A Wild Goose Chase Christmas: Quilts of Love Series (8 page)

“You don’t understand how hard it is for me,” her mother continued. “She never wanted me around when she was alive, so why would she want me going through her things now that she’s gone?”

“I know you and Gran had a complicated relationship. But no matter what problems you had, she loved you. And I love you. But right now, I have to go.”
And clean up the mess you left for me.
Izzy kissed her mother on the forehead and headed for the door.

“Izzy.”

She turned around. Mom looked so pitiful, but the look on her face was hopeful, like she had something earth-shattering to say. “What, Mom?”

“Do you know when Brandon’s going to get here?”

Izzy’s shoulders drooped. “No. But I’ll call him on my way out.”

“Well now, this is a surprise.”

The smile on Virgil’s face gave Izzy the emotional boost she’d hoped for.

“I told you I’d come visit.” She held out a white bakery bag. “And I brought you something.”

He opened it, looked inside, then took a good long whiff. “Ah. Fresh brownies. How did you know?”

Izzy shrugged. “I guessed. Gran used to tell me how hard it was to get something sweet here, so I’d bring her treats. Those were her favorite.” She didn’t think it was necessary to tell him that, despite witnessing him devour a Mallo Cup yesterday, she’d checked with the duty nurse first to make sure he was allowed to have sweets. No need to make him think she was part of the Big Brother syndicate.

“Bravo for getting them past enemy lines.” He winked and put the bag on the table beside him. “I’ll eat them after dinner, if I can wait that long.” He sat back, interlocking his fingers across his stomach. “How’s your mother feeling?”

“Not great. But she’ll survive.”

Virgil smiled. “And so will you.”

“I don’t know,” she said with a chuckle. “We haven’t lived under the same roof in a very long time. Once she moves in, you may hear the explosion all the way over here.”

“It can’t be that bad. Besides, Thanksgiving is just a few days away. That should help smooth things over.”

“It’ll probably just make it worse. This will be our first Thanksgiving without Gran.”

“I take it she presided over the holidays.”

Sadness pinged through Izzy’s heart. “She did. She and my mom barely spoke the rest of the year, but on Thanksgiving, we all got together, no matter what. Gran cooked a big meal and afterward we decorated her Christmas tree.” The thought of being in the house on Thanksgiving without Gran pushed all the air from her lungs. How would she do it this year? “It’s all on me now. And I’m a terrible cook.”

Virgil patted her hand. “You’re probably better than you think. But you could always resort to having a traditional Logan family Thanksgiving celebration.”

“And what’s that?”

“Heading over to Denny’s.”

Her eyes grew wide. “You’re not serious.”

“As a heart attack.” He nodded sharply. “On Thanksgiving, that’s exactly where you’ll find Max and me, enjoying a hearty turkey dinner with all the fixin’s.” He winked. “And none of the cleanup afterward.”

No cleanup. The idea had merit. But then she remembered her mother’s tirade about the hospital chicken and decided against it. No one else deserved to be subjected to that at Thanksgiving.

A knock sounded at the door. Virgil looked over his shoulder and called out. “Come in!”

The door opened and a young nurse with a perky blond bob poked her head through. “Excuse me, Virgil. I heard Izzy was with you.”

“She’s right here, Laura. Come in.”

“That’s OK. I don’t want to interrupt.” She shifted her gaze to Izzy. “Whenever you’re ready, come get me. I can give you a hand.”

“Thanks.” Izzy smiled as Laura backed out and shut the door behind her.

Virgil’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t come here just to see me, did you?”

“You caught me. I have to clear out Gran’s room.”

He nodded slowly. “I see.”

“But I really did want to talk to you. And before I go, there’s something else I want to ask you.” She leaned forward, elbow to knees. “It’s about the quilt.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

Virgil laughed. “I don’t know if I have the strength for everything. Remember, I’m not as young as you are. Why don’t you tell me what you want to know first?”

Izzy leaned back, thinking. “I don’t understand how Gran could have owned something like that and never showed it to me. Do you have any idea how she got it?”

