Here are a few of my favorite ways to create flowers:
Simple Punch Flowers
1. Punch multiple flowers the same size out of different shades of paper. Stack. Pin together with a brad. Curl the petals.
2. Punch multiple flowers of varying sizes and shapes. Stack. Pin together with a brad. Curl the petals. (Tip: Use a sharpened pencil and curl the petals around the lead tip.)
Circle Flowers
1. Punch circles of paper in descending sizes. (Tip: This looks particularly nice with patterned paper and even newsprint!)
2. Stack the circles in descending sizes.
3. Adhere in the middle with a brad.
4. Ruffle the edges by running the open blade of scissors along the outside of the circles.
Sweet Peas
1. Punch two sizes of hearts out of contrasting paper.
2. Fold the hearts in half vertically.
3. Roll the right lobe of the heart in toward the center. Repeat with the left. (Tip: Wrap the lobes around the point of a pencil.)
4. Glue a small heart inside a larger one and add to a stem of wrapped floral wire.
Eighty
Monday, May 10
“I’m not going to school until I find Seymour.” Anya planted herself in the foyer and crossed her arms over her chest. With a sniveling sigh, she added, “I know something’s wrong, Mom. He loves his breakfast. He nudges me if I don’t get up and make it for him.”
“Okay, sweetie, let’s think of the house like a grid. That’s what they do in the mystery novels. We’ll start in this corner.”
“But I already looked there!” her voice cracked. A tear leaked down her cheek.
“The grid is 3-dimensional. We’ll look up and under stuff. Maybe he’s blocked in,” I said, as I removed several cushions from Sheila’s sofa.
“He could cry, couldn’t he? I mean, he’s got a loud mew.”
“Right.” I didn’t want to share what I was thinking. After my mother put Seymour into the microwave, I’d had unhappy visions of finding him in a toilet or in the trash can.
Face it, Kiki. She’s nuts. You need to get her to a doctor. At least you’ll know what you are dealing with. If you take her in for the bladder issues, maybe the doc can also check her reasoning.
I moved through the living room like a whirling dervish. I tossed pillows, I pulled out furniture. I called, “Here kitty-kitty-kitty,” until my throat was hoarse. Finally, I dropped to my knees and looked under the sofa.
There he was, lying on his side, barely moving. I slipped both hands under his tiny body and pulled Seymour out. I quickly realized how cold he was to my touch. He blinked at me. I pulled back his lips. His gums were white, which I knew to be a very, very bad sign.
“Anya? I’ve got him.”
She bounded down the stairs. “Seymour, where—”
A strangled cry escaped Anya. “Mom, is he—? Is he dead?”
“No. But we need to hurry.”
Fortunately, Gracie was already waiting in the car. I moved the seat so Anya could climb in the back. She held Seymour carefully, gently. I noticed a trickle of blood streaking her blouse, but I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t tell where the blood was coming from, and there didn’t seem to be any point in mentioning it to my sobbing child.
I flew out of the driveway, revving the car as fast as it would go in reverse.
“Buckle your seat belt,” I yelled to Anya.
I knew exactly where the animal emergency clinic was, a mile and a half up the road. I also knew the back way there, because that was an alternate route to CALA. I paused at stop signs. I ran the tail end of a yellow light. I managed to dial 411 and get the operator to connect me with the clinic.
“Emergency. Our five-month-old kitten was found lethargic. He is cool to the touch. There’s bleeding. Gums are white. We’re on our way.”
“Bleeding?” Anya wailed.
“Shh. Don’t upset Seymour. It will only make it worse for him. You have to be strong, Anya.”
At the clinic, I double-parked, tossed my seat back, grabbed Seymour, and flat out ran. A woman in scrubs met me as I raced in. She took Seymour out of my hands.
After I got Anya and Gracie settled, I gave the receptionist my information, what we knew about Seymour, and my credit card. Wordlessly, the receptionist handed me a sheet with costs on it. When I saw how much they were charging, my legs turned to instant pudding.
