and was offering them to the bookstore at a special rate.
I was going to object, but the crowd began to arrive. Obviously there had been some kind of misunderstanding. Who knew I needed to mention the event was for humans only? It seemed everyone in the crowd had a dog with them. And not all of the dogs were that glad to see each other. More than once I had to separate two snarling canines and send them along with their owners to opposite sides of the arrangement of chairs.
Kimball started the program, reading some sample stories from his book about how owners had found out the ancestry of their mixed-breed dogs. “And now I’ll show you how to take a sample. It’s the same as for people. We look for the DNA in saliva. With people you can even get a sample off a licked envelope or a paper cup. With dogs, we just take a swab.” He opened up one of the boxes and asked for a volunteer. A woman with a dog that looked like a basset hound-poodle mix brought her pet up to the front.
“You just take a little swab of the inside of the cheek,” Kimball said, lifting the side of the dog’s mouth. The dog took it well, and then Kimball showed there was a container and a mailer in the box.
“I want to do that for my Rocky,” a woman said, pointing to a brown short-haired dog that looked like he was laughing.
“Me, too,” said a man, who had a tiny white fluffy dog sitting on his lap.
They made a move toward the tests and were joined by a bunch of others. I had to step in and in a nice way make sure the kits were paid for before being opened. I helped Rayaad cashier and rushed back to the event area just as Kimball was instructing the owners to open the boxes and take out the swabs. What had looked easy when Kimball did it was anything but when the owners tried. And their dogs were far less willing than the bassoodle had been.
Suffice it to say, there were suddenly dogs everywhere with owners chasing them holding swabs. Somewhere in the confusion one of the dogs got hold of the sugar cookie dog biscuits. When I looked over to the snack stand, an empty plate with some sugar sprinkles was all that remained.
Still, on the positive side, Adele wasn’t there to tattle on me to Mrs. Shedd, and none of the dogs had accidents. Finally, after breaking down the chairs and vacuuming up the dog hair and cookie crumbs, I went home.
THREE DAYS LATER THE TARZANA HOOKERS MET again. The proprietor of Yarnie’s was due back today, and I planned to head over there after the meeting. I had been bringing the bag back and forth to the bookstore every day, hoping the owner might show up to claim her things, but there was no such luck.
“You haven’t found the owner yet?” Adele said, picking up the grocery sack. “I practically handed you the name. What happened?”
The group was sitting around the event table, and everyone looked up at Adele’s comments.
“Dear, I thought you would have taken care of it by now.” CeeCee seemed a little put out.
“You said I ought to wait for the owner to show up,” I said.
“Yes, dear, I did, but I thought you’d use some judgement and when they didn’t show up after a day or so —”
“Hey, Molly has been busy. Her parents are invading—I mean, coming to visit,” Dinah said. “Have you met her mother, Liza Aronson, formerly of the She La Las?”
“Your mother was in that group?” CeeCee said. “I just loved that song of theirs—‘My Man’ something.”
“ ‘My Man Dan,’ ” I said.
“It was their only hit, wasn’t it? It must be difficult to be a one-hit wonder.”
Before I could comment on being the daughter of a one-hit wonder, Adele stepped in.
“So, Pink, did you go to Yarnie’s or what?”
I saw Dinah curl her lip in annoyance. Best friend that she was, she was going to say something to Adele the way she had to CeeCee, but I was a big girl and could fight my own battles.
I quickly put up my hand to stop Adele. She had her mouth open, about to say more.
“Here’s the way it stands with the bag of stuff.” I turned toward CeeCee. “When nobody came by the next day, I realized I should try to locate the owner.” I glared at Adele. “And I went to the yarn store you said would recognize the thread, but it was closed for three days while the owner went to some yarn show. I am expecting it to reopen today.”
Ali Stewart was sitting next to Adele following the conversations as if it were a tennis match. Her head was swiveling back and forth so much I was sure she must be dizzy.
“Okay, what did I miss?” Ali said. Everyone started to tell her at once, but Dinah took charge and told her the chain of events that began with us finding the bag.
Adele had her chair right next to Ali’s, and I noticed they both were wearing pink tee shirts with a white thread crocheted embellishment around the neckline. Ali was a great addition to the group in many ways. She was an expert crocheter, she liked the idea of making things to give away, and she was always upbeat. The only problem was her sense of time. She always arrived late and left early. In fact, it often seemed she was just passing through the meetings.
Her hair looked as though some toddler had cut it with kid’s scissors. But that hacked-off effect seemed to be in style. I guessed the shoe polish black color was in, too. Somehow on her the style and color were fun and arty.
True to form, Ali checked her watch and got up, announcing she had to leave. “I have to help my mom with something.” She glanced around the group, making it clear she was speaking to all of us. “She runs a business out of the house. Don’t worry. I’ll have several blankets to bring in next time.” As Ali started to go, Adele appeared practically heartbroken.
“Well, dear, if you have to leave . . .” CeeCee said. “But we really like having you here.”
“I thought we would roll yarn together after the group.” Adele held up a hank of hot pink yarn that needed someone to hold it while she made it into a ball.
Ali apologized and left, and Eduardo took the yarn out of Adele’s hand and placed it over the end of the chair and started to wind the yarn into a ball.
“It’s not the same,” Adele said in a disappointed voice. “It’s a girlfriend kind of thing.”
I glanced toward Sheila to see how she’d reacted to the comment. Although she hadn’t said anything, she seemed uncomfortable with Ali. But then, Ali had displaced her as the youngest member in the group. The way CeeCee fussed over her didn’t help, either. Then there was the fact that Ali was always talking about her mother and father and how close they were. Sheila was alone in the world. The grandmother who’d raised her had died not too long ago and she had no other family. I sent a smile Sheila’s way to reassure her, but she’d already gone into stress mode and her stitches were turning into knots. Eduardo stopped winding Adele’s yarn and handed Sheila a smaller hook. He gave her a little pep talk, too, and she seemed to relax.
CeeCee glanced around the table and sighed with satisfaction. “I didn’t even realize until now who isn’t here. Camille didn’t come back,” she said.
“She hasn’t come back
“Did she really have you give her crochet lessons?”
Adele nodded, looking very pleased with herself. “You made it sound like she had to be a superaccomplished hooker to join us. Well, thanks to me, she’s almost there. I discovered I’m a wonderful teacher. All she needs is one more lesson.”
“Dear, don’t say that. Didn’t you hear what I said about her being a spy?”
“No,” Adele said curtly. “I just heard you try to throw her to the knitters.” Everyone at the table cringed, knowing any second Adele would launch into her crochet-versus-knitting rant. We all basically agreed with her, but we didn’t make a federal case out of it.
Adele did about five minutes on the wonders of crochet and then sat down, and we resumed as if nothing had happened.
CeeCee took out a ball of bright yellow thread. “All this talking about filet crochet gave me an idea. Why don’t we make bookmarks for the upcoming library sales? It would give those of us who haven’t done filet work a chance to try it, and we could still keep up with the blankets.” CeeCee stopped and swallowed. “When I tell you all what happened with the blankets we made, you’ll realize how important they really are.
