The audience had applauded.
“We’ve already told you about her design skill. You all know how talented she is. She’s being honored tonight for those impressive skills, yes, but also her passion and determination. Thanks for coming aboard, Sheila!”
When Sheila stepped onto the small stage, after adjusting to the lights and the camera, she glimpsed herself on some big screens in the back of the room. She beamed. She cut a fine figure for a woman in her midforties. She blew a kiss at the crowd and they roared.
“Thank you all, thank you!” she said. “Thank you from the bottom of my heart.” She was glistening in her dress and happier than she could remember. But the tears started then—and she’d never been a pretty crier. Soon, mascara was running down her cheeks and she became a snotty mess as she was whisked away by one of the nice young servers.
Now, she glanced at the clock. Did she have time for a run? She didn’t have to meet the others for another two hours. She reached for her workout clothes. She would at least try.
Coming back from her run, she passed by Henry’s room, which had a huge plastic sheet draped over the door. A person in a white suit with strange-looking head gear passed by her and entered the room. They must have found the source of the poison in Harold’s room! That was sort of a relief.
After her shower, Sheila headed to the breakfast buffet, where all of her crew were already waiting. Some had plates already piled high with food. Randy’s plate had huge Belgian waffles with whipped cream and strawberries. Goodness, the man could eat.
“Where’ve you been?” Paige asked.
“I’m only a few minutes late. I went for a run,” Sheila said.
“Trip over anything?” Paige asked with a grin.
“Not this time—thanks for asking,” Sheila shot back at her.
“You feeling okay?” Vera said, coming up to the table with a plate with an omelet and hash browns on it.
Sheila shrugged. “Not quite one hundred percent, but I’m getting there. You?”
Paige made a wavy hand gesture indicating she was so-so.
Sheila surveyed all the food and couldn’t help but think of the poison possibilities. She told the others what she’d noticed earlier.
“I was hanging out in the kitchen last night,” Randy said. “Turns out there was a lot of investigating and testing the food that we didn’t know about. At least the food is perfectly safe. They knew within hours that it wasn’t food poisoning.”
“How did they know that?” Vera asked.
“They have a safety inspection team on board. The food testing is rigorous.”
“Where did the poison come from then?” Paige asked.
“Evidently something in Harold’s room,” Sheila said, and turned her attention to the buffet. Suddenly she was ravenous.
“We were just talking about the crop before you arrived. It’s going to be so much fun!” Randy said, then took a huge bite of waffle.
“I love Christmas-themed scrapbooking,” Vera said, and sighed. “And I love Christmas since Elizabeth has come along. It’s so much fun playing Santa.”
“Love those dolls you bought her yesterday,” Paige said.
“I want to capture each moment,” Vera said wistfully. “Like my mama says, it’s futile to try to stop time. But I say I can try to at least savor it.”
“You can,” Sheila said. “That’s what we scrappers do.”
Later, when the group entered the cropping room, it was like walking into a Christmas wonderland, complete with a Santa and elves. A live string quartet was playing Christmas music and there was fake glittering snow strewn about the room. Sheila was seized by a pang of homesickness. Backdrops displayed quaint little towns decorated for the holidays. Cumberland Creek could have been one of those places. The cruise had created a winter Christmas scene for everybody here when Vera and the others already had the real thing at home waiting for them. Sheila shook it off as they arrived at their tables and set eyes on all of the wonderful crop goodies waiting for them.
“Welcome to the Scrap Your Christmas Crop,” said the woman in the front of the room. “Do you know what one of the biggest challenges to scrapbooking your Christmas is? That’s right. Someone said it over there.” She pointed off to the left. “It’s time. Well, we have a few pointers for you today as you scrapbook. Just a reminder, folks. I know some of you came from breakfast, but we have Christmas goodies at the food table. The tables will be full all day long.”
Sheila had known that immediately, as when she walked into the room the scent of gingerbread, chocolate, and mint greeted her. But good Lord, she couldn’t eat another bite after that breakfast.
“I think I’ll spew if I eat one more thing,” Vera said. She was already at work on a page. She was using one of the freebie papers, which was crimson, patterned with Christmas stars.
“You and me both,” Sheila said. “Oh, I love this mulberry paper.” She ran her fingers over the textured paper. She reached into her mini file folder and pulled out a photo of all four of her kids sitting in front of the Christmas tree and felt the gnawing of missing them.
“The first thing to do is decide what kind of scrapbooking you want to do. Are you adding a page or two every year to a Christmas scrapbook, or are you scrapbooking the entire season leading up to it?” their instructor said as people studied their photos and papers, some of them plunging into their layouts already.
“Okay, so that would be a bit mad,” Paige said. “To scrapbook the whole season? Who has the time for that? I’m lucky to get done my two or three pages every year.”
“I always thought it would be a fun challenge,” Sheila said. “There are several bloggers out there who offer classes starting December first every year. They send you prompts and other fun stuff.”
“I guess if you told yourself ‘I’m going to sit down every day and do this,’ it might work out,” Vera said, holding up a glittering card stock snowflake and placing it on her page.
