A Quilt in Time (A Harriet Turman/Loose Threads Mystery) (34 page)

“This is lovely,” Aunt Beth said.

“And unexpected,” Harriet added.

Elaine blushed. “Oh, it’s nothing. We like to do this when prospective families come to tour.”

Harriet hoped Elaine wasn’t trying to make an impression on her regarding her Aunt Beth. Beth had only just retired and when and if the time came, Harriet would move her into her own home long before she’d let her come to the Foggy Point Senior Center.

Elaine set the table and poured tea before sitting on the opposite side of the table from Beth and Harriet. She was neatly dressed in an expensive navy blue skirt, plain white blouse and pale-blue cardigan sweater. Her makeup didn’t quite conceal the dark smudges under her eyes or the purple bruise on her cheekbone.

“Have you seen my daughter Sarah?” she asked, looking at Aunt Beth as she spoke.

Aunt Beth paused, her cup almost to her lips, then went ahead and took a sip before answering.

“No, not lately.”

“No one will tell us where she is, and Howard is anxious to have her back.”

Harriet set the cucumber sandwich triangle she was eating back on her plate.

“I’d imagine she’s convalescing somewhere.”

“I can’t believe that,” Elaine said, her face turning pink under her makeup. “I mean, if she was sick or hurt she’d come here.”

Harriet looked at Beth for help.

“I’m sure she’s just staying with a friend,” Beth suggested.

Elaine made a snorting noise.

“Sarah doesn’t have friends. She has people who are kind enough to tolerate her. Why you all put up with her in your quilting group has always been a mystery to me. I’m sure you’ve seen her quilts. She never was willing to put in the effort it takes to make a fine one. Not like Hannah. That girl can do anything she puts her mind to. Not that she does. She’s lazy, that one; but when she does make a quilt, her stitches are tiny and even and her points are always sharp.”

It was hard to refute what Elaine was saying about Sarah, but Harriet couldn’t let it go.

“All of us in the Loose Threads consider Sarah our friend,” she said.

“Is Sarah staying with one of your group members?”

“No, she isn’t.” Beth answered for Harriet. “I’m surprised she hasn’t called you to let you know she’s okay.”

“She always has been a difficult child,” Elaine complained.

This wasn’t going how Harriet had planned.

“Have the police told you anything about your stepson’s death?” she asked.

Elaine’s eyes filled with tears.

“You mean his murder? The Foggy Point Police Department has no idea. His father and I can’t imagine who could possible want to harm him. He was such a help to his father in running this business. I hope Sarah isn’t involved. The longer she’s on the run the more I worry that she had something to do with it.”

Aunt Beth reached across the table and patted Elaine’s hand.

“I’m sure Sarah could never do such a thing. She loved Seth.”

“Why won’t she come home?” Elaine asked.

Neither Harriet nor Beth had an answer for that, so they ate their sandwiches in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Aunt Beth wiped her hands on her napkin.

“We’re having fun quilting with the people in the memory unit and some of the independent living folks.”

“We appreciate you coming to spend time with our people,” Elaine said without noticeable enthusiasm.

“It’s a pleasure for us,” Harriet said. “And we’re learning a few tricks from Violet.”

Elaine set down her teacup.

“We’re glad you’re keeping that little group busy. They tend to stir up trouble here.”

“How so?” Harriet asked.

Elaine looked at her hands, folded in her lap.

“They like to poke their noses in other people’s business. And they get the other residents riled up. They put the other people up to things. I’d rather not talk about it. Thank you again for bringing the bibs, but I’d better go take care of the front desk. Feel free to stay a while longer if you wish.” She dropped her napkin on the table, stood up and walked out, the door swinging shut behind her.

Harriet and Beth looked at each other.

“I think I just lost my appetite.”

“You and me both.” Beth stood up and gathered her purse and coat from a chair by the door where she’d left them. There was a knock on the door followed by Violet entering the room.

“Hello, am I interrupting anything?” She held two hexagons of a grandmother’s flower garden quilt block.

“Not at all,” Harriet told her, coming over to join them. “We were having tea with Elaine, but she had to go back to work.”

Violet’s shoulders sagged with relief.

“Oh, good, then I don’t have to pretend I have a quilting question. We saw you come in. Jo and Mickey wanted to know what was going on, but they thought it would be more believable if I said I had a question about our quilt project.”

