When Chenille Is Not Enough

Susan shivered in the farthest corner of the store room. “You’re being an idiot,” she told herself. “Interfering in everyone’s business, nagging, worrying about nothing at all.” She wrapped her arms around her waist and swayed. “I’ve turned into my mother.”

She patted her pockets, then remembered her cell phone was still in her purse. She ground her teeth, pushed herself out of the corner and swung around to the doorway. One foot after the other, she approached the hall. She peeked toward the showroom, and listened. Hearing only the usual sounds of business, she crept to the office.

The door was ajar, and by putting one eye up to the space between the door and the jamb, she could see that the office was empty. She scurried inside, grabbed her purse, and retreated to the storeroom.

She scrolled through her contact list until she reached Gary’s name. Her finger hesitated above the pad. The image of Gary’s face when he received the call about the part in the movie rose in her mind. His olive skin glowed, and his black eyes glistened. His smile made him seem as young as Cecily, and she wondered again if she weren’t fooling herself to imagine a future with a younger man. Are you really going to call him when he’s on location, surrounded by younger, confident women, she thought, and whine over the phone about a bad day? She watched her finger hit the call button.

“Gary,” she said when he answered. “When are you coming home?”

“Susan? What’s wrong?”

“Me.” She perched on an unopened box. “I’m turning into Edna. No, worse than Edna.”

“Oh, I don’t believe that.”

“It’s true,” Susan said. “In the last twenty-four hours I’ve snapped at everyone around me, barked orders, even blown off a customer.”

She heard him choke on a laugh before he said, “Well, I’m glad you miss me, but I can’t imagine you falling apart at the shop, especially since I’ve only been gone three days. So, what else is going on?”

She twisted a lock of hair between her fingers. “Nothing. The fundraiser is going well, business is great, the kids are fine.”

“How about the movie showing? Was Cecily happy with that?”

“Yes, there were more people than I expected, and a lot of them bought a DVD.” She paused. “There was even a distributor from Europe who is interested in helping her.” Why did I wait until now to tell him that? she thought.

“That’s wonderful!” he said. “Cecily must be thrilled.”

“She is.” But I’m not. Why can’t I say that?

“Susan?” Gary asked. “What is it?”

“I don’t trust the guy,” she said after a pause that seemed to stretch into the afternoon. “I don’t know why, but he makes me nervous. And I’m having a hard time talking about it, as if my brain is trying to forget about him.”

“I can hear that in your voice. The nervousness, I mean, not the brain part. And it’s probably a good thing to be cautious. The film industry has more than its share of crooks. Call your lawyer. Cecily will need help negotiating a contract, and you won’t have to be the voice of doom.”

“Yes, of course, I should have done that first thing.” She twisted her hair once again, smoothed it into place and stood up. “And how are you? How’s the shoot going?”

“Fine! The director likes me, we’ve managed to keep on schedule, everyone on the set works well together. I know I’ve only got a bit part, but I’m proud of what I’ve done. It’s been a dream.” He paused. “But a dream that I’ll be happy to see end so I can come home to you the day after tomorrow.”

“Excellent save, sweetheart,” she said. “I’ll let you get back to work. I think I can be a normal human being again. Thanks. I love you.”

She pocketed her phone and inhaled. “Calm, calm, calm,” she chanted as she exhaled. Massaging the frown lines between her eyebrows, she returned to the showroom.

Cecily stepped closer to Edna as Susan approached the cutting table. “We took the quilt down, Mom,” she said. She threaded her arm through Edna’s. “The frame was designed to come apart easily. I remembered.”

“That’s wonderful, sweetie,” Susan said.

Cecily’s eyes grew wide and she edged behind Edna. “Really?”

Edna examined Susan’s face. “You called Gary. Good. All better now?”

“Yes, Mom, I’m better,” Susan said. “Let me apologize to everyone for my testiness.”

“I’ve seen rabid dogs with a better disposition than yours,” Edna said.

Li-Ming cleared her throat. “I think I can get the computer working again, Susan, but I’ll need some help. I called my nephew. He should be here in half an hour.”

Susan massaged the skin between her eyebrows again. “Thanks, Li-Ming. Do what you can, but if your nephew agrees with Cecily’s estimation of our system, maybe we should upgrade.” She glanced at the confused expressions on the faces of the others. “The apology comes with a promise to be reasonable, at least for today. If the computer needs to be replaced, it needs to be replaced.”

The bell over the door jangled and everyone but Edna turned to greet the new arrival. Three customers entered in a group, one with two children in tow. When Li-Ming and Cecily greeted them, Edna blocked Susan’s way.

