Harriet was munching on an antacid when Mavis arrived the next morning. She slid the roll of tablets into her jeans pocket.
“Good morning, and thanks again for bringing dinner last night.”
“You don’t have to hide those Tums. I know I got it a little too spicy last night.”
“But it tasted so good.”
“It did, but hand ’em over. I could use one myself.”
Harriet laughed and did as she was told.
“How many blocks did you finish,” she asked.
Mavis pulled a stack of nine-patch blocks from her bag and set them on the kitchen counter.
“I finished ten.”
“As Lauren would say, ‘Aren’t you the overachiever’.”
“Well, honey, I knew you had to get back to machine stitching on your regular customers’ quilts, and Lauren has her day job, and Carla has that little girl and big house to take care of. I figured I’d take the pressure off the rest of you. Besides, it was nice to just stay home and sew.”
Lauren had joined them as Mavis was speaking.
“How very thoughtful of you. And perceptive. Harriet and I worked together, and even with Jane Morse pressing seams for us, we still only got ten done between us.”
Harriet looked out the kitchen window.
“Carla’s arriving. Let’s go to the studio. I’m dying to know if all our careful measuring resulted in blocks that are the same size.”
“How can you even question it?” Lauren asked.
“That would be ‘experience with our group’,” Harriet shot back.
Mavis shooed them through the connecting door and into the studio.
“You two behave yourselves, Carla’s about to walk in.”
Mavis opened the door to let their youngest member in. Carla’s black hair was pulled back from her face and braided.
“Oh, honey, your hair looks cute pulled back like that.”
Carla blushed.
“Wendy kept fighting me about putting her hair up or in barrettes or pretty much any way except hanging down. I finally realized she was trying to look like me. So, now I’m braiding my hair every day, and most days now she doesn’t argue about hers.”
“Well, whatever the reason, I like it.” Mavis told her.
Carla set her bag on the cutting table and pulled out a stack of blocks.
“I only got five blocks done,” she announced.”Our kitchen sink got all plugged up, and I ended up having to call the plumber last night. He brought his puppy with him, and Wendy played with it while he snaked our drain. She was so excited she didn’t go to sleep until ten. All she could do was talk about ‘puppy’.”
Harriet put her blocks on the table next to Carla’s.
“I only got five done, too, and my excuse isn’t nearly as fun as a puppy.”
Lauren pulled hers out.
“What she said.”
Mavis joined them at the cutting table.
“We’re in good shape. We only need thirteen more nine-patch blocks. With four of us here, we should be able to do that today and probably cut them all up, too.”
Harriet gathered the individual stacks of blocks and started piling them into a single group.
“Let’s not prolong the agony.” She lined up the edges. “Well, look at that.”
Lauren leaned in for a closer look, and then held her hand up to Carla for a high-five.
“Just like I said, they match perfectly.” She laughed.
Harriet smiled.
“Yeah, just like you said.”
Mavis selected two rotary cutters from a box on the work room shelf and handed them to Harriet and Lauren.
“Here, you two cut strips, and Carla and I will sew and press them.”
Harriet arched her spine and put a fist in her lower back. She and Lauren had cut all the basic strips and were now cutting the seamed units Carla and Mavis were making into rectangles.
“Anyone ready for a break? I have a box of lemon cookies and could make tea.”
Lauren stood her iron on its heel.
“Count me in.”
Carla got up from her sewing machine and arched backward at the waist. She paused and looked out the window.
“Who’s that?” She pointed to a blue car coming up the driveway.
Harriet came to her side and looked where she was pointing.
“I don’t recognize the car or the guy driving it, but that looks like De-Ann’s sister Molly in the passenger seat.”
Her guess was confirmed when Molly got out of the car and approached the door, followed by a slight, dark-haired man.
“I’ll go get the cookies,” Mavis said.
“Come on in,” Harriet said as she opened the door. “You remember Carla and Lauren.”
Molly raised her hand slightly and wiggled her fingers in acknowledgment and then stepped to the side, revealing her companion.
