Stitches in Time Read Online Free PDF

“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.”
    â€œThanks. I’ll be careful, I promise. I know how to do it, you showed me.”
    â€œJust 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?”
    â€œNeither,” said her husband. He was also familiar with that particular dimple.
    â€œOh, 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—”
    â€œWe know who left it.”
    â€œNo, we don’t. That’s just your guess.”
    â€œNot 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, slightlyrasping tone, the way his fingers tugged at the end of his mustache.
    â€œWell, what am I supposed to do with the stuff?” Cheryl demanded. “I’m not running a free storage locker.”
    â€œWould you buy it?”
    â€œIf we could agree on a fair price. I’ve never cheated anybody in my life.”
    â€œI didn’t mean—”
    â€œI 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.”
    â€œAnd then Mommy will buy them,” Cheryl added. “Jerry, what a good idea. You are a very smart young man.”
    â€œThen 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, but she was an auction freak and couldn’t resist a bargain. Usually there would be one or two items in the collection that justified the price she had paid; she and Cheryl sold the rest to other dealers. Vintage fabrics, even fragments, were in demand by quilt makers, doll collectors and craftspeople.
    Joe, the eldest of Cheryl’s three children, arrived home from school in time to help Rachel carry the bag to her car. He wasn’t Tony’s son—Cheryl’s first husband had died when Joe was four—but Tony treated him like his own, and Joe adored his stepfather, though of course he wouldnever have been unmanly enough to say so. He was twelve, a skinny towhead with an enormous appetite and a