Harriet went into the larger of the two classrooms. Classes are an integral part of a successful craft store, and Marjory kept hers busy most afternoons and evenings with fabric-buying students and stitching groups with names like “Mumm Club” and “Peaceful Piecers."

"Hi, Jenny,” Harriet greeted her friend as she came in and sat down. “How's your binding coming?"

They discussed the pros and cons of single layer versus double layer bindings until Mavis Willis arrived, followed by Connie Escorcia. At seventy, Mavis was the oldest member of The Loose Threads. She had tightly curled hair that in its prime had been copper-colored but had faded to a rusty grey. Mavis was a handpiecer-after cutting the fabric pieces that would make up her block, she did all her stitching by hand.

Her current project was an intricate series of triangles that formed a kaleidoscope pattern in shades of straw and khaki and putty, with connecting squares in a walnut color that stopped just short of orange. She was making it for her oldest son's birthday. Having raised five sons who had produced fourteen grandchildren, she was always working on something for a birthday or confirmation or some other occasion.

Harriet could hear Connie before she arrived in the room. Her laughter was infectious.

"Honey, I'm home,” she called out as she entered the shop. “Where is everyone?"

"Back here,” Harriet answered.

"What are you two doing sitting around?” she said and popped her head into the classroom. “There's new fabric out there. Come on, let's check it out."

Jenny and Harriet looked at each other, shrugged and got up to look at fabric. Hurricane Connie was a force to be reckoned with.