The Avalon Ladies Scrapbooking Society Part 14

"Look!" Yvonne exclaims, and then Isabel sees it. A glimmer of steel. A key.

Isabel picks up the key. "That's an odd shape," she says, frowning. "It looks too small."

"Try it anyway," Yvonne suggests.

Isabel tries to slip the key into the lock but it won't fit. "Nope," she says. She looks at Yvonne. "What should we do?" She puts the key back under the angel and wipes her hands.

Yvonne is chewing on her lip, a look of uncertainty on her face. "Well, okay. Here's the thing: I can probably get us into the house but I'll have to use some unconventional methods."

"Does it involve a rock and a window?"

"Of course not!" Yvonne gives her an exasperated look.

"Okay, okay. Just hurry."

Yvonne goes to her truck and comes back with her tool chest. She rummages around and then holds up what looks like a couple of wires. She turns to the door and starts to jimmy the lock. A few seconds later there's a click, and Yvonne turns the k.n.o.b and pushes the door open.

Isabel stares at her. "What are you, a thief? Do you have a record?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I studied to be a locksmith, too, that's all. Learned a few tricks of the trade. Now come on."

The women don't get past the foyer.

"Oh my G.o.d," Yvonne says, struck. "What happened?"

Isabel looks around, speechless. It's as if a hurricane has come through and upended everything. The house looks ransacked-items strewn everywhere, books and mail on the floor, craft items spilling off the tables and shelves. "I don't know," she manages to say.

Yvonne reaches for her phone. "Should I call the police?"

Isabel shakes her head. "The door was locked, remember? n.o.body broke in here." She gingerly takes a step forward, then slowly begins to make her way around Bettie's house.

Isabel has only been in Bettie's house a few times, but it's always been neat as a pin. Bettie is one of those organized people who keeps everything in well-labeled, matching boxes. But now everything is in disarray. In the kitchen, Isabel notices the dishes piled up in the sink, plates of half-eaten food scattered everywhere. Isabel has to pinch her nose to block out the stench.

"It wasn't like this when I came here to fix her sink," Yvonne says, bewildered. "What was that, a month ago? Something's seriously wrong here."

That much is clear. But Isabel doubts it has anything to do with anyone other than Bettie.

Her cellphone rings again and Isabel sees it's the same number as before. "Bettie?"

"Isabel, where are you? Did you find the dots? We're about to start the meeting, but there's no way I can do my segment on 'Sc.r.a.pbooking Secrets' if I don't have them!" Bettie sounds indignant.

"I'm looking for them now," Isabel says, gesturing to Yvonne to start looking. "But, uh, I'm having a little trouble finding them."

"Oh for goodness' sake. Are you in my craft room? It's toward the back of the house, near the laundry room." Bettie hangs up with a click.

"You're welcome," Isabel mutters.

They pick their way to the craft room, which is in marginally better shape than the rest of the house. After a few minutes, Isabel finds the box labeled ADHESIVES but finds everything except for adhesives inside.

"Maybe we should stop by the store and buy some," Yvonne suggests.

"We don't even know what we're looking for," Isabel says, opening every box. A few minutes later, she holds up a box labeled FIBERS triumphantly. "Pay dirt. Glue sticks, glue guns, instant decoupage sealer, rolls of was.h.i.+ tape and . . ." She reads off a clear packet filled with adhesive foam cut in the shape of circles. "Pop-up glue dots!"

Yvonne is gagging as she holds up a half-eaten package of powdered donuts dotted with mold before dropping it in a trashcan that's already overflowing. "We don't need to diet-I've officially lost my appet.i.te. Forever."

Isabel nods toward the door, still unable to make sense of everything around her. "Me, too. Let's go."

"The September meeting of the Avalon Ladies Sc.r.a.pbooking Society is now in order. Please take your seats, ladies."

Ava sucks in her breath. There are so many people here, so many women who look familiar, a few whom Ava remembers. She wishes she hadn't said yes to Bettie Shelton, who had called to invite her to the tea salon for dinner. She had foolishly a.s.sumed that Bettie wanted to buy some inventory or get a few ideas, and she was so encouraged by the news that Margot had almost sold out of Ava's jewelry that she had said yes without really thinking about it.

Max is covering his arm with stickers. "Look!" he says to Ava, who puts a finger to her lips.

"Shh," she whispers, but smiles and pulls him onto her lap. Bettie had a small packet of stickers and paper ready for him when they walked through the door.

Ava hugs Max tighter to her. He's excited to be out, has enjoyed being fawned over by the ladies of the sc.r.a.pbooking club. She's relieved not to be alone, and she's planning on using him as an excuse to get out of there. Bedtime, she'll say apologetically to Bettie the first chance she gets.

She waits impatiently as Bettie goes through the minutes of the last meeting, makes some announcements.

