Stitches in Time Read Online Free PDF Page A

and in excellent condition. The fabric is cotton and I don’t see any bad stains. With careful cleaning it will be as good as new. Actually, I couldn’t begin to put a price on it. We’ve only had one other of this type and it wasn’t nearly as fine. Mid-nineteenth century at a guess.”
    â€œHmmm.” Tony stroked the piratical mustache framing his mouth.
    â€œYou think he stole it?” Rachel asked.
    â€œThe circumstances are suspicious, wouldn’t you say? Trash bags have been a blessing to modern thieves. They’re strong, you can cram a lot of stuff into them, and they are a lot less conspicuous than boxes or cartons. He had something on his shabby little conscience or he wouldn’t have bolted when he recognized a cop. Let’s see what else is in there. Carefully, babe; take hold of the bottom and spill it out.”
    Rachel’s skin prickled as she watched Cheryl move slowly backward, tipping the contents of the bag out onto the floor. When it was empty she tossed it aside and straightened with a long breath of relief.
    â€œNo bomb. That was silly of me, wasn’t it?”
    â€œNot these days,” Tony said. “You never know what people will think up next. So what have you got?”
    There were two more bundles. At first glance they appeared to be the same white on white, but when Cheryl unfolded one of them a pattern of colored shapes was visible on the inner surface.
    â€œCarolina Rose.” Now relieved of her apprehension, Cheryl knelt to squint at the quilt. “At least I think that’swhat it is; I’ve never seen this particular variation. Patchwork, with some appliqué and the same exquisite quilting. Look at the way she uses color! Every flower is a different shade, but they blend perfectly.”
    Jerry came over to see what was going on and Rachel picked him up in time to keep him from walking across the quilt. He wriggled, trying to free himself.
    â€œHe’s too heavy for you,” Tony said. “Put him down before he kicks you—quite unintentionally. Jerry, how about another cookie?”
    Cheryl was too preoccupied to comment on this flagrant violation of her rules. “Gosh, this is gorgeous. I’ll bet it was made by the same woman. The pattern was popular during the mid-nineteenth century and the workmanship is almost as fine as the white quilt.”
    She went on crooning and commenting, but Rachel had stopped listening. There was one more bundle on the floor. The thief—the alleged thief—had crammed the quilts roughly into the bag. The third, on the bottom, had suffered most from careless handling and the weight of others on top of it. The fabric was filthy, covered with a peculiarly uniform grayish 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.
    â€œIt’s an album quilt, I guess. Each block has a different pattern—picture, rather, in appliqué. 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—”
    â€œThe hand vacuum.” Cheryl peered at the area Rachel had cleaned.