“I do.” Virgil nodded slowly. “It had been in her attic for years and years, only she didn’t know it.”

“When did she find it?”

“A few months before she moved in here.”

“That was right before she added my name to the house deed.”

“She didn’t want to burden you with a bunch of her old things when she was gone. So she hired a man from her church to help her sort through them. She had no idea the trunk was in the attic until he brought it down.”

“And that’s where she found the quilt?”

“Exactly.”

Izzy nibbled on the inside of her lip. All this time, she’d thought the quilt was something Gran had grown up with, and that’s what made it special. So why all the secrecy? Why did she include it with the things she brought to Vibrant Vistas but never mention it to Izzy? Why did she need to have it with her?

The provenance.

“Virgil, did Gran say if she found anything else with the quilt? Letters, diaries maybe?”

He frowned and looked away, focusing on something in the corner of the room. “Now that you mention it, I think she did.” His shoulders drooped and he slowly looked back at Izzy. “I’m tired. I think I’d like to take a nap.”

Biting back disappointment, Izzy rose from her chair. “That’s my cue to leave. Can I help you with anything first?”

“No, I’m fine.” He waved her off. “Just not as energetic as I used to be.”

Izzy patted him on the shoulder as she walked by. She was almost out the door when he called to her.

“Izzy?”

“Yes?” Had he remembered something important about Gran? About the quilt?

“Thanks again for the brownies.”

She pursed her lips and smiled. “My pleasure. I’ll see you later.”

Pulling the door shut behind her, she told herself not to be disappointed. She could always come back to see Virgil. And maybe, just maybe, Gran’s room would yield some clues. Maybe even the missing documentation. Why hadn’t she thought of that before?

With renewed enthusiasm, she set off down the hall, certain she was about to find what she was looking for.

9

S
he hadn’t found a thing in Gran’s room. Nothing helpful, anyway.

There were a lot of mementos, knickknacks that meant something to her just because they meant something to Gran. But no diaries with cracked leather bindings, no bundles of old correspondence tied together with a faded satin ribbon, nothing to give her any hint about the history of the Wild Goose Chase quilt. And now, she didn’t have the time to think about it.

From the living room, a bell tinkled. Bogie barked.

“Izzy!”

Bogie continued barking. A second later, the bell rang again, louder this time.

Instead of answering the way she really wanted, Izzy bit back a groan and called out as sweetly as possible, “Just a second!”

When the nurse at the hospital suggested giving her mother a bell, it had seemed like a good idea. That way Janice wouldn’t have to yell whenever she needed something. Izzy hadn’t realized that not only would Mom continue to yell, she would also ring the bell for any little thing. And every time the bell rang, Bogie would bark.

Mom had been in her home for a mere three hours and Izzy was already on the verge of a major blowout. How would she handle two months of this?

Forcing a smile, she went into the living room, shushing Bogie along the way. “Are you OK, Mom? What do you need?”

From her spot on the couch, Janice looked up. With her right arm in a sling and her cast-covered right leg supported by strategically placed cushions, she looked about as pathetic as Izzy had ever seen her. “Water.”

“You still have almost a full glass right there.” Izzy pointed to the coffee table she’d moved into a convenient position for Janice to put everything she needed: drinks and snacks, the TV remote, her magazines, and that stupid bell.

Janice eyed the glass and wrinkled her nose. “It’s not cold anymore.”

Izzy picked it up and looked down. “There’s still ice in it.”

“Not much. It’s almost all melted. Because it’s not cold anymore.”

“OK. I’ll get you fresh water. Would you like anything else?”

“Maybe some crackers. Do you have Ritz?”

“Yes. Is that all?”

“That’s plenty.” Janice smiled and used her good hand to pull the blanket up higher on her chest. “You know I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Oh, I know.” She turned and walked to the kitchen, lips pursed together.

The phone rang and she snatched it from its cradle. The number on the display wasn’t familiar, but right now she’d even talk to a telemarketer if it would provide a few minutes of distraction. “Hello?”

