Chapter Twenty-One
Then she heard it ... a light tapping on the door. She slid off the bed and padded into the living room, feeling disoriented after the nap. A quick glance at the clock showed it was 5:45 and that she’d slept much later than she’d intended. Beatrice groaned. She should have set an alarm.
She carefully looked out the window to see who was outside her door. It was Gwen, carrying what appeared to be a tremendous pile of clearly vintage quilts. A peace offering? Had she gotten over her pique from the quilt meeting then?
Beatrice hesitated only for a second. She did still need to speak with Gwen. And she was bearing quilts, apparently for the history. Just to be on the safe side, she hurried into the kitchen and reached into a drawer for a knife, which she stuck into her pa
