Read Online Photo Finished by Laura Childs - Free Book Online Page B

paper.” She uncapped a bronze-colored pen, paused for a moment, then bent over the album and began to write in a long, looping script.
    Baby watched her closely. “ ‘Paris, City of Light.’ Beautiful. Now it’s the perfect album for preserving memories of Dawn and Buddy’s Paris trip.” Baby’s fingers touched the edge of Dawn’s sleeve; she was clearly proud of her daughter.
    â€œDo you think I could do something similar using heart images?” asked Dawn. “For an anniversary album?”
    â€œI think hearts would be adorable,” said Carmela. “We could even add some heart-shaped charms for a dimensional effect.”
    â€œCould you attach charms to this?” asked Baby, indicating the album cover Carmela had just completed.
    â€œOh, absolutely,” said Carmela. “Tiny charms, stickers, gold tassels, a wax seal . . . the more layers you put on, the more depth you achieve.”
    â€œHere are some rubber stamps with heart images,” said Gabby, passing a half-dozen rubber stamps to Dawn. “And this handmade mulberry paper has tiny rosebud petals imbedded in it.”
    â€œWow,” said Dawn, clearly impressed.
    â€œThat paper comes in cream, white, and pink,” said Carmela. “And I think we also have some pretty gold paper with poetry verses etched in the background. That would certainly go well with your romantic theme.” Carmela rose from her chair and headed for the front of the shop. “Let me take a look.”
    As Carmela was searching through her stock of special papers, the phone rang. She grabbed the handset.
    â€œHello,” she said, fully expecting to hear Tandy once again.
    But it wasn’t Tandy. It was Lt. Edgar Babcock of the New Orleans Police Department. Asking Carmela if she would kindly put together a list of customers who’d attended her scrapbook crop this past Saturday night.
    â€œSure I will, of course I will,” Carmela replied into the phone. God, am I babbling? Sure sounds like it. Why am I suddenly nervous?
    â€œToday, if possible?” asked Lieutenant Babcock.
    â€œShouldn’t be a problem,” Carmela told him. She glanced toward the back of the shop. Everybody seemed involved in their own projects and she was pretty sure Gabby had kept that reservation list. Positive they had it, in fact.
    Lieutenant Babcock’s request had also made Carmela suddenly hopeful.
    If the police are looking at other people, surely that means they’re not entirely focused on Billy Cobb. On the other hand, they’re starting to look at my customers. . . .
    â€œShall I e-mail you the list or . . .?”
    â€œI’d like to stop by and pick it up if I could,” said Lieutenant Babcock.
    â€œI’ll have it ready,” Carmela promised him.
    â€œProblems?” asked Gabby as Carmela hung up the phone.
    Carmela pulled the gold paper from the front display and hurried back to her friends.
    â€œNot a problem per se,” Carmela answered slowly. “That was a police detective. He’s asking for a list of Saturday night’s customers.”
    â€œDo they suspect someone?” asked Gabby, suddenly looking worried again.
    â€œNo, I don’t think that’s it at all,” said Carmela. “I think this is more routine than anything.”
    â€œOh,” said Gabby, not terribly convinced.
    Uh-oh, thought Carmela. I hope Gabby doesn’t get Stuart all upset about this.
    â€œYou know,” said Baby, when there was a lull in the conversation, “there is someone who’s royally pissed at Barty Hayward.”
    â€œWho’s that?” asked Carmela. And why am I not surprised?
    â€œDove Duval,” said Baby as she carefully traced out a heart-shaped photo frame for Dawn.
    â€œDove was here Saturday night!” gasped Gabby.
    â€œAnd, as I recall, she left rather early,” continued Baby, lifting an elegant hand and pushing a