Chapter 69
Annie sometimes found herself back at Cookie’s yellow house. Nobody had rented it yet, and it was still wide open. She loved to walk through those empty rooms. It was a place of peace and quiet. Even though it hurt that Cookie left them, Annie still found the place that her friend had called home to be comforting.
Strange.
She looked out the huge window at the mountain range—a place of splendid beauty, especially with the first snowfall lying in clumps on the grass and on the trees.
“Pretty, huh?” Someone came up behind her.
She turned around quickly, startled. It was Detective Adam Bryant.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, smiling. “I thought I might find you. Mike said he thought you might be here.”
Mike and Bryant had struck up a friendship. Annie wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
“What’s up?” she said and smiled back.
“I wanted to thank you, once again, for not reporting on the FBI involvement and all that,” he said.
“Sometimes, even when you know the truth, it’s best not to write about it. Thanks for telling me everything,” she said.
“You had me cornered.” He laughed, and then his deep-dimpled smile faded quickly. “I’m still pissed about it.”
“C’mon,” she said. “You had no idea.”
“I should’ve known they were setting me up, using me. I should’ve smelled that a mile away. Sometimes I wonder if I’ve outlived my job as a cop. Maybe I’m getting too slow-witted,” he said, his head tilting, brow knitting.
“Funny, I just said the same thing to my husband about reporting,” she said. “But there was no way you could have done anything about it—even if you had known the FBI was setting you up or setting up Cookie. You would have still kept her. You would have still done your job. Even though it came down to this, justice was served.”
“Let’s hope it will be served, that Zeb will get convicted,” he said.
Bryant walked over to the other side of the window, looked out to the mountains. “I didn’t know why they wanted me to keep Cookie. I just knew that I had to. That’s all they told me. Just wanted her out of the way. Me too, evidently. I wanted you to know that. I had orders from them. They were supposed to be working with us. But you know how that goes. FBI comes in and trumps all of us.”
“I hope that she’s okay,” Annie said, suddenly feeling warm and taking off her parka. She sat down on the floor. “I’ve been going over the scenarios.”
He sat down next to her. “You know, me too.”
“I think of that scrapbook she had, full of tarot cards, bits and pieces of hair, crystals, maps.”
He frowned.
“I’m just saying that it felt like she was here for a reason. She researched Cumberland Creek, yeah. But there was more to it than that.”
He shrugged. “What are you thinking?”
“Undercover agent?” she said.
“Witness protection program?”
Their eyes locked as they sat together on the floor, the winter sun streaming in, the sunlight reflecting off the bright snow. Annie felt a sudden rush of heat or embarrassment and felt her face reddening. Was this the flush of attraction? She shrugged it off and thought of her husband immediately. She stood up.
“I’m sorry. I’ve got to go,” she said.
Could she be friends with or even attracted to this cop? He was infuriating, maddening, and yet . . . Mike was right. He was basically a good guy. She could not write up the story in a way that would make him look like an ass. Yeah, ten years ago, she’d have done it and not flinched. But she was a different person today.
“Oh yeah. Yeah, sure,” he said. “Oh wait, I have something for you. Come out to the car with me.”
She trailed behind him and watched him open the car door.
“Close your eyes,” he told her.
“What? C’mon,” Annie said. “Are you serious?”
This was a side to him she’d never seen. Playful. Who’d have thought?
“Close them,” he said.
“Okay,” she sighed. “Whatever. Get on with it, Bryant!”
“Hold out your hands,” he told her.
She did so.
“We found this when we were traipsing around up on the mountain. It’s a bit torn up in some places. Missing pages. Kind of ragged. But I thought you might want it.”
A heavy item was placed in her hands. Cool. Metallic. She felt a warm wind come over them as she opened her eyes and read what was written in beautiful hand-printed letters: “Cookie Crandall’s Scrapbook of Shadows.”
Chapter 70
Vera had been playing detective, and it resulted in a new scrapbook for Beatrice. She’d been racking her brain for weeks as to why her mom never shared many photos from Paris. Then it came to her one morning while she was feeding Elizabeth scrambled eggs. Her daughter asked for Jon, who made a kick-ass scrambled egg.
