lines of the drunks you see sleeping in doorways in Seattle.”
“How many do you think will be helped by the project you’re working on?”
“I’m rethinking my whole plan after talking to all three groups of people. There appear to be several subsets within the population, and I think my design needs to reflect that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Our group has one person with obvious substance-abuse problems. For her, a simple, indestructible cell-like structure is probably appropriate. She has little capacity to take care of an apartment.
“On the other end of the spectrum are Joyce, Ronald and probably Duane. They’re organized, capable of taking care of themselves and their surroundings and probably permanently located in our community. The group I met at the church are similar except for the permanency. They describe themselves as nomadic. They have no ties to the community and highly prize their lack of possessions and ability to move on without notice.”
“Wow, you’ve already thought a lot about this.”
“I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I did read up on homelessness in America before I accepted the project.”
“Can you design something that will meet such diverse needs?”
“I know we started badly, but there’s no need to be insulting.”
Harriet blushed again.
“Hey, I’m kidding.” He reached across the table and took her hand. He was a touch person, and she was surprised to discover she didn’t mind.
“I’ll have to think about it some, but I’m sure I can come up with a solution that will work. In the meantime, I’m sure Joyce and company are going to appreciate the quilts and tarps your group made them.”
Harriet looked out the window at the rain, which was again sheeting down from dark clouds.
“If this coming storm is as bad as everyone’s predicting, our blankets and tarps aren’t going to help much.”
“I heard Pastor Hafer telling the people at the church they were setting up cots and would welcome all comers, so hopefully, they’ll take advantage.”