When I walked into the store, Graciela had just finished ringing up a large sale, if the size of the bag she handed to the customer was any indication. She said goodbye to the customer, then hustled out from behind the counter to give me a hug.

“Hola, mija.” She kissed my cheek. “Have you come to work your magic again?”

“My magic?”

She grinned. “Take a look around. The last two days have been my busiest for the entire year, and all because of you. Many of the students from your class have come back more than once, and those that you helped last night as well. You are by far my best salesperson and you’re not even on my payroll!”

I forced a chuckle. “I just want to help.”

“Then you have succeeded.” She winked. “If you want to negotiate a commission—”

This time, I laughed more heartily. “Nothing like that. But Nikki called and wanted a couple more of the card kits from the class. She said you’d sold them all?”

“Yes. I sold the first one yesterday morning, and the very next customer bought the other four.” Graciela giggled. “I thought she would tackle the woman who bought the other one and snatch the bag out of her hands.”

“Yes, some people like to make more than one of the same card. I do it myself, especially if I’ve got a particular event or occasion.”

She waved me off and retreated behind the counter. “I’ve already had requests for more, so go. Put together many kits, as many as you like.”

“I’m on my lunch break so I don’t have that much time. But I promised Nikki you’d save two of them for her.”

“Of course, of course.”

Another customer approached with an armful of purchases, so I left Graciela to handle the sale. I had to admit that despite the upsets of the last few days—especially yesterday—I was pleased the store was so busy. I wanted Graciela to be a success, not just for the scrapbooking circle’s benefit, but for her own sake as well.

I snagged one of the shopping baskets from inside the front door and cruised over to the paper racks to find the holiday paper I’d used for the cards. I shook my head—I couldn’t help it. I loved Graciela to pieces, but she really needed a better inventory display system. I finally found the papers I wanted—textured swirly green for the trees and the glittery gold for the stars—under a stack of blending sponges and rescue dog-themed embellishments. I collected the red ribbon, snowflake die, and a fine-tipped bottle of gloss, and then headed over to the table in the rear of the store where the scrapbooking group always met.

Humming a little “Holly Jolly Christmas,” I borrowed one of Graciela’s floor-sample Cuttlebugs and used the Christmas tree, star, and snowflake dies to cut all the pieces I needed for each kit. Once all my cutting was done, I sorted the supplies into self-sealing cellophane bags. A woman in jeans and a Crafting is My Superpower T-shirt wandered over. “Oooh. What are those?”

“Kits for a Christmas tree and snowflake card.” I grinned at her. “With a touch of holiday whimsy.”

“Really?” She ran a tentative finger across the textured green paper. “Are they for sale? I’ve got a dozen people on my list that I want to send specialty cards to.”

I hadn’t planned on making that many kits, and our conversation was attracting attention from other shoppers, but I wasn’t about to pass up a chance to boost Graciela’s sales. “What about this? I’ll show you where the supplies are and we can assemble the kits together.” There went my lunch break, but all in a good cause.

“Is this a class?” A woman in a paint-splattered denim shirt and black yoga pants, whom I recognized from the Sunday class, approached the table, her basket clutched to her middle. “I didn’t know you offered them during the week.”

I laughed. “I don’t. This is just a little lunchtime errand.” I gestured to the others who had gathered around. “But you’re all welcome to join me if you like.”

The first woman and the one from the class nodded eagerly. Two more joined us as I took them around the store to gather their supplies, so when we settled back at the table, there were five of us, although several customers lingered to watch as well.

“Okay, Ms. Superpower, you’re now the official tree-cutter.” I scanned the women sitting at the table as well as the onlookers. “How many kits do we need to make? Everyone hold up their fingers.” I counted them up—Ms. Superpower wanted five just on her own—and couldn’t help the little glow of satisfaction that people liked my designs. Today, I’d take all the positive reinforcement I could get.

I turned to Ms. Paint-Splatter. “It’s Helen, isn’t it?”

She beamed at me. “You remember my name? I didn’t think you noticed me with all the other, um”—her cheeks pinked—“other fuss.”

I returned her smile, although the memory of who caused the fuss probably made it look a bit strained. “I make an effort to remember all my students’ names. I can’t promise to succeed, but I do try.” The onlookers surrounding us shifted a little, a couple of them moving closer to observe Ms. Superpower work her Cuttlebug, one or two edging toward the rear. “Helen, if you would please cut one large and two small snowflakes for each kit, we can put them together for everyone who wants one.” Helen nodded and got to work with the second Cuttlebug.

Over the soft crunch of dies cutting through the paper and the squeak of the Cuttlebug handle, Ms. Superpower giggled. “This is more fun than I’ve had in a long time. It’s nice to hang out with other crafters. Sometimes I feel so isolated in my home crafting room that I might as well be in Antarctica.”

“Yes, this is wonderful,” Helen said. “I wish I had a regular crafting support group. I have all these ideas, but sometimes I get stuck and wish I had another set of eyes to give me input on my projects.”

I stifled the urge to issue an open invitation to the scrapbooking circle. I’d learned the hard way that new members required vetting. Simple interest or even enthusiasm didn’t always mean someone would fit with the rest of the group. Besides, even the current group didn’t always get along—Ava and Virginia’s perpetual feud being a case in point.

