Dolly Departed

Then there's the blinding, unrelenting heat from the sun, no shade anywhere, the weather forecasters predicting a significant change in temperature, as if a drop of four degrees is national news.

And her mother. If she doesn't leave right now, she might do something to hurt the witch. Like set her hair on fire while she's bent over her precious kiln. Give her head a blast of flammable hair spray, and whoof. Up she goes. Problem solved in one big incendiary moment.

She really hates her mother's perfectly symmetrical face.

Melany is homely, according to Mommy Dearest, because her features aren't balanced properly. Look at Melany's face from one side, then the other, and you can see the problem. Symmetry is the secret to real beauty. Draw a line down the middle of your face. The sides should match.

How unfortunate for Melany.

Poor girl.

31

The first step to becoming a doll maker is deciding what type of doll to cast. That determines what mold to use. Modern dolls are created from sculpted molds. Then they are finished off with contemporary clothing and synthetic wigs. Antique reproduc- tions are cast from existing antique dolls. Every effort is made to re-create the look of antique painting. Costumes for antiques are natural fibers such as silk or cotton, and wigs are mohair or human hair. Make your selection, and let the fun begin.

– From World of Dolls by Caroline Birch Britt Gleeland had converted a wing of her home into a dollmaking studio. Gretchen didn't see any dolls on display when she walked through the living area, which she considered unusual for a doll collector. She did manage to get a glance at the kitchen and saw wallpaper in colors that seemed to match the unknown room box, but she was too far away to see the pattern. She had to find an opportunity to get closer.

Nina jabbed her in the ribs and raised her brow. She'd seen, too.

'I'm so excited to be here,' April gushed when she saw the dollmaking workshop. She headed for a long table in the center of the room, which was filled with tiny projects in various stages of completion.

'My class meets every Thursday,' Britt said. 'I have seven students at the moment, but they are in the middle of their projects. It would be impossible for you to catch up at this point.'

'When does your next class begin?' April plopped down and dreamily fingered the miniature pieces.

'In a few weeks. I like to have a full table of students before I start. Why don't I call you?'

April barely heard her. She was completely mesmerized by her surroundings.

Gretchen had to admit that the miniatures were extremely captivating. She'd devoted her career to restoration of fullsized antiques, but she understood April's fascination. Someday she might take a miniature dollmaking class herself.

'Who would like coffee?' Britt asked. Every hair in her twist was right where it should be.

Nina cast a sly eye at Gretchen. 'We all would love some,' she said. 'I'll help you in the kitchen.'

'No need; it's right here. Come sit.' Sure enough, a carafe filled with coffee and all the trimmings sat on a round table to the side of the worktable.

Gretchen and Nina exchanged warning glances. Now what? Britt would expect them to drink the coffee. Gretchen solved the problem by offering to pour, after which the women watched Britt take small sips. Once she had drunk half of the coffee in her own cup, the others joined in. While they chatted, Gretchen tried to think of anything that might be missing from the coffee supplies so she could follow Britt into the kitchen to retrieve them. But the doll maker had been thorough, even including honey, rich cream, and raw sugar on the service tray.

Gretchen was determined to get a good look at the kitchen. 'Excuse me, please,' she said. 'May I use your bathroom?'

'Of course; it's right over there.' Britt waved toward the back of the studio.

Foiled again, Gretchen went through the motions now required of her and entered the bathroom. The room was starkly functional, designed for Britt's students, not for her personal use. None of the cabinets contained potions or poisons.

When Gretchen came out, the coffee klatch had moved to the kiln. 'This kiln can reach well over two thousand degrees,' Britt said to an impressed audience. 'The control is mounted on the wall over near the door to keep it safe from the heat. I lock the kiln for safety when the class isn't using it.'

'It looks like a big washtub,' Nina said.

'Like an old-fashioned washing machine,' April agreed. Nina made a move to lift the cover.

Britt grabbed her wrist, striking out swiftly, as though she'd anticipated Nina's intent. 'I have pieces cooling inside. If you open it, they might crack.'

'Cool air meeting hot air,' April said, picking up a pair of safety goggles with green lenses and trying them on.

'Basic physics.'

Britt's daughter Melany appeared in the doorway. 'I'm going now,' she said, staring at her mother, seemingly unaware that she had company. Britt hurried over and gave her a hug. Melany stiffened. She didn't move to return the embrace.

Britt's fingers fluttered to her French twist, nervously feeling for renegade locks.

Again, Gretchen noticed the contrast in the two women. Melany went for the no-makeup, rumpled look, almost in direct opposition to her mother's organized, proper appearance. Was she acting out? Was it a passive- aggressive stance?

Once Melany was gone, Britt moved her guests to another table. 'These are some of my work in progress. I go through six stages of painting and firing. See these? The initial firing makes the porcelain pink, but not a fleshcolored pink like I want. I keep adding colors. They become richer and more natural looking with every firing.'

'What if I make a mistake?' April asked.

'Then you use paint thinner to start over.' Britt's voice had become tutorial. 'Over here I'm cutting out eye sockets, and over here I've just cut out the crown of this doll's head.'

'And you made earring holes,' April exclaimed, beside herself with joy. So much for a working crime partner. One of Charlie's Angels had gone to heaven.

While Britt preened under the rays of April's worship, Gretchen studied Britt's dollmaking tools. Gretchen didn't feel the same warmth for the doll maker as April did. What if Britt and Bernard were accomplices?

Gretchen felt a twinge of conscience for being meanspirited. While Bernard had stolen from her, and she had a good reason to distrust him, Britt hadn't done anything remotely suspicious. She'd try harder to like her, after she got a good look at Britt's kitchen. She'd make more of an effort. That was, if the wallpaper didn't match. Some of Britt's tools were familiar to Gretchen: stringing clamps, body paint to give a doll body's an antique look, hooks, and pliers. The studio was also well-stocked with supplies different from Gretchen's: modeling clays and a variety of molds.

When Gretchen needed to replace a part, she had to find an original from the same time period. Too bad she couldn't just whip up a copy in Britt's kiln. Her serious antique collectors would know instantly that she had cheated.

'That's an incising tool,' Britt said, appearing next to her. 'It's used to mark the creator's name on the doll. We have to be very careful that a reproduction isn't mistaken for an original.'

Gretchen held up a scalpel. Nina, she suddenly noticed, was missing from the room. The bathroom door was open, so she wasn't in there. Her stealthy aunt had vanished into the interior of the house.

'I have all different sizes in the drawer below it,' Britt said.

Taking that as permission, Gretchen opened the drawer. It was filled with scalpels and syringes. She reminded herself that Britt was a doll maker and that scalpels and syringes were important tools of her trade. She opened the next drawer. More knives. 'Quite a collection.' She held up a knife. The handle bore the steel image of a feather.

'That's a Native American feather knife. It belonged to my grandfather.'