Mavis opened the lid of the box, revealing a very old-looking set of dominos. “Nothing relaxes the mind like a rousing game of dominos.'
Harriet looked skeptical, but two hours later, she had to admit she hadn't thought about her problems since the game began. Mavis was both skilled and cutthroat. It took every bit of her concentration to avoid being totally skunked. She looked over at Aiden. He seemed to have been distracted, too.
Mavis stood up. “I don't know about you kids, but I need my beauty rest.” She arranged the dominos in the tin box and put the lid back on. “I trust you won't stay up too late,” she said and looked over her reading glasses at Aiden.
He stood up. “Yeah, I need to be going, too.” He picked up their mugs and carried them to the sink, and generally loitered in the kitchen until Mavis was in her room with the door shut.
Harriet followed him to the door. “Can I see you tomorrow?” he asked her.
'I have to return the quilts from the show tomorrow morning. Harold is going to drive me.'
Before Aiden had come over, she had decided she wasn't going to see either him or Harold after tomorrow morning until she was moved back home and her life had returned to some semblance of normalcy. Now, in response to her news, Aiden looked like he'd lost his last friend-which in a way he had, at least, as far as his family was concerned.
'Why don't you come over in the afternoon?” she relented. “Call first to make sure I'm back.'
He put his hands on either side of her face. “Thank you,” he said, and brushed his lips over hers. She felt a tingle all the way to her toes. He turned and went out the door.
Chapter Thirty-five
Mavis was up early the next morning.
'You stay inside until Harold comes to the door. And you look through the peephole before you open the door,” she instructed. “I mean it. I don't want any repeat performances.'
'Yes, ma'am,” Harriet said. She wished Mavis would leave. She loved the older woman, but she was so looking forward to having two whole hours alone, with no one but Fred for company.
'You'll be returning quilts to people who aren't in Loose Threads,” Mavis continued. “Don't go into those houses without Harold. You understand? No risk-taking of any sort. I'll be home by lunchtime. Don't let Harold leave until I'm here.'
'Don't worry,” Harriet said with a smile. “I don't want to spend any more time in the hospital. But I think we both agree that I'm not really the target. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. No one is going to kidnap me as I deliver textiles, but I will stick like glue to Harold's side.'
'You keep your cell phone with you and turned on, Miss Smarty.'
'Unfortunately, I don't know where my cell phone is at the moment. I'm hoping it's in the studio somewhere.'
'Well, I suppose if you stick with Harold, you shouldn't need it.'
'I'll be fine. If you don't leave, your son is going to miss his performance, though.'
'Okay, you just be careful, and I'll see you in a couple of hours.'
'Bye, Mavis. Don't worry,” Harriet said as she followed her to the door and locked it behind her. “Fred,” she called. “Here, kitty.'
Fred ran out from her bedroom.
'Fred.” She picked him up. “We have the whole place to ourselves. What should we do?'
She knew what she wanted to do-she wanted to go see Misty. Unfortunately, she didn't know where Mavis kept her spare key and decided it probably wasn't a good idea to leave the house open and unattended. She didn't really think anything would happen, but then again, everything that had happened since she'd come to Foggy Point was pretty unbelievable.
'I think I'm going to take a bath in that big tub,” she announced to Fred, as if he cared.
She went into the bathroom and searched in the cabinet for bubble bath of some sort.
'Look here, Fred. Mavis has quite a collection of bath potions.” Three cut-glass jars held bath crystals in tints of pink, blue and lavender; two cork-stoppered bottles held pale liquids. She knew Mavis wouldn't mind if she helped herself.
She picked a bottle labeled
'Perfect,” she said.
She went into the bedroom and looked at the paperbacks. Mavis had every book Carolyn Hart had ever written, or so it seemed. She picked one from the bookstore series and took it to the bathroom with a clean towel and her fresh change of clothes.
She added hot water to her bath twice, but after an hour her fingers were so wrinkled it was getting hard to turn the pages. Fred was meowing by the front door when she finally came out of the bathroom.
'What is it?” she asked. She peered out the peephole, but no one was standing on the porch. She went to the window, but she didn't see anything. She turned back to the cat.
'No one's out there,” she told him. She held him up to the window so he could see for himself. She walked into the kitchen and put a piece of bread in the toaster. While it was toasting, she decided to organize the quilts piled in the corner of her bedroom.
She brought them out to the living room, got the stack of registration receipts and did her best to organize them into a logical delivery order.
Her toast was cold and burned when she returned to the kitchen, so she threw it out and put a fresh slice in the toaster and pushed the lever down again. Fred wove through her legs as she paced the kitchen.
She jumped when the toaster popped.
'Get a grip,” she said out loud. “It's not like you've never been alone before.'
She buttered her toast and ate it with a glass of orange juice then carefully washed her hands before she returned to her organization project.
She and Mavis must have been getting tired at the end, she decided. They had done a careful job of folding on some of the quilts, but a few were sticking out of the ends of their bags. She stacked the bags according to neighborhood and looked at her watch. She still had an hour before Harold was due.
She looked at the door again. She really wanted to go check on Misty.
'What are we going to do, Fred?” she asked the cat. “Mavis will kill me if I go outside alone, but we have a lot of time.'
Fred meowed.
'Okay, maybe we'll have a closer look at the winning quilts.'
She spread Jenny's quilt over the recliner. Every corner was perfect. She ran her fingers over the surface. All the join areas were completely flat. She wondered if she would ever reach that level of skill.
'Oh, Fred,” she said. “There's so much to aspire to.'
She put the quilt back in its tote bag and pulled out Avanell's. As her hand closed over the center fold her fingers felt something hard; something that definitely didn't belong.
She laid the quilt over the recliner then spread her fingers and systematically ran her hand over the surface.
Like Jenny, Avanell made flat, smooth seams and joins. Harriet turned her attention to the trapunto areas, which were filled with more cotton batting than the rest of the quilt. She hoped she hadn't been imagining things. She placed her left hand underneath and right hand on top and squeezed each section carefully.
When she reached the third square she felt the lumps. She manipulated the area again. It felt like small pebbles were inside the batting. Was it possible gravel had gotten into the quilt when Aiden used it to carry the injured dog? She had repaired a rip, but she could have sworn it was in the pieced, hand-dyed area.
She went into the bedroom, found Mavis's sewing kit and located the seam ripper and a needle and thread. She picked up a tissue in the bathroom and came back to the quilt. She sat in the chair and pulled the lumpy section into her lap.
She wanted to leave the least evidence of her work, so she turned the quilt over and located the back seam