“This is my friend Stewart Jones. We crossed paths at the Foggy Point missing children’s office. I’m borrowing office space there until the fundraiser.”
“Nice to meet you,” Harriet said and then looked at Molly. “We were just taking a break from sewing on the donor quilts. Would you like to join us?”
Molly and Stewart agreed, so she led them to the kitchen, followed by Lauren and Carla. Mavis had pulled the kitchen table from its normal position against the wall so they could use all six chairs.
“So, what’s your interest in Amber Price,” Mavis asked Stewart when introductions were complete and the reason for the unannounced arrival explained.
“Well,” he said slowly, “she is, or was…would have been…my foster sister. Sandra Price was my foster mom until I aged out of the system, but I came to live with her after Amber had already disappeared. That family did so much for me, I guess my hope is if I can finally give them some kind of closure about Amber, it will in some small way pay them back for all the support and kindness and everything they’ve done for me.”
Molly cleared her throat.
“Speaking of Amber, the reason we came by is to see if you’ve had a chance to investigate.”
“I think you’re overestimating my powers as a detective,” Harriet protested. “Besides…” She glanced around the table at her friends. “…we’ve been spending our free time making the donor quilts for your fundraiser.”
“I’m sorry, I knew that. And I know I only asked you yesterday. I’m just so desperate for answers. I feel like this has been hanging over my head my whole life.” Tears filled her eyes, and Stewart Jones reached over and put his hand on hers.
“So, what do you do?” Mavis asked him, giving Molly a chance to compose herself.
The tea kettle whistled, and Harriet got up to retrieve it. She poured hot water into cups for everyone and carried them to the table, two at a time. When she was finished, she got a small basket of mixed tea bags from the cupboard.
Stewart looked up at her as she handed him the basket.
“I’m a poet. And before you ask, yes, I’m published, and, no, it doesn’t pay the bills. I work as a convenience store clerk at that store down by McDonald’s. Out on the highway.”
Molly sniffled and dabbed at her nose with a crumpled tissue.
“I’ve read his work. It’s really very good.”
Carla passed the plate of cookies across the table to Molly and Stewart, and they busied themselves selecting a couple and passing the plate on to Lauren.
“I’ve started researching Amber’s disappearance,” Lauren told them. “So far, I’m learning a lot of background information. Pretty much all the theories that didn’t pan out.”
Mavis set her cup down.
“So, Stewart, how did you happen to be at the missing children’s place? I mean, Amber’s been gone for a long time.”
He leaned back in his chair.
“You’re right—the Carey Bates Missing and Exploited Children’s Organization was only formed five years ago. Twelve-year-old Carey Bates went missing from Foggy Point, only to be found being sold as a prostitute in Seattle. They brought her home, but she ran away repeatedly until one time she didn’t come home. She had died of a drug overdose in her pimp’s hotel room.
“I heard about them the first week they opened, and I went to let them know about Amber. I’ve checked in with them once a month ever since.”
Harriet leaned forward.
“Have they ever had anything for you?”
He hung his head and closed his eyes briefly before looking back at her.
“They’ve done age progression pictures every year. They post them on missing children sites, but so far, nothing has turned up.”
“I was glad Stewart was there,” Molly said. “My ex, Josh, showed up to deliver his donation to the fundraiser. It was terrible.” Her face turned red as she spoke. “Can you imagine? He took out a restraining order against me!”
“What?” Harriet asked.
“I know, right?” Molly continued. “He got a judge somewhere to believe that he—all six-foot-three, two hundred-and-sixty pounds of him—was abused by me. It’s a nightmare.”
Lauren took a sip of her tea and set her cup down.
“So, what happened?”
“He drove up and parked in front of the office, and then had his attorney, who was conveniently in the car with him, come in and demand I leave so he could safely come inside and make his donation.”
“That takes some nerve,” Mavis said.
“I was lucky Stewart had come in just before that. I was in my office, and I got so upset I couldn’t even speak.” She looked at Stewart. “Stew took me by the hand and led me out the back so I didn’t have to see Josh. We went to the coffee shop and talked for hours. When we went back by the office he was gone.”