My hand trembled, and I nearly dropped a blob of gloss in the wrong spot. I guess that feud has ended. My vision blurred a little, and I blinked away a random tear—because how ridiculous was it that I was about to cry because of a fight that wouldn’t exist?

Helen put the last snowflake into the last bag. “Wasn’t there some kind of bling too? Red gems of some sort?”

“Shoot,” I muttered, startling somebody for the second time that day, this time a vaguely familiar woman in a black hoodie who’d stayed to watch from behind the other observers. I recognized her as one of the Brittanys from my class—the non-chatty one who hadn’t bothered to start her card. I didn’t hold it against her; some people didn’t like to work with others watching. I grimaced. For the class cards, I’d used the red embellishments I’d scored at Dianne’s booth on Saturday, and the leftovers were all in my basic kit—currently in police custody. “You’re absolutely right. Let me show you where Graciela keeps her gems.”

Helen’s face fell. “Don’t you have any of the ones from the class? They were so beautiful. And not like anything here.”

“I don’t. Not now. But if you’re not in a hurry, I think I might be able to get some more.” She nodded enthusiastically, and I smiled at her. “Wait here for just a moment then.”

I ducked into the back room for a little privacy—I knew Graciela wouldn’t mind—to call Dianne. Although she did most of her business at shows and with vendors, she was local, so I crossed my fingers that she’d sell to me directly.

“Hi, Dianne. This is Tash Van Buren. We met at the Expo Center on Saturday? You attended my class on Sunday?”

“Oh, Tash!” Dianne’s voice held warmth and welcome, which I counted as a good sign. “You were my good luck charm. I sold more at that show than at any in the past two years, plus I have an appointment with your friend Graciela to talk about stocking a display at her store.”

“That’s great!” I wandered along a counter stacked with boxes. “I’m calling to beg a favor, actually.”

“Anything. You name it.”

“Well, I used some of the embellishments I bought at your booth for the class on Sunday, and I’ve had requests for additional kits. But my remaining supply is, er, unexpectedly unavailable, so I was hoping I could convince you to sell me some more in person.”

“Of course. I’m out making vendor calls this afternoon so I’ve only got samples with me, but I’ll be home by four if you’d like to come on by.”

“I’m on my lunch break at the moment anyway. Could I drop by after work?” I calculated how early I could escape today. “Around five fifteen or so?”

“Absolutely. If I don’t answer the door, it’s because I’m out back in the garden, so just come on around. Here’s my address.” She rattled it off, but in a store full of paper, I didn’t have anything to write on. I pulled a crumpled scrap out of the trash and jotted it down, then read it back to her to make sure I’d got it right. “That’s it. See you this evening.”

“Thanks, Dianne. You’re a peach.” As I hung up, I was a little comforted that even though I’d lost one friend, I’d gained another.

I left the back room and rejoined the ladies at the table. Most of the shoppers who’d been watching had already wandered off. “Good news! I should be able to get more of those fabulous gems to bling up your cards. How many do we need?” Everyone counted up their cards, and I added the total to the paper with Dianne’s address. “I’ll pick them up from the vendor this evening and drop them back here so you can buy them from Graciela. But for now”—I glanced at my watch—“I’ve got to get back to the Evil Day Job.”

The women all chuckled, and Ms. Superpower said, “If you think it’s that evil, maybe you should look for another job.” She grinned and brandished her basket. “Like helping us all with our crafts.”

I wish. But dreams didn’t pay the rent. I said goodbye to my impromptu students and walked up to the register. Graciela was between customers, so I laid the mostly completed kits on the counter. “These aren’t quite done, but I need some supplies from Dianne.”

“Oh, yes. The lady from the show. I’m meeting her for tea this afternoon as soon as Kim arrives for her shift.” Graciela chuckled. “She told me that until you started pulling for her, her booth was as lively as a graveyard.”

Graveyard. I swallowed to ease the tightness in my throat. “No. I think there was just some weird timing thing. The show was empty, and then suddenly this massive wave of people just crashed through the doors.” I wrinkled my nose. “Well, not crashed, precisely.” Other than the two people who seemed determined to knock me or PJ over. “But it was definitely a sudden rush.”

She tapped the side of her nose, nodding sagely. “I bet I know what that was. The police, they had the roads blocked over by Lloyd Center. They were even diverting traffic off I-5. It was a mess.”

PJ had mentioned something similar as the reason he was late. I dug my debit card out of my purse. “Do you know what caused it?”

“I’d heard that it was—ay, Dios mio!” She glared at me and waved my debit card away. “What is this insult? Your money is no good here.” She winked. “Not when I can sell these with such a markup, about which not one person will complain.”

I shook my head, but I wasn’t really annoyed. Markup for a value-add service was completely reasonable—and critical for a business with such slim margins. “If I can’t drop the last pieces off after I visit Dianne this evening, I’ll stop in tomorrow.” I gestured to the women who’d joined me at the table. “Just so you know, I’m getting enough for everyone.”

She snorted. “Of course you are.”

“Now you sound like PJ,” I said with a laugh. PJ, who was probably so deep in server hell that he hadn’t stopped for lunch. I had just enough time to pick up Subway sandwiches for both of us—after all, it’s not as though eating at my desk was an unusual event.

I moved aside so that Ms. Superpower could step up to the register. I waved at Graciela. “I’ll see you later, hon.” She blew me a kiss as I pushed through the door in a cheerful tinkle of bells.