He shuffled into Garland’s kitchen the next morning and gave her a wide smile as he shook her hand. Only after they had been chatting for a few minutes did she notice that the smile never reached his eyes. He refused coffee and pulled out a battered notebook. “Your fame precedes you, Mrs. Durrell. My wife—” Garland sighed. “She belongs to the Mattaquason Women’s Club, right?” He chuckled. “She did say you looked pretty embarrassed standing on that chair. So tell me about your quilting. Do you have formal training or is it a hobby? I hear the show in August will be your first.” “I’m working on a Master of Fine Arts degree, but quilting’s my hobby as well. I’d love to talk about it with you, Mr. Barnes, but I had thought you were here to learn about the people I found on the beach. At least, that’s why Rob Mowbray called you. Isn’t that a more important story than my quilts?” He cleared his throat. “Oh, absolutely. I just thought I’d…you know, get facts for both stories.
