Free The Quilt Before the Storm by Arlene Sachitano

even see her until next Monday.”
    “What do you think happened?” Mavis asked. “Surely, they can’t have locked Marjory up because she said she’d kill her sister for reporting the car stolen.”
    “My suspicion is that whoever reported the car stolen probably also painted Marjory as an unstable person, likely to harm herself or others. Unfortunately, it sounds like she played right into the hands of whoever did that.”
    “What if the river rises while she’s gone?” Carla asked. Wendy squirmed in Carla’s lap and tried to get down. Her mother pulled a small wooden puzzle from her purse and dumped the pieces onto the table in front of her.
    “Water will fill the basement and part of the first floor at Pins and Needles,” Lauren said.
    “And unless we move Marjory’s fabric, she’ll lose it all,” Mavis added.
    “How are we supposed to do that with her locked in the loony bin?” Lauren asked.
    “Don’t you think Marjory would want us to break a window or something to get in if it meant we could save her inventory?” Connie pointed out.
    “Not when we have a key,” Aunt Beth announced.
    “We have a key?” Harriet asked.
    “Carla?” Aunt Beth said.
    Carla reached into her bag and fished around, bringing out a bright-pink rubber keychain. She held it up for everyone to see. She’d worked part-time at Pins and Needles after being laid off from her job at the local vitamin factory the previous spring. Aiden had hired her as his full-time housekeeper when he inherited his mother’s large Victorian home, but they’d both agreed she could still work for Marjory a few hours a week while Wendy went to a toddler program at the Methodist church, so Marjory wouldn’t be left in the lurch.
    “She gave it to me to use in case of emergency.” Carla said.
    “I think flooding qualifies as an emergency.” Lauren took a drink of her latte. “And let’s not wait until the water is at the doorstep. It’s going to take a while to move that much fabric if we have to go up and down that attic ladder of hers.”
    “Does anyone know how close to flood stage the river is?” Mavis asked.
    Carla pulled a smartphone from her purse and, with a glance at Lauren, tapped on its face. Lauren looked on like a proud parent. She’d undoubtedly had something to do with Carla’s newfound technical prowess, Harriet thought.
    “Two more feet to reach flood stage,” Carla reported, her cheeks turning pink.
    “It’s another three feet or so to street level,” Harriet said. “But once it goes over the street it’s right into the basement.”
    “I didn’t know Marjory had a basement,” Connie said.
    “She doesn’t keep anything of consequence down there,” Mavis said. “The people she bought it from warned her about the flood potential. She just stores spare shelving and tables.”
    “I’m with Lauren,” Harriet said. “If we’re going to have to do a major move, I think we should start sooner rather than later. The rain isn’t supposed to let up, and if the windstorm knocks any big trees over the roads or even in the river near here, the shop could be in trouble without much warning.”
    Ronald had gone for a refill and stopped by the Threads’ table on his way back to his chair.
    “I couldn’t help but overhear your concern about the quilt store flooding. I’d like to offer my services to help move inventory,” he said. “I’m sure Duane and Joyce would be happy to help also. It’s not like we have homes or families to take care of.” His face reddened as he said the last part. “It might help us feel more normal.”
    “Thank you,” Aunt Beth said. “We’ll let you know the plan before we all leave.”
    He went back to his companions and recounted his offer. Harriet saw Joyce nodding thoughtfully as he spoke.
    “I guess that’s it, then,” Aunt Beth said. “When do you all want to start?”
    “I’d just as soon get it over with, before the wind picks up,” Harriet said.
    Connie and