I’m pleased to tell you that today’s three things are from a “science nerd turned quilter who lives near Bristol UK” – known to bloggers as Spockssister. For the sake of this blog’s header (which is not at all cooperative with me) the things are sort of abbreviated. However, in the serial I’m using them as she sent them: microscope, a hand cranked Singer sewing machine, and a large, stupid, but affectionate dog.
Microscope, Sewing Machine, Dog.
As we headed down to the swank party we were greeted by a large, stupid, but affectionate dog. He bounded up to us, tail wagging and tongue lolling. Then he tried to take the torn piece of quilt from my hand. Mona was quick to take the scrap from me, rolled it up and tucked it into her bag. Frankie picked up a stick and gave it a strong throw, which sent the dog happily in pursuit of the game.
Flavio watched as Mona put the memory square away. Like most men, he was mesmerized by the movie star’s every move. “That reminds me of a quilt my ma’s been working on,” he began. “She’s been whipping up all sorts of things since she got this hand cranked Singer sewing machine. Ma called it a ‘double wedding ring’ quilt. She said she’s going to make one for each of us when we get hitched.” Flavio shot a quick hopeful look at Mona. She looked away just as fast. It wasn’t as awkward as it could have been, I guess.
Mona was a thoroughly modern Millie for sure. Men threw themselves at her all the time. She wasn’t above using that, to some extent, but she never took it to extremes. Like getting the fire department to loan her the truck. It wasn’t much of a risk with two of the firemen in charge of it. And she genuinely liked Flavio. But he didn’t have her heart. Nope, her career had her heart. And maybe Boris the ballerina – if she’d stop being so darned conflicted about her feelings for him.
Poor Andy the Astronaute, I couldn’t help thinking. He was so smitten with Mona. Andy had real talent as a writer. Maybe one day that really would bring them together. Then I remembered Boris again. Mona’s potential futures were enough to give me a headache, so I put the thoughts away for another time.
When I brought my thoughts back to the present I gasped. “Applesauce! This shindig is incredible.” It was almost a carnival. It was huge, spread out along the banks of the sound. There was a band stand, and a wooden floor was set up where dancers did the Charleston. I saw balloons everywhere. Tables with white linen and silver were clustered beneath a brightly colored tent. In other places blankets were spread for picnics. Everywhere I turned there was something else happening.
Then I saw it. The yacht. It was breathtaking. I knew there was no way it would happen, but I really wanted to see the inside. I must have been drooling over it because a flapper stopped and giggled at me. “Be careful if you go in there, hon. Dr. Fred might put you under that microscope of his.”
I tried to ask the girl what she meant, but she was already gone in a flash of fringe and sequins. Then an idea occurred to me. I clutched my pocketbook and felt it still inside. The bent key. I never had been able to make out what was engraved on it. Was there really somebody on the yacht with a microscope? Maybe they could read it.