With all this talk about the fancy clipboard, I finally had a look at it and thumbed through the pages it held. “Mrs. Shedd said the crochet group would make afghans over the weekend and donate them to a homeless shelter up there,” I said, my voice rising in concern.

“It’s obvious she doesn’t crochet,” CeeCee said with a sigh. “Even if we weren’t going to do a crochet-along project, it would be impossible except for the speediest of crocheters to make an afghan that fast.”

There was something else on the page in front of me. Another little plan of Mrs. Shedd’s that she hadn’t mentioned. She had crossed out candle making and written in knitting. “When did she add a knitting workshop?” I blurted out. If Adele was upset about me getting the rhinestone clipboard, it was nothing compared to her reaction to the word knitting.

She smacked her fist on the table. “I can’t believe she betrayed us like that.”

All of the Tarzana Hookers agreed that crochet was better than knitting, but we weren’t militant like Adele. Before I could calm her, she launched into her tirade.

“We crocheters are not going to be the stepsisters of knitting anymore. Why does everyone insist on saying ‘knitting and crocheting’? Why not the other way around? ‘Crocheting and knitting’ is alphabetical.”

We all just listened as Adele went on. We’d heard it many times before.

Half an hour later, the group broke up. CeeCee left in a hurry to get to a production meeting for her show. Sheila had to get to one of her several jobs. Dinah had to get to class. Adele and I were left to put away the table. As Adele was packing away her hooks, she looked around the table. “Pink, where is it?”

“Where’s what?” I asked, looking at the cleared table. Adele stuck her head under the table and checked the floor. She seemed a little panicky.