"Tonight I want everyone to think outside the alb.u.m," Bettie is saying. "Memories can happen anywhere. It's not just the big events, but the small moments, too. Sc.r.a.pbooking isn't about making things pretty on the page, but about how you feel, about the details in life that are special, that feel good. Invite others to take an emotional journey with you. Using textures in your layouts is one of the fastest ways to get people there." She frowns and scans the room, then mutters, "Isabel better show up with those glue dots soon."

Startled, Ava looks around. Did Bettie mean Isabel Kidd?

"So, since we're talking about texture today, I'm pleased to introduce our surprise guest, Ava Catalina. She's the owner of Free Hearts, a bottle-cap jewelry company."

Despite her anxiety, Ava feels herself flush with pleasure. Owner? Company? It sounds so official, so real. Bettie nods toward her and the women turn around and start clapping.

"And her son, Matt . . ."

"Max," Ava corrects politely as Max smiles on cue. "Thank you for having me," she adds to everyone. There are approving nods and smiles. No one seems to know who she is, and it feels good to be noticed in a way that doesn't involve disapproving snickers or scowls.

"We'll have Ava up after the break," Bettie says. "I'm also pleased to announce that I'll be hosting a beginner's sc.r.a.pbooking primer in ten minutes for you newbies. As for the rest of you, Madeline has given us full use of the sitting room and dining area, so find your work s.p.a.ce and let's start sc.r.a.ppin'!" There's a bang as she hits a wood block with a decorated mallet, making Ava jump.

There's a small cheer as the women stand up and quickly start arranging themselves. After the break, Ava thinks with dread. Maybe she can talk to Bettie, explain that unfortunately she won't be able to stay so late because of Max's bedtime.

"Don't forget to use your punches!" Bettie calls out to everyone. "And make the most of your chipboard alphas-this is a great time to break them out if you've been holding back!"

"Oh my G.o.d," Ava hears a murmur behind her. "Let's drop this off and go."

"Five minutes," another voice begs. "Did you see those cute tags Bettie has in this month's sc.r.a.p pack? They're embossed, Isabel."

"I'm going to pretend we're not even having this conversation," comes the annoyed reply.

Ava gives a quarter turn, then freezes when she sees who it is. It is Isabel Kidd, and she's with her friend. They're a formidable pair, confident and pretty, though Isabel clearly looks put out. Ava shrinks in her chair, buries her face in Max's hair as she tries to come up with a plan.

"FINALLY!" she hears Bettie say. "I thought you'd never get here! You can put them over here. And you brought Yvonne, how lovely!"

As the women walk away, Ava scoops Max into her arms and hurries toward the exit.

"Oh, isn't he adorable?" A woman carrying a box of tea bags stops to give them a smile. Ava recognizes her as the owner of the tea salon.

"I'm Madeline," the woman says. "And this is Connie." She nods to the young woman behind her. Connie is holding a china platter filled with small pastries.

"I'm hungry, Mommy," Max says, looking up at Ava. He wouldn't eat when they first arrived, too enthralled by all the commotion. Ava had only picked at her food, unsure of what was happening, still reeling from the shock that her "dinner" with Bettie included thirty other women toting small luggage carts filled with paper.

"There's still plenty of food on the buffet," Madeline says. "I think the ladies plan on grazing all night. Help yourself."

"We need to be going," Ava says quickly. "But thank you."

"I'm hungry," Max says again, and there's a hint of a whine.

"Here," Connie says, handing Max a pastry, then looks at Ava guiltily. "Oh, sorry, I should have checked with you first. Is it okay that I gave that to him? It's an apple dumpling." They watch as Max shoves the whole thing into his mouth.

"Moruh," Max says, his mouth full.

Ava sighs. "It's okay," she says.

"There you are!" Bettie exclaims, hurrying up behind them. "Ava, I was thinking that it would be so much fun if you could talk about how to use bottle caps in our layouts, or maybe as a separate do-it-yourself project with leftover paper sc.r.a.ps. I know the ladies would welcome your ideas."

"Well, I haven't had much time to think about it," Ava says, wanting to get out of there before Isabel sees her. "And you know, Max is tired . . ." She nods apologetically at her son who's reaching for another apple dumpling. He smiles at them, looking anything but tired.

"Oh, he looks like he's having fun!" Bettie says, producing another package of stickers. "Look what I have, Matt!"

Max reaches for it and then says again, "I'm hungry."

"Perfect!" Bettie cries. "Connie can take him to get some food, can't you?"

"Actually . . ." Connie begins but Bettie gives Max a tickle and in the same motion manages to extract him from Ava's arms and plop him into Connie's while pa.s.sing the apple dumpling platter to Madeline. Both Madeline and Connie have their arms full as Bettie drags Ava away.

"Now, I'm going to do a quick 101 for you and a few other new members."

"I don't sc.r.a.pbook . . ." Ava begins.

