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my patronage.”
    “Do I have another rival for your affections? Someone who knows how to make truffles? That will be a hard act to compete with.”
    “James is just a friend. He’s actually a friend of a friend.”
    “Who clearly wants to be more if that’s what he gives you after you eat at his place.”
    “Could we just drop it?” Harriet asked as she led the way back into the kitchen and filled the coffeemaker carafe with water.
    “Sure, whatever you say.” Tom sat down at the bar and watched as she emptied the water into the tank of the coffee machine.
    “What brings you to our fair town?” Harriet asked, trying for a light tone and falling just short.
    “The sixties festival committee asked me to bring some stuff from Mom’s school,” he said, referring to the folk art school his mother had operated in Angel Harbor. “One of the ladies had taken pottery classes there and knew Mom had a collection of pots from when she first opened the place. They offered me a table in the vendor area to advertise the school in exchange for bringing them, so I agreed.”
    “So, you’ll be around for the whole festival?” she asked.
    “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He sounded hurt.
    “No!” She reached across the bar and put her hand on his arm. “I like having you around. Don’t mind me, I’m just in a bad mood.”
    “Do you want to tell me about it?” Tom took her other hand, drawing her toward him. When his face was inches from hers, he leaned in and kissed her gently on the lips. “Let me make it better.”
    “You already have.” Harriet smiled and pulled her hand from his. She poured coffee into two mugs and gave him one. “Do you have a costume?” she asked, changing the subject.
    “As a matter of fact, I do. Mom was a bit of a hoarder when it came to clothes—she had plenty of storage space at the school, so I guess she figured ‘Why not?’ Lucky for me, she saved choice items from my dad’s wardrobe, too. I’ve got several pairs of bell bottoms, a white patent leather boot-and-belt combo, and a sweet baby-blue leisure suit.”
    “I see you’ve been growing your hair out, too.”
    “It’s driving me crazy. Enjoy my luscious locks while you can,” he said and ran his hands through his hair. “I’m getting it buzzed as soon as this is all over.”
    “Buzzed? Really?”
    “Well, maybe not that short, but the locks are leaving.” He took a sip of coffee. “You sure make a mean cup of coffee, for someone who drinks so much tea.”
    “Thank you, I think,” Harriet said and then proceeded to fill him in on all the plans her community had made for the festival.
    “Can we meet for lunch or dinner while I’m here?” he asked when they’d exhausted the topic.
    Harriet paused.
    “Forget I asked. I told you I wouldn’t pressure you about our relationship, and I won’t.”
    “It’s not you,” she said.
    “Aiden’s making this way too easy. Maybe you’ll decide you can tell me about whatever it is that’s got you so upset. And don’t try to tell me it’s nothing. I can see something’s happened, and it doesn’t take a psychic to figure out Aiden was involved.”
    “I’m not talking about Aiden with you, but we can do lunch. I have to figure out what all my work shifts are going to be at the show. I’ll have to let you know.”
    “Fair enough,” he said. “I’ve got to go deliver my pots.” H e stood up, and she joined him. “Enjoy the flowers.”
    “Thank you,” Harriet said. “I’m being rude. It was very kind of you to bring them to me.”
    “You’re very welcome.” He leaned in and gave her another quick kiss before turning and going out the door.
    “Well, Fred,” she said when the door had closed behind Tom. “ He’s good for your mama’s bruised ego.”

Chapter 8
    “Let me get this straight,” Harriet said as she drove her carload of Loose Threads to the exhibit. “We have to hang some of the quilts in the auditorium where the music and