“Talk to your mother,” she ordered.

“I’m fine, Mom,” Susan said. “Really, I’m fine.”

Edna snorted. “And I’ll win the Boston Marathon next year. Something’s got your undies in a bunch. Spill it.”

Susan leaned against the cutting table. “I’m worried about Cecily. That guy Cottonwood may be who he says he is. Or not. We don’t know. And he makes me uneasy.”

“Oh, for the love of Mike,” Edna said, rolling her eyes and puffing her cheeks. “Cecily will check him out before she signs anything. He’s an odd duck, but nothing she can’t handle.”

Susan scanned the store. “Where is he?”

“Took you this long to notice he was gone, did it?” Edna gathered the crazy quilt and headed toward the office. “He said he had some business to attend to, suggested meeting in a day or so, and left. Now help me pack this thing. I don’t intend to carry it around like a stray cat, and I know you have tote bags to spare.”

***

Bozidar paced in his transport. The egg-shaped ship was narrow and short, so he found himself turning tight circles to avoid bumping his head on the curved walls. He failed often, as he was distracted with shouting at the communications screen.

“Yes, I am going to remain in the transformation for the entire mission. What makes you think I want to go through that more than once? Now stop whining and get me the information I need. Oh, and run a diagnostic on my translation device. My speech rhythms sound stilted in their language.”

He stuffed a spoonful of a lumpy sauce in his mouth, swallowed and said, “I know that our clan visited this planet years ago, but I have no idea how much of the story is truth and how much entertainment. Of course I paid attention in academy, but who knew those idiots from our clan would end up attacking the one human family we were obligated to protect? Are you absolutely certain they were part of our clan? They couldn’t have been part of the rose clan?”

Bozidar smacked into the wall again and fell to his knees. He rolled on the floor, moaning. He caught the edge of a blanket heaped on the bed built into the side of the ship. The blanket slipped to the floor, covering his head. Yanking the blanket off his head, he pushed himself onto the bed and glared into the screen on the opposite side of the ship.

“Laugh like that again and I will send the images of you at the Remembrance Day party to the rest of the clan,” he said.

The beige alien on the screen was obscured by a ring of green smoke puffing around its edges. The creature squawked three times as the smoke deepened from a light sage to an angry chartreuse. The screen went blank, then a round symbol appeared which rotated slowly as its color pulsed from red through purple to blue and back.

“Fine, be that way,” Bozidar mumbled. He folded the blanket, placed it at the end of the bed, and tapped a panel on the frame. The bed rolled itself into a narrow tube and slid into a slot in the wall.

He worked his way around the small ship, tidying the clutter of bowls and spoons on the chest-high ledge that served as his table. When cleared, it too retracted into the wall at his touch.

Another series of taps, and a triangle of rigid tubes rose from the floor. He pulled a flexible nozzle from each tube. One nozzle went into his mouth. He pressed a button on the upper edge of the tube and the nozzle became a vacuum, clearing food and plaque from his teeth and tongue.

He inserted the second nozzle in an opening under the lowest rib on his left side. “I can’t believe they let their fluids go to waste,” he said to himself as the residue from unabsorbed nutrients was sucked into the ship’s fuel cells.

The third nozzle was much longer than the others, with a large flange. He attached the flange to the top of his head, and waited as a shiny orange gel spread over his clothed body. When he was completely enveloped, he pressed a button. The gel reversed course and was sucked back into the tube.

Now clean inside and out, Bozidar sat at the control station and waited for the icon on the screen to stop pulsing. He studied the symbol, noting the two concentric rings that surrounded a motif of five loops joined in the center. “If only they had seen that fragment,” he whispered, “they would still be alive. What did she call it? A crazy quilt?” His hands played over a small reading tablet, keying in all the symbols he remembered.

The wall screen flashed, and the beige creature reappeared. It squealed and chittered, then images and text scrolled from right to left.

“So the stories we were taught are mostly true? How unusual. Tell the clan elder I said that. She knows my opinion of our educational system. The important thing is the same women I came here to kill are descendants of the woman who rescued our ancestors seventeen cycles ago. What is that in human years? One hundred and ten? They do not live very long, so what is the probability that any of them know of the enounter?”

The screen flashed again, and the pulsing icon returned. Bozidar laced and unlaced his fingers as he waited. The skin on his palms squeaked from the residue of the orange gel.

The image of the beige creature replaced the pulsing icon. It chirped twice, and pink smoke ringed its edges.

