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  "Oh, my goodness,” Patience said. “Where has the time gone? Thank you all for bearing with us today. I'm sure Selestina will be back teaching before we know it.” She turned to go then stopped and turned back. “Don't forget there will be a pottery exhibition in Building A starting at six-thirty."

  Harriet put her hooped piece on the table and started clearing her space. Carla made a few more tiny stitches then buried her thread. She held her work in front of her and looked at her perfect feather.

  "Look at that,” Harriet said, leaning closer to look at the even stitching. “You may have found your true calling here. Good work."

  Carla's face turned so red, Harriet was afraid she was going to have to call the paramedics. “Thank you,” she mumbled.

  "Let's go see what the others have been up to,” Harriet suggested.

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  Chapter Ten

  "Your young man has been looking for you,” Mavis said as Harriet and Carla came into the kitchenette. Harriet looked around to see who she was talking to.

  "Don't look at me,” Sarah said, and put her hands up as if to block an attack. “Besides, he's older than me so he would never be my young man."

  Harriet rounded on her, but before she could speak, Mavis thrust a piece of paper into her hand. “Here, he left you a note and his number. You'll have to use the house phone. I tried my cell phone when I got back to see if Beth has turned up any information about the quilt Lauren copied, and there was no reception."

  "Has Beth found out anything?” Harriet asked.

  "I haven't called yet. I didn't want to make a toll call on the Art Center phone without asking. I'll go up to the office after dinner. Now, I'm going to go put my feet up. You call Aiden."

  Harriet looked at the message. “If you want to join me for the pottery exhibition and then dinner afterward,” it said, “leave me a message and say what time and where you want to meet. I'll be in surgery until 6."

  "Does he want us to make charity quilts for the pets?” Sarah asked. “We used to make them for the clinic all the time before Dr. Earp retired.” Her tone indicated it was unthinkable Aiden would be calling Harriet for any other reason.

  The internal debate Harriet had been having with herself ended.

  "He wants me to meet him for dinner,” she said, and felt like a schoolgirl answering a rival's taunts.

  "Whatever,” Sarah said, and stormed out.

  Harriet picked up the house phone and dialed the number Aiden had written in the note. She was surprised when a woman answered, but left her message anyway—six-thirty, in front of Pavilion A.

  She looked at the ceramic wall clock that hung on the wall above the small sink. She had almost an hour and a half before she had to meet Aiden. That should allow for a quick nap and a shower.

  A thirty-minute power nap was all the rest she allowed herself. She laid out her clothing options on DeAnn's vacant bed and wished once again she hadn't put off clothes shopping. Truthfully, she didn't regret not going shopping—she regretted the fact that clothing hadn't magically appeared in her closet.

  She finally decided that nothing with a hood was appropriate, which left a moss-green sweatshirt that zipped up the front she could wear with black jeans and a white T-shirt. She stopped by Robin's room for approval, having long since realized the older members of the Loose Threads were likely to tell her anything looked good on her, while Sarah and Lauren would assure her that nothing really worked with her figure and hair.

  Robin told her she looked fine and spritzed her with an aromatherapy spray allegedly guaranteed to give her confidence. Harriet was pretty sure the only thing it was guaranteed to do was attract mosquitoes, but she thanked her and left for Pavilion A.

  She ended up standing on the steps to Pavilion A a full ten minutes early. She was still standing there forty minutes later when she spotted the Loose Threads coming through the woods. She scrambled up the steps and into the entrance of the ceramics building.

  The hallway to the right was lined with display pedestals, each holding a large pottery bowl of some kind. Niches had been cut into the wall every three or four feet, creating a series of lighted display shelves for smaller pieces—in this case, assorted vases. She pretended to study the exhibits until her friends stepped into the hall then dived through the nearest open doorway.

  She shut the door quietly and turned around. Tom Bainbridge sat at a table with a man in a charcoal-gray suit, white shirt and a yellow club tie. The guy had that muscle-bound look that said he spent more time in the gym than around a conference table, but who was she to judge?

