So while Tom took measurements in the shop, Eleanor leaned against the car as if she needed to catch her breath and Barney and I stood by, waiting. I watched as, inches away from me, Jesse moved close to Natalie.
'Where did you go the other night?' Jesse asked.
'Home,' she said quickly.
'Not according to your husband. And why didn't you return my calls yesterday?'
'I was busy,' she said, even more quickly.
'Try again,' Jesse almost snapped, in an uncharacteristic show of emotion.
'After what happened I went for a walk,' Natalie said, her voice quivering. 'I could hardly go home. I needed time to… grieve, I guess.'
I watched Jesse blink slowly, deliberately. 'Where did you walk?'
'I don't know.'
'You don't know where you walked? You've lived in this town your entire life.'
'So what?'
'It's not much of an alibi, Natalie,' he said coldly.
'Do I need an alibi?'
'Yes, I think you do, considering your history with Marc.'
Marc, I suddenly realized, was the man with whom Natalie had had the painful affair my grandmother mentioned-not an old boyfriend from before her marriage but an old boyfriend from a time when she, like me, had been vulnerable. And maybe Marc had been taking advantage of her, as Jesse suggested he was about to do with me. My mind was racing and I leaned toward Jesse and Natalie unconsciously, only to pull back when I saw Jesse look over at me.
'I have to go to Eleanor's now,' Natalie said stiffly.
'We'll drive you,' I found myself saying, not even pretending I wasn't eavesdropping.
'Thanks,' said Natalie, and she hopped into the back of the car.
Jesse paused, then stepped toward my grandmother. 'Feeling better, Eleanor?' he said without obvious sarcasm but with a tone that suggested he didn't quite believe her need for rest.
'Yes, thanks,' she said, and smiled. With a sudden burst of energy she got herself into the car.
Jesse looked at me, his face slightly flushed.
'Are you okay?' I asked, and then felt intrusive.
He nodded. Then he turned and walked back toward the shop without saying anything else.
In the car on the way back to the house, Natalie burst into tears and sobbed, 'He hates me.'
'Who hates you?' I asked, but Eleanor touched my hand to quiet me.
'Don't let him get to you, dear,' she said to Natalie.
'I'm not a perfect person. I admit that,' Natalie said. 'But I did my best. I really did.'
'Of course you did,' Eleanor said soothingly. 'Jesse is just very sensitive on the subject.'
'It was hard on me too,' Natalie said through her tears.
'Of course. It was a terrible thing,' Eleanor said. 'But you can't take it so personally.'
Behind me Natalie sniffed and continued crying, while Barney whimpered and tried to comfort her. With nothing else to go on but the obvious tension between Jesse and Natalie, my mind started to go through the possibilities. Did Natalie have some kind of criminal record? Or maybe there was something about her relationship with Marc that was worth killing over. Or, as unlikely as it seemed, had Jesse, Marc and Natalie been involved in a romantic triangle? Whatever the case, it didn't seem like anyone was anxious to fill me in on the details. If I wanted to know, I would have to fill them in for myself.
CHAPTER 31
All the cars were already parked in the driveway when we pulled up, and everyone was waiting by the front door. Except Ryan. Somehow he must have managed to get away from Bernie's grip, but I wondered where he had gone.
'Everything okay back there?' Susanne called out as we pulled up.
'Fine, just fine,' said my grandmother.
Natalie jumped out of the car and she and Susanne huddled just a few feet away from the rest of us. I assumed Natalie was filling her mother in on the details of the conversation, but they were just out of listening range.
While the women went to the dining room to choose fabrics, I went back to the kitchen to make coffee. And to look for Ryan. Mostly to look for Ryan. He wasn't in the kitchen. He wasn't upstairs. I was tempted to ask Bernie where he had gone, but I didn't want to seem interested. So I ended my search, went back to the kitchen and made coffee for the others.
'Look at you, Susie homemaker,' came a familiar voice.
I turned to see Amanda standing in the doorway.
'What in the hell are you doing here?' I almost knocked over a chair running to hug her.
She hugged me back and we stayed locked like that until another familiar voice broke the spell.
'I don't remember you ever being that glad to see me,' he said.
It was Ryan, standing just behind Amanda.
'Did you know Amanda was coming?' I asked.
'No, she just showed up a few minutes ago.'
'I took the train up,' she said excitedly. 'I tried to call you, but I couldn't reach you, so I called Ryan's cell. He picked me up at the train station. I can't believe this house. It's so cool.'
'Why did you come?' I said. 'Not that I'm not glad to see you.'
'You seemed like you needed me,' she said as she sat on the kitchen chair. 'Is that coffee for anyone?'
'Yeah, sure.' I poured a cup, then sat next to her and stared. 'I'm so glad you're here.'
'I'll bring the coffee in to the ladies,' Ryan said. 'Don't talk about me while I'm gone.'
'You think you're so interesting.' Amanda winked at him in that flirtatious way she had with every man, even ones that were taken. Of course Ryan wasn't exactly taken, and getting the story was why, I knew, she had really come to Archers Rest. As soon as Ryan was out of the room, Amanda turned to me and leaned in. 'So… tell me everything.'
'There isn't anything to tell. Not really. I mean there's a million things, but nothing with Ryan.'
'Where did he sleep last night?'
'Upstairs in my room,' I said.
'Then there's something to tell,' she said.
'I slept with my grandmother and her dog.'
'That's not some creepy small-town tradition, is it?'
Amanda was anxious to meet my grandmother and the women I'd been talking-and complaining-about since I arrived in Archers Rest, so I led her into the dining room.
There the group was huddled over piles of fabric in every shade of the rainbow. They all seemed like solid colors until I got close and realized they were mottled, with variations of the same color in a cloudlike effect. Others seemed to have been tie-dyed in different shades. It seemed to me they didn't need to be cut up and made into a quilt. They were beautiful just as they were. But the rest of the room's occupants didn't seem to share my view. They were already debating how to cut the fabric, in what order and by whom. And it was a lively debate. My grandmother sat in a chair leaning over so far to examine the fabrics that I thought she would fall out. Maggie and Natalie, the oddest of friends, yet always joining forces, grabbed fabrics and threw them on the floor to where Nancy sat with Bernie and Carrie. The three women would put each one next to fabrics that had already been chosen, while the others shouted out 'yeahs' and 'nays' to each new selection. Only Susanne didn't seem to be interested in the free-for-all. She sat quietly next to Eleanor, staring into the pile of fabrics, a million miles away from the rest.
'Who's this?' Eleanor suddenly noticed that Amanda and I were in the room.
'This is Amanda, my friend from New York,' I said. 'This is my grandmother and her Friday Night Quilt