“Do not be embarrassed. I have only been here a short time, and I can guess what happened. Not even the plaids are as irrational as humans. There is no dishonor in our ancestors telling She Who Found Us never to speak a word of it to any living being on her planet.”

***

Susan watched Li-Ming’s nephew fail once again to fix the store’s computer. She shook her head and said, “Maybe I should leave the room. I bet I’m sending out all manner of negative energy.”

She motioned Li-Ming to follow her. Once in the showroom, she said, “Your nephew is brilliant, but even I can tell it isn’t going well for him.”

“Give him another hour,” Li-Ming said. “The only task that requires the computer today is reviewing the fundraiser contracts. Why don’t you call Louise at Queen of the Needles and have her come here with her iPad? I sent updates on the negotiations. All the physical files are in our office, so it would be easier for Louise to come here than for you to take the binders over there.”

“Good idea, I’ll call her now. Can you put the documents together so I won’t bother your nephew? I really do think I can jinx anything electronic just by being in the room.”

As Li-Ming returned to the office, Susan called Queen of the Needles. Thank goodness I took Carolyn up on her offer to help with the fundraiser. And that she let Louise take on the project as soon as I agreed.

Susan smiled as she thought of her friendly competition, the women at Queen of the Needles. Carolyn collected causes the way others collect cross-stitch patterns. The idea to raise money for a sister city in the Midwest that had been ravaged by floods was hers to begin with, but Susan provided connections to a hotel with room enough on-site and in its corporate heart to hold the event. Louise, one of Carolyn’s partners, was a born organizer. Carolyn agreed that she and Margaret, the other partner, could manage the shop while Susan and Louise planned the fundraiser.

“I was wondering when we would hear from you,” Margaret said when she answered the phone. “Did the hotel come through?”

“Yes,” Susan said, “but my computer couldn’t take the excitement. It’s as dead as the Dodo birds, and I need help.”

“Louise will be right there.”

Within an hour, Susan and Louise were settled into the classroom, comparing notes and sketches, publicity drafts and budgets, menus and decorating schemes. Louise flicked through files and photos. Her long brown fingers, tipped with shimmering coral nail polish, made the icons whirl until the pertinent e-mails appeared on the screen. Louise slid the iPad to Susan.

“This is so much easier to read,” Susan said. “Maybe I should get one of these instead of another computer.”

“It’s something to consider,” Louise said. The jangle of the bell over the door interrupted her. “Do you need to see who that is?”

“No,” Susan said, “the girls know we’re not available for customers.”

Li-Ming poked her head through the doorway. “It’s that Czech guy.”

A hint of lavender wafted into the classroom.

“Really? I wasn’t expecting him,” Susan said as she returned the pad. “Cecily didn’t say anything about him coming back today.”

“Who is he?” Louise asked.

“A European film distributor,” Susan said. “Or so he says. He came to the last showing of Cecily’s movie and offered to help her.”

“How wonderful! Why didn’t you say anything?”

Susan paused at the doorway, hand on the white trim. “I don’t know. It must have slipped my mind.”

“You really are upset about the computer,” Li-Ming said. When Susan left to greet Bozidar, she whispered to Louise, “Gary’s been gone. She misses him more than she’ll admit.”

“Oh, right, that movie job,” Louise said, straightening papers.

“I know she doesn’t want to move him into the house yet, what with her other two daughters still at home, but she really should. He’s crazy about her and the kids.”

“I think the age difference still bothers her.”

“If anyone cares except Susan, it’s from jealousy,” Li-Ming said. “Who wouldn’t want to have a handsome younger man drop into your lap?”

Louise laughed and followed Susan into the showroom.

“Mr. Cottonwood, you may recognize Louise Marchand from Cecily’s movie,” Susan said. “Louise, this is Bozidar Cottonwood.”

The slight odor of lavender grew stronger as he approached Louise. His hand was outstretched and his lips were smiling, but his eyes glinted like obsidian in strong sunlight.

Louise shook his hand with caution. “We’re very proud of Cecily’s movie. Susan mentioned you were interested in promoting it.”

He scanned her from head to foot before replying. “Yes. The movie is my reason for being here. And I do recognize you.”

The room fell silent. Customers paused at the shelves, hands on bolts or fat quarters. A fly buzzing around the front desk crept underneath the cash register, and the birds outside stopped singing.

Susan cleared her throat. “Mr. Cottonwood, was Cecily expecting you?”

