Monica Ferris_Needlecraft Mysteries_02 by Framed in Lace Page A

and a fair amount of time. I believe the going rate for needlepoint is three dollars per square inch, and that’s just to cover the painting in a basic stitch like basketweave.” Betsy went to the swinging door set and looked at the painting Diane had liked. “That picture is twelve by sixteen, so that would be—” Betsy rolled her eyes, trying to multiply in her head.
    â€œFive hundred and seventy-six dollars.” Diane had a gift for numbers.
    â€œAll right. Fancy stitches and beadwork would cost more, and to make a really beautiful project, you’d probably want both. Add that to the cost of that particular canvas, which is two hundred and twenty-five dollars, plus wool or silk and beads, plus two hundred dollars to be finished and framed, and you’re getting pretty high in cost for a piece of needlework.”
    â€œA thousand and one dollars,” said Diane. “Plus materials. Yes, you’re right, that is a lot of money.” She bit a thumbnail and thought. “But what about something that doesn’t involve hand-painted canvases? An embroidered apron, for example? Or a tea cozy?”
    Betsy said, “A favorite topic among my customers is what they might charge for what they do, if they were to do it commercially. And what it comes down to is, very few people would pay that much for an apron or a tea cozy. The work my customers do is often very beautiful, as you have realized, and takes considerable time and talent. They don’t do it for money, but out of love. They most usually use finished pieces as gifts for friends and family or to ornament their own homes.”
    The slim young man—Godwin—said, “And on a commercial level , people who do needlework wouldn’t be excited at the prospect of doing twenty copies of the same project.”
    â€œOh, but I wouldn’t want twenty copies!” said Diane. “In fact, if there’s just one of something, that makes it more likely to sell! Especially since, from the way you describe it, these are original works of art. And I assure you, I have customers who might be willing to pay a good price.”
    Godwin said, “But wait. If you’re talking embroidered aprons, you’re talking iron-on patterns that are virtually identical. If you’re talking about original designs, then you’re back up into the four-figure price. More, lots more , if you want an original design that is to be worked only once.” He gestured airily. “And even if your customer had the money, it’s still not something you’ll be able to provide them, not reliably. As Betsy said, these things are made for the pleasure of working them. Putting a price on them takes away the whole cachet . I mean—” He dived under the table to unzip and reach into a sports bag. He came up with a large, magnificent, nearly completed stocking with a Christmas scene on it. Diane came closer, the pangs of covetousness curling her fingers. This was more like it! The scene was cleverly adapted to the shape of the stocking, crowded with a Christmas tree and part of a stair railing. Santa Claus’s head was peeping out from behind the tree at the upper halves of two children coming down the stairs. The boy’s Dr. Dentons were done in something that looked like brushed flannel; Santa’s beard was a collection of tight curls; some of the ornaments on the tree were tiny glass or metal objects, and the garland was made of microscopic glass beads. Santa’s sack and wrapped presents filled the toe of the stocking; like the little girl, they weren’t done yet.
    Diane reached a very gentle forefinger to touch the subtly rough surface of Santa’s mitten. “Yes, something like this wouldn’t last a day in my shop. Would you think of parting with it?”
    â€œNot even Bill Gates could buy this from me,” said Godwin. “It has taken me over two hundred hours to get this far. I did