"What do you mean?"
"As you know, all three of the women from St. James are coming to this crop. Maybe you should pat them down for shivs."
I laughed. "Take away their X-Acto knives? Not hardly."
"That reminds me, Faye Edorra called. You forgot to give her a check for her appearances."
"Crud, I knew I was forgetting something! Did you apologize for me?"
"Sure did. She was a little miffed, but she'll get over it. I think she’s planning to stop by tomorrow to pick it up. I pinned it to the corkboard. You still need to sign it."
"What would I do without you?" I said, and I gave her a hug. Clancy always accepts and gives affection stiffly, but I don’t care. I’m still going to hug her. Whatever her reasons for feeling awkward about personal contact, I suspect she’s trying to get over them. Clancy speaks her mind, so I have to believe that if affection really made her uncomfortable, she’d let me know.
"You’re just buttering me up because Mert has been treating you like bird poop on a windshield." Her smile was warm.
"It hurts. It really hurts, but I can’t fix it. She’s made a decision and that’s all there is to it."
"She’s acting like a witch," said Clancy. "You deserve better."
"I thought I did," I said. "I guess she sees things differently."
Chapter 43
Time flew past. I didn’t realize I’d missed lunch until I heard someone pounding on the back door with both fists. "Hey! Let me in!"
I opened it and apologized to my sister Catherine. "Hadcho warned me about leaving it unlocked. Come on into the office. I have a key for you."
"A skeleton? Isn’t that a bit ghoulish? Even for you?" My sister held up the black key with the white skull printed on it.
"I thought it was funny. See, it’s a skeleton key!"
"Kiki, you are nuts."
"Yup. Did you bring me any lunch?"
"Of course. I know you’re always hungry, so I made us both a salad. They’re in the Tupperware containers. I assume you can supply the beverages?"
We took the food and two bottles of water to my work table. In between bites of salad, I explained to Catherine about our crops. How we always included meals, but how the scrapbookers also brought a dish to share.
"The most important difference between our crops and the events held by our competitors are our make-and-take projects. Not only do our guests walk away with a completed project, they also learn a new skill. Because these are add-ons to our crops, I try to keep them as thrifty as possible. Otherwise they would cut into our profit margin."
Next I showed her tonight’s offering, paper beads. Catherine held up the necklace I’d created and cooed, "Cool!"
"I think it will be fun. Not only can you string the beads to make jewelry, but you can also add them to a page for embellishments. Best of all, the project costs next to nothing. We’ll use pages from old magazines, toothpicks, glue, and Diamond Glaze."
Of course, she didn’t know what Diamond Glaze was, so I showed her the dimensional adhesive that dries to a glass-like finish.
I pulled out the laminated form that Margit had created, the one that went through the steps for setting up the physical space for our crops. My sister was amazed at how we could roll our display units to one side to give us more room for tables.
"Did you tell her that someone might be gunning for you?" asked Clancy. She turned to Catherine and explained what I’d learned that day about the three women from St. James Episcopal Church.
"Come on, Clancy. You’re taking this too far. They were obviously offended that I was pregnant and not married, but I doubt that they plan to do me any harm."
"Not really. Look, somebody stabbed Laurel. We don’t know who it was, but it had to have been someone on the catering staff or someone in our group. Your sister happens to be a lightning rod for trouble," Clancy said to Catherine, as she pointed at me. "We both need to be watchful."
"I have no idea what to do if someone pulls a knife," said Catherine.
"I do," said Brawny as she walked through the front door. "Detective Detweiler thought I should attend your event tonight."
"But who’s watching Erik and Anya?" I asked the Scotswoman.
"Your mother-in-law-to-be, Detective Detweiler’s mother, Miss Thelma. She tried to text-message you, but she’s got a new iPhone and doesn’t know how to use it very well. Her errands brought her into the city, and she came by the house. Detective Detweiler asked his mother if she could pick up the bairns after school and stay with them until your crop was over. Overjoyed she was. He planned to go back into work, and he asked me to come here to the store."
