contain porcelain parts, patterns for making the doll's costume, materials for jewelry, wigging supplies, and easy-to-follow instructions. In no time at all, you will want to cast molds and design your own line of costumes from fabrics and ribbons. You'll be creating hats and shoes from card stock patterns and designing handbags from binder clips. Welcome to the fascinating world of miniature doll making.
- From World of Dolls by Caroline Birch Wednesday morning the women at Curves hopped to the beat of "Build Me Up Buttercup."
Gretchen tried to ignore the pain in her temple where Ryan Maize had struck her. One punch from that scrawny kid, and she'd fallen hard, like a rock from a mountain ledge. Her mother and April, miraculously arriving just as Gretchen dropped to the sidewalk, had strong-armed a street vendor into parting with a cup of ice. Their quick thinking had kept the swelling to a minimum.
A couple of ibuprofen tablets this morning, and her head no longer felt like it had a built-in subwoofer. And her hair covered the ugly purple bruise.
"I hear you were clobbered good last night," Bonnie said, her red wig stiff with hair spray. Lip liner was drawn in an exaggerated arch around her lips. "Are you okay?"
She trotted in place on a small platform, swinging her arms above her head as the music changed to "Chantilly Lace."
"I'm perfectly fine," Gretchen replied, trying not to wince when she bent over. She had a huge headache and two more hours to go before she could take more pain relievers. Nina, working the abductor machine, piped up, speaking around her niece as though she wasn't present. "Gretchen is too impulsive for her own good. Imagine chasing a tattooed, body-pierced, crazy man through the streets of Scottsdale. What was she thinking?"
Gretchen shrugged. She didn't have a good answer and secretly agreed with Nina.
"Where's Caroline this morning?" Bonnie asked.
"Trying to catch up on our repair work," Gretchen said.
"I should do a reading for you." Nina bounced a large pink ball while running in place. "The tarot cards complement my psychic predictions," she said. "You really need a reading."
"Maybe later."
"I'll take one," Bonnie said.
"I'll watch," April said.
Nina smiled. "Okay."
Gretchen noticed a definite clearing of the air around Nina and April. Nina's new friendship with Britt had something to do with it. And Nina seemed grateful that April had helped rescue Gretchen and then cared for her after the blow to her head. April was doing her part by showing interest in Nina's tarot cards. Gretchen knew how hard that was for her.
April sweated over the shoulder press. "What do you make of the miniature peanut butter jar?" she asked Gretchen. "How does it fit in?"
Gretchen looked questioningly at her aunt, remembering the promise Nina had made to keep the jar's existence confidential. Nina's eyes shifted to Bonnie, who had originally shared the information with her. Bonnie grinned conspiratorially. "I had to share a teensy bit of police work with my favorite group." She held up her right hand and pressed two fingers together to show how minuscule her sharing really was. "But remember, no talking outside our little circle."
"Change stations now," the programmed voice commanded, and everyone shifted to the next station in the circle.
"After all, you are my best friends." Bonnie's arms swung to encompass all Curve's members working out, even two women who had signed up that very morning and had only introduced themselves moments before. Her "best friends" nodded enthusiastically.
"That's right," said Rita Phyller, the Barbie collector.
"That's right," Ora, the Curves manager, echoed.
"We're buddies."
"Does anyone have a theory about the jar?" April asked.
"I do. I do." Bonnie shouted, waving her right hand like a kindergarten student. "Charlie always thought her sister had been murdered. Matty is looking into it again."
"Wouldn't that be something if Sara really had been murdered," Rita
- From World of Dolls by Caroline Birch Wednesday morning the women at Curves hopped to the beat of "Build Me Up Buttercup."
Gretchen tried to ignore the pain in her temple where Ryan Maize had struck her. One punch from that scrawny kid, and she'd fallen hard, like a rock from a mountain ledge. Her mother and April, miraculously arriving just as Gretchen dropped to the sidewalk, had strong-armed a street vendor into parting with a cup of ice. Their quick thinking had kept the swelling to a minimum.
A couple of ibuprofen tablets this morning, and her head no longer felt like it had a built-in subwoofer. And her hair covered the ugly purple bruise.
"I hear you were clobbered good last night," Bonnie said, her red wig stiff with hair spray. Lip liner was drawn in an exaggerated arch around her lips. "Are you okay?"
She trotted in place on a small platform, swinging her arms above her head as the music changed to "Chantilly Lace."
"I'm perfectly fine," Gretchen replied, trying not to wince when she bent over. She had a huge headache and two more hours to go before she could take more pain relievers. Nina, working the abductor machine, piped up, speaking around her niece as though she wasn't present. "Gretchen is too impulsive for her own good. Imagine chasing a tattooed, body-pierced, crazy man through the streets of Scottsdale. What was she thinking?"
Gretchen shrugged. She didn't have a good answer and secretly agreed with Nina.
"Where's Caroline this morning?" Bonnie asked.
"Trying to catch up on our repair work," Gretchen said.
"I should do a reading for you." Nina bounced a large pink ball while running in place. "The tarot cards complement my psychic predictions," she said. "You really need a reading."
"Maybe later."
"I'll take one," Bonnie said.
"I'll watch," April said.
Nina smiled. "Okay."
Gretchen noticed a definite clearing of the air around Nina and April. Nina's new friendship with Britt had something to do with it. And Nina seemed grateful that April had helped rescue Gretchen and then cared for her after the blow to her head. April was doing her part by showing interest in Nina's tarot cards. Gretchen knew how hard that was for her.
April sweated over the shoulder press. "What do you make of the miniature peanut butter jar?" she asked Gretchen. "How does it fit in?"
Gretchen looked questioningly at her aunt, remembering the promise Nina had made to keep the jar's existence confidential. Nina's eyes shifted to Bonnie, who had originally shared the information with her. Bonnie grinned conspiratorially. "I had to share a teensy bit of police work with my favorite group." She held up her right hand and pressed two fingers together to show how minuscule her sharing really was. "But remember, no talking outside our little circle."
"Change stations now," the programmed voice commanded, and everyone shifted to the next station in the circle.
"After all, you are my best friends." Bonnie's arms swung to encompass all Curve's members working out, even two women who had signed up that very morning and had only introduced themselves moments before. Her "best friends" nodded enthusiastically.
"That's right," said Rita Phyller, the Barbie collector.
"That's right," Ora, the Curves manager, echoed.
"We're buddies."
"Does anyone have a theory about the jar?" April asked.
"I do. I do." Bonnie shouted, waving her right hand like a kindergarten student. "Charlie always thought her sister had been murdered. Matty is looking into it again."
"Wouldn't that be something if Sara really had been murdered," Rita
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