A Quilt in Time (A Harriet Turman/Loose Threads Mystery) (2 page)

Carla came in, interrupting Aiden’s speech.

“Sorry,” she said and slid her daughter Wendy off her hip and onto the floor, shrugging off her own jacket in one smooth move. She handed the little girl the foam cup of hot chocolate she’d been holding and sat in the chair Aunt Beth slid toward her.

“Abuela,” Wendy cried in delight when she spotted Connie. Connie held out her arms and Wendy went to her, smiling as her substitute grandmother pulled her into her lap, shushing her as she did so.

“As I was saying,” Aiden said and pretended to give Carla a stern look, failing when he couldn’t chase the laughter from his eyes, “I do have a say in what charities get money from the foundation. I usually just approve whatever the very competent board chooses. What I’m here to talk to you all about is that I’ve personally identified a need in our community and am planning to fund the solution.”

“Since we’re not your very competent board, could you just cut to the chase and tell us what you want?” Lauren interrupted.

“Okay.” Aiden rubbed his hands together as he paced across the space within the circle of chairs. His brow furrowed as he thought. “It’s come to my attention that some battered women in our community are reluctant to come to the shelter because they can’t bring their pets with them.”

“That seems a little harsh,” DeAnn said.

“The shelter often takes women with children,” he continued. “Some of those kids potentially could have asthma or allergies that would preclude living with pets.” He looked at DeAnn. “Like you, I thought that was a little harsh. I happen to think that pets are an important part of most people’s support system. Pets are also on the front lines in a home when abuse is taking place. The sooner the pet can get out of the home, the better off it is, too.”

“So, you want to build a shelter for the animals?” Lauren asked.

“Yes, but not like you’re thinking. I want to add a kennel behind the existing house. Complete with a ‘family room’ for socializing with the animals and letting them have some normal time with their owners.

“For the safety of the residents, it needs to have a secure connection to the house, so we’ll build it with an air-shower and positive-pressure entrance so the animal dander won’t be transferred to the main residence. It will all be enclosed in heavy chain-link fencing, carefully made to not look like a prison.”

“That sounds pretty cool,” Harriet said.

“Where do we come in?” Aunt Beth asked.

“Like most shelters, they have a pretty tight budget. As a result and, again, like many shelters, they let civic groups ‘adopt’ or sponsor various public rooms at the home. The volunteers have to be carefully vetted so as to not compromise the residents’ safety also.

“Enter the Loose Threads.” He spread his arms wide. “I was hoping you might want to make quilts for both the pets as well as some larger ones for the residents to use in the social room, and any other homey touches you can think of. I’ll pay any expenses, of course.”

“After it’s all set up, would we have an ongoing obligation?” Lauren asked.

“Lauren,” Mavis scolded, tilting her chin down and looking over the top of her half-lens reading glasses. Being the oldest member of the quilting group made her the unofficial sergeant-at-arms.

“It’s a good question,” Aiden replied. “And no, you’re under no obligation at any point. Most groups do take on the maintenance of their room, but what that entails varies depending on what room they ad-opt.”

“I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Aunt Beth said. “We can make quilts for the people beds, too.”

“Whoa, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Lauren cautioned. “Some of us work for a living. And even if my computer business is from home, I still have to put in the hours.”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Mavis gave Lauren “the look” again.

“I think it’s a great idea, too” Carla said. “It really meant a lot to me when I got my baby quilt from the young mothers’ quilting group when I was pregnant with Wendy.”

“Sure,” Robin added. “And I can make people quilts, too.”

“When will the room be done?” DeAnn asked.

“They’re breaking ground this week on the addition.”

“We better get busy, then,” Beth said and stood up. “Shall I make another pot of coffee or shall we switch to tea?”

“How many pets will you be accommodating?” Harriet asked Aiden while the others told Beth their drink preferences.

“The shelter is intended for six women, but they have a loft space that’s approved for several more beds, so I’m planning on six indoor/outdoor dog runs, the same number of small animal enclosures, and an eight-foot counter with heat lamps and plug-ins for really small customers.”

“That sounds pretty deluxe.”

“The foundation can afford it, so why not? I want it to feel like home, not an upscale hotel and not an institution. I’m hoping you and the rest of the Threads can help me keep it personal.”

“You know who you need to talk to?”

“I know you don’t think a lot of me right now, but I do know who the best architect in this area is, and I wouldn’t let my project suffer because of any feelings I might have about Tom and his relationship to you.”