Why? I wondered.
Brawny leaned in and asked, "Could I speak to you in private?"
Since Catherine and Clancy had the prep well in hand, I could easily escort my son’s nanny to the office. There I closed the door and plopped down in the big, black leather chair. "What’s up?"
"Detective Detweiler spoke to the priest at the Episcopal Church seconds after you did. Seems that the more the young man thought about his overly amorous parishioners, the more he worried for your safety."
"Me? Mine? Why?" This struck me as preposterous.
"Sunday morning after services, the women asked Father Joe the definition of adultery. Standing right there at what they call coffee hour? They pinned him down. He tried to avoid the conversation, but they rather pressed the point on the issue. In the strictest interpretation, they believe you committed adultery."
I started to get hot under the collar. Who were these women and what right did they have to sit in judgment of me.
"Right, and Detweiler was separated and trying to get a divorce when that happened. Even so, haven’t they ever heard that only those without sins should cast stones? What’s up with these whackos?"
"It gets worse. The priest wouldn’t go into specifics. The sanctity of the confessional and all. But at least one of the three women has had serious mental health issues. Hears voices and what-naught. In this case, what-naught includes violent behavior."
Brawny’s demeanor did not change throughout this recitation. As she finished, she looked just as unruffled as she’d begun. But her words had caused me to panic. My hyper-vigilance kicked in.
Was I in danger?
"It’s possible that whoever stabbed Laurel Wilkins could now be targeting you. Although she hasn’t remembered what happened when she was attacked, she did tell Detective Hadcho that she’s had several other mishaps. A problem with her car. Messages on her phone. At her home. Through Facebook. All of them called her a Jezebel, a tempter of upright men."
"She didn't mention a word of this to me!"
"She figured it was probably some woman whose husband seemed a little too interested in her belly dancing routine. So she ignored it," said Brawny.
I swallowed. The edges of my vision blurred.
"But that was then and this is now. You can’t ignore it, Miss Kiki. The villain who did this struck once. She might strike again, and your bairns depend on you."
Chapter 44
When I announced that Brawny would be joining us for the crop, Clancy and Catherine welcomed her. Then I dropped the nuclear bomb and explained why her presence was important.
"The threat to Kiki is real?" asked Clancy. "What do we need to watch for?"
"I hope not. Just keep your eyes open. There’s also a concern for wee Erik’s safety," and Brawny went on to explain what worried us.
"If this is really dangerous, shouldn’t a cop be watching the boy 24/7? Not meaning to be unkind, but Brawny’s a nanny, not a cop."
"I was trained in Britain as one of the few women members of the SRR, the Special Reconnaissance Regiment. If a situation arises, I’m up to it."
Brawny took a seat at the head of the crop tables, next to where I usually stood at the front of the room.
As the scrapbookers showed up, hauling their supplies, I recognized a flaw in our plans. "You need to be working on a project or y
ou won’t fit in. What sort of album might you like to create?"
She’d been admiring the scrapbook pages that decorated our store, and she’d seen the memory book I’d completed for Detweiler to take to California when he first met Erik. Her decision came swiftly. "I’d like to start an album about St. Louis. I’ve never been here before, and that might help me get better acquainted with my new home."
"Great idea, since I happen to have lots of photos of area sights," I said. After printing a dozen of them, I helped her choose an album.
"Red," she said. "I’d like it to be bright and shiny and full of promise."
Catherine shadowed me as I trooped around the store, gathering the necessary items. "You need to make an album, too, baby sis," I said. "That will teach you what scrapbooking is all about. What subject would appeal to you?"
Confession: Since I didn’t know much about how Catherine had spent the past fifteen years of her life, this seemed to be a great way to find out what happened. I knew that Aunt Penny had given her bus fair that covered a trip to Summerville, South Carolina, where Aunt Penny owned a small double-wide trailer. Catherine completed her high school education, although I’m not sure whether she attended a regular school or did the work required to pass her GED. I hadn’t had the nerve to ask what happened to her baby, but Amanda had, and she had told me that our sister had given up her child, a girl, for adoption. Amanda also warned me that this was not a subject to broach with Catherine.
