The Quilt Before The Storm

Robin recounted what they knew, which was not much beyond the fact that Marjory had been stopped for driving a stolen car and had then been taken away on a seventy-two-hour mental health hold.

“Mavis and I are going to stay at Harriet’s house tonight for the duration,” Aunt Beth announced when everyone had finished eating. “Does anyone else need a more secure place to stay?”

Ronald looked like he was going to speak, but a glare from Joyce silenced him.

“Believe it or not,” Joyce said. “Our camp is well-placed. We’re sheltered from most of the wind, and thanks to you people, we have tarps to keep us dry and quilts to keep us warm.”

“I’m bunking in the restroom when the wind picks up,” Duane said. “Didn’t the three little pigs find that brick was best in the face of wind?”

Harriet laughed.

“I think you’re right.”

“Carter is freaking out as the wind picks up, so we’ll be joining the party, if the offer is still on the table,” Lauren said.

“Of course,” Harriet told her. “Connie?”

“Rod has our house sealed up tighter than a drum,” Connie replied. “And we have a generator in the garden shed.”

“Same here,” Robin said. “My kids are ready for a grand adventure. I heard from DeAnn this morning, and we’ll check on her house while they’re gone.”

“Let’s get back to work so we can get to those cozy homes,” Aunt Beth said.

More than half the fabric in the store had been moved upstairs when the bells on the front door of Pins and Needles jingled again.

“The store is closed,” Aunt Beth said without turning to see who’d come in.

“We’re not here to shop,” said a large woman with short curly gray hair covered with a plastic rain bonnet. She was accompanied by an equally portly man and a sullen-looking younger woman.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, then.” Aunt Beth turned to face the visitors. “Oh,” she said when she recognized the woman and her companions. “It’s you.”

“Are you twins?” Lauren asked. “Believe me, I know twins, and you’ve got to be Marjory’s twin.” In fact, Lauren was a twin-Harriet had met her brother Les in Angel Harbor when she and the Loose Threads attended the folk art school.

“No, we aren’t twins,” Pat said, spitting the last word out as if it were a piece of spoiled food she’d eaten by mistake.

“She is your sister, though.” Aunt Beth said. “And I’m guessing you know where she is better than we do.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Pat said, her spine stiffening and her cheeks coloring.

“You did report your mother’s car as stolen, didn’t you?”

“I did notice it was missing from the driveway. What was I to think, her living near that park and all? The car was missing, I assumed it had been stolen.” She stared rather pointedly at the homeless trio.

The looks that passed among the homeless group and the new arrivals were dangerous. Even the usually mild-mannered Joyce was glaring. Carla’s eyes widened, and Lauren’s jaw tightened. Harriet gently tugged on both their sleeves.

“Let’s let Robin handle this,” she said in a stage whisper.

“Harriet’s right,” Connie said. “We’ll let Marjory’s attorney take care of this.”

“Let’s get back to work,” Harriet said, but she hung back as the others went past her and back to their jobs.

“Why are you here?” Robin asked Pat.

“I tried to call Marjory, and she didn’t answer. We heard it might flood downtown and thought we should come by and check on her store.”

“How did you propose to get in? Did she give you a key?”

“What are you people doing here if she’s not?”

“Looking out for her interests,” Robin said. “Now, what are you here for?”

She let the silence stretch to the breaking point.

“We need the key to her house,” the bald man said finally.

“And who are you?” Robin asked.

“I’m Richard Reigert, Pat’s husband. This is our daughter Lisa. Marjory invited us to come stay with her, and now she’s gone, and well, we need to get into her house. She was to have been there when we arrived, but now it looks like she isn’t going to be and here we are.”

“Marjory’s an early-morning person,” Robin said. “Everyone knew she was going to Seattle today. You probably thought you’d be here before she drove off into your stolen-car trap.”

“If you could just give us the key to her house, we’ll get out of your way,” Pat said in a conciliatory tone.

Robin put her hands on her hips, a grim smile on her lips.

“I’m afraid we can’t do that. I don’t have a key.”

Harriet noticed that the lawyer in Robin worded her denial carefully, in case Carla or one of the other Threads had one.

“Well, what are we supposed to do?” Pat demanded.

“I suppose you’ll have to stay in a motel until the slide is cleared.”

“But we didn’t bring the sufficient funds with us for a prolonged stay in a hotel,” Richard protested.

“The Methodist Church has beds available for people left homeless by the storm,” Robin said as she ushered them toward the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, we’ve got work to do.”

“I’ll bet they reported the car stolen before they got to Marjory’s and realized she’d left already,” Harriet said when they were gone.

“Yeah, and I hope Marjory deliberately didn’t leave them a key. She probably thought they were only going to be left cooling their heels for the day while she was gone.” Robin said.

“Sticking them in the church shelter is perfect,” Lauren said, joining them. “Not that it isn’t nice for people who need it,” she added.

A blast of wind grabbed the door from Robin’s hand and slammed it open against the side of the wall. She wrenched it shut and turned the deadbolt for good measure.

“We better get finished and get out of here before it gets any worse,” she said.

“We can’t just let Marjory sit there in the hospital,” Carla said.

“I’m afraid we have no choice,” Robin told her softly. “We really can’t do anything else for her right now. Anyway, with relatives like hers, she’s probably better off riding the storm out where she is.”

“Come on, people, enough with the chitchat,” Lauren said. “I need to get home and pack for Harriet’s.”

A plastic child’s wading pool sailed past the window on a heavy gust.

“Lauren’s right,” Harriet said and headed to the attic stairs.

The group worked for another two hours, carrying bolts of fabric three and four at a time. Carla went into the kitchen and emptied the cabinets below counter level, placing the coffee filters and other supplies into black plastic garbage bags and carrying them upstairs. When she’d delivered the coffee and teapots to Lauren’s waiting arms, Mavis stopped her from returning for more.

“Honey, I think you’ve done enough,” she said. “You better get Wendy home.”

They both looked at the toddler, asleep in a nest of blankets under the small kitchen table.

“Are you okay to drive?” Tom asked Carla, joining the group in the kitchen and rinsing his coffee cup at the sink. “I could drive you, if you want.” He turned to look at Harriet, who was standing in the doorway. “Would you be willing to follow and bring me back to get my car?”

Harriet was going to protest but then noticed the look of relief on Carla’s face.

“I’d be happy to, and I agree-it’s probably time to call it a day, not only for Wendy but for everyone. The attic is full in any case.”

“Where’s Terry?” Lauren asked, referring to Carla’s boyfriend.

“He was called in to help secure the base.”

Terry was a Navy SEAL who worked in some sort of special investigative unit he never quite explained, in spite