LITMIR.BIZ

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      They lingered on the porch. Katherine had beautiful greenish eyes and clear skin. She’s quite pretty, Vivian realized with surprise.

      ‘Betty used to sit out here all the time,’ Katherine said a little wistfully, ‘working on her needlepoint or crocheting.’

      ‘Really?’

      ‘She used to throw bread to the birds, just like a regular old lady.’ Katherine laughed and Vivian joined in, as though old age was something they’d never have to worry about. She already felt comfortable around Katherine. She was easy to be with.

      The kitchen was cool and dark. Katherine sat at the table and Vivian poured lemonade into two of Grandma Gardiner’s glasses.

      ‘Betty was a sweet lady,’ Katherine said. ‘Always served me something. Just like you.’

      ‘How did you meet her?’

      ‘At a quilting class they had down at the high school. Max, my husband, thought it would be nice for me to have a hobby. I’ve never been one for sewing, but I thought it sounded alright.’

      ‘I’m no good at things like that,’ Vivian said.

      ‘What kind of women are we?’ She laughed. ‘But quilts are nice, right? I figured it might be fun to choose the pieces of fabric from things I had laying around the house, saving for God-knows-what. Like the dress I wore when I graduated from high school, or the kitchen curtains from our first apartment. When I started putting things together, pulling a shirt from here and an old sheet from there, it was real interesting.’

      ‘Things you had forgotten you had,’ Vivian ventured.

      Katherine nodded, leaning back so the chair made a crackling sound. ‘Going through those things was like looking through a photo album. Sometimes I’d sit with an old skirt or something, just feeling the fabric and remembering the way it felt to wear it. Quilting brings up memories as much as anything.’

      ‘I never thought of it that way,’ Vivian said, ‘and now I’m remembering all of the old clothes and things I probably have stored in boxes, tucked away and forgotten.’

      ‘It’s amazing what we keep lying around. The quilting class seemed like a good way to put some of it to use.’

      ‘So Mrs Gardiner was in the same class?’

      Katherine nodded. ‘She was the sweetest woman. The first night, she brought a big box of fabric and we reminisced over it.’

      Vivian thought guiltily about the box of sewing things and fabric swatches she had taken out to the trash that very morning. She wondered if it was still undamaged underneath the rest of the garbage. ‘Did she use all of her fabrics in the quilt?’

      Katherine laughed. ‘Neither of us did. We both realized we liked sitting around shooting the breeze more than we liked the sewing, so we quit the class. Besides, working with those women was like being in the military. The first week, the woman who elected herself leader of the group gave us an outline of how each meeting should go. They didn’t do any sewing the first three weeks, just sat around discussing the theme of the quilt, and looking over samples people brought in.’

      ‘Sounds pretty boring.’

      ‘I guess that’s how you do it, but I swear, it just seemed like a lot of nonsense to sew a blanket. If I ever did a quilt I would want it to be just mine. I don’t want to sew all my precious scraps together with strangers’.’

      ‘Did Mrs Gardiner like doing crafts and things?’

      ‘Normally, yes. I was a bad influence on her as far as that class goes.’ Katherine fluttered her fingers at Vivian. ‘We kept talking about doing our own quilts, but when I came to visit we’d usually get to talking about other things.’

      They sat quietly for a few moments while the shade enveloped them.

      ‘Betty was a nice woman,’ Katherine repeated. ‘Didn’t have many visitors, except her son every now and then. Before he passed, I mean.’

      ‘Her son?’

      ‘Yes, Sherman.’

      Vivian shook her head. ‘Nowell’s father. I don’t think he came out here much. He lived about four hours away.’

      ‘From what Betty said, he came regular as rain, several times a year. She was real proud of him, always talked about how successful he was and those two tall sons of his.’

      Nowell had told Vivian that his grandmother was stubborn and difficult and they hadn’t come to see her much. Even though he lived farther away than the rest, Nowell felt guilty for not visiting, especially now that she was gone and had left them both money and the house. Between the insurance settlement, the grandfather’s pension and Social Security, Grandma Gardiner had amassed quite an inheritance for her family. She divided the money equally between her three children: Nowell’s father and his two sisters, neither of whom had any children. Which left Nowell’s mother in charge of their third since Sherman was deceased.

      ‘What’s that for?’ Katherine asked.

      Vivian followed the direction of her gaze. Katherine was looking at the thick sheet that Nowell had hung, curtain-like, to divide his study from the kitchen. ‘My husband works on his writing in there.’

      ‘Is he working now?’

      ‘He works most of the day.’

      ‘I think I’ll just say hello.’

      Before Vivian could stop her, Katherine jumped up from the table, crossed the tile floor and flung back the curtain with the zest of discovery. ‘We meet again, Mr Gardiner!’

      Nowell looked over from his position in front of the window. He appeared to be looking outside, taking a break from the computer. Vivian expected him to be annoyed, but he smiled. ‘I thought I heard someone out there. Hello again.’

      Katherine gestured and her bracelets clinked together. ‘This sheet doesn’t block much noise, I would imagine.’

      ‘No, it doesn’t,’ he said, ‘but it makes me feel sequestered.’

      ‘It’s all in appearances, isn’t it, the things we let ourselves believe?’

      Nowell made a move to join them, but Katherine waved him off. ‘No, you get back to your work,’ she said. ‘I just wanted to say hello. I thought I might take your wife into town, if she’s interested.’

      ‘That’s a good idea. I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.’

      Katherine took one look around the room, made a quick inventory, then let the curtain fall back. ‘So, what about it? Want to ride into town with me?’

      ‘I don’t know,’ Vivian gestured to her swimsuit. ‘I’ve been outside sweating.’

      ‘I’ll wait while you shower. I don’t mind.’ Katherine took her glass to the sink and rinsed it, as comfortable in the kitchen as though she’d been there a thousand times. ‘I thought I’d take you around and show you the hardware store, the crafts place. Your husband said you’d be doing some work around the house. I swear, it’s all I can do to keep my own place from falling into decay and ruin. It’s a big job, keeping a house going. Poor Betty was a hard worker, but her sight and energy were giving out. You should have seen how she kept this place before then. Neat as a pin, as they say.’

      ‘You’re sure you don’t mind waiting?’ Vivian asked.

      ‘Not at all. I’ll just sit out front for a while, see if those birds still come around.’

      ‘It’s very nice of you to take me. I’ve been avoiding driving that huge truck.’

      Katherine looked down at Vivian and then through the screen door at the old red truck. She shook her head, eyes gleaming. ‘Ain’t that just the way with men?’

      4

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