Make Quilts Not War - By Arlene Sachitano Page 0,12

to rinse.

The phone rang, and Harriet jumped, spilling hot coffee on her hand.

“Here, honey,” Mavis said, handing over her napkin and getting up to fetch another from the holder on the kitchen bar.

“Let the machine pick it up,” Beth ordered and went to stand by the phone. When she heard Carla’s voice, she picked up the receiver. “What’s happening?…Uh-huh…” She said several more times as Carla related her update. “Well, keep us posted, and we’ll see you tomorrow at the show.”

“What?” Harriet asked, seeing the look on her face. “Whatever it is can’t be any worse than being stood up in such a flamboyant way.”

“Anyone need a refill?” Mavis asked, allowing Beth time to get seated. Beth waited while she picked up the coffee pot and topped everyone’s drink then sat down again.

“Apparently,” she began, “this was all a ploy to get Aiden to let Michelle and her kids move in.”

“That’s what Carla said?” Harriet asked.

“Well, not in so many words, but that’s the obvious conclusion. She had her kids in the car, and it turns out she’d only taken six sleeping pills—two is the normal dose. In other words, she took just enough to be real sleepy.”

“So, she was never in any danger,” Harriet stated.

“No, she wasn’t,” her aunt confirmed. “She wanted Aiden to think she was. Carla said the kids told her their dad kicked their mom out. A nurse Aiden knows was just getting off work and offered to bring the kids back to his house. She left when Carla got back home, and the kids immediately called their dad in Seattle and asked him to come get them.”

“Diós mio,” Connie exclaimed. “What a mess.”

“It’s embarrassing, but I’ll live,” Harriet said. “You ladies have been very kind, helping me lick my wounds, but it’s really not necessary for you to stay any longer. An emergency happened, and as a result, I was stood up. Yes, it hurts that Aiden couldn’t spare two minutes to call and let me know, but I’ll live to date another day.”

“Well, aren’t we just being a grownup about all this,” Aunt Beth said in a teasing tone.

“I’m just tired,” Harriet said. “I don’t do drama well.”

“Are you going to talk to him tomorrow?” Connie asked.

“I think the real question is am I going to talk to him ever,” Harriet replied.

“That’s my girl,” Mavis said. “I was getting worried there for a minute.”

“I’m angry and hurt, and more than a little embarrassed, but I’m not going to let him keep hurting me by dwelling on it. We have a quilt show to set up tomorrow, and I’m going to concentrate on that.”

“That sounds like a plan. We’ve got a busy week coming up,” Mavis said. “Shall we meet here around one and drive over to the exhibit hall together?”

“Sure,” Harriet said. “Parking close to the building is probably going to be tight. If we take my car, we can all fit.”

“I’ll call Lauren and see if she wants to come with us,” Connie volunteered. “Robin and DeAnn are going together, and I think I heard them making arrangements with Jenny, too. I can talk to Carla tomorrow when she picks up Wendy.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay if we leave?” Aunt Beth asked. “I can stay, if you want.”

“I’m fine, really. I appreciate the support, but I’m okay. I think I’ll read my book and then go to bed and try to pretend this day never happened.”

“I’m really sorry your big date ended the way it did,” Aunt Beth said.

“You know, it would be a little easier if you didn’t phrase it that way,” Harriet said with a tired sigh. She got up and began carrying empty cups to the sink.

Connie got her purse and coat then went to Harriet and pulled her into a warm hug.

“Just remember, we all love you,” she said.

Mavis joined them, patting Harriet on the back.

“If there’s anything I can do, I’m just a phone call away,” she said.

“That goes for me, too,” Aunt Beth added. “I know you’re tough, but even the strong need support sometimes.”

Chapter 7

Harriet woke up early the next morning. She’d actually slept well the night before, probably because her dog had slept over at Connie’s. Scooter usually got up at least once each night to go outside, and he woke crying in the night several times a week. She could only imagine what sort of treatment had left him with nightmares.

“Hey, Fred,” she said when she’d come downstairs and scooped some of the