"Exactly!" Bettie nods her head as if Ava has proved her point. "Everyone says that, but the truth is that everybody sc.r.a.pbooks in one way or another-you just don't know it. It's my job to give you the right tools to make it easier to preserve those special memories. Don't you want to have something nice for Matt?"

"Max . . ."

"They grow up so fast, and we're all so busy these days. Sc.r.a.pbooking a little bit here and there ensures that we remember the moments that matter most. It'll be something he'll treasure when he's older." Bettie smiles. "Don't you want that for him?"

What a low blow. Ava hasn't even put together Max's baby book, doesn't keep a journal of any kind. She's been meaning to do something, but every time she begins to sift through the photos, it feels hard and overwhelming, incomplete. She doesn't know where to begin and at the same time is afraid of leaving something out, knowing already that the biggest piece isn't there.

"Now, you don't have to worry about anything right now. Just listen and play-that's what I tell everyone. Listen and play, and see where it goes from there. You'll be amazed at what happens when you have pretty patterned paper and card stock looking back at you! It's like something opens up inside. Come on!" Bettie tugs on her arm.

"Bettie, I can't." Ava untangles herself from Bettie's grip and holds her ground. "I'm sorry, but I can't go back in."

"Why not?"

Ava hesitates. "Because there's someone there who would be very upset if she saw me."

Bettie stops and stares at her. "Who? I know every lady in there and I can a.s.sure you that you'd be welcome."

Ava shakes her head. "I don't think so."

"I'd stake my life on it," Bettie declares. "Now who is it?"

Ava swallows. She can tell that Bettie won't let up unless Ava tells her. "Isabel Kidd."

"But why would Isabel . . ." There's a long, drawn-out pause as Bettie stares at Ava. In the instant when Bettie puts two and two together, Ava can almost see the lightbulb go off.

She explains, "As you know, I used to work for her husband, Bill, in the dental office. We were together for a year before he died. Max is Bill's son." There's a rush of heat to her cheeks when she says it out loud, but it's freeing, too. A relief. It's the first time she's actually said what had happened, who Max is.

"Oh lordy lord lord lord," Bettie mutters. She chews her lip as she shakes her head. "Well, of course! I have to say, I am gobsmacked. Didn't see this one coming, no, I didn't."

"I'm sorry about the presentation," Ava says. "Maybe I could leave some samples with you and-"

"Just when you think you've seen it all," Bettie continues with a shake of the head. "It's funny how life works, don't you think? I certainly don't blame you for not wanting to stay. If I were in your shoes, I'd certainly be tempted to run away, too. There's no other solution, now, is there?"

Ava stiffens. "I'm not running away. I just don't want to cause her any more unhappiness."

Bettie pats her arm soothingly, as if she were a small child. "Of course not. Now let's get you out of here before Isabel sees you. She's all worked up for some reason or another-you certainly wouldn't want to get in her way tonight!" She begins to steer Ava toward the front door.

"Wait, I have to get Max . . ." Ava begins when Isabel and her friend walk into the foyer.

"Yvonne, we're going," Isabel is saying darkly as her friend protests. She stops talking when she sees Ava.

Ava wants to run, but she can't get her legs to cooperate. They're like jelly, threatening to buckle.

"Well!" Bettie says, clearing her throat. "This is certainly awkward." She looks between the two women.

Neither Ava nor Isabel respond.

Ava feels Isabel's eyes boring into her, searching, accusing. Resentment and anger are s.h.i.+mmering from her like heat off a sidewalk. Unlike Isabel's outburst in front of her house, this is worse. Much worse. Isabel seems different somehow, more prepared, more powerful, and Ava can sense every emotion running through Isabel's body. Forgiveness and understanding, however, are nowhere in the vicinity.

"You," Isabel says. She turns to her friend. "It's her." She spits the word out, like a threat.

Ava glances at Bettie, who seems both concerned and a little enthralled. The hubbub of women and activity continues around them as if everything were normal, as if Ava weren't concerned for her safety and well-being. At the moment she doesn't know what Isabel might do, she just knows she should get out of there before she has a chance to find out.

Isabel's friend puts a hand on her arm and says in a quiet voice, "Come on, Isabel. Let's go."

"NO." Isabel is rooted on the spot, her hands on her hips. Ava can almost picture Isabel wearing a cape, an avenging superhero, wind blowing in her hair as she's about to take down a villain.

"Isabel," Ava says. "I'm sorry, I-I didn't know you were going to be here. But I'm leaving now."

Bettie purses her lips but doesn't try to persuade Ava to stay. Even Isabel seems satisfied with this, her glare a little less hostile, her stance softening a little, the tightness easing up.

For a second Ava thinks it might all be okay, that she might get out of there, when she hears Max's laughter and the sound of small footsteps running up behind her.

"Mommy!" he exclaims, and launches into her arms. "I have a goody bag for us!" He holds up a brown paper bag tied with a ribbon. A yellow letter M is taped to the top. "It's my Happy Meal! The M is for Max!"