Chitchat flowed all around Emily while many nimble fingers quilted away, but the words blended into a buzz in her ears. She stitched with quick abandon, wanting only to speed things to their end. Every time they all rose to adjust the beams on the quilt frame, she snatched a look out the window.

The black stray cat once more sat tall on the porch rail, keeping watch over Emily's yard.

Twice she saw him hunched and fur bristling.

Both times, Emily peered through the sheers and saw that dark-suited figure lurking across the street – gazing straight at her house. He'd come back, though her great-niece had told him the lady he sought did not live here. A mistake on Clarissa's part.

Now he stood with hands on hips, glaring from under his hat brim, then stalked away, leaving murky-hued streamers of ill humor in his wake.

Nerves on edge, Emily pattered to the kitchen and laid out plates and forks, and poured lemonade. This cat-sight had saved her more than once from bad situations, but was it making her paranoid? "What a mess I've gotten myself into," she muttered.

She heard chirps of glee from the other room as her friends finished the final squares. Good. Now time to hurry them through their little brunch.

Clink of forks. Nibbles. Jokes. Laughter.

Finally. Done. Cake dishes wrapped and given back.

Two offered to help clean up the mess left behind, but Emily waved it off with a forced laugh and a vague excuse.

The newcomer, Leetsa, helped carry the disassembled quilt frame to the station wagon while Olivia went on and on about her messy house, thanks to the grandkids, and the flowers in the neighbor's garden, and the color schemes of the next two quilts.

"I may not be able to host again," Emily broke in. "I might need to leave town for a short while. Family problems."

"Oh I know all about family problems, honey," Olivia said. "If it ain't yo' grown kids moving home again—" She rambled on and on while hoisting beams and slamming the back hatch.

Emily glanced to the spot where the hulking fellow had stood. His footsteps still glimmered on the sidewalk. She traced their path up the street – to a parked car. Behind the steering wheel hunched the shadow of shoulders and head and low-brimmed hat. He was looking this way.

As Olivia drove off, Emily pulled back into her gateway, edged by the pillars of tree trunks and screened by tall shrubs.

Leetsa drew back, too. "I don't really know you," she murmured, "and you don't really know me. We've only met this once. No one would think to look for you at my place if, for some reason, they were pursuing you." She pressed a slip of paper into Emily's hand.

"Why— How did—" Emily stammered.

Leetsa nodded toward the street. "Both you and the cat know there's a threat. You see more than most."

"Is this some kind of Indian knack?"

Leetsa laughed. "No. I'm just a watchful gal. You're the one with a knack, I'm thinking. Come, if there's need."

.

prompt: "mess"