Mavis didn't reply. Harriet could see through the front window that the older woman was sitting in her recliner, clutching Gerald's quilt to her chest.

She had almost reached her car when a strange-looking little dog with a too-round head and ears set at an odd angle ran up and started dancing around her feet. She bent down and patted her.

"Hi, Randy.” She picked her up. “Where's your daddy?” she managed to ask as Randy licked her face.

"He's right behind you,” a male voice said, in a falsetto, pretend-dog tone, from over her shoulder.

She turned to face Aiden Jalbert, Foggy Point's newest veterinarian, his arms already closing around her. She leaned into his solid chest-at six-foot-three, he was comfortably tall.

"I'll just stay here till after the re-enactment,” she said.

She'd never thought of herself as one of those shallow women who judged men by their physical attributes, but Aiden's white-blue eyes, set at an angle like a cat's, and his blue-black hair, worn longer than was stylish unless you were a European model, made her heart flutter. The baggy running shorts that exposed his muscular legs only added to his physical appeal. Perhaps there were benefits to dating a man ten years her junior.

"Sounds good to me, as long as Mavis stays gone, that is."

"Mavis is inside in her chair. I brought her home-her car had to stay at the shop. It was good that I was here. Something weird happened.” She told him about the open door, the quilt and Mavis's reaction to it.

Aiden thought for a moment. “I was pretty little when Gerald died.” He looked up at the sky, thinking. “I don't remember anything other than Mom having to spend a lot of time with Mavis for a while."

"Maybe Mavis is right, and one of her sons dropped it off. It seems kind of insensitive to leave it in her house without a note or anything and then to leave the door open on top of that."

"Something's not right. I'll try to swing by here when I can."

"Speaking of that, what are you doing here, anyway? And dressed like that, too. You didn't get fired did you?"

Aiden lived on the other side of the large wooded area that ran along the shore of the strait. She had walked the trails through the woods with him and Randy on more than one occasion, but not during the workday.

"Your confidence in my abilities is underwhelming.” He tried to make a sad face but ended up laughing instead. “Dr. Johnson decided to keep the clinic open late an additional night, and yours truly gets to be the first guy on the new shift. I came home to take Randy for a run, since I have a few hours off now in exchange."

"I guess that means dinner's off,” Harriet said, trying for a smile but not making it.

"I could bring pizza by when I get off,” he said and tilted her chin up with his finger and then kissed her gently on the lips.

"As good as that sounds, in reality I've got a lot of work to do. Maybe we should just postpone."

"I'll come by with a treat to reward you for all your hard work,” he said with an impish smile.

She started to protest, but he pulled her into another kiss, silencing her. He brushed her short dark hair away from her face. “And I won't stay long and keep you from your work."

He let her go and called Randy, who ran up, her short tail wagging.

Harriet watched, her cheeks flushed and a smile on her face, until the pair had disappeared into the woods again.

A long-arm quilting machine is really just a fancy sewing machine. It has a large frame that holds the quilt top, batting and backing under tension while the sewing head is guided over the taut surface, stitching as it goes. Completed sections are wound on a long roller as they are completed.

Harriet found the process relaxing-at least, she did when her thread didn't break and the requested pattern flowed easily. The one she was working on had a reasonable pattern, but the thread had been provided by the quilt maker; and although it was a lovely tea-dyed cotton, it broke every few feet, which translated to every few minutes for this pattern.

"You look like you could use a break,” Aunt Beth said as she came into the studio through the outside door. Aunt Beth had given Harriet the long-arm quilt business as well as the Victorian house where she'd lived and worked back in April. Then, she'd retired to a cottage by the water.

Harriet still thought of both as Aunt Beth's even though her aunt didn't.

"I have a first-time customer who provided her own thread, and it's giving me fits. I don't have too much more to do, though."

"You keep stitching, and I'll make some tea,” Beth didn't wait for an answer. She put her purse and coat on one of the wingback chairs in the reception area by the door and went through the door into the kitchen.

Aunt Beth backed through the connecting door again fifteen minutes later, a tray with a teapot, cups, sugar and spoons balanced in front of her.

"How's it going?” she asked.

"Perfect timing. I just finished. I'll take it off the frame when we're done with our tea."

"How are the preparations going?"

"I've got the sutler's area filled, no thanks to Carlton. And the Threads have our booth in good shape. As long as people actually buy our quilts we'll be good."

"Oh, honey, of course they'll buy our quilts."

"With this economy, I don't want to count on anything. I've tried to keep the expenses conservative just in case."

"That's a good plan no matter. If people don't spend much you'll be fine, but if they do, you'll have better profits.” Aunt Beth poured the tea and handed her a cup.

Harriet inhaled the fragrance of bergamot. “Hmmm, Earl Grey?"

"Good nose,” Aunt Beth replied. They both sipped for a few moments.

"I'm sorry you're stuck with Carlton,” Aunt Beth finally said. “I'm so used to working around him I didn't even think to warn you."

"What I don't understand is how people like him get good jobs and positions of authority when they're completely incompetent."

"In his case, it was easy-his daddy built a company and brought him up through the ranks. When Daddy died, his only son got the keys to the kingdom. As one of the bigger employers in the area, he gets his pick of the positions in the Business Association. Actually, until he got married to Bebe, he wasn't that bad. I'm not sure he ever had an original thought, but at least he worked when you handed him a task. Now, all he can think of is her."

"On a different topic,” Harriet said, changing the subject before she found herself ranting about Carlton for the hundredth time. “I took Mavis home from Loose Threads today and something really weird happened.” She proceeded to tell Aunt Beth about the incident at the cottage.

Aunt Beth took her time before replying.

"Gerald worked for Foggy Point Fire Protection Company back then. That was when it was called Industrial Fiber Products. He was some kind of chemist. He traveled all over the world visiting customers. He died in a car accident in Malaysia. What was weird was that for some reason they never got his body back. A few weeks later, his ashes arrived in an urn. No one ever went to Malaysia; none of the family was present for the cremation. I'm sure there was some good reason. Maybe they automatically cremate people within a certain time frame, or something like that. I don't know.” She rubbed her hands over her weatherworn face. “I guess everyone has their own way of doing things."

"Maybe that's why she got so upset at the sight of the quilt,” Harriet said. “Did you ever ask her why she didn't go there?"

"Honey, there are some things you don't ask a person. Not when they've just lost the love of their life. I just trusted that she had a good reason. My job was to support her in whatever way she needed, not to challenge her decisions.” She smiled. “I know what you're thinking, but you heed my words, some things are better left alone."