Scrappily Ever After by Mollie Cox Bryan Page A

sure about it anymore.”
    â€œJaded,” Sheila said. “Look at this.” She held up a page that had a photo of her receiving the award aboard the Jezebel , along with a postcard of the entire ship. The page was a startling blue-green and she used black as border for the photos and starred jewels placed haphazardly around the page. A simple yet elegant design.
    â€œNice,” Vera said. “Are you going to add a journaling piece there?” She pointed to the huge blank area on the page.
    Sheila nodded. “At some point. I wrote every day when on the cruise. I just need to transpose it. Figure out what journaling goes where. But this is my last page so I better figure it out soon.”
    Vera had finished a mini-album of the scrapbooking cruise. It had given her time to process what had actually happened during that time. It wasn’t just the murder but also all of the intense scrapbooking and methods she’d learned that she found herself wading through in her mind.
    Vera scooted around in her seat and looked over Annie’s book, her art journal. “That’s amazing, Annie. I didn’t know you were so creative.”
    Annie looked up at her and grinned. “Me, neither. But this has been so much fun, and so satisfying. Even more so than scrapbooking—and even writing for me at this point.”
    â€œBut, you’re a writer,” DeeAnn pointed out and took a bite of her cookie. “Isn’t that a problem?”
    Annie shrugged. “Not so far. My writing isn’t really creative. At least it doesn’t feel like it anymore.”
    â€œWhat about your poetry?” Paige asked.
    Annie shrugged. “I don’t seem to have time for it.”
    â€œWell, if you ever want to start writing poetry again, I’d love to talk with you about trying to make some cards together. God knows I can’t write,” Sheila said.
    Annie looked surprised. “I haven’t thought about my poetry in a long time. But that sounds interesting.”
    A silence fell over the group. Vera hoped the subject had been changed, that nobody would mention Eric’s proposal for the rest of the evening.
    Sheila bit her tongue so hard that she thought she might draw her own blood. She’d never seen Vera so happy, so centered, and so much in love. Why wouldn’t she marry Eric? Anybody with half a brain could see he was quality. She’d had her doubts at first, but he’d won her over on the scrapbooking cruise.
    Sheila looked around the table. She found herself in awe of Annie’s new art journal. It was almost like a meditation for her. A peaceful look would come over Annie’s face as she considered her page—and then she might add a sticker or a button, or journaling. She’d gotten very inspired by the new art journaling movement—something Sheila found intriguing, but didn’t have the time to follow through on. And her lack of time was going to get worse. After her first few days in New York at her new design job, she was amazed by the sheer amount of work her colleagues at David’s Designs managed and what she’d have to accomplish. Everything moved so quickly in that city. And what she found with her design work—well, she found things needed some time to percolate. She wasn’t sure if she could keep up.
    â€œI really love using doilies, like they showed us on the cruise,” Paige said. “I’ve been using them in my winter scrapbook, almost like big huge snowflakes.”
    â€œGreat idea,” DeeAnn said. “You know, I have a bunch of crocheted doilies and I wonder if I can use some of the smaller, more delicate ones on a page. My mother made them. I want to do another scrapbook about all of her handicrafts. She always kept so busy with them.”
    â€œI like that idea,” Vera said. “If I were you, I’d research little bit about making fabric archival. You don’t want the paper to