But I wasn’t about to let that kitten die. I’d find a way to pay the charges, no matter what it took.
I called CALA and told them Anya would be late. I left a message on the phone at Time in a Bottle, explaining I would be late. My daughter and I read old magazines for more than an hour. When we weren’t reading, we were pacing. We must have walked a mile and a half, going from one end of the clinic waiting room to the other and back.
Finally the stainless steel doors swung open. A man in white scrubs pulled a white filter mask from his face.
“That was close,” he said, craning his neck and making that awful popping sound. “Your little guy is going to make it but we’ll have to keep him overnight at least. Who’s the numbskull who left Advil out where the cat could get them?”
“I’ll kill her,” hissed Anya. “I’ve seen her drop pills on the floor twice. Gran and I both asked her to be more careful.”
I put a staying hand on her shoulder. “We’ll talk about it tonight. Let’s get you to school.”
The doctor shook his head. “Some people shouldn’t be pet owners.”
Eighty-one
I felt the blood drain from my face. “Excuse me? How dare you! My daughter is a terrific pet owner. Unfortunately for all of us, my aging mother is living with us temporarily. And she’s the numbskull who dropped the pills on the floor. It’s certainly not my daughter’s fault! If you had any compassion, any decency, you wouldn’t, you couldn’t, you—”
A nurse came scooting out from behind the desk. “Dr. Lazarus, um, why don’t you go grab a cup of coffee?”
After she pushed him behind the swinging doors, she turned to us. “I am so, so sorry. He’s a phenomenal doctor. Really he is. But he’s awful with people. Just horrid. I can’t apologize enough.”
Anya’s mouth trembled. “I hate my Grandmére. Hate her. She’s mean and nasty and now she almost killed my cat!”
The nurse shook her head. “Believe it or not, Dr. Lazarus saved your kitty’s life. He’s an absolute genius with animals. He says things like that because he gets so emotionally involved with his patients. That doesn’t make it any easier, I know.”
“What makes him so sure the kitten ate an Advil?” I asked.
“A portion of the bright blue gel cap was stuck to the inside of his teeth.”
I gritted my teeth. I knew my mother had an enormous bottle of the liquid painkiller capsules. And yes, they were all bright blue.
I put my arm around Anya and pointed her to the door. I stopped halfway there. I turned and spoke to the nurse. “You tell him that if he ever, EVER, ever speaks to my child again, he’ll be talking an octave above soprano. I will personally reshape his future and his profile with my own two bare hands. There’s no excuse for his rudeness. None. As for our cat? He better be just fine or I’ll hunt Dr. Lazarus down. I’ll make him pay. He’ll have nowhere to run and nowhere to hide from me. You tell him that.”
“Ye-ye-yes, ma’am. I’ll be sure to tell him.” The nurse nodded vigorously.
After hustling Anya into the car, I turned over the engine. My daughter stared at me with big blue eyes. Anya said, “Mom? You okay?”
“I am perfectly fine.” I backed out of the lot carefully. “Sort of.” Then I bumped us down the curb and onto the road, scraping the bottom of my bumper as I went.
“Um, how about if we stop and get you a latte from Kaldi’s? Or whatever. I mean, I know caffeine ramps people up, but, uh, I’m thinking you need something. A Diet Dr Pepper? What would help? Are you feeling okay? Do you need an aspirin?”
“Any
thing but an Advil,” I said.
Eighty-two
“You are two hours late! This is unacceptable!” Margit shook a finger in my face.
“Family emergency,” I said. Before I dropped Anya off at school, I’d given her an extra long hug. Despite Robbie Holmes’ protests that I was totally safe, that the sting operation would go without a hitch, I felt terribly vulnerable.
“Kiki, honestly. Why didn’t you call?” Dodie turned a mournful head toward me. “We’ve been running around like crazy. That Mother’s Day class started a run on flower-making materials. You can’t imagine how tough it’s been to cover the floor and do paperwork!”
I had called. I’d left a message on the machine in the back because I called early. I could only assume that neither woman had arrived at her appointed time either.
