Make Quilts Not War - By Arlene Sachitano Page 0,44
gotten off work, Harriet mused. You didn’t see many expensive business suits at quilt shows, or even in Foggy Point in general.
“Hey, Jenny,” she called when she reached her friend’s display. “Ready for a break?” She tried to force a cheerful tone into her voice. If Jenny noticed, she didn’t say anything.
“Boy, am I,” she said. “I thought it was hard standing and answering questions all day, but it’s excruciating standing here with almost no one in the hall. I’m going to run out to the restroom and then dash by the food court, if that’s okay. It shouldn’t take more than five or ten minutes.”
“No problem, I’ll be right here.”
Harriet looked around. She didn’t see suit lady or anyone else. She studied Jenny’s quilt and was glad her friend had chosen the blue and mauve tones that were also used in the sixties rather than the more popular gold, orange and green.
It seemed like an eternity before Bobby came to the stage.
“Did you talk to her?” he asked.
“No, she’s still on her break. She should be back any minute. She’ll probably come back down the main aisle. Wait over there.” She pointed to her left. “If you stand one booth in and watch through that display, you can see me wave at you without being noticed.”
Fifteen minutes had passed when Harriet finally saw Jenny coming down the main aisle toward her. What occurred next happened so fast, she wasn’t sure afterward what the actual sequence was.
She saw the woman in the suit looking at something in a booth, her back to Jenny’s stage, saw her glance to the side as Jenny approached. One row over, Bobby apparently saw Jenny and decided to jump the gun, stepping out into the main aisle.
“I’m going to put my purse away,” Jenny had said, and ducked behind the black curtain on the stage. At the same time, a stout gray-haired women accompanied by a younger version of herself approached the stage and asked Harriet to show them the back of Jenny’s quilt.
Harriet pulled a white cotton glove from her pocket, put it on and picked up the edge of the quilt. As she folded it back, stepping behind it so the women could see the careful stitches, she saw blue-suit woman whirl and, at the same time, pull a large plastic bottle from her bag. She ripped off the top then flung the contents toward Harriet. Bobby turned and tackled the woman pulling the bottle from her hand and throwing it away down the aisle.
Harriet screamed as burning liquid splashed over her arm; her lower body was protected by the edge of Jenny’s quilt. The fabric around her hand turned brown and began to disintegrate.
“Harriet, what happened?” Jenny cried as she appeared through the curtains.
The pain was so intense Harriet couldn’t answer. She dropped the quilt edge and waved her arm back and forth, trying to escape the searing burn.
“Do you have any water?” the older woman who had been looking at Jenny’s quilt asked.
Jenny disappeared through the curtains briefly and returned with two plastic bottles of water.
“I’m a nurse,” the woman said and uncapped the first bottle, pouring the water over Harriet’s arm. “We need more,” she ordered. “and a first-aid kit.”
“Pour some on the quilt,” Harriet said in a strained voice.
Jenny went behind the curtains again. The vendor across the aisle brought two more bottles and set them down beside the nurse, who was pouring the second bottle over Harriet’s arm. Jenny returned with more, uncapping one and pouring water over the brown spot on her quilt then pulling it down from its hanger. She folded it up and stuffed it behind the curtain then returned to Harriet’s side.
“I’m Dorothy,” the nurse said. “This is my daughter Jessica.” She looked at her daughter. “Honey, call nine-one-one.”
“Is that necessary?” Harriet gasped through clenched teeth.
“I’m afraid so,” Dorothy said as she continued flushing Harriet’s arm with bottled water. “We don’t know what was in that liquid. It clearly included an acid, but who knows what else was with it. You need to be checked out. And someone will want to analyze the remains in the bottle to be sure there aren’t any surprises.”
To avoid seeing her arm, Harriet scanned the area around her. The woman in the blue suit was being held by two men she didn’t recognize. Bobby was nowhere to be seen.
“Who is she?” she asked.
“Who knows?” Jenny replied frantically, her cell phone held to her ear. “I’m trying to call