It was then that she figured out that Beatrice must have more photos and that Jon was in them or had taken them. So, one evening while Beatrice and Jon were out together, Vera sneaked into her house and her computer, downloaded all the photos. Jon was in many of them. There they were at the Eiffel Tower. Jon’s arm was placed naturally across Beatrice’s shoulders. Beatrice was beaming. She looked twenty years younger. Vera could not deny that her mother had been extremely happy since Jon came to town.
“I’m almost finished with this one,” Annie said. “Wow. I can’t believe Bea was at the Louvre and didn’t mention it.”
“Uncharacteristic,” Vera said, taking the last drink of eggnog. “I think she was trying to come to terms with the whole Jon thing. I mean, he was there. And at some point Paris became all about Jon.”
“I think it’s fantastic for her,” Sheila said, took another sip of eggnog, and burped a little. “Excuse me.”
“She’s going to be shocked when she sees this,” DeeAnn said, reaching for a gingerbread cookie. “What fun.”
“It’s going to be a great Christmas,” Vera said. “Elizabeth, Jon, all of us together. It’s so much fun playing Santa.”
“What about Tony?” Annie asked, dropping her scissors.
“Oh, that’s over,” Vera said in a tone that she hoped let her friends know she really didn’t want to talk about—because she did not. She didn’t know what happened between them, but did know that Tony was not the man for her. Neither was Bill. The surprising truth was that for now she liked being alone with her daughter. She liked her life.
“Too bad,” DeeAnn said, getting up from the table with her empty glass for a refill of the eggnog.
“Careful,” Sheila said, smiling. “Don’t have too much. You know that’s spiked.”
“No kidding,” DeeAnn said and laughed.
“Speaking of things being over,” Paige said, gathering up all the stickers and ribbons from the table. “Are they going to be able to make the charges stick on Zeb?”
“I don’t know why not,” Annie said, handing Vera the last page of the Paris scrapbook.
“You never know. You get lawyers involved, and God knows what they will come up with,” Paige said.
Nods of agreement around the table. Holiday music filled the room.
“I woke up the other night from another strange dream. Not like the one I had before. Just strange. There were several redheads in it,” Vera said after a few minutes. “I’m not sure I’m ever going to get over this.”
“It’s funny. We all thought the red hair had something to do with the murders, and it turns out it didn’t,” Sheila said as she held up a page for Vera to slide a page protector over. “It turns out it was a simple reason. They knew too much. The fact that they both had red hair was happenstance.”
The women gathered in a half circle around Vera and Sheila, checking the completed scrapbook—all in black and white. Stunning. Sheila turned the page to the Eiffel Tower pop-out that she’d worked into the book.
“That’s delightful,” DeeAnn said.
“I’d never even have tried it if it wasn’t for Cookie’s book. I thought if she could do it, so could I,” Sheila said.
An empty hush came over the Cumberland Creek Scrapbook Club. They searched one another’s faces for answers. Where was Cookie? What did it all mean? The book, the dreams, her involvement?
“I’ve been thinking about her scrapbook,” Annie said. “At first, I thought it was just a spiritual journaling exercise. But sometimes when I think about it, that book was full of clues. The mountain. The crystal. The map. We just didn’t know it.”
“Hindsight,” DeeAnn said.
“I also think it was clear that she studied this place. She was here for a reason. So . . . I guess she’s gone for a reason, too,” Annie said, blinking back a tear.
“Have some more eggnog,” DeeAnn said, taking her glass. “I’ll get you more.”
Vera placed a big red velvet bow on the black album. It was edged in silver. The black, the red, the silver, all came together in a classic visual feast. “I’m not going anywhere. I was born here, and I guess I’ll die here.” She pressed down on the bow and looked up at all her friends looking at her. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m not planning on dying anytime soon.” She laughed.
“Oh, well,” Sheila said, “that’s good to know.”
