Make Quilts Not War - By Arlene Sachitano Page 0,19
said. “You should go while they still have everything.”
“Okay, then. If anyone comes by and is interested, just put their name and number on an order form, and I can call them back to schedule a time to talk about it.”
“We can handle it,” Robin assured her.
“Let’s go see if Jenny wants to come with us,” Harriet suggested. “We have to walk through the main exhibit hall to get to the food court, so it’s not out of our way.”
“Sure,” Lauren said. “Maybe we can invite the Amish group and the Vienna Boy’s Choir while we’re at it.”
“Would you stop it? We’re just going to get Jenny. She needs a break, too.”
“Connie and Mavis probably already took her.”
“Geez, listen to you. We have to walk right past her area. What’s the problem?”
“Besides having to be on our best behavior? Can you imagine her eating a chocolate-covered Twinkie? Or a cocktail weenie?”
Lauren did have a point. Jenny’s silver pageboy haircut was never out of place, her outfits always coordinated, and Harriet had never seen her take more than a taste of junk food—just enough to not offend the others by being too perfect.
“Okay, just promise me you’ll have a Twinkie with me, no matter what Jenny does or doesn’t eat.”
“I just have to dodge my aunt.”
“I’ll distract her, and you buy two of them from Jorge.”
“Agreed,” Harriet said and led the way to the door that connected the south vendor hall with the main exhibit hall.
“Is that Jenny?” Lauren whispered as they approached Jenny’s quilt. With her Afro wig, tie-dyed tunic and large round-lensed sunglasses, the person standing next to the quilt was unrecognizable.
“How’s it going?” Harriet asked when they stopped in front of her.
“I can tell I’m going to get real tired of saying the same words over and over again,” Jenny replied.
“You’re not going to make it if you’re crumbling after two hours,” Lauren said.
“I didn’t say I was crumbling. People so far have asked the same questions over and over, starting with ‘Is this really a quilt from the sixties?’ and usually going on to ‘Did you really make this quilt?’”
“Can’t they match your name tag with the sign?” Lauren asked, pointing to the quilt and the prominent sign pinned to its edge, stating it was made by Jenny Logan.
“Apparently not,” Jenny said with a smile.
“Can you take a break?” Harriet asked.
“I’d love one. Let me tell Pamela she’s on.” Jenny walked to the opposite side of her display area and spoke to a slender woman sitting on a chair watching the crowd.
“Can you take over for a few minutes?” she asked.
“Sure, let me get my wig and sunglasses on.” Pamela Gilbert was wearing a tunic that also appeared to be tie-dyed.
“Your costumes are great,” Harriet said with true admiration.
“We found three similar tunics, and then my daughter over-dyed them in rainbow colors,” Pamela said proudly.
“We weren’t sure which one of you was which until Jenny spoke,” Harriet marveled.
“I’m happy to take a turn,” Pamela said brightly.
“I won’t be gone long,” Jenny removed her glasses and pulled her wig off. She’d pinned her own hair into two bun-like curls behind each ear. “I wish I could take these hairpins out,” she complained. “Between the pins and the wig, it feels like bugs are crawling over my scalp.” She pulled a small triangle scarf from her skirt pocket and centered it over her hairdo, tying it at the nape of her neck. “These little scarves were real popular back in the day.”
She patted her head with her hand.
“The food is going to be gone if we don’t get moving,” Lauren prodded.
“I can catch up if you want,” Jenny said. “I need to stop at the restrooms on our way. They’re right by the door out to the courtyard.”
“Okay, we’ll meet you outside the main doors,” Harriet said and headed for the front of the building.
“Jenny seems tense,” Lauren commented when she and Harriet were outside. The scent of frying food floated on the slight breeze. “For whatever reason, she didn’t want her old quilt in the show. They almost bullied her into participating. I don’t know what the problem is or was, but it’s clear there was one.”
“There must be a line in the restroom,” Harriet said and looked at her watch. More than five minutes had passed.
“I told you we should have just gone ourselves,” Lauren shot back and resumed rocking from her toes to her heels.
Someone screamed as the main double doors burst open and a crowd