As I strolled down the center aisle, answering questions and praising everyone’s work, I checked my watch. Only fifteen more minutes left in class. Of course the students were welcome to stay if they needed a little more time, but the project wasn’t complicated, despite PJ’s complaints. Most of them were finishing up, other than the third Brittany, who didn’t seem to have started yet. But I didn’t take it personally—some people preferred to do their crafting in private. At least she’d have the kit and the instructions to take with her.

“I’ll stay here in the classroom until three thirty if any of you have any questions about the materials we used, or if you’d like recommendations for any other projects. I’m pretty familiar with the inventory downstairs so I can probably lead you right to what you need.”

PJ arrived with an armful of bags and set them on the floor under Ava’s table. “That’s the lot.”

She glanced down at them. “I don’t need all this. I’m done. Put that back in the car, but don’t be so slow this time. I’ve got bingo at four over at the Elk’s Lodge.”

With a long-suffering sigh, PJ picked up the bags he’d just set down and stalked downstairs.

“Honestly, that boy,” Ava muttered and rolled her eyes. “I’m sure he means well, but he needs to move with more dispatch.”

One by one, the students packed up and left, most of them thanking me for the class and asking when I’d be teaching next. The talkative co-Brittanys didn’t quite go that far—they kept casting nervous glances at Ava—and the third Brittany left as surreptitiously as she’d arrived. But all in all, I counted it a success, if not the life-changer I’d wished for.

While Ava was still fussing with her card, blowing on it to get the glue and paint to dry, I took Dianne downstairs to meet Graciela. Just as I’d hoped, the two of them hit it off and we chatted for a while as PJ made at least four more trips through the store and out to the parking lot, teal feathers drifting in his wake.

During his last trip, Ava was with him, head down as she pawed through her giant shoulder bag. PJ was carrying her Christmas card on his palm like an hors d’oeuvres platter and grimaced at me while he held the door for her.

I said goodbye to Dianne as he walked back in. He mock-collapsed against a shelf full of decorative stamps and wiped his brow. “Good grief, if there’s a more annoying woman anywhere on the face of the earth, I don’t want to meet her. In fact, I’m tempted to rid the planet of this one as a public service. Think of the pain and suffering I’d prevent.”

I laughed. “Yes, but the way you dearly love to complain, wouldn’t you hate to miss so many opportunities?”

He straightened up, tugging his vest like Jean-Luc Picard rising from his captain’s chair, his expression thoughtful. “True. I shall shelve my homicidal thoughts for the moment.”

“Good. Help me clean up?”

“Of course, my darling. I live—”

“To serve. Yes. You’ve mentioned it once or twice.”

He grinned at me, and we left Graciela behind the cash register and headed back upstairs.

PJ grabbed the waste basket from the corner and started to clear trash off the tables. “Other than the damage to my sacroiliac and calf muscles from all the stair-climbing, I’d say your class was a resounding success.”

I sighed as I turned off the projector. “I would’ve liked five or six more students. And there are some that I doubt will be repeat offenders.”

“Nonsense. There were quite a few of them out in the parking lot, chattering away. In fact, Ava nearly mowed a straggler or two down when she peeled out of here with my black hoodie nemesis right on her tail like he was racing her to the bingo hall.” He shook his head as he swept the last scraps into the trash. “He stands no chance. That woman has a lead foot. What did she do before she retired? Drive the NASCAR circuit?”

I chuckled as I bent to pick up my kit. “You know perfectly well she was a nurse. Pops’s nurse.”

“Nurse Ratched, maybe. Can you imagine being under her care?” He pressed his hand against his chest and staggered over to lean against the wall. “How is Pops still devoted to her?”

“Maybe she wasn’t as prickly back then. She’s definitely gotten worse in the last few— Oh, for Pete’s sake.”

“What?”

I pointed to the floor next to the projector stand. “Ava left her kit behind.”

“You’re kidding. I hauled a metric ton of craft supplies back and forth to her car and there’s more?”

I lifted it up onto the table. “Well, she carried this up herself when she arrived, so it wasn’t on your radar.”

“You shock me, LaTashia. Ava actually carries something herself?” He peered at it, narrowing his eyes. “Why does that kit look exactly like yours?”

I huffed a breath, glaring at the bag in disgust. “Because she saw mine and liked it, so she bought one in every color they offered.”

“She has bags of many colors, but she only uses the one that’s your twin?” He tilted his head and tapped his chin with his index finger. “I’m sure there’s something Freudian or Jungian or Behaviorist in that, but what do I know?”

He picked up the kit. “I’ll take this. I’m used to the beast of burden gig by now.”

But as he slung the strap over his shoulder, it broke. The bag toppled, releasing a wave of Copic pens and glue sticks to roll across the table and onto the floor. “Drat!” PJ grabbed for the bag, but only succeeded in upending it more, and the mini-mason jars from Dianne’s booth tumbled out. The jar with the red embellishments lost its lid and its contents fanned out over the table.

The two of us gazed at each other, then at the spill of red buttons and bling, then back at each other.

“Do you mean to tell me,” PJ said, his voice like approaching thunder, “that she had this with her the whole time?”

I couldn’t help it—I burst out laughing. “No wonder… she couldn’t… find them,” I wheezed. “They were… right where they… were supposed to be.”

PJ stared at me for a moment, then his lips twitched, and then both of us were hooting away like a couple of loons.

After a while, I wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes and started to scoop the embellishments back into the jar. One of the crystals was especially big and sparkly. I poked at it. “Do you suppose this is what she wanted for her card?”

PJ picked it up and tossed it in the air like he was flipping a coin. “If it was, she owes it to you to replace the one you gave her. Should I put it in your kit?”

“Of course not.” I snatched it out of the air. “I can return her kit to her tomorrow at our regular scrapbooking circle. Maybe I’ll mention it to her then to see if she’d like to make the offer.”

He shook his head. “You will do no such thing. If I know you, you’ll have given her another half dozen goodies out of your personal stash and she won’t utter a word of thanks.”

“Hey! You make me sound like a pushover. I’m not.”

He smiled at me and took my hand. “I know you’re not. But you forgive people far more times than they deserve. If it were me—”

“I know. You’re Tabasco.”

“Exactly.”

Maybe I should channel a little bit of PJ’s fire, because he was right. I’d had just about enough of being on the forgiveness side of the equation for folks who delayed asking for permission.

On the other hand, Ava never asked for permission or forgiveness. I eyed the crystal in my palm for an instant, almost tempted to give in to PJ’s suggestion. Then I sighed and dropped it into the jar and tightened the lid.

Tomorrow would be soon enough to crack open my own personal bottle of Tabasco.