  When Tom saw Harriet he scooped the papers they had been looking at into a pile and handed them to the other man as he got to his feet. “Can you give me a ball park figure by Friday?"

  "Sure. I can probably give you an estimate before Friday.” The other man slid the papers into his black leather briefcase, stood up and shook Tom's hand and left.

  "I'm so sorry,” Harriet said with an involuntary glance around her feet, searching for a hole to crawl into. “I was trying to find the main part of the exhibition."

  "Oh. You just continue on around the hallway, and you can't miss it. It's in the first big room with windows.” He swung his arm in an arc, in the general direction she'd just come from. “I suspect you already knew that, however, since all our buildings are round and you pretty much can't miss if you follow the hall."

  "I'm sorry,” she stammered. “I thought I could cut through a classroom and get there more directly.” Her face was flaming hot.

  "Let's try this again. Who are you hiding from?” Tom sat on the edge of his table.

  "Is it that obvious?"

  "It's been my experience that people don't usually close a door with that much care unless they are trying to avoid detection. So, tell me, do you have an angry stalker? Or maybe a quilting rival?"

  Harriet pulled out the nearest chair and sat down.

  "I'm afraid it's nothing that exciting. It is embarrassing, though, which is why I'm hiding from my friends."

  Tom dragged over a chair and sat down opposite her, taking her hand.

  "It can't be that bad,” he said “You can tell Uncle Tommy. Come on, you'll feel better."

  "I'm not sure how publicly confessing my social ineptness is going to make me feel better."

  "Try it and see,” he urged with a wolfish grin.

  "You're right, this evening can't get any worse.” She proceeded to tell him about being stood up, and how her rational mind knew Aiden had probably gotten stuck in surgery, but that her irrational mind didn't want to be seen by Sarah or Lauren, both of whom knew she was supposed to be meeting Aiden and both of whom would not be able to resist making a comment.

  "See? Don't you feel better?"

  "No, I feel foolish, and I feel awful for dumping my silly problems on you when your mother is in the hospital. How is she doing, by the way?"

  "I think the jury is still out on that. Her cardiologist isn't sure what's going on with her heart. Apart, that is, from her being seventy-five years old and still working at a demanding business. She was awake and insisted I come take care of business. Her doctor is hoping to know more tomorrow when they get some of her test results back."

  "I'm sorry,” Harriet said.

  "I've tried to get her to slow down a little, maybe hire another assistant, but she insists she and Patience can handle things."

  "Maybe she'll listen to you now."

  "I doubt it, but one can hope. Now, back to your problem. Why don't you let me show you the exhibit? I'm sure your friends won't say anything in front of me. And then maybe you could join me for a late dinner."

  "I'd love to have a tour of the exhibit, but I should call Aiden after that and see if he finished at the clinic. He's probably starving if he's been in surgery all this time."

  "Fair enough,” he said. “I'll take whatever time I can with the lovely lady.” He smiled his rakish smile at her. She had to admit he was charmin
g. “Now, let me show you a real shortcut,” he said and led her to the opposite side of the room and through a door that opened into the central supply room. He turned left as he guided her across a circular space and through another door into the large windowed room that held the main exhibit.

  "This first section features work by a group of advanced students who worked with experimental glazes,” he said and pointed to an array of four-inch tiles artfully arranged on a pale green wall. They ranged from finely textured pastel colors to ones that looked like pieces of wet stone. “These bowls,” he said, and gestured toward a dozen bowls on a tabletop, each of which sat on a color-coordinated hand-woven mat, “are from a throwing technique class. Notice how thin they are—the more skilled the potter, the thinner the wall of the bowl."

  "These are amazing,” Harriet said. “How do—"

  Before she could finish, Tom pulled her around a free-standing display wall, turning her away from the crowd and putting his arm around her shoulders. The momentum jostled her into the back of a tall man who was looking at a free-form piece on a wooden pedestal.

