Read Online Make, Take, Murder by Joanna Campbell Slan - Free Book Online Page B

liquid glue does.)
    3. Create inside pages out of cardstock. Label these: Calendar, Gifts, Recipes, Events, Decorating. (Tip: Use a punch in the shape of a label tab and stagger the tabs so they are all readable.) Remember to leave a margin on one side so you can punch holes and not ruin your design.
    4. Decorate these inside pages. You can find calendars online for your calendar page. You might also want to create some inside pages with pockets. On other pages, add room for lists that you will make as you go through the holidays.
    5. Between the decorated pages, add empty plastic page protectors for notes.
    6. Assemble your organizer.

The crafters decided to create a “get well” card for Dodie. As a result, we closed a half an hour later than predicted. How could I stop them? Especially when the extra time went for such a good cause? I knew the card would perk up her spirits. Horace phoned during the crop and told Bama privately his wife might be back at the store next week. I hoped so, but I also hoped she would take time to recover from her treatments. The aftermath of chemo and radiation could be as brutal as the treatments themselves.
    My house was dark and deserted when I arrived home. It wasn’t that I’d forgotten to turn on the porch light. I was hoping to save a little money by leaving it off during the day. Instead, I carried a flashlight in my purse. The sweep of the beam picked up a figure walking toward me, and I nearly wet my pants.
    “Kiki?”
    I recognized the voice of my landlord, Leighton Haversham.
    “Didn’t mean to scare you. Hoped I’d catch you. May I come in? Is your porch light not working?”
    “Um, I forgot to turn it on when I left.”
    Mr. Haversham smiled and held my door open for me, which was very helpful because I was loaded down. “I’ll have an automatic light sensitive timer put in. That way you won’t have to remember. Where’s Gracie?” He said as he took my bundles from my arms. I brought old magazines from the store with the hopes they’d inspire me for future projects. I also carried a sample project, the leftover Bread Co. food, paper to cut for upcoming projects, and small scraps of paper that needed sorting. This I fished out of the trash with the hopes I could use them on my own holiday cards that I hadn’t yet started.
    “Gracie’s staying overnight at the vet’s office. She’s got a bad case of ‘happy tail.’”
    “Happy tail?” He pulled out a kitchen chair and settled in. Leighton has that old world gentleman thing going. His salt-and-pepper hair was slicked back in a très European manner, and his slacks always draped as though made from very expensive material. I’m not sure if his loafers were Italian, but I imagined they were. There was this overall elegance about him that always caught me slightly off-guard. Especially when he also managed to look entirely comfortable in my kitchen.
    “Repetitive injuries after her tail got caught in a car door,” I explained with a wince. My best friend Mert’s son Roger had been fooling around. At twenty, Roger’s a big man-kid. He didn’t mean to slam the door on Gracie’s tail, and fortunately, he caught it mid-slam so the full impact wasn’t realized. But Mert just about killed her son over it. “Fiddle-farting around and he knows better!” she hollered. The wound should have healed quickly. Gracie, like most dogs, is a totally forgiving creature; her response was to give a loud yelp and then to quickly love up Roger. He knelt at her side, tears forming in his big hazel eyes, his whole body trembling, as he repeated, “I’m sorry! Gracie, I’m so sorry!” When he offered to pay for the vet’s visit, I said, “No way!” but Mert insisted. “Serves him right. He gotta learn that actions have consequences.”
    When her tail didn’t heal after the first trip, I took her back to see Dr. Tailor. His demeanor told me more than his words. He rubbed his jaw and sighed. “We call it ‘happy