“I’m sorry you wasted a perfectly good pretense,” Harriet said. “Elaine isn’t here, and we didn’t really learn anything from her before she left.”

“She seems very meek, but I don’t think she really is,” Violet said sweetly.

“What do you mean?”

Violet wrung her hands.

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s just a feeling. She kowtows to Howard, but she rides roughshod over those two girls.”

“They have a very strange family dynamic, it would seem,” Harriet said.

“We’d better get moving,” Beth said. “Tell Jo and Mickey we said hi and we’re sorry, we don’t know anything new.”

“Is it just me, or was that weird?” Harriet asked when they were back in Beth’s new Beetle.

“She certainly doesn’t seem supportive of the girls in the family.”

“If she’s also abused, maybe she doesn’t have anything left for the girls.”

Aunt Beth turned to look at her for an instant.

“Not that your uncle Henry would ever have done anything like that, but if he had, I would have protected you with my dying breath.”

“And I love you for that,” Harriet said with a smile. “But not everyone has a mother or aunt like you. Case in point, my own mother. She’d throw me under the bus at the first hint of trouble—and don’t try to deny it.”

“You’re right. I can’t explain your mother. And I feel sorry for Sarah. Her road to recovery will be that much harder without family to support her.”

“Speaking of Sarah, I think I’ll call Georgia and see if it’s possible for me to pay her a visit at the shelter. I’d like to ask her a few more questions about her family.”

“Mavis and I are working on our pet quilts this afternoon. She found a British TV mystery series we haven’t seen yet and bought the first two seasons. We’re going to have a marathon and try to finish as many small pet quilts as we can while we’re watching.”

“Sounds fun. I’ll see if Lauren can come with me to the shelter. I’ll let you know if we learn anything.”

“We were thinking about making some animal blankets using a solid piece of flannel backed with fleece. What do you think?”

The debate occupied their conversation for the rest of the drive home.

Lauren climbed into Harriet’s car.

“Don’t we need to take some quilts or pillowcases or something?”

Harriet, as was now her habit, looked underneath before sliding into the driver’s seat.

“Logically, I know that no one sneaked into my garage and put a bomb under my car,” she said in response to Lauren’s raised eyebrow, “but I can’t seem to stop myself from checking before I get in.”

“I hear you. I do the same thing. It’s just a little weirder in your case, since your car didn’t get bombed.”

“To answer your question,” Harriet said after a long moment. “I decided to be straight with Georgia, and she was okay with us coming to see Sarah. She said Sarah is making a little progress, and she thought it would be good for her to have visitors.

“If you have time, I thought I’d swing by Walmart and pick up a new coffee maker for the shelter. I was thinking about it while I was stitching and decided it was ridiculous for Sarah to have to go without good coffee until they finish a quilt and then sell it to raise funds for the purchase. I mean, it’s maybe a hundred dollars.”

Lauren pressed her lips together and was quiet for a moment.

“I’ll pay for half,” she said finally. “You’re right. I thought about that myself. Not buying her a coffeemaker, but I did think she might feel a little like she was in prison without a good cup of coffee. You’re thinking one like yours with the pods, right?”

Harriet turned toward the highway.

“That’s the plan. And if you’re paying for half the coffeemaker, maybe I’ll get them an electric teapot, too.”

Lauren looked out her window at the light rain that was starting to fall.

“Have you ever been with anyone who got physical with you?”

“No. My husband was a liar, as it turned out, but he never tried to hit me. Given his health, he might have hurt himself if he had—but he wouldn’t have. It wasn’t in his makeup. We had a really good relationship, right up until he died and it turned out he’d been conspiring with all our friends to keep me in the dark about his medical problems.”

“That must have been weird. Was he afraid you wouldn’t marry him if you knew or something?”

“Yeah, something like that. What I realized was that, the whole time we were married, it was all about Steve’s friends and Steve’s activities and what Steve wanted. I guess I wanted the relationship to work so bad I was willing to set aside my own needs. The sick part is, I probably
would
have married him anyway.”

“That so doesn’t sound like you.”

“We were young when we married, and he was very charismatic. People were drawn to him without him even trying. He had the perfect parents—dad was middle management, mom a homemaker. They’d lived in the same house his whole life.

“After spending most of my life at boarding schools, I guess I bought into the whole white picket fence thing. I wanted a normal home and family. When we were first married, we were both busy starting our careers, so I guess I was too busy to notice if things were less than perfect.”