I heard something in the background and then my mom shushing. “Did Dad just say artsy-fartsy?” I laughed.
“It’s another blog I found with all kinds of great ideas. Of course, your father hasn’t let up on that for a minute.”
“Tell Dad hi. And make sure you’re taking pictures so we can post a tutorial on the blog.”
“Of course, what would your father make fun of if he didn’t catch me photographing my crafts?”
I laughed and glanced at the notebook full of sketches and scribblings. “You know, I still haven’t found that one special item for Natalie’s wedding. I need you to brainstorm with me.” For every wedding I’d organized—and that was more than fifty in the past three years—I had always given the bride and groom a special gift. Handmade and unique, my gifts took a lot of thought and also much of my mother’s quirky inspiration. Sometimes ideas would just come to me during the planning stages. Other times, I had to rack my brain to come up with something that would be remembered.
A few of the gifts were worthy of repeating, and I thought of my favorites now, wondering if any would suit Natalie. Jenna and my mother had painstakingly découpaged rose petals of the same variety as the bride’s bouquet to the outside of a journal. The first page said, “1,000 Reasons I Picked You.” I filled in the first three reasons as given to me by the bride and the groom and wrote instructions for them to continue filling the journal over the next few years. I admit I repeated that one several times because it was so well received.
Another time, we used vinyl lettering and etching cream to engrave the couple’s wedding date on a glass-enclosed shadow box to hold mementos from their life apart and then their life together.
Natalie would probably appreciate the decorative pillows my mom made, using scraps of fabric from the wedding dress, accent colors, tablecloths—anything to do with the wedding—and then embroidered with the couple’s name and date. But still, it didn’t seem like enough. Natalie was such a sweet person. I’d have to keep thinking.
“Natalie likes earthy things, right?”
“Yes, and she loves antiques.”
“I think I have an idea based on something we featured recently on mashedpotatoesandcrafts.com.”
“Really? Which project?”
“I think I’ll surprise you,” Mom said before ending the call.
I was nearly finished with my checklist when I heard a loud thud against the patio window. Goose bumps scattered across my arms. Holding perfectly still, I listened and heard a tapping, one, two more times. My heartbeat thrummed in my ears, and a war raged within—did I dare look?
The light was within reach. If I stretched my arm just right, I could extinguish it and then investigate the odd sound. I crept toward the light panel, fear tingling up my spine. With speed and stealth Hitchcock might have envied, I flipped off the light, dashed across the room, and turned on the patio light. A scream suspended in my throat as I watched Tux slam into the patio window—momentarily dazed by the light. He flipped around and batted at a grotesque June bug. The giant beetle lay stunned for a moment, the patio light reflecting off its glossy burgundy back.
Then it launched into the air directly into my line of vision and bounced off the window again. The scream released from my throat, and Tux jumped back as I curled my shoulders inward. “Ew! I hate those things. Kill it, Tux.”
He hesitated, then pawed at the bug. I chided myself for my near-panic attack. Ticking antennas held the feline’s attention, and I laughed when Tux jumped back at the bug’s sudden movement. Turning off the light, I gathered up my lists and binders and walked toward my bedroom, hopeful for a good night’s rest.
The next morning, I hurried to get ready for work. Tux rubbed against the patio door as I approached, and I could hear him meow through the glass. I reached for the door and stopped, my mouth dropping open. A piece of paper was taped to the outside of the glass door. I stubbed my toe on a stool and cursed as I leaned in for a better look. I closed my eyes when I saw the picture and tried to quiet the terror pumping my heart at double speed. I dialed Tony’s number as I examined the picture of Natalie’s wedding dress taped on my patio door above a note:
You have 24 hours to return the diamonds. Use the lunch bag and leave it at Rotary Park.
I noticed my lunch bag sitting at the far corner of the patio, and a cold river of fear ran through me. I closed my eyes and sent up a quick prayer that Tony could get me out of this mess.
Tony answered the phone. “This is Detective Ford.”
“Houston, we have a problem.”
Chapter 19
Laurel’s Sweet Five-Petal Crochet Flower Pattern
Use any size hook (depending on what size flower you want) and any weight yarn, but for delicate lace flowers use fingering 10-count crochet thread and a size 6, 7, or 8 hook.
Rnd 1: Ch 5, join into a ring w/sl st in 1st ch.
Rnd 2: Ch 3 (counts as first dc), work 9dc in ring, join to top of ch w/sl st—10 sts.
Rnd 3: **Ch 2, work 3dc in next st, ch 2, sl st in next st** five times. Fasten off.
For variety, you can create a different colored center by changing yarn colors after round 2. Experiment with different weight yarns and hook sizes. To layer a slightly smaller flower on top, use one hook size smaller than you used for the larger flower.
Courtesy of www.mashedpotatoesandcrafts.com.
“There’s an undercover cop on your street. I want you to leave right now,” Tony said after I told him what was taped to my patio door. “I’ll meet you at your shop.”
“What should I do
