The Quilt Before The Storm

if the storm did worsen, but she also was aware her aunt might have other ideas, so it was best to make sure she was prepared.

The thighs of Harriet’s jeans were soaked by the time she made it from her car to the entrance of Tico’s Tacos. Jorge held the door for her then handed her a clean bar towel to wipe her face with.

“Come in, mi’ja,” he said. “Your friend is waiting for you. And your aunt is in the back room.”

“My aunt is here?” Harriet asked, a little too loud. “What for?”

“What do you think I’m here for?” Aunt Beth shot back as she approached from the rear of the restaurant. “And lower your voice. I didn’t raise you to screech like a banshee.”

“I’m sorry. I just thought I had heard you say you were going to Connie’s for dinner tonight. I was surprised.”

“I am going to Connie’s. I’m here gathering intel from Jorge.” She exchanged a glance with the man.

Harriet held her hands up.

“Never mind, it’s clearly none of my business.”

“It’s about Sarah, if you must know.”

“What about Sarah,” Lauren demanded, getting up from the table Jorge had seated her at and joining them.

“I’m just a little worried about her,” Beth said. “I went by the senior care center to visit Millie from church, and Sarah was at the reception desk sewing the binding on a quilt she’d just finished. It was for that boyfriend of hers. He’s going south to visit his college roommate while she takes care of his place on the exposed side of Miller Hill.”

“Why isn’t she going with him?” Harriet asked.

“He didn’t ask her,” Lauren answered. “I had the same conversation with her the day before yesterday. He told her he doesn’t want to leave his place unattended with the storm coming.”

“I figured Jorge was the one most likely to have had a chance to observe this joker in person.”

“It is kind of weird that none of us has met the guy,” Harriet said.

“I was just telling your aunt the guy is a perfect gentleman-too perfect,” Jorge told her. “There’s nothing I can put my finger on, but his manners don’t seem natural. It’s like he’s acting a part. And there is something about the way she looks at him…” He shivered. “There’s something not right there.”

“I don’t like the idea of her being at his house all alone during the storm,” Aunt Beth added.

“And I don’t like the idea of you being at your place alone during the storm,” Harriet countered. “I noticed you didn’t say anything about your own plan when we were talking last night.”

“Who says I’m staying at my house? I don’t want to jump the gun, but don’t worry-at the first sign that a worse storm is really coming, I’m moving inland, and I hope you don’t mind, but I invited Mavis, too.”

“I already invited Mavis myself-and Lauren.”

“It’ll be a regular pajama party,” Lauren said without smiling.

“Be glad you have a place to go,” Aunt Beth said sternly.

“Yeah, I know, I appreciate it, etc. etc. Can we eat?” Lauren looked at Harriet.

“Sure, lead the way.”

Jorge brought a bowl of freshly made guacamole and set it on the table, followed by a basket of warm tortilla chips.

“You want your usual?” he asked Lauren, referring to his chicken burrito platter.

“Is there really a question in there somewhere?”

“You never know. This one ate enchiladas for a long time before I got her to try the special. Maybe sometime you’ll try the special, too.”

Lauren studied the ceiling silently while Jorge patiently waited.

“Okay,” she said with a sigh. “Lay it on me.”

“I think you’ll like it.” Jorge smiled. “And you, chiquita?”

“How can I have anything but the special?” Harriet replied.

Jorge didn’t disappoint. When dinner arrived, it turned out to be chunks of pork cooked in a green tomatillo and chili sauce then drizzled with a creamy yet tart sauce of some sort.

“Okay, so the man knows how to cook,” Lauren said when she’d tasted the first bite.

“That he does.”

“I don’t like to stick my nose in Sarah’s business,” Lauren said when she and Harriet had both eaten enough to take the edge off their appetites. “But do you remember a few months ago when I told you about the bruises I saw on her neck?”

“Yeah, vaguely. But I’ve not noticed anything like that.”

“That’s because you’re too wrapped up in Aiden to notice anything else.”

“That’s not true.” Harriet was beginning to wonder why she’d agreed to go to dinner.

“Whatever,” Lauren said dismissing the protest with a wave. “Ever since I asked her about it, she’s worn clothes that conceal almost all her exposed skin. She never wore scarves wrapped so close around her neck before, and now she always wears those half-gloves, and dark tights, and-”

“It is winter,” Harriet interrupted.

“Is everyone in this town in denial?” Lauren said. “Just because Sarah is probably the most annoying person any of us knows, it doesn’t mean she can’t be in trouble.”

“I’m sorry, you’re right.”

“What was that? Could you say it again, just so I’m sure I heard you?”

“Very funny. But you’re right, it’s hard not to let my judgment be colored by her less-attractive behaviors. What do you think is going on?”

“At best, I think her boyfriend is emotionally abusive. At worst, he could be a real danger to her. She’s showing all the behaviors of an abused woman. Haven’t you noticed how she isn’t coming to meetings anymore?”

“She’s always been busy,” Harriet argued.

“She’s always talked about how busy she was but then never missed a lunch or meeting or anything. Now, we hardly see her.”

“I hadn’t thought about it, but you’re right. She has missed almost everything lately.”

“Not almost,” Lauren said. “I started keeping track. She hasn’t come to anything in almost two months. We see her because we have business at the care center, not because she comes out. And she’s not wearing cute clothes anymore. She always used to wear short skirts and flaunt her pathetic cleavage, and now she’s wearing turtlenecks and ankle-length skirts.”

“I thought she was just growing up.”

“It’s more than that, and I think her new Mr. Wonderful is the cause.”

“What are you thinking we should do?”

“That’s your part in this. You’re the one with the dramatic past. I figured you’d probably encountered this situation before.”

“You give me too much credit,” Harriet said dryly. She thought for a moment. “I suppose we should talk to Robin, find out what we can do.”

“I don’t know why I thought you’d have an idea I hadn’t thought of already.”

“You didn’t. You’re human and wanted to share your worries. Don’t worry, I won’t let your secret out.”

They sat in silence as Jorge’s waitress cleared away their dinner dishes. When the table was clear, Jorge approached carrying two dishes of caramel-soaked flan.

“Don’t argue,” he said before either woman opened her mouth. “This may be the last good meal you get for a while if this storm keeps up.” He set the desserts on the table and left.

“I guess we wouldn’t want to hurt his feelings,” Lauren said, pulling one dish toward her and pushing the other in front of Harriet in the process.

“Just don’t let my aunt see this,” Harriet said and took a bite of the creamy delight.

“May I join you?” said a female voice from the table behind them. Harriet looked up and saw Detective Jane Morse standing in the aisle holding her own dish of flan.