  "Excuse me,” Harriet apologized.

  And turned to find herself looking into the ice-blue eyes of Aiden Jalbert.

  "I'm sorry,” Tom explained, “your friends were coming around the corner."

  "I assumed you were too busy to call,” Aiden said. “I can see I was right."

  "Why aren't you in surgery?” Harriet demanded.

  The muscle in Aiden's jaw tensed.

  "Have you seen enough? I'm hungry,” said a tall, slender blonde with a pixie haircut and gold pirate hoop earrings. She had a little girl's voice and was wearing black-and-white striped tights and a strip of leather that might have been a skirt. She looped her arm through Aiden's and pulled him toward the door. He turned as he went and looked back at Harriet, the hurt plain on his face.

  "I'm guessing that was your date?” Tom said.

  Harriet nodded. She stood rooted in place, looking at the door.

  "Come on,” Tom said, and pulled her through yet another door into the center room. “Let's go get something to eat."

  The shock of seeing Aiden with the blonde prevented her from protesting. By the time she could speak, she was already outside, following him down a wooded path that led to a gravel parking lot.

  "I think I want to go back to the Tree House,” she said.

  "Do you really think facing your friends back there and trying to explain what happened is going to be easier on an empty stomach?” he asked. “Besides, wouldn't you rather come home late from a date with a mysterious stranger and keep them guessing?"

  "When you put it that way, how can I refuse?"

  "That's what I thought.” He opened the passenger door of a black Ford Explorer.

  He pulled out of the parking lot and followed the access road off the school property. When they reached the crossroad, he turned toward Angel Harbor.

  "What kind of food do you feel like?” he asked as they approached the downtown area.

  "I'm not really hungry,” Harriet said in a flat tone. A small voice in her head was telling her she should have known better than to trust a man again. Her husband Steve had lied to her. Look where that had gotten him. He was dead. She'd sworn she was never going to trust a man again, hadn't she?

  "Italian? Wow, that's just what I was thinking,” Tom said as he pulled to the curb.

  When he'd parked, he got out and came around and opened Harriet's door. “Come on, help me out here. If I have to undo your seatbelt I'm going to feel like I'm with my grandmother instead of out on a hot date."

  She finally smiled.

  "What? Was that a smile I saw?” Tom asked hopefully.

  Harriet laughed. “I'm sorry. I'm acting like a sulky teenager, and you're being nothing but charming."

  "Hey, I'll take what I can get. It's not every day a beautiful woman breaks into my business meetings, and a damsel in distress, at that. I'll guarantee that things will seem better by the time dinner is over."

  "I feel better already,” Harriet said and wanted to believe it.

  Tom led her into the restaurant.

  "Hey,” said a dark-haired man with a white cloth apron tied around his waist.

  "Hey, Giovanni. Got a quiet corner where we can drown our sorrows in pasta?"

  "Right this way,” he said with a not-too-subtle wink at Tom.

  "I suppose you come here all the time.” Harriet realized she'd probably be the topic of tomorrow's gossip. At least she didn't know anyone in Angel Harbor.

  "I might have been here a time or two."

  "Please tell me you don't take all your first dates here."

  "Okay, I won't. Tell you, that is.” His eyes danced as he tried not to laugh.

  Harriet sighed. This was turning into a nightmare. “Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.” She started to get up.

  "Fine,” he said. “The truth is, I don't date.” Harriet's discomfort turn to horror. “I'm not married or anything,” he added quickly.

  She sat back down, letting her relief show on her face. She wasn't about to complicate her life by dating someone who was already entangled.

  "I was married,” he continued, “but I've been divorced for two years."

  She was beginning to like him in spite of herself.

  "If it wouldn't be too presumptuous, may I order for both of us?"