How Catherine had become an alcoholic, I didn’t know. Of course, the genetic propensity was there. But had she started drinking when she was pregnant? After she gave up her child? In response to her guilt and grief? That remained a great big question mark. Now as my sister thought over my question about making an album, I hoped I’d learn a few more answers. I didn’t want to spook Catherine and make her withdraw from me, but I certainly wanted to know more about her past.
"I love animals, so could I do a book about our pets growing up? Do you have any pictures of Sabbath? Or Secant?"
Sabbath had been the stray black tom who adopted us. Secant was a beagle and basset hound mix who’d shown up in our yard and stuck around. Fortunately, I had photos of both. I also had a few pictures of Merrily We Roll Along, Aunt Penny’s famous pet, a chow/hound mix who ran with an odd circular pumping motion of her legs. Hence the bizarre name.
As the photos printed, Catherine looked over the albums, trying to choose one to house her pages. Brawny stood at her side, quietly conversing about the merits of each style and color. There seemed to be an affinity between the two women. Almost as if they were kindred spirits waiting to discover each other. That brought a smile to my face. Brawny was as strong as my sister seemed fragile. It wasn’t that Catherine was unhealthy, but she did exude vulnerability. If they could form a bound, both being newcomers to St. Louis, it might prove useful to each of them. They both could use a bit of companionship. Detweiler and I had told Brawny that we expected her to take time off for herself. Whether that meant driving around aimlessly, going to a movie, or meeting a friend for lunch, we didn’t care. She’d cocked her head, considering and said, "I don’t know anyone, so I doubt that I’ll be tramping off, but I appreciate your thoughtfulness."
Perhaps she and Catherine would pal around together. All I could do was hope that they might find common ground.
Chapter 45
"Ladies, our special project tonight will be making paper beads. Of course, as the name implies, we’ll be using paper. Our source material will be magazine pages. But you can use almost any paper as long as it will bend easily," I said, as I picked up a necklace to show to the group.
"This one was made from old state maps. As you might guess, this was a state with a lot of lakes. Wisconsin, to be specific. Since the original papers displayed a lot of blue, these beads are primarily blue, with touches of green." I handed the necklace off to Brawny so she could examine it and pass it around.
"An Ikea catalog provided the inspiration for this necklace. The pages used featured red-orange, tan, and black furnishings. Notice how the finished beads have an ethnic vibe to them. I chose to string these beads with tiny red-orange glass beads to pick up on their coloring." Again, I offered the necklace to Brawny so she could begin handing it around.
"Finally, I want you to guess what this necklace is made of. Anyone?"
My croppers squinted at the gray beads with the delicate patterns. No one even ventured a guess, so I held up a security envelope. "These were originally old security envelopes. I upcycled my mail by using the inside of my correspondence for the outside of my beads."
"I can’t believe it," said Deanna Godman as she stared at the necklace in her hands. "This is absolutely beautiful."
"Yes," said Linda Johnson as she took the ethnic looking necklace from Deanna’s fingertips. "But what does this have to do with scrapbooking?"
"Good question," I said. I held up a scrapbook page. The embellishments were beads that I’d made from scraps of paper.
The buzz was instantaneous. All the croppers talked at once. Clancy and Catherine passed out old magazines we’d been saving.
"I’d like for you to pick a scrapbook page where beads might be a cool addition to your layout. Either pick an old page you’d like to gussy up, or one that you’d planned to work on anyway. Or you could choose a color combination that you’ve wanted to tackle for an upcoming page. And if that doesn’t work—"
Laughter.
"Just pick colors that you like. With those shades in mind, go through these magazines and tear out two pages. That’s all it takes! Remember that your magazine pages should predominately display the colors you want. How can you tell if there’s enough of your desired colors? Squint. That’s right. Hold the pages at arms’ length and squint. If you can’t see enough of the color you want, try again."
