Quilt By Association

'I was just at the senior center, giving yet another training session on their patient-tracking software. I went into their big dining room to get a bottle of water, and I saw the Small Stitches group meeting in a smaller dining room they have that opens off the main one.'

'And?” Harriet prompted.

'They were facing away from me, looking at a flip chart they'd set up. They had a list of quilt block names- our quilt block names. And they were assigning people to make them.'

'Huh,” said Harriet. “That's weird. Why would anyone do that?'

'Why does anyone do half the stuff they do? What should we do?'

'What do you mean?'

'We can't keep letting our ideas be passed directly to the enemy.'

'First of all, we don't know for sure there is an enemy. It still could be a coincidence.'

'Once maybe, but twice? They had all our block names except your experiment.'

'We better join the others. Let's see what everyone's done. We may have a new list by the end of the meeting.'

By the time Lauren and Harriet got their tea and climbed the servants’ stairs from the kitchen to the second floor parlor, Robin had arrived by the main stairs and was adding her block to the array already stuck to the portable design wall. The design wall was a plastic pipe framework with a large sticky flannel fabric laced to the pipes. Its light weight allowed Carla to reposition it once everyone was seated so they all had a clear view.

Mavis settled in an overstuffed chair, her feet on the matching ottoman and her tea on a heavy cherry side table.

'You better be careful, making us so comfortable,” she said to Carla. “People might decide they want to meet here all the time.'

Carla's cheeks turned pink.

'That would be okay,” she stammered.

'We wouldn't do that to you, honey,” Aunt Beth assured her and reached over to pat her hand.

'So, who wants to talk about the blocks first?” Robin asked, bringing them back to the reason they were there.

'I want to take mine back, now that I've seen Jenny's,” Mavis said, referring to Jenny's intricate applique design. She had created the face of a Yorkshire terrier out of batik fabrics in tan, brown and grays, complete with a pink bow holding the dog's hair out of its eyes. The face was surrounded by a wreath of dog bones intermingled with a green ribbon.

'Yours are cute,” Robin protested.

Mavis and Beth had been assigned the snowball blocks. They had fussy-cut squares with dog faces in the center of novelty print dog fabric, with Beth using realistic images of dogs and Mavis using a cartoon-style print. They'd chosen contrasting corner triangles to form the snowball image.

'They would be easier to make, too,” Jenny offered. “I won't pretend my applique was quick or easy. It was the only thing I could think of that wouldn't make the dog bones look goofy.” She turned to Sarah. “Sorry.'

Everyone couldn't help but focus on Sarah's block after Jenny's comment. Lauren had been right-Sarah's images didn't look like dog bones at all. No one wanted to say out loud what they did look like.

'I like-” Carla started to say, but she was interrupted by a loud screech from the baby monitor now sitting on the table. Carla grabbed it and turned down the volume, but not before Wendy's bottom lip started trembling as the toddler prepared for a sympathy cry.

Connie stood up and carried Wendy to the picture window at the back of the parlor. The view was of the back garden.

'Hey, chiquita,” Connie called to Harriet, “Aiden's dog looks upset.'

Harriet came to the window. Connie pointed at the kennel, where Randy was jumping wildly and howling like a whole wolf pack. She threw herself against the chain link walls of her enclosure.

'That's weird. I'm going to go see what's wrong with her.'

She had just started to turn away from the window when something at the edge of the garden caught her eye. By the base of a large rhododendron was a splash of lime green that didn't belong to the landscape.

Harriet froze.

'Chiquita, what is it?'

'I'm not sure.” She pointed to the patch of green.

'Dios mio,” Connie murmured and made the sign of the cross.

'I'm going down to look.'

'I'll come with you,” Mavis said.

'How about I go instead,” Robin offered. “No offense,” she added, referring to an incident during the summer when Mavis had fainted after going to investigate a suspicious situation with Harriet.

'It was very hot that day,” Mavis protested.

'We know,” Aunt Beth said, “but it's probably nothing, so let's not climb the stairs for no good reason.'

Robin grabbed her cell phone from her bag and followed as Harriet went down the servant's stairs and out the kitchen door. They took the gravel path around the house to the large back yard.

'Randy,” Harriet said in a firm voice. “Hush.'

Randy stopped howling and switched to barking as Harriet and Robin crossed the large grassy area and finally arrived at the rhododendron bushes. The mature shrubs had to be ten feet tall, and were at least that wide. The leathery dark-green foliage was dense and nearly touched the ground at the bottom of each bush.

'It's Neelie,” Harriet said and rushed the last few feet to the woman's side.

She was curled in a fetal position, facing toward the center of the rhododendron. The curve of her spine was all that had been visible. Harriet put a hand on her shoulder and rolled her out from under the bush and onto her back. Robin knelt beside her and felt for a pulse.

'She's alive.” She started punching numbers into her cell phone. “We need an ambulance,” she said when the 911 operator answered.

Harriet pulled her zip-front hoodie off and laid it over Neelie's chest.

'Are you okay?” she asked.

Obviously, Neelie wasn't okay, but Harriet's first aid training had kicked in, and it was what they taught you to say.

Robin shrugged out of her Lycra yoga jacket and handed it to Harriet, who added it to her own shirt on the supine woman. She took Neelie's cold, clammy hand in hers.

The fir trees beyond the formal gardens rustled in the wind, like bystanders whispering about the scene in front of them. Aunt Beth and Lauren came around the corner of the house and strode across the grass to join Harriet and Robin. Lauren handed Harriet a worn flannel quilt.

'Carla said we could use this to cover her,” she said. “It's one of hers,” she added, as if she wouldn't have brought it otherwise.

'What have we got here?” Aunt Beth asked in a businesslike tone.

'She has a pulse,” Harriet reported. “She's unconscious, and Robin's on the phone with nine-one-one.” She heard the faint sound of sirens in the distance.

Aunt Beth dug in her pocket.

'I have a cough drop here,” she said and pulled out a paper-wrapped oval. “If she's diabetic, she needs sugar.'

Robin turned from her phone.

'The operator says we shouldn't try to give her anything while she's unconscious.'

Aunt Beth stuffed the drop back into her pocket.

'What happened? Can you tell?'

'Not really,” Harriet said. “She was curled in a ball when we found her. She doesn't have any big cuts or scrapes or anything like that-at least that I could see.'

The sound of a siren got louder then stopped. The women could hear the paramedics before they saw them.

'Over here,” Robin called.