Harriet got up to get the box of cookies to refill the empty plate.
“He just conveniently had his attorney with him?” she asked.
Molly took a cookie from the proffered plate and took a bite. Stewart answered for her.
“Supposedly, his attorney is also his AA sponsor.”
“You don’t believe him?” Lauren asked.
“He told the secretaries in the office his whole long sob story about how his life had fallen apart when his girlfriend had become abusive. He told them he’d begun drinking excessively, and one night he’d seen one of those reality shows on TV where families do interventions on their substance-abusing loved ones. He realized he was disappointing his mother, so he stopped drinking cold turkey and called AA the next morning.”
Harriet was twirling her teaspoon between her fingers. Her hand froze.
“Wait. This doesn’t make sense. If Molly was so abusive to him, why is he in Foggy Point donating all this money to her fundraiser?”
Molly took up the story.
“He claimed he was doing it to try to help me. He said he hoped if they found out what had happened to Amber, I could…” She made air quotes with her fingers. “…recover—I guess.”
“That was big of him,” Mavis said. “He was going to help you stop being an abuser? That’s got to be a first.”
Molly’s shoulders pulled up toward her ears, and her jaw tensed. Mavis looked at her.
“Honey, we all know you’re not an abuser. Anyone can see that. Never you mind what your crazy ex says about you. He’s doing all those theatrics to try to get a reaction from you. It’ll be hard, but your best move is to ignore him.”
“That’s what DeAnn said when I called her.”
“She’s right,” Harriet told her.
Mavis stood up.
“I don’t mean to chase you out of here…” She stopped for a moment and smiled. “I guess I do mean to chase you out of here. If we’re going to manage another quilt, we need to get back in the studio and finish the one we’re working on.”
Molly stood up and carried her mug to the sink.
“I’ve got to go back to work, too. Hopefully, Josh left when he realized I was gone.”
Stewart picked up his keys from the table where he’d set them.
“If his car is there again, we’ll drive on by, and I’ll take you home or wherever you want to go.”
Carla cleared the rest of the table while Harriet and Mavis escorted their guests through the studio and out the door. Lauren pulled out her tablet as soon as they were gone.
“What are you doing?” Harriet asked when she returned.
“We have a new player in the mix. I figured I’d take a quick look and see if anything popped.”
Harriet stopped folding the inner bag in the cookie box.
“And?”
Carla came over from the sink, drying her hands on a towel. Lauren spun her tablet around so they could see what she’d found.
“He wasn’t lying about being a poet. He’s got three books published by a small but respected publishing house. He has a schedule of readings listed.” She pointed with her finger to a calendar on the webpage. “Looks like he stays on the West Coast. Mostly the Northwest, it seems.”
She clicked the sleep button on the side of the tablet, and the screen went dark.
“It would appear he’s who he says he is.”
Harriet closed the cookie box and returned it to the cupboard.
“I’m glad, for Molly’s sake.”
Carla folded the kitchen towel and set it on the counter.
“Me, too. Seems like she’s got her hands full with that other guy.”
Mavis popped her head in from the studio.
“Are you three going to do any more quilting today?”
Harriet led the way back to rejoin her.
“We’ve got to hustle if we’re going to make another quilt,” she scolded. “Before we go home, we need to finish the rest of the nine-patch blocks and cut them into fourths. That way we can decide how we want to rearrange them, and each of us can take some home and sew them together. If everything works right, we’ll each have one-quarter of the quilt top finished next time we meet.”
Lauren picked up her ruler and started lining it up over a strip set.
“What are we going to do about the third quilt?”
Mavis looked up from her sewing machine.
“Beth is going to stop by on her way home to give us a progress report for her group. If they’re at the same point we are, we’ll divide the third batch of fabric, and each team will make half a quilt top.”
“Geez,” Lauren grumbled. “Some of us have real jobs, too.”
Harriet looked over at her.
“Hey, stop feeling sorry for yourself. I’ve got to quilt all these as we finish. And I have a day job, too.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
Lauren focused on making a precise slice through the fabric, and that was the end of that discussion.