Quilt As You Go

black square.

'There must be something special about this material,” Harriet said. “Why else would he hide it, yet keep it with him. And what about this would make him come back?'

'It is strange-looking,” Mavis said.

Harriet raised an eyebrow. “How so?'

'It's the only black one I've seen. The samples he usually brought home were white or off-white or dingy gray or yellow. Nothing I ever saw was black.'

'Huh,” said Aunt Beth. “So, this isn't a memento from his final success, the fire cloth?'

'No, that stuff is yellowish-white, but it could be an earlier version. Let me get a match.” She went to the kitchen and came back with a box of wooden matches. “Here,” she said as she positioned the black square in Harriet's hand. “Now, hold it out while I try to burn it.'

Harriet did as she was instructed. The fabric resisted burning, but it got so hot she dropped it, and when she grabbed at the falling square, she jostled her sore collar bone, causing her to yelp and jerk back onto the sofa. In the process, she slopped her tea onto the square and knocked Mavis's applique scissors off the table. The scissors ended up stabbing point-down into the floor, impaling the wet black square in the process.

'Well, that eliminates a few experiments we might have done,” Mavis said. “It's neither waterproof nor scissor-proof, and from your reaction I'm guessing it wasn't protecting you from the match.'

'What are we missing?” Aunt Beth wondered. She picked up the flannel quilt and felt the intact squares as Harriet had done before. “I don't feel anything out of the ordinary,” she said when she'd finished.

Mavis took it from her and took a good look at both sides. When she didn't find anything, she folded it, placed the black square on top of it and returned both to her sewing room. “With him dead, we may never know what was going on,” she said when she came back. “It may simply have been a wear test.” She went into the kitchen and made Harriet a fresh cup of tea.

'What are you thinking regarding the funeral?” Aunt Beth asked when Mavis was settled in her chair in the living room again.

'I go back and forth,” Mavis said honestly. “For the boys’ sake, I need to do something, and if that Ilsa person really was married to him for fifteen years, she needs to be involved. I'm just so angry at Gerald.” She stared out the window for a moment, gathering her composure. “But I guess that can't be helped. And anyway, on a cheerier note, it seems like I'm no longer alone at the top of the suspect list.'

'There is that,” Harriet said. “By the way, we have Lauren on the case, computer-wise. She'll see what she can find out about Ilsa and also see what she can find out about Gerald's activities over the past twenty years.'

'Why does she need to be involved?” Mavis asked. “Let's get Ilsa over here and grill her.'

'I think we should do that, but I also think Lauren can help us know if Ilsa is telling us the truth,” Harriet said. “I mean, we have no reason to believe she isn't being truthful, but on the other hand, she could be anyone.'

'Why don't we invite her to our Loose Threads meeting tomorrow?” Aunt Beth suggested. “Then it won't seem so much like an inquisition.'

'Does she quilt?” Mavis asked.

'I don't know,” Harriet said. “But I think Aunt Beth's right. I'll call DeAnn later and see if Ilsa's arrived.'

'Well, we better get going,” Aunt Beth said and drained her cup. “I've got some quilting to do while someone…” She glanced at Harriet. “…gets some rest.'

'Hey, you were the one who insisted on taking over.'

'Okay, missy, how are you going to stitch the orders you have with one arm tied to your side?'

Harriet smiled. “I don't know, maybe I can train Fred to help.'

'That's what I thought. Come on, we've got work to do.'

'Bye, Mavis,” Harriet said. “See you tomorrow.'

Aunt Beth hugged her friend and then ushered Harriet out to the car.

* * * *

'Wake up, sleepyhead,” Aunt Beth called from the top of the stairs. Harriet looked at the clock beside her bed and was shocked to see she'd been asleep for almost two hours. “ Carlton 's here,” Beth continued.

Carlton was the last person Harriet wanted to see, but she was pretty sure he wouldn't leave if she refused to come downstairs, so she got up and went to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face.

' Carlton,” she said as she came into the long arm studio a few minutes later. “How can I help you?'

He was wearing a pink Hawaiian shirt over khaki shorts. His basketball-shaped stomach held the shirt away from his waist, and his thin legs looked stick-like coming out of the stylishly baggy shorts. He watched the stitch head on the long arm machine as Aunt Beth guided it around a large quilt that was made up of circles in squares. The woman who'd made the quilt had chosen sunflower colors-gold, forest green and brown with touches of orange and lime. She'd incorporated sunflower prints in several scales in the circle parts. It would make someone a nice late-summer bedcover.

Carlton turned toward Harriet.

'How's the arm?” he asked in his slightly too loud for indoors voice.

'Its fine, Carlton, but I'm pretty sure you didn't drive over here to ask about my health.” She was still annoyed about the workload he'd dumped on her during the re-enactment and was pretty sure he was here to ask for something more.

His face turned a pink color that matched his shirt. “Of course I'm concerned about your arm.” He was obviously stalling as he shuffled his feet and then studied their new positions.

'But you'd like to ask me to do something?” Harriet prompted.

'Well, now that you mention it, the city council is having a meeting tomorrow and wondered it we could provide some information about our event. I was hoping you could put a few figures together for me.'

'Are you sure you don't want me to just come to the meeting?'

'Oh, I couldn't possibly ask such a thing while you're wounded.'

Of course not, Harriet thought. People might realize who'd really done the work, and that would never do.

'I'll see what I can come up with,” she said. “I'm not promising anything-after all, it's hard to work with my arm like this.” She already had the information, but she wanted to watch him squirm. “Now,” she continued, “I have a couple of questions for you.'

'Sure, ask away. I have no secrets.'

'This isn't that sort of question.” Harriet led him to the sitting area near the front door and gestured for him to sit down, then took the wing back chair opposite him. “Think back about twenty years, to the time just before your dad's company became Foggy Point Fire Protection.'

'You mean when Gerald disappeared?” he asked.

Maybe he was sharper than she was giving him credit for.

'Yeah, around that time. Do you remember what products were under development?'

He was silent for a few minutes. “Nothing stands out. Back then they made a lot of low-volume products. They were trying to make a fabric shielding sleeve that could be used to fireproof cable bundles, but I don't think they got very far with it. I could try to look in the company archives, but I'm not sure we kept the data on products that didn't go anywhere.'

'That would be useful,” Harriet said. “I'd like to see a list of everything Gerald was working on, successful or not.'

'Sure, I'll get my secretary right on it.” He pulled a smart phone from his pocket and keyed in a reminder note.

'Oh, and one more thing,” she said. “Do you remember an employee during that same period named Terry Jansen? I don't know what sort of position he held.'

Carlton appeared to be thinking. Finally, he shook his head. “No, it doesn't ring a bell. That's not to say there couldn't have been, but one of my jobs was to sign Christmas and birthday cards from my dad for each employee. There weren't a lot of employees back then, you see. Dad wanted people to feel like the company was their extended family. When we got bigger, we had to do away with the personalized stuff.'

It must have really made the people feel great to get a card from the company owner that hadn't even been signed by him, Harriet thought, but then focused on the task at hand.