Death of an Irish Diva (27 page)

The Saturday night crop had much to discuss and much to work on. Vera had decided to let bygones be bygones and make a scrapbook for Emily's parents and one for Leola. So with all the pictures, papers, clippings, awards, and so on they had gathered, the scrappers began to piece Emily McGlashen's life together.

“I don't know why, but I'm thinking of Maggie Rae as we do this,” Sheila said.

“I am too,” Vera said.

“We are piecing her life together, just like we did Maggie Rae's,” Annie said, then bit into a chocolate cupcake.

“One major difference,” DeeAnn said. “We already know who killed Emily. With Maggie Rae, we had no idea when we first started on those books.”

“Yeah,” Sheila said. “We had no idea about a lot of things then.”

“Tell me about it,” Annie said. “Look at that beautiful photo of Emily.”

She was maybe thirteen, looking sweet and innocent in a school photo.

“I never really thought of her as pretty,” Paige said. “But I think it was her personality I was seeing. But she does look pretty here. So young and pretty.”

“Speaking of young and pretty,” Sheila said, opening her laptop, “what in the world is going to happen to those young women who are having babies?”

“They will be given the option of adoption. Legitimate adoption, that is, by Alicorn,” Annie replied. “The last I talked to them, some of them seemed to be changing their minds and wanting to keep their babies.”

“But what about their educations?” DeeAnn asked.

“I think that they are a little shell-shocked. I'm not sure they can handle school right now. They are going to need some time,” Annie replied. “Hopefully, time with their families.”

“This is sweet. A note from one of her former students,” DeeAnn said. “Wow. You know, it's amazing how many faces this Emily McGlashen wore. We knew her as a bitch. But she was ‘the world's best dance teacher,' according to this girl. And Leola loved her. What did she see in her that I never saw?”

DeeAnn's words hung in the air.

Annie heard paper being sliced by the cutter, pages being turned and slicked over, and pens and little boxes being dropped back on the table.

But Annie knew the feeling DeeAnn was conveying. She'd often wondered how well she knew anybody around this table. Hell, not even just around this table, but people she'd worked with, neighbors, kids she grew up with, and yes, even herself. A few years ago, if someone had told her she'd be tempted in her marriage by a cop, she'd have told them they were crazy. She was solid in her marriage and had always been. Until recently.

She took a deep breath and a swig of beer. Maybe her brother was right. Maybe she drank too much.

She pasted some ribbon to the edge of the page she was working on. Ah yes, she was back to feeling solid in her marriage, and that was a good feeling, one that she hoped lasted.

“Well, we're almost done with this one,” DeeAnn said. “Ohmigoodness, who made these little cheese fritters? They are divine.”

“I did,” Paige said. “You think you're the only baker in the crowd?”

“Humph,” DeeAnn said.

“We're moving right along on our book, too,” Vera said.

“Soon this will all be over,” Sheila said. “And we can all get on with our lives.”

“What?” Annie said, smiling. “Do you mean this isn't our lives?”

The next day, Beatrice sat on her front porch, watching the hummingbirds. Some things never changed. The birds. The mountains. They would always be here. People? That was another matter.

She leafed through the past several days in her mind. Her granddaughter was back. Safe and sound. Better than ever. A murderer was off the streets. Bill was out of their lives. Someday, he might be allowed back in Elizabeth's life. Not for the foreseeable future.

Everybody was getting some closure—most particularly, the Greenberg couple. Finally. Soon they would be leaving Cumberland Creek. Beatrice hated to see them go. Oddly enough, she found that she had a lot in common with the aging hippie couple, especially Rachel. They were coming by today, as were the croppers with scrapbooks they had made for them.

Right as she thought this, Sheila, Paige, and DeeAnn came walking through her front gate and sat down next to her.

“Hey, ladies,” Beatrice said. “If you want some tea, help yourselves.”

A pitcher of iced tea, with glasses next to it, sat on the wicker table. But they all just gathered on her porch, watching the hummingbirds.

Annie drove up in her car, with Rachel and Donald Greenberg inside.

“Well, what is this? Grand Central Station?” DeeAnn said.

“Come on in,” Beatrice said. “Pull up a chair.”

The Greenbergs looked happier, livelier than she'd seen them over the past several weeks. They seemed more at peace.

“I'm so glad you came,” Beatrice said. “I have something for you.”

“For us?” Donald said. “Really?”

His hair looked cleaner, Beatrice noted, and he was clean shaven. He wasn't too bad looking when he was cleaned up.

Paige stood up. “We've researched Emily's biological family history. It turns out that your daughter's lineage was indeed a part of this town and its history.”

“Well, well, well.” Rachel beamed. “She was right, after all.”

“Yes, but she could not have imagined the depth of the story,” Beatrice said. “This has been hidden for years. A story with many secrets and cover-ups.” She handed them the memory book she found buried in her backyard. “The book was buried in my backyard, along with some of the things belonging to the McGlashen family. Most of them the state owns. I donated them. They really held no personal significance. But this, this book does. You should have it.”