“If you’re going to scrapbook the entire season, you need to be organized by December first. That means you have all of your supplies gathered and you have an idea of what time every day you’ll give yourself to accomplish your goal,” the teacher said over the speaker.
Paige groaned. “Who are these people? Do they not have lives? Jobs?”
Sheila placed her photo on green cardstock. Yes, she liked the green as a background color for the photo. She sliced the card stock and glued the photo to it. Now, what kind of paper would work best? She sorted through the new paper they were given and found an interesting red paper with a wreath pattern on it. She placed the photo in the middle of the page and then sorted through all of the embellishments they were given. Buttons. Snowflakes. Candy canes. Stickers. Card stock.
“Can I get you some coffee or hot chocolate?” a server asked.
Sheila looked up at a server dressed as an elf. “Coffee, please,” she said, then noticed something odd about the table where the creepy guy had sat for every crop. It was completely empty. An irrational shiver traveled through Sheila.
Chapter 44
Beatrice stood along the wall of Elizabeth’s preschool. The school was in the basement of the local Methodist church, even though it didn’t have anything to do with the church. She smiled as the other adults lined up behind her. She was always the first in line to pick up Elizabeth. She couldn’t wait to spend the afternoon with her granddaughter.
When the teacher opened the door, she smiled at Beatrice. “Elizabeth, your grandmother is here,” she said, and Elizabeth came out of the room, already dressed for the winter day, holding a crayon drawing she had done in class.
“Let’s go home, Granny. We have some cookies to bake,” Elizabeth said as she hugged her.
Beatrice’s old heart melted a little every time Elizabeth hugged her.
“Okay, let’s go,” Beatrice said as they left the warm building and ventured into the cold for the block and a half walk home.
“How was your day?�
� Beatrice asked her.
“Good,” she said. “We colored. I like to color.”
“Me too,” Beatrice said, and reached for her hand.
They walked up the first slope of the sidewalk and stood a minute to look at the white mountains against the blue sky.
“Mama’s mountains,” Elizabeth said.
Beatrice cackled. “Well, that’s a nice way to think of them.”
As they made their way, Beatrice noticed a man walking toward them. He was either new in town or perhaps just visiting. She’d never seen him before. But he looked odd—something about the way he held himself. Beatrice held Elizabeth’s hand tighter as the man’s gaze traveled to the child. Beatrice held her head up and said hello as he walked by. He nodded in return.
That reminded her to telephone Bryant to see if he’d found anything out about the stranger she had seen the other day. He probably wouldn’t tell her, but she had to try.
The man who had just passed gave her the creeps. She couldn’t say why. Maybe she was being paranoid, but she didn’t like the way he looked at Elizabeth—almost like he knew her. She had learned throughout the years to trust her instincts.
Oh well, she noted as she followed the sidewalk toward home, he wasn’t following them. He had gone on about his merry way. She sighed.
After they arrived at her house and were settled in, and before they started the cookies, Beatrice called Bryant.
“How can I help you?” he said.
“Did you ever find out who that strange man was?”
“Which strange man are we talking about, Beatrice?”
“The one I gave you the license plate number for.”
“Oh, he was just some guy staying at the new B and B over on Magnolia.”
“Of course!” she said. “I should have thought about that.” Her old friend Lydia’s house, which had been bequeathed to her daughter, Elsie, was now a bed and breakfast. There was much fuss in the neighborhood about it.
“I guess the parking was full until later and he was moving his car,” Bryant said.
“Well, don’t I feel like a fool,” she said.
“Well, don’t. He was a stranger in your neighborhood. And you’d just learned about the note left in Sheila’s mailbox. Makes sense.”
“Did you find out who did that?”
“Nope,” he said with a clipped tone. He was either unhappy that she asked the question or unhappy that he hadn’t found the answer.
“I’ll let you get to it then.”
“Beatrice, keep your ear to the ground. If you hear or see anything odd, please let me know,” he said.
“Okay,” she said, and hung up the phone. Oh bother, maybe she should have told him about that odd bird of a man she ran across today—but then she chided herself. She could get paranoid over this thing. The world was full of strange people, even in Cumberland Creek. Lawd. If she thought about all the strange characters she called her friends, that could give her a start.
There was old shifty-eyed Max Kruegar, one of the sweetest men she’d ever known. But he’d never look you in the eye; in fact his eyes always shifted around so it appeared he was up to no good. If someone saw him on the street, they might turn around and call the cops.
Oh, and then there was Penny, who had this odd giggle; every time she said something, she’d follow it with a giggle. It didn’t have to be funny. In fact, most of the time it wasn’t. She giggled out of nervousness because she was so shy. Someone might think her a crazy person escaped from the local hospital.
Then of course, there was her: Beatrice Matthews. She’d heard what people said about her. Most of it was true. She was quarrelsome and opinionated. At one point in her life, she had a relationship with the ghost of her husband and she believed you could manipulate time. Brilliant, but strange, people said. Hmph. She guessed she should settle down a bit about looking for strange people. What could you tell from the way someone looked, anyway?