“Izzy, it’s Brandon.”

“Brandon?” She looked down at the display again then put the receiver back to her ear. “Where are you calling from?”

“My cell.” He sounded out of breath, like he was in a hurry. “I lost my phone and had to get a new one.”

She wedged the receiver between her ear and shoulder and began searching the pantry for crackers. “Why did you change your number?”

“I decided to go with a new carrier.”

“But couldn’t they get you your old number?”

“Seriously, Izzy, do we have to play twenty questions?”

He barked out the words and she froze with the box of Ritz in her hand. “Sorry. I was just curious. Since you’re obviously busy, tell me why you called.”

He sighed, but didn’t bother apologizing. “I need a favor.”

Of course he did. “What?”

“Is Mom’s car still at your house?”

“It’s in the driveway.”

“Great. Can I borrow it for a few days?”

Izzy was tempted to ask the caller to verify his name to make sure someone other than Brandon hadn’t accidentally dialed her number. Instead, she took the risk of asking more questions. “Why would you want to do that?”

“The Coop’s having engine trouble, but I don’t have time to take it to the shop.”

“Can’t you drive one of your other cars?”

More sighing came from Brandon’s side of the phone. “It’s not that simple. Can I borrow the car or not?”

If it was anybody else, Izzy would have asked her mother first. But she knew what the answer would be. “Of course. Does that mean you’re coming over now?”

“Yeah. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

She reached into the freezer and grabbed the ice-cube tray. “Great. There’s a casserole in the fridge you can heat up for
dinner.” The silence of his reply didn’t engender confidence. “You do remember you promised to stay with her for a while tonight, don’t you?”

“Was that tonight? I don’t know—”

“Brandon, don’t you dare back out on me.”

“Is that Brandon?” Janice called out from the other room.

“Yeah, Mom,” Izzy called over her shoulder.

“Let me talk to him.”

“Just a second.” She thumped the glass in her hand on the counter, sloshing icy water over the rim. Now that she had a free hand, she held the receiver with it and pressed it against her mouth as she moved deeper into the kitchen. “Listen, Brandon. I’ve got a very important meeting at four o’clock, so I need you to be here in half an hour, just like you said. And I need you to stay with her for a few hours and feed her dinner. Or else.”

He snorted. “Or else what?”

“Or else you don’t get the keys to her car.”

If not for the breathing on the other end of the line, she would have thought he had hung up. “Fine.” He spat out the syllable as if it were a bitter pill dissolving on his tongue. “But I want to park the Coop in your garage.”

“Fine. I’ll leave the door up for you.”

He hung up without saying good-bye. Izzy set down the receiver, picked up the glass of water and the plate full of crackers, and went into the living room.

“Where’s the phone?” Janice asked.

Shoot. Brandon had been acting so weird that Izzy forgot Mom wanted to talk to him. “He hung up. But he’s on his way over and he’s going to stay with you while I go out for a bit.”

Her mother was so pleased by the idea of a visit from Brandon that she even said thank you when Izzy set down the snack. After five minutes of pillow fluffing and helping her find something good to watch on television, Izzy made the
excuse that she had to get ready for her meeting and headed back to her room.

Sitting on her bed, she looked down at the Wild Goose Chase quilt. The fabric appeared so fragile that she was afraid it would fall apart if she handled it too much. So it remained folded up in the box, just as it had been when Virgil gave it to her. Now, she dared to touch it.

With the tip of one finger, she traced the triangular shapes running after one another. On the section she could see, there were four rows of triangles, but they didn’t all head in the same direction. The first and third rows went one way while the second and fourth rows went the other. It was a striking effect, although she imagined seeing the whole quilt would be dizzying. So many different fabrics, too. Many of them looked as though they’d come from dresses. They were in reds, blues, and creams, with tiny flower patterns. Some of the striped patterns made her think of men’s shirts. Had the fabric come from scraps left over after sewing those garments? Or were the dresses and shirts themselves cut up after they wore out? As Max had said, what a story this quilt could tell. No wonder he wanted to get his hands on it.