“I could not wait on them all. You were supposed to be here!” Margit’s voice climbed a notch. “That is your job, to wait on customers. If you cannot do your job, you can be replaced.”
Her strident manner was totally at odds with the cheerful yellow polyester pants suit she wore. Underneath her jacket was a white knit shirt covered with jaunty black-eyed Susans.
I waited for Dodie to tell Margit that replacing me would be impossible. I was the only person on the staff who created projects, packaged them, and pioneered new techniques. I was also the only person who taught on a regular basis. Besides all that, I’d stood by Dodie when she had cancer. I’d always been fair and honest. For the most part, I was dependable.
I expected Dodie to ask me what had happened. She knew I wouldn’t blow off my shift.
When she didn’t say anything, I repeated myself. “I. Had. A. Family. Emergency.”
“It’s always something, isn’t it? Your life is a circus without a ringmaster,” snapped Dodie. “My daughter needs a job. Maybe you don’t.”
The words slapped my face. I thought about all the times I’d covered for her, about how many hours of extra time I’d put in while she was getting treatment. She seemed to forget all that. Or maybe it never registered on her.
I thought about the evening ahead, and how dangerous it sounded.
I thought about my mother and all the extra stress she added to my life.
I remembered Sheila saying that Linnea made more money than I did.
To my credit, I said nothing more. I walked past both women, put Gracie in her crate, and pulled up a chair at the sorting table in the back. After I made a few calculations, I knocked on the door of Dodie’s office.
“This isn’t working, is it?” I stood in front of her desk. “I obviously don’t have any rights—or say—as a minority owner. I didn’t realize that when I bought stock in the store. Now that I understand I am powerless, I want to sell out. Please give me back my money. I would like to go back to being an hourly employee. I did the math. I would make more money if I had a second part-time job than I did with the bonus you gave me last year. When I came to work here, it was on the condition that family came first. This morning, you didn’t even ask what my emergency was, and you actually made fun of my life.
“That’s intolerable. I will work the crop tonight, and I understand you need notice to replace me, but I’m giving you two weeks starting now.”
I delivered this whole speech while looking at a spot on the wall right above Dodie’s head. I didn’t wait to hear a response. I walked out. I grabbed a cold Diet Dr Pepper from the refrigerator and started pulling together materials for the special technique I planned for the evening’s crop. Trying not to cry, I threw myself into my work.
I heard Dodie close the door. I heard her talking on the phone. I was still hunched over the work table when Horace came flying through the back door. He entered Dodie’s office and slammed the door behind him.
I hated the idea that they were mad at me. This had been a great job for me. I had learned so much, and I’d made so many friends.
Once upon a time, I would have put up with being ridiculed and scolded.
Not anymore.
Kiki’s tape transfer technique
This is a cool way to transfer an image so you can use it on a scrapbook layout or on a card. It’s so simple kids will enjoy trying it.
You’ll need: packing tape, a color image, a bowl of water.
1. Find an image you like in a magazine or advertising insert or on a package.
2. Cover the image with packing tape. If the image is wider than the tape, overlap two pieces or more to cover the image. (Tip: Tear the tape pieces off in advance and have them ready. Try not to get any wrinkles in the tape as you stick it down.)
3. Burnish the tape. Rub it flat repeatedly with the back of a spoon or a bone folder to get all the air bubbles out.
4. Soak the tape and the image in warm water. After about five minutes of soaking, you can rub off the paper with your thumb or a dish scrubber. The image will stay adhered to the tape. The only part you are detaching is the excess paper pulp.
5. Lay the tape flat on a piece of paper towel and let it dry.
6. Trim and use as desired.
Eighty-three
This I believe: There really is a fickle finger of fate. It spins around and lands on us, bringing trouble, trouble, trouble. When that finger points your way, absolutely everything will go wrong.
The fickle finger pointed my way.
Dodie and Horace left together. Slipping out the back door. The fact that they said nothing to me confirmed my worst fears: They were actually glad I had thrown in the towel.
