“I don’t think this is what Mavis has in mind,” she scolded him as she organized the squares by color again.

“What didn’t Mavis have in mind?” the woman herself asked as she swept into the studio, her coat flapping in the breeze.

“I was just talking to Fred-he decided to rearrange our fabric. I’ve got one more color to cut if you have time to wait. Aiden came by for a few minutes, so I’m a little behind schedule.”

“I’ve got a few minutes,” Mavis said as she shrugged out of her coat. “I’m not due at Connie’s for another hour, so take your time. Did your aunt call you? And I could use a cup of tea.

“No, was she going to?”

“Well, after I give Connie her pieces, we’ll have three quilts left to go. Beth was thinking we could meet here, if it was okay with you.”

“Of course it’s okay-it’s her studio.”

“Was her studio,” Mavis corrected. “She gave it to you, and she’s trying to respect that.”

“It’s not like she gave it to me and I turned it into a beauty parlor or moved to Mars or something. I am part of the Loose Threads. At least, I was last time I checked.”

“Like I say, she’s trying to respect your autonomy.”

“Okay, whatever. The studio is free, and so am I. Aiden’s having dinner with his sister.”

“That sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

“Everyone’s told him that, but he can’t say no to her. He says I’d understand if I wasn’t an only child.”

“Well, sister or not, that girl’s poison, if you ask me.”

“You’re preaching to the choir,” Harriet said as she folded a piece of brown plaid flannel and spread it carefully on her cutting mat.

Mavis unplugged the electric kettle and carried it toward the kitchen.

“I’m going to get some fresh water, if you don’t mind,” she said as she went through the connecting door to Harriet’s kitchen. She returned a few minutes later and plugged in the now-full kettle. “Connie has another idea for us.” She pulled a stool to the opposite side of the cutting table and eased herself carefully onto it.