  She agreed, and he proceeded to order an antipasto plate and salads made of delicate Italian greens and a light vinaigrette dressing. He added a main course of sea scallops poached in garlic butter with angel hair pasta tossed with capers, sun-dried tomatoes and olive oil. Their meal was accompanied by crusty Italian bread they dipped in extra-virgin olive oil.

  "Okay, it was worth it,” Harriet declared when they were finished.

  "Dessert?"

  "After that, I couldn't eat another bite. And as nice as this has been, I really should get back. I do have class in the morning."

  "I can't talk you into playing hooky?” he teased with a roguish smile.

  "No. Besides, I have to face my friends, and I'd rather do that tonight and get it over with."

  "What kind of friends are these that you have to hide from them and then dread telling them a legitimate problem?"

  "It's not my friends I'm dodging. In any group, you have to take the good with the bad, and there are a couple of people in ours who are ... a bit of a challenge."

  She reached for the bill, but Tom was quicker.

  "Hey, I asked you out, so I get to pay. Besides, what kind of knight in shining armor would I be if I made the damsel pay?"

  "Okay, but I get to pay next time. If there is a next time, that is."

  "I like the sound of that. You've got a deal."

  She excused herself and went to the restroom while he paid. The ladies room had an old-fashioned multi-paned window covered by cafe curtains in a fabric with the red, green and white of the Italian flag. She glanced out through the space between the curtain and the valance.

  The alley was lit with the yellow glare from a lamp at the back of the building. She was about to turn away when she saw two people enter the alley, passing through the bright circle of light cast by the lamp then stopping at a dark door in the building opposite the restaurant. The first person reached in and turned on a light that illuminated the stairway that ascended from the small entry.

  The two people were clearly visible in the light. The second person was Lauren. The one leading the way was the janitor they'd seen talking to her the night before. He was carrying an armload of papers and file folders as he held the door and let Lauren inside.

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  Chapter Eleven

  Harriet was thankful Tom dropped her in the parking lot to the Tree House and let her walk to the door unescorted. She hoped the Loose Threads had turned in early, but as she entered she heard voices coming from the common area.

  "Don't even think of sneaking upstairs without making a full re
port,” Mavis ordered from her perch on one of the leather sofas.

  Harriet surrendered to the unavoidable and went in where they were seated.

  "Sit down,” Connie said. “I'll make you some tea.” She got up and put the kettle on to boil.

  As expected, Lauren was absent, and Harriet was glad to see that Sarah was also.

  "Sarah is helping Patience prep materials for her class tomorrow,” Mavis explained, as if reading her mind. “Carla is taking advantage of the clawfoot tub and the lavender bath salts in the downstairs bathroom. So, talk. What happened, and what was Aiden doing with that blond bimbo?"

  Harriet crossed the room and picked up a pillow from the couch. She carried it to the twig rocking chair and put it against the back then sat down. She knew she wasn't fooling anyone with her stalling tactics, but she needed to gather her thoughts.

  "Start at the beginning,” Connie suggested, and set a steaming cup of Constant Comment on the hearth within reach.

  Harriet recounted the note, her call back and Aiden's failure to show up. She ended with her bumping into him at the pottery exhibit. She left out the part where she'd hidden from them.

  "If he no-showed, where have you been and why weren't you at the pottery show?” Mavis demanded.

  She explained how she had met Tom while looking at the pottery and that he'd asked her to dinner, since Aiden was obviously otherwise occupied.

  "He's cute,” Robin said.

  Mavis glared at her.

  "We ran into him on our walk the other day,” Robin added in self-defense.

  "Shouldn't he be at the hospital with his mother?” Connie asked.

  "He said she wanted him to come make sure the school was surviving in her absence. I didn't think I should refuse his invitation, given the circumstances."

  "Don't even try to make us believe you went out with him out of sympathy,” Mavis said. “You went with that fellow because you were hurt when you saw Aiden with another woman. There could be a completely innocent explanation."