Chapter 45
Sheila, Vera, Paige, Randy, and Eric stood on the deck of the Jezebel and took in the sea and sky one more time before heading to the airport.
“I’ll never forget the way the sky looks here. The color, the light,” Sheila said. “I’m so glad you all came.” She wrapped her arm around Vera. “You too.” She wrapped her other arm around Eric. “Stick around, Eric, for more craziness.”
She was so thrilled that they’d made up last night while Vera was in the powder room.
“I’ve been thinking,” she said. “I hope you’ll accept my apologies for what I said the other day. I’m really happy that you are in Vera’s life.”
“I’d like to apologize, too,” he said to her, leaning in and grinning. “I’ll try to be aware of girl time.” He kissed her cheek.
“Thanks for bringing us along,” Paige said to Sheila. “It was . . . an experience. But I really can’t wait to get home.”
“Oh, I know. I miss Lizzie and Mama and the mountains and the snow,” Vera said. “But this has been a once in a lifetime trip. Of course, we could have done without the murders.”
Sheila grimaced. “I hear ya.”
“You know, I wish I could have continued with my investigation, talking with all the single men,” Paige said. “I felt so ill. But it was fun pretending to be single for a while.”
“Mother!” Randy said.
She shrugged and walked toward the elevator. “Your mother still has it going on,” she said, looking over her shoulder. “Deal with it, Randy!” She laughed and Randy grinned.
“Well, all right then,” he said, grinning and following her.
Once at the airport, the group navigated their way through security and on to the plane without much ado. Within a few hours, they were back to Virginia, with its snowy mountains welcoming them from the air, offering their own beauty and light. Sheila once again found herself amused by travel—a few hours ago she stood on the deck of the Jezebel overlooking a beautiful glassy sea. Now they circled the Blue Ridge Mountains, waiting for clearance to land.
She should have been thrilled to be getting home. A part of her was, of course, but she still had lingering strange feelings about the cruise. She supposed she’d get over it at some point, but tripping over Allie, finding out she was murdered, being questioned by the FBI, them keeping her scrapbook for evidence—it was a lot to process. Not to mention that the name Sharon Milhouse had come up. That brought back horrible memories that she hadn’t thought about in a long time. Of course, it had to be another Sharon. The Sharon she knew was sick and in the Richmond Institution. Or at least that was the last she’d heard of her.
“So which job are you going to take?” Vera said.
“I won’t be working for Theresa Graves, I can tell you,” Sheila responded. “After all that heckling. And she was standing there with that weird dude.”
“Wonder what happened to him,” Vera said. “I didn’t see him at all after we left the island. Maybe he stayed there.”
“As long as he’s away from me, I don’t care where he is,” Sheila said.
“I just have to say wow, my eyes have been opened to the scrapbooking industry,” Paige said. “It’s so competitive. Who would have thought?”
Sheila thought a moment. “I suppose you have that in every business. Allie seemed to be the type to pay it forward. She loved my designs and seemed like she was really interested in helping me along.”
“It’s a shame what happened to her,” Randy said. “I hope they find her killer.”
“Now that the FBI is involved, maybe they will,” Vera said.
Except for Randy, who had to get back to his job in New York City, the group had a two-hour drive from Dulles International Airport to Cumberland Creek, where their families all waited with bated breath.
When Steve opened the door to their home, Sheila fell into his arms and unraveled. It was too much. Too much. All of this: the excitement, the murder, being away from home. She enjoyed being respected for her work, but she hadn’t realized how much
she missed home and her husband until that very minute.
“So glad you’re back,” Steve said.
Jonathon came running through the hallway and attached himself to both of them. “I missed you, Mama!”
Two of their other kids were sitting at the kitchen table and barely rose to give her a hug. High schoolers. They were way too cool to make a fuss over their mother. But Sheila could see it in their eyes. They were glad she was home, too.
She surveyed her house. Things looked pretty good. The boys had kept up with the housework, though, of course, the place still needed a good vacuum and dusting, and she didn’t even want to look at the laundry or in the pantry. She knew Steve hated grocery shopping.
“I missed you, babe,” Steve said to her later as they readied for bed. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m feeling better,” she said. “I missed you, too.”
Steve was already in bed and he lifted the blanket and nodded for her to snuggle up. Which she did. Quite happily.
Chapter 46
Annie tossed and turned most of the night. Mary was still on her mind and she dreamed of her and her father. The one person involved with the case that she hadn’t talked with was Mary’s mother, who refused to talk to her. Period. But Annie dreamed of her, too, the woman whose husband abused her daughter. What must she be going through? Then her dreams shifted to Hannah. Young and sweet and leaving for New York City. Talk about leading the lambs to slaughter.
After the boys had gotten off to school and she was clearing away the breakfast dishes, Paige called her.
“We’re ba-ack,” Paige said in a sing-song voice. “How are you and what’s been going on in Cumberland Creek?”
“I’m fine, and Cumberland Creek has not been the same since you all left,” Annie said. It was true—at least for her. She was glad they were off the ship and home. Now they could put the murders behind them and get on with life.
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