“Intriguing,” Donald said, his head tilting, brows knitting.

“Thanks,” Rachel managed to say through a huge smile and watery eyes. “You can't imagine what this means to me. To us. I know Emily was difficult. And it must seem strange to you, but I feel so close to her here. And now this. I feel her here with us now.”

They all grew quiet.

“One of the items in the book was a lock of red hair. I asked the guys from the Virginia Department of Historic Resources to compare the DNA of the hair to the DNA of the bones they found in my yard. Turns out it was a match. Same family, at least. Maybe even the same person. So this is truly the McGlashen homestead,” Beatrice said and then hugged Rachel.

“It's remarkable,” she said.

“We have something for you, too. You can't leave without this.” Sheila held up a bag. “But I know that Vera wanted to be here for this,” Sheila said. “Where is she?”

“She's napping,” Beatrice said. “Why don't you go and wake her?”

Sheila came back momentarily. “Which room is she in?”

“Hers. Why?”

“Her room is a mess. Scattered boxes, pictures, all kinds of junk. But she's not in there.”

Beatrice stood. “Vera!”

She moved through her house, searching. Where could she be?

“Oh, bother!” she said as she came back to the porch. “I don't know where she's gone. Her room is a mess, and that's so unlike her.”

“Was she okay?” Annie asked.

Beatrice shrugged. “She's been strange. The whole thing with Bill . . .”

“Bill?” Sheila said. “Weren't her wedding albums in that gold box?”

“I think so,” Beatrice said.

“Well, it's empty,” Sheila said.

“Are you sure?” Beatrice said, leading them into Vera's room.

She reached for the shiny gold box. It was empty except for a pair of scissors and some cut paper.

“That's not just any old paper,” Sheila said. “That's the paper out of her wedding album. I remember that color.”

“Odd,” DeeAnn said. “So Vera is gone with her photos?”

“Where would she be?” Annie said.

Beatrice wondered. Where would Vera go with her photos? Back to Bill? No. Any person she would go to was right here at this very moment. Well, everybody but Eric. It seemed to Beatrice that they'd recently gotten much closer.

Just then her phone rang. Jon picked it up, and she vaguely heard him murmuring. “No, we will handle it. Thank you.”

“Beatrice, that was Adam Bryant,” Jon said. “Vera is at the park.”

“At the park? Is she okay?” Beatrice's voice lifted a decibel or two, betraying her clam face. She was worried about Vera because of the sleepwalking, even though they'd gotten to the bottom of it. Who knew how witnessing that murder would bubble up in Vera again?

“She seems to be fine, Adam said, but he received a call about her and thought it best if you go and collect her.”

“I'll take you,” Annie said, pulling her keys out of the pocket of her blue jeans.

The lot of them tried to pile in Annie's car; others took off on foot, even the Greenbergs, carrying their prized book. Once Annie reached the edge of the park, Beatrice ran out of the car before Annie could put it in park. Beatrice's legs were strong and sturdy from walking in the mountains for many years. She could be quick on her feet, too. But she felt as if she were moving too slowly. What on earth was her daughter up to now? And the police had called? What could it be? Her old heart pounded in her chest as she rounded the corner to the park.

She scanned the area and saw a small crowd gathered by the river. That must be where Vera was. Beatrice walked over to the riverbank.

There Beatrice found Vera and stood in amazement. Her forty-three-year-old daughter was knee-deep in the river, surrounded by floating photos and boxes. She was a grown woman, yet Beatrice swore she looked like she was still twelve, standing there, praying to her mountain. The years seemed to have been stripped away from her.

Vera turned and looked at Beatrice. “I'm afraid I've made a mess here, Mama.” She watched as the river carried away her wedding photos.

“That's all right, girl. The river's going to take care of it,” Beatrice said quietly. “Let me help you out of there.”

By the time Vera made her way out of the rocky, shallow river, Sheila, Paige, Annie, and DeeAnn were coming up behind Beatrice. They were all out of breath and sweaty.

“Oh, girl, what are you doing now?” Sheila said, shaking her head full of wiry hair.

“It's done, I'd say,” Beatrice said, taking a deep breath.

Sheila stood and took it in, the photos drifting, swirling in the currents. “Finally,” she said, then wrapped her arms around Vera.

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, and other supplies say “acid-free,” or eventually the acid may ruin cherished photos and layouts.

 

Adhesive:
Any kind of glue or tape can be considered an 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 embellishments.

 

Challenge:
Within the scrapbooking community, “challenges” are issued in groups as a way to instill motivation.

 

Crop:
Technically, “to crop” means “to cut down a photo.” However, a “crop” is also when a circle of scrapbookers gets together and scrapbook. A crop can be anything from a group of friends getting together to a more official gathering where scrapbook materials are for sale, games are played, and challenges are issued, 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:
An embellishment is an item, other than words or photos, that enhances a scrapbook page. 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 of 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 Corner:
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.

 

Punchie:
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, this adhesive does 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 the pages to lie completely flat when the album is open. 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. Templates 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.