“No.” He shivered, then said, “Forgive me for arriving without notice. I left hurriedly yesterday, before I could appreciate the unusual quilt your mother wished to show me. I was hoping I might be able to see it today.” His gaze flickered around the room, then returned to her.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, but she took it to a meeting today. She’ll return it later this afternoon. Louise and I are in the middle of something, but you’re welcome to wait for her. Or I could recommend a nice coffee shop in the area.”

He bowed his head. “I will accept your gracious offer, at least for the moment. Your shop is most intriguing to me.”

Susan nodded, and led Louise back to the classroom. “Well, that’s the man,” she said as she settled into her chair.

Louise glanced from Susan to the showroom. She smoothed the hem of her quilted jacket, and rearranged the order of her beaded bracelets. “How did he find out about the movie?”

Susan leaned back in her chair and tugged on a lock of hair. “He didn’t say. He doesn’t explain much.”

Louise sat next to Susan and whispered, “I had the oddest feeling when I shook his hand. As if he wasn’t . . . real.”

“Well, we’ve all seen him so he does exist. I’m not sure about his business connections, but we can research that.”

Louise shook her head as if to chase away a bad dream. “I must be tired. Or stretched too thin. Kyle is starting his internship this week. He’s moving back home for the duration, so I’ve been - ”

“Frantic trying to get your stuff out of his room,” Susan said.

“Something like that.” She scanned through contracts on her iPad. “Okay, I think this one is ready to go.”

***

Bozidar wandered through the showroom, his focus on the classroom. His meandering led him closer to the open door. He stopped by the rack of hand-dyed laces and trims just as Louise read a section of a contract to Susan. Bringing the black box from his pocket to his chest, he tapped in the same code he had used the day before. “What is begun must be done,” he muttered.

A noisy gust of wind and the sound of a honking car muffled the jangling bell as the front door opened. Edna burst into the showroom carrying a bundle.

“You’re here again,” she said as she deposited the bundle on the cutting table. “Cottonwood, right? Just so you know, I’ve got my crazy quilt inside this sheet. It seemed to give you the screaming heebie-jeebies yesterday.”

Bozidar slipped the box into his pocket before he turned to greet Edna. He glanced at the others in the shop, and listened for some indication of distress in the classroom. Li-Ming greeted Edna while ringing up a sale, two customers discussed the merits of coral over pink for a particular pattern, and the soft conversation in the sewing room continued undisturbed.

He nodded at Edna and said, “I would love to see the quilt and hear its history today.”

She unrolled the sheet and smoothed the fragment across the cutting board. “It’s an unusual piece. My grandmother used the same fabrics that you find in other crazy quilts - velvets, silks and satins - but the colors are different. They’re brighter, for one thing. I would’ve said the old dame was losing her eyesight, but the story goes that she could see like a hawk, hear like deer, and swear like a sailor.”

“I find the colors enchanting,” he said, his hand hovering over the cloth.

“Go ahead and touch it if you want. It lived through the 1906 earthquake, so a little finger grease won’t hurt it. Susan treats it like a holy relic, but I say why bother polishing the family silver if you won’t use the spoons for your cereal?”

He tilted his head and peered at her, then rubbed his right ear lobe. His lips moved, silently repeating her last words.

“What I mean,” Edna said, “is that family history only means something if the artifacts mean something. That’s why I wanted the quilt in the store, so my daughter could be reminded that she comes from a long line of tough old birds who make things happen.”

“Ah,” he said. “I’m still not certain I understand, but please continue. The pattern, for instance. Do you know what it signifies?”

She stroked one of the outer blocks. A white satin rectangle nestled in the center, surrounded by velvet rectangles of rose and gold. “You’ve got a good eye. Most crazy quilts don’t have a pattern. Scraps of fabric or ribbon are sewn randomly to make a block, but all of these blocks have a definite design to them.”

“And the embroidery?” he asked.

Her chin snapped an inch higher and her eyes narrowed. “You did say you were in the movie business, right? There was a snip of a girl who wanted to take my grandmother’s designs and copyright them who asked fewer questions than you have. I set her straight quick enough - do I have to do the same to you?”

Susan stomped into the showroom. “Li-Ming, where’s your nephew?” she shouted.

Li-Ming scampered from the cash register. “In the office, I’ll get him.”

“Don’t bother,” Edna said. “I’m sure he heard Susan. The migrating whales heard her, and are changing course at this very moment.”

Susan blushed. “I’m sorry. It’s just so frustrating. Either we’ve got a poltergeist in the shop, or in a past life I did something awful. First our computer crashes, and now Louise’s iPad won’t work.”