Harriet held her hand up in a peace gesture. The other Threads looked everywhere except at her and Aiden.

“I’m sorry, my bad,” Aiden said. “We’re supposed to be keeping it light. Let me rephrase that. Tom is the architect we’re using to build our very green, very environmentally pleasing animal facility.”

“Good choice,” Harriet said and walked away.

“Thanks, everyone.” Aiden raised his hand in a half-wave as he headed for the door. “Gotta go.”

“We’re happy to help,” Connie told him.

Harriet and Connie rearranged the chairs, placing them around the large work table while everyone refreshed her drink and Mavis pulled out a bag of oatmeal raisin cookies she’d kept hidden until Aiden was gone.

“I was afraid the young doctor would see these as a distraction, since we weren’t sure how serious this meeting was going to be,” she confessed and bit into a cookie.

“I don’t know what anyone else is thinking,” Aunt Beth said as she took her place at the table while Mavis passed the cookie bag to Connie. “But for the pet blankets, I still have a lot of dog-print fabric left over from when we were trying to figure out our quilts for the dog adoption benefit last fall.”

“Maybe we should divide into two groups,” Harriet suggested. “Some people could make as many pet blankets as they can and the other half could work on a couple of lap quilts.”

“That would be a start,” Robin said as she reached into the cookie bag. “We should probably see if they will allow us to tour the place and assess the needs. Aiden told us what they need for the pet room, but maybe there are other, greater needs we should be aware of.”

“I guess it
would
be bad if we made fabulous pet quilts and the children were using tattered rags to sleep with,” Lauren said.

“I’m sure that’s not the case,” Robin shot back, “but we need to be sure.”

“So, what’s appropriate for a women’s shelter?” DeAnn asked. “Do we go with soft and soothing or bright and hopeful?”

“I don’t think there’s a single scheme that applies to all people in this situation,” Aunt Beth suggested. She rubbed her chin while she spoke. “I’d imagine women with young children might want something practical and perhaps more colorful. Older women or those who don’t have children might want something more soothing.”

“I like Robin’s idea of at least one or two of us going to meet with whoever runs the place,” Harriet said.

“In the meantime,” Carla said, “maybe we could make some sets with a large quilt for the parent and smaller quilts in the same color-way that could be for the kids.”

“I like that,” Connie said. “Then the rest of us can get started while our representatives go gather information.”

“Good idea,” Mavis agreed.

They spent the rest of the morning planning quilts and dividing up the tasks. Robin, Harriet and Lauren would set up a meeting as soon as possible with the shelter director, after which they would all meet at Pins and Needles, Foggy Point’s best and only quilt store.

“Have you ever been to a woman’s shelter?” Lauren asked Harriet and Robin as they sat around a table at the Steaming Cup coffee shop. The shop was divided into function areas—tables and chairs in the center of the room, several groupings of upholstered chairs and small sofas around the perimeter, and a long computer table sporting electrical sockets every two feet down the center near the third wall.

Harriet had her hands wrapped around her mug of hot cocoa.

“I haven’t,” she admitted.

“Unfortunately, before the kids were born, when I was working fulltime, I represented more than one victim of domestic violence, so, yes, I’ve been to shelters before,” Robin said. “Not here, though. It was back in my Seattle days.”

“What should we expect?” Harriet asked.

Robin leaned back in her chair and pressed her lips firmly together in thought.

“They’re all different, depending on what sort of building they’re in. Some were made to be a group facility from the get-go, others have been adapted. But they also have some things in common. To function, the house has to be very organized, and they’re security-conscious to a degree that will probably feel paranoid to you. Believe me, it’s necessary.”

Harriet sipped her chocolate.

“Our tour guide will tell us how many people are staying there, right?”

“She’ll give us some general information and will let us see a representative room or two. The resident who occupies it will have removed any identifying pictures or other information that would let you know who they are. I don’t know if they do that here in Foggy Point, but in Seattle they took no chances. Anyone who came past a semipublic visiting room had to have a criminal background check and references. And, Lauren, no wise cracks. They’ll throw us out at the slightest hint that we’re there for other than our stated purpose.”

“Okay, Mom, I’ll behave.” Lauren rolled her eyes upward then looked to Harriet for support. Harriet gave a small shrug but didn’t say anything.

“Everyone done?” she asked a few minutes later. She took the three mugs and returned them to the collection tub near the counter.

“Where to now?” Lauren asked Robin.

“We meet the assistant director downtown, and she’ll take us to the shelter. As we suspected, they don’t let people drive up and park by the front door.”