Make Quilts Not War - By Arlene Sachitano Page 0,7
off. Maybe all the trouble you’ve been having lately has made him realize he could lose you, all on his own, without help from anyone.”
“Still, that’s not a good reason to make a grand gesture. And I’m afraid of what that gesture might be. He’s been afraid of any sort of commitment. What if he swings to the other end of the scale?”
“You think he plans on proposing?” Aunt Beth asked, the color draining from her face.
“I don’t know. That’s the problem. And why does the idea make you look so pale?”
“Oh, honey.” Beth patted her hand over her heart. “It just seems sort of sudden, given everything. And what would you say?”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. It’s equally likely he’s just taking me to a good restaurant for a romantic night out. I could cancel. Then you and Lauren wouldn’t have to worry about it.”
“I raised you better than that,” Beth scolded.
“Did you come over for something besides my tortured lack of a love life?”
“Yes, I came to see if we had a pair of bell bottoms in a size sixteen. DeAnn’s mother is going to help take tickets at the quilt show, and she’s got a tie-dyed shirt but needs something to wear with it.”
“I think there might be a white pair,” Harriet said. “The bags of clothes are down in the studio.” She glanced at the clock radio on her nightstand. “I’ve got time. Shall we go look?”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to wait with you until Aiden comes to pick you up?” Aunt Beth asked Harriet when they’d found the jeans for DeAnn’s mom and then had tea.
“You don’t need to stay and hold my hand. Besides, Aiden isn’t coming to pick me up—he’s sending a limo to take me to wherever it is we’re dining.”
“Call me tomorrow and let me know how it went, either way.”
“I know, and if it’s really exciting, you’ll be up till midnight. I got the same instructions from Lauren.”
“Mavis and I are playing Bunko at Marjory’s tonight, so we will be up late…if you want to call.” Beth smiled and put her coat on.
Chapter 4
The limo Aiden had promised arrived at seven sharp.
“What do you think, Fred?” Harriet asked her fluffy gray cat as she twirled in a circle and came to a stop in front of the mirror in her front hall. The sleeveless black crepe cocktail dress skimmed the top of her knees. “Are the earrings too much?”
She held her hand over one ear, blocking the sparkle of the diamonds as she turned her head from side to side, evaluating each option in turn.
The doorbell rang, ending the debate.
“Enjoy your night alone,” she called to Fred.
She’d taken Scooter, her little dog, to Connie’s house for an overnight visit. Scooter had recovered dramatically after being rescued by Aiden from a hoarding home. He’d been well enough to leave the animal hospital several weeks ago but still required medication several times a day.
Connie and her husband Rod had agreed to take him for an overnight visit so Harriet wouldn’t have to come home early to administer his nightly dose.
She opened the front door to a short middle-aged man with gray hair. He was dressed in some sort of formal livery. Harriet wondered if Aiden had paid extra for the costume.
“Ms. Truman?” he asked. “I’m Mr. Jones, your driver. Your car awaits.”
“Let me get my coat,” she said and grabbed her black dress coat from the antique rack by the door.
“May I pour you a glass of champagne?” Mr. Jones asked when Harriet was seated in the white leather passenger area of the limo. He’d picked up a chilled bottle from an ice bucket, wrapping it deftly with a white towel.
“No, thank you, I’m good.” Harriet’s palms were beginning to sweat. She was happy that Aiden was making an effort, and excited to see what came next, but at the same time, she worried this whole limo-and-champagne routine was a little over-the-top.
“Let me know if I can do anything to make your journey more enjoyable,” Mr. Jones said, and when no requests were forthcoming, he closed the door and got into the driver’s seat.
If the limo was taking her anywhere in Foggy Point, it would be a short ride, Harriet thought. It soon became clear that Mr. Jones was driving a serpentine route around town, finally arriving at their destination precisely thirty minutes later.
The limo came to a stop, and a moment later, Mr. Jones opened the