Rip-rip-rip. The sound of happy tearing filled the store. This was the first chance I’d had to walk around and chat with my customers. As I did, I helped several of them make decisions about the magazine pages they’d be using. Several signaled to me that they wanted my help. I knew that Brawny wasn’t thrilled to see me walking around, but this was my job, and I intended to do it to the best of my ability. However, her concerns were uppermost in my mind, as I kept a careful distance between myself and my guests. Instead of leaning over their shoulders, I stood a respectful foot or two away from them. It certainly did feel awkward.
Dolores waved to me. "I want blue. Virgin Mary blue."
"Um, I’m not sure I know which color that would be," I said.
"Of course you wouldn’t know," snickered Mary Martha. "But scarlet, that’s a color you’re familiar with."
"There are so many variations of any primary color and we all interpret color differently," I said, trying to take the high ground.
Patricia smirked as she ripped two pages from a catalog. "I hope to make prayer beads, in gold and white, the Holy Spirit descending like a dove. Filling a pure heart with his grace and beauty. But perhaps you didn’t realize that, Kiki. That spiritual beauty outshines temporal earthly good looks. All of us rot in the ground when we die. But the good souls among us will be crowned by the King of Kings. Those of us with righteous souls will be glorified for the true beauty within."
To my shock, she preened. Patricia absolutely glowed with self-conceit. In response, her friends also assumed smug smiles.
"Mark my words," said Dolores. "The humble shall be uplifted. Those who put their appearance before the sanctity of their souls shall be revealed for the ugly creatures they are."
"You’d be amazed, Kiki," said Mary Martha in a conspiratorial tone, "how often the devil uses good looks to lure people into evil. The Bible tells us that Satan was the most beautiful of all God’s angels. By the same token, many whom the masses consider lovely are really demons in disguise."
"Did Father Joe condemn corporal beauty?" I said, wondering out loud. "Was that one of his sermons?"
The gleesome threesome exchanged shifty
glances.
"He said that beauty is vain." Mary Martha stuck out her lower lip. Boy, when it came to ugly, she had the corner on the market.
"In Genesis," I said, "it says that we are made in God's image. Wouldn't it follow that we would be beautiful?"
"Where did you come up with that?" asked Patricia.
"From reading, listening, and studying," I said.
Just because I spend most of my time in my scrapbook store, doesn't mean that I'm a complete dunce.
"I believe that God leaves us love notes everywhere we look," I said. "He sprinkles beauty on this earth in the most unlikely places, as a reminder that his hand has touched everything we see. I think that beauty elevates us. It calls us to look up with appreciation, rather than keep our gaze on the muck and mud under our feet. So beauty is not necessarily a sign of great evil. On the contrary, it can be a sign of God’s love. For example, Father Joe is a beautiful man, and I think he’s exactly the way God intended him to be, don’t you?"
That shut all three of them up.
Taking advantage of their stunned silence, I moved on to other customers. Including Deanna and Linda, who’d both been listening to our conversation. Deanna bent her head close to mine and whispered, "Sic ‘em, Tiger."
I hadn’t intended to start a ruckus. Really I hadn’t. But I wasn’t going to let "haters" gain a foothold in my store.
This was my store. I had the payment booklet to prove it.
Nope, as long as these women were under my roof, I wouldn’t tolerate letting them spew foul, unchristian hypocrisy. This would be a place where people came together to cheer each other on. My aim was to encourage people to create not destroy.
I hatched a plan. I’d been meaning to have Rabbi Sarah come by and bless the store. Now I decided to hold an ecumenical gathering and include Father Joe, too. This place would welcome all good people of all religions to come together in harmony.
I would invite the Gruesome Threesome—Mary Martha, Dolores, and Patricia—so that they could have front rows seats. In fact, I’d even make a little speech and say that the idea came to me while talking to them.
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