Free A Comedy of Heirs by Rett MacPherson Page B

floor.
    â€œWhere’d you get that quilt?” she asked, looking at the mauve Lonestar on my bed.
    â€œOh,” I said, “an old lady left that to me in her will. Only met her once, but she took a liking to me, I suppose.”
    She pointed to the box that I was holding. “There are scraps in there that are twenty-five years old,” she said.
    â€œOh, good. So then I should have a lot of polyester and paisley.” I opened the box and was immediately struck by what she had said. I recognized pieces of fabric that my grandmother had used on the aprons she made for herself. I also noted a few fabrics that had been dresses my grandmother had made for me when I was about five or six.
    â€œSome of Dad’s old shirts in there, too,” she said. “Know how crazy you were about him.”
    I was speechless. Not only speechless but touched. My throat constricted and I was surprised by the fact that this gesture nearly brought me to tears. It was as if she’d gone through her scrap collection and picked this stuff out just for me.
    â€œI went through my scrap collection, which is about ready to take over the house, and picked those out just for you,” she said.
    I love Aunt Sissy. There is no subtlety here. No guessing what she means or if she’s sincere. She just lays it out there for you.
    â€œI don’t quilt, Aunt Sissy.”
    â€œNow you can,” she said.
    â€œWhat if I screw up on the scraps that you gave me? I would never forgive myself.”
    â€œThen don’t screw up.”
    â€œI don’t know what to say.”
    â€œI don’t want you to say anything. I want you to make a quilt.”
    â€œAll right,” I said. “I’ll try.”
    â€œGood. I’m going in to town. Gonna find that good-for-nothing brother of mine.”
    â€œWhich one?”
    â€œJed. Haven’t seen him in years.”
    â€œHe’s probably at the Corner Bar.”
    â€œI know exactly where he is,” she said. “I’ll be back in time for dinner.”
    With that she just turned and disappeared down my steps and into the craziness of the room below. I went into my office and found the book on quilts that I had checked out at the library. I brought it back into my bedroom and sat down on the bed, next to the box of scraps. I flipped through the book and got to the part that had patterns especially for scrap quilts. Quilts that you could make with small pieces of material. There was one that caught my eye. It was called the Indian Hatchet. Part of the reason that I was struck by this was that in the middle of each square was a diagonal piece of white material that people signed. It was a signature quilt or friendship quilt.
    What better way to get samples of people’s handwriting to match to the note that I received with the newspaper articles? I would have everybody in attendance sign one of these squares. Then I could get samples of their handwriting and have a keepsake made out of keepsake material. I looked over at the box on the floor. I’d tackle that tomorrow. Right now it was enough to feel happy with my plan to find out who sent me those articles.
    THE NEW KASSEL GAZETTE
    T HE N EWS Y OU M IGHT M ISS
    by Eleanore Murdoch
    Our Honorable Mayor, Bill Castlereagh, won the first-snow contest. He correctly predicted when we would get the first inch of snow. He wins four baseball tickets to the Cardinals game of his choice in the spring. Elmer Kolbe stated that the lake has been skatable for about a week now. Put on your skates and go on out to the lake for good clean fun.
    In case you see Rudy O’Shea around town and wonder where he got the black eyes and swollen nose, they were the result of a serious skating accident. He swears that it was not the result of marital miscommunication.
    And if you don’t live in this town, please be respectful of other people’s property. Elmer says if he finds out who stuck cigars in his