Stitches In Time Read Online Free PDF Page A

film. It didn't appear to be the normal yellowing of old linen, or ordinary dirt, and it certainly couldn't have been the original color of the cloth. No housewife would have chosen that nasty shade, even for backing.
    Rachel spread it out on the floor and turned it over. Under the blurring gray film she saw colors and shapes— not the repetitive geometric shapes of patchwork, something quite different. Something wrong . . . She started violently when she heard Cheryl's voice.
    "It's an album quilt, 1 guess. Each block has a different pattern—picture, rather, in applique. Is this a horse, with a rider and ... a dog? It's so filthy I can't make out details. What a shame it's in such poor condition. Those stains probably won't come out."
    Normally Rachel wouldn't have ventured to disagree. "They aren't stains. Look." Delicately, with one fingernail, she scraped at the gray film. It dissolved into a flaky powder. Bending closer, she blew gently at the spot. "I can get it clean, I'm sure I can. I'll try brushing it first, and then—"
    "The hand vacuum." Cheryl peered at the area Rachel had cleaned. "Look at those minuscule stitches. I wonder how it got so dirty; the others aren't like that. I've never seen anything quite—"
    She put out her hand, and then hesitated, her fingertip, like that of God in the Michelangelo painting, not quite touching the fabric. "I'll leave it to you, then."
    "Thanks. I'll be careful, I promise. I know how to do it, you showed me."
    "Just a minute," Tony said. He had one arm around Jerry, who was dribbling crumbs all over his lap. "Aren't you girls forgetting something? That may not be stolen property, but it certainly doesn't belong to you."
    A dimple appeared at the corner of Cheryl's mouth. Rachel had seen this indentation before; it wasn't produced by laughter but by tightening lips. "Flotsam," she said. "Or is it jetsam?"
    "Neither," said her husband. He was also familiar with that particular dimple.
    "Oh, for God's sake, I was kidding," Cheryl snapped. "Although I'll bet there's some law that would support my argument. If unknown people dump things on other people's front porches—"
    "We know who left it."
    "No, we don't. That's just your guess."
    "Not a guess. A reasonable hypothesis."
    Rachel had never heard him raise his voice to anyone except his brother-in-law, in the course of one of their friendly arguments. But she knew the signs of rising temper—the way his eyebrows drew together, the soft, slightly rasping tone, the way his fingers tugged at the end of his mustache.
    "Well, what am I supposed to do with the stuff?" Cheryl demanded. "I'm not running a free storage locker."
    "Would you buy it?"
    "If we could agree on a fair price. I've never cheated anybody in my life."
    "I didn't mean—"
    "I know." Cheryl moderated her voice. Jerry was looking uneasily from her to his father. She smiled at him. "Daddy and I are joking, Jerry."
    Jerry went straight to the point. "Daddy will find the bad guy," he said confidently. "That's what Daddy does."
    Tony's face relaxed. "Right, son. Daddy will find the bad guy and ask him very politely where he got the things."
    "And then Mommy will buy them," Cheryl added. "Jerry, what a good idea. You are a very smart young man."
    "Then can I have another cookie?"
    Cheryl burst out laughing and hugged both of them.
    Slowly and carefully, eyes averted, Rachel folded the quilt.

two
    The black plastic bag Rachel was carrying when she left the shop that afternoon wasn't the trash bag. Tony had taken possession of that one after Rachel had folded the quilts neatly into a carton. From the careful way he handled it she assumed he meant to have it examined for fingerprints, though it didn't seem likely an identifiable print could have survived Cheryl's two-handed grip.
    Rachel's bag held less intriguing items—a motley collection of linens from box-lots bought at auctions and yard sales that had failed to meet Cheryl's high standards. Kara had superb taste,