Vera looked around the table as the Cumberland Creek Scrapbook Club members finished up their holiday treats before strolling down the street with the scrapbook for Beatrice. Vera thought of the past few months and everything.... Hell, they had even been in jail. Oh, but it wasn’t all bad. There were some moments that Vera loved: DeeAnn knocking over the man on the mountain, which still made Vera smile; Paige sitting cross-legged on the jail cell floor and refusing to give her name at first to the police; Sheila wagging her finger in Detective Bryant’s face; and hearing about Annie smacking Zeb across his face in DeeAnn’s Bakery. As Vera looked around the table, she had to wonder what they would get into next.
“Are we ready to go?” Sheila asked. They gathered their coats and bags.
They walked together down the street, laughing and chatting, as the snow fell. Beatrice’s pink Victorian house looked something straight out of a Christmas greeting card—beautiful white bows in each of the windows and a huge wreath on the front door. Vera gave it a knock.
“What do you want?” Beatrice said when she opened the door. “What do the scrapbook queens want with me?”
“We have something for you, Mama.”
Vera watched her mother’s face as Beatrice gradually realized what they had done—in the midst of all the turmoil and the hectic holiday season, these women had artfully placed photos in an album for her.
“What?” she said, as if still trying to make sense of it all. Then it gradually washed over her face. The joy. And for the first time in years, Beatrice was rendered speechless.
Glossary of Basic Scrapbooking Terms
Acid-Free:
Acid is a chemical found in paper that will disintegrate the paper over time. It will ruin photos. It’s very important that all papers, pens, etc., say acid-free, or eventually it can ruin cherished photos and layouts.
Adhesive:
Any kind of glue or tape can be considered adhesive. In scrapbooking, there are several kinds of adhesives: tape runners, glue sticks, and glue dots.
Brad:
This is similar to a typical split pin, but it is found in many different sizes, shapes, and colors. It is very commonly used for an embellishment.
Challenge:
Within the scrapbooking community, “challenges” are issued in groups as a way of motivation.
Crop:
Technically, “to crop” means the cutting down of a photo. However, a “crop” is also when a circle of scrapbookers gets together and scrapbooks. A crop can be anything from a group of friends getting together, or a more official gathering, where there are scrapbook materials for sale and there are games and challenges and so on. Online crops are a good alternative for people who don’t have a local scrapbook community.
Die-Cut:
This is a shape or letter cut from paper or cardstock—usually by machine or by using a template.
Embellishment:
Embellishment is the enhancing of a scrapbook page with trinkets other than words and photos. Typical embellishments are ribbons, fabric, and stickers.
Eyelet:
These small metal circles, similar to the metal rings found on shoes for threading laces, are used in the scrapbook context as a decoration and can hold elements on a page.
Journaling:
This is the term for writing on scrapbook pages. It includes everything from titles to full pages on thoughts, feelings, and memories about the photos displayed.
Matting:
Photos in scrapbooks are framed with a mat. Scrapbookers mat with coordinating papers on layouts, often using colors found in the photos.
Page Protector:
These are clear, acid-free covers that are used to protect finished pages.
Permanent:
Adhesives that will stay are deemed permanent.
Photo Corners:
A photo is held to a page by slipping the corners of the photo into photo corners. They usually stick on one side.
Post-Bound Album:
This term refers to an album that uses metal posts to hold the binding together. These albums can be extended with more posts to make them thicker. Usually page protectors are already included on the album pages.
Punch:
This is a tool used to “punch” decorative shapes in paper or cardstock.
Punchies:
The paper shapes that result from using a paper punch tool are known as punchies. These can be used on a page for a decorative effect.
Repositionable Adhesive:
Magically, these adhesives do not create a permanent bond until dry, so you can move an element dabbed with the adhesive around on the page until you find just the perfect spot.
Scraplift:
When a scrapbooker copies someone’s page layout or design, she has scraplifted.
Scrapper’s Block:
This is a creativity block.
Strap-Hinge Album:
An album can utilize straps to allow pages to lie completely flat when the album opens. To add pages to this album, the straps are unhinged.
Template:
A template is a guide for cutting shapes, drawing, or writing on a page. They are usually made of plastic or cardboard.
Trimmer:
A trimmer is a tool used for straight-cutting photos.
Vellum:
Vellum is a thicker, semitransparent paper with a smooth finish.