Chapter 26
The crop room was open twenty-four hours a day, and some croppers took advantage of it. Sheila overheard one woman say to her husband that she’d been up since 3:00 A.M. cropping and had finished a whole scrapbook. The crop room was lovely, with floor to ceiling windows, so the scrappers’ view was inspiring and the lighting was great during the day.
The classroom, however, was windowless. It was just a conference room, like so many conference rooms Sheila had visited. She was dressed in black slacks and a silky, flowing red shirt, with a blazer over it. Creative but professional was the look she was after. Vera gave her a thumbs-up as she entered the room.
Sheila had capped the class at one hundred participants because the cruise organizers said they only had that many laptops for attendees.
Sheila was unveiling her One Journey digital scrapbooking and journaling system today. This was part of her entry into the competion and what she wanted to sell to David’s Design. One Journey was a template for use with any number of digital scrapbook applications. Each participant had already selected the application she was using and Sheila would teach to each one. Most participants were using Photoshop Elements and My Memories.
As she considered her students, she was pleased to see both Heather and Theresa, not sitting together, but each with her own group of friends or colleagues. Interesting, since Theresa said she didn’t care for her designs, Sheila thought. Was she imagining it or did Theresa just smirk at her?
Sheila looked in the other direction—the direction of the podium. Ms. Irons approached it.
“We are so pleased today to bring you our top prize winner, Sheila Rogers. We’ve found during this cruise that she’s as delightful as she is talented.”
Who found that? Sheila was finding it hard not to knit her brows.
“Sheila is a perfect example of a woman who puts family first, yet has found success. And we are so honored that she’s here and able to share her scrap-journaling template One Journey. But before we do that I wanted to share with you what some of our judges said about Sheila’s work.
“This from David of David’s Designs: ‘Grounded in classical tradition, with a nod toward the modern, and one of the freshest design eyes I’ve ever seen.’”
Cheering from the crowd jolted Sheila’s heart into a near panic. Really, he said that about me? These people are cheering for me? It was too much!
“This from Memory Mama: ‘Sheila’s work is solid. Her style is fresh and original. Where have you been, Sheila Rogers?’”
“And this from our Allie—”
A hush came over the room.
“‘I love this woman’s keen sense of design flow and color. But most of all, I love the heart and soul that goes into each one of her designs. Welcome to the big league, Sheila!’”
Much cheering from the crowd again as Sheila’s face heated. She noticed that very same man she seemed to see everywhere. He was sitting next to Theresa. He wasn’t going to bother her. Not now.
“And now, we give you Ms. Sheila Rogers,” the voice from the podium said.
“Thanks so much,” Sheila said. “Also thanks so much to all of the judges for their kind words.” She messed with her mike a bit. “Thanks to all of you for coming here today. Can everybody hear me?”
“Yes!” several people yelled back.
“Good,” she said. “The first thing I want you to do is to shake your body. Either stand up and shake or sit in your chair and shake your parts. Get all the kinks out.”
Much commotion ensued.
“I’m the mother of four children. We used to call this getting the wiggles out.”
Laughter, then the classroom settled.
“The next thing I’m going to ask you to do is quite . . . extraordinary. And some of you may find that you simply can’t do it,” she said.
This was a technique she’d learned from Cookie Crandall’s yoga class.
“I want you to take five minutes and sit quietly. No talking. At all. There’s a reason for this and I’ll explain it after we’re finished. Let’s start. Now.” She took a seat.
As in every class she taught with this technique, there were a few giggles, then sounds of people settling. As time wore on, the room stilled. At four minutes in, Sheila arose from her chair and walked back and forth in the front of the room.
“So,” she said softly. “One of the reasons I like to start my class in silence is that it focuses your energy inward. The room’s energy also shifts.”
She heard sniffling. Yes, there was always at least one woman moved to tears. Silence was a luxury for some, especially women in the thick of doing everything for everybody in their lives. Silence was a gift.
“This kind of scrapbooking is about you. And believe it or not, this is something your kids will probably cherish more than the photos of themselves,” Sheila said.
Her eyes caught Vera’s. She was glazing over. Honestly, Vera was the worst student. She found it hard to sit still, let alone listen to a teacher. Sheila watched her and used her as a gauge.
“Let’s move on to the first exercise and then we will take a break for those of you who need it,” Sheila said. “Let’s click on your screens.” She waited a few minutes to continue. “Now, the first page has a space for your photo, which if you don’t have now, you can load up later. It also gives you a prompt. ‘I Am’ asks you to list five things that you are. Mother, doctor, so on. This will get you going. Let’s give that ten minutes or so and then we’ll take a break.”
After class, Sheila was approached by people for autographs and several participants told her how much they enjoyed the class. One woman, who was young, svelte, and blond, touched her arm. “Sheila, I want you to know how powerful and moving that was for me. I’ve never thought about scrapbooking about myself. And you’ve made it so easy. Thank you.”
Sheila beamed. Even as the room thinned out, her friends still hung in there and gathered around her at the end. There were hugs from everybody.
“Just fabulous,” Vera said, with tears in her eyes. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Excuse me.” A voice came through the gathering. It was Matthew Kirtley, chief of security. “Mrs. Rogers, may I have a word with you?”
“Certainly,” Sheila said. “What can I help you with?”
“Can you come down to the office with me, please?”
“I had planned on going to the pool,” she said.
Ms. Irons approached him. “Now, I’ve told you to leave her alone. She’s an honored guest.”
“I just want to ask her a few questions,” he said.
“Why don’t you ask them here?” Sheila said. “What’s this about?”
“It’s about the untimely deaths on board this ship,” he replied.
“I don’t know anything about them, except what you’ve told me,” she said, packing her things into her bag. Her friends stood motionless, watching over them.
“Can you remember anything else that might help out the FBI? We’ll be docking tomorrow and they will have questions. I’m working on my report.”
“I’ve told you everything I can remember. Everything I know,” she said.
“There seems to be two links in the deaths. One is that they were both poisoned.”
“And what’s the second link?” Sheila asked.
“You,” he replied. “You tripped over the first body and you were in the hallway when we discovered the second one.”
Sheila didn’t know what to say. Could he really think she had something to do with these deaths? Her mouth dropped.
“There’s something else, chief,” Randy said. “Something you might not be aware of.”
“What’s that?” He turned to face Randy, who was glowing.
“Allie and Harold were seeing one another. Both were getting a divorce so they could be together,” he said.
“We knew they were in the same room together, but privacy dictates . . . a little decorum,” Matthew said with a lower voice.
“We’ve looked up some of this stuff on the Web,” Paige said. “It’s a bad divorce situation all the way around. But John, Allie’s ex, is not on the cruise.”
“But we have a list of nine men on board who are not attached to women, as we figured that they would be the most likely culprit,” Randy said.
“Really? Where did you get this information?” Matthew said.
They explained how they had worked with Annie to come up with the list.
“It’s a good idea,” Matthew said. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Well, you do have other things on your mind,” Randy said, with a note of flirtation in his voice.
Sheila’s cell phone rang and she stepped aside to answer. It was DeeAnn.
“So did you find the killer yet?”