Margit came out from her new “office” area. Dodie had gotten Margit a desk, a bulletin board, and a comfy chair so she could sit in the back and call in orders.
Wasn’t that special? Whereas I didn’t even have a locker for my purse or a shelf in the refrigerator. No, there was no special area that I could call my own. None.
“Time for me to go. I am taking two orders I must mail. Today’s postmark guarantees us free shipping.” The ring of her cell phone interrupted. “Ja? She is? All right. I am coming.”
“My mother expects me,” said Margit in a stiff, formal voice.
I thought about walking out, then and there, but I still cared about the store and our customers. However, the unfairness of the situation rankled. I couldn’t be late because of an emergency, but Margit could waltz in and out as she pleased!
Clancy called two minutes after Margit drove away. “I can’t make it in. Mom got up last night to use the bathroom and fell again. She’s in surgery now.”
Amanda called. “Rena McMurray died this morning. Obviously I can’t ask her daughter for the scoop on Claudia. I guess we’ll have to wait to find out who Beverly Glenn is and what the McMurrays know about her.”
The vet’s office called. “Your cat is on the mend, but we’ll need to keep him two more days, instead of one. We need to make sure he’s hydrated.” The woman named a cost for this extra day of care that would max out my credit cards.
Sheila called. “Your mother and her sidekick ran up $125 in pay-for-view movies. I got the bill today!”
Lane called. “When will you be done with the memorial albums? I thought you’d be done by now. I really need to get the Fitzgeralds their copy. Can you have them done today? Tomorrow at the latest?”
Right when I thought life could not possibly get any worse, Mert dropped in.
“Here,” she said as she pushed a key ring at me. She wore her usual work uniform of black slacks and a white blouse. “I don’t feel right about keeping your house key.”
“So that’s it? After all these years of friendship?” I couldn’t swallow, the lump in my throat was that tight.
“You hurt my brother. Hurt him something fierce. And it don’t seem like you. I ain’t never seen you act like that. Not to no one, no how. Since what happened in the park, he’s been going out and drinking to all hours. I know that ain’t your responsibility, but you had a hand in it. I need time to think. To sort this through.”
She turned and walked away withou
t a backward glance.
Eighty-four
There was no way that I could finish both the Fitzgerald albums and get the store ready for the evening crop. I was feeling totally overwhelmed and it wasn’t even ten o’clock yet.
To my vast relief, the fickle finger must have been moving on to ruin someone else’s life. I called Laurel. She picked up quickly and promised she could come in less than a half an hour. Of course, she arrived looking like a page out of a Victoria’s Secret catalog with her shiny black boots, tight-fitting pants, wide black belt, and ruffled cream-colored, low-cut blouse. She wore a light fragrance that formed an aura around her person like a fresh spring zephyr.
“What can I do to help?” she asked. I set her to work cutting paper for the crop. That gave me the time I needed to finish the Fitzgerald album. As I worked, I tried to compartmentalize, to avoid thinking about my rendezvous later this evening.
Stop it. Robbie Holmes has this all planned out. You’ll never be in danger.
But would Johnny be? And if he got hurt, what would Mert do?
I couldn’t stand to think about it. Luckily, we had a run of customers. For the next two hours, I located flower punches, coffee filters (they make great flowers when dyed), templates, and fake stamens. Being busy helped keep my mind off the fact I was leaving the store.
“We’re completely out of the punch that spits out flowers in three parts,” said Laurel. “I took a customer’s money and told her the order would arrive on Tuesday.”
That was worth double-checking. If a customer made a special trip, only to find we didn’t stock the desired item, she might justifiably get miffed. I told Laurel what I planned to do and went into the backroom to track down the order sheet.
I’ll give Margit this, she was well-organized. I found the order form in no time, partially because it was sitting out on the top of her desk. With the other order form. Both of them needing to be postmarked with today’s date.
Ready, Scrap, Shoot (A Kiki Lowenstein Scrap-N-Craft Mystery) Page 20
