The Quilt Before the Storm by Arlene Sachitano

you?” said a female voice from the table behind them. Harriet looked up and saw Detective Jane Morse standing in the aisle holding her own dish of flan.
    “Sure, pull up a chair.”
    “Are you ladies ready for the storm?” Jane asked.
    “I’m ready to drive to Harriet’s,” Lauren said. “She has a fireplace, and a gas stove and water heater.”
    “That sounds comfortable,” Jane said and took a bite of her flan. “I’m afraid my apartment has none of those amenities.”
    “My house didn’t start out with all that. My aunt added the propane after a few too many lingering power outages.”
    “The utility guys told me it’s hard to find the faulty power lines when they have to search the feeds that go through the woods,” Jane said.
    The lights in Tico’s flickered but then steadied.
    “That can’t be good,” Lauren said and looked out the window. “The streetlights flickered, too.”
    “I’m supposed to be going to Everett tomorrow for a task force meeting,” Jane said.
    “I don’t envy you that,” Harriet replied. “Will you be driving alone?”
    “No, several of us have to go. I’m worried about getting back. We could be driving right through the worst part of the storm.”
    “Are you meeting about the Interstate Strangler?” Lauren asked.
    “I can’t really say, but you can draw your own conclusions.”
    “I feel guilty that I take comfort we aren’t close to the interstate,” Harriet said.
    “Don’t worry about it, I feel the same way.” Jane smiled. “I was going to call you,” she said to Harriet. “I have a quilt finished, and it needs quilting. It’s for my niece.”
    “Do you need it before Christmas?”
    “No, whenever you can do it is fine. She picked out the fabric three years ago, so she’s not holding her breath waiting. If the power goes out for any length of time, you probably won’t be able to quilt anyway. I have it in the car, if you don’t mind me handing it off here. I’m not sure I’ll have time to bring it to you tomorrow before I leave.”
    “That would be fine, but eat your dessert first. We’re not in a hurry.”
    “We aren’t?” Lauren interjected.
    “Do you have somewhere to be?” Harriet asked.
    “No, but you didn’t know that.”
    Harriet sighed and noticed that Jane was barely suppressing a smile.
    The trio talked about the flannel quilts that had been made for the homeless while they finished their flan.
    “I’ll go get my quilt,” Jane said. “Be right back.”
    “Isn’t she just the chipper one when we aren’t involved in one of her murder cases,” Lauren commented when she was gone.
    “Do you want a cup of tea before we go?” Harriet asked. She knew Jorge kept a good supply on hand in deference to the Loose Threads.
    “My goodness, it’s wet out there,” a slender, middle-aged blonde said as the wind snatched the door from her hand and banged it against the entrance wall. A bearded man in an orange sweatshirt shut it as he followed her in.
    “I parked my big rig in a couple of spaces around back,” he told Jorge. “Is that going to be okay?”
    “Sure. Two for dinner?” He ushered them to a table and poured water into the clean glasses that were already set out. “Would you like some coffee?”
    “That sounds wonderful,” the blonde said. “The heater on the truck broke, and we were going to try to make it all the way to the interstate, but the windows kept fogging up. We’ve been in that cold cab for hours.”
    Jorge brought the hot coffee and took the couple’s food order.
    “Is there a campground around here where we could stay in our truck?” the trucker asked him.
    “Our campgrounds are closed for the winter,” Jane Morse said. She’d returned from her car in time to hear the last request.
    The man introduced himself as Owen Hart and his blond companion simply as Kate. He explained they were long-haul truck drivers and were returning empty after a delivery to Kalaloch on the Washington coast. He