IT HAD TAKEN A WHILE, BUT I’D FINALLY CALMED Adele down by convincing her someone in the group must have scooped up her work when they were packing up their own.

Adele stopped the frantic search and flopped into one of the chairs we hadn’t folded up. “You’re probably right.”

Typical Adele. She could call me by my last name and hassle me every chance she got, but she forgot it all and expected me to help her when she had some kind of trouble. Dinah had asked me why I didn’t just tell Adele to back off when she got annoying or demanding, and I had explained that I looked at Adele like that cousin everyone has who annoys you no end, but you put up with her because she’s family. Okay, Adele wasn’t family in the real sense of the word, but in a looser sense she was.

I gave Adele a sympathetic smile and went to touch her shoulder. “Pink, just because you helped me look for my marshmallow stitch doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten about the rhinestone clipboard,” she said. “I’m going to talk to Mrs. Shedd. I’ve worked at the bookstore longer. I’ve gone to three of the workshop weekends, and you’ve gone to…?”

Adele didn’t let up until I repeated that I had never been to one. After that she tilted her head with a knowing look. “And Pink, just to let you know, if you have any expectations of having a good time, you might as well cancel them. The rhinestone clipboard comes with twenty-four-hour responsibility.”

I tried to dismiss Adele’s warning. I knew about putting on events. Hadn’t I handled countless book signings? Then I started to think about it. I never sat in the audience at events. I was always keyed up and standing just out of sight. And there was the setting up and tearing down. Oh, dear, I hated to admit it, but Adele was right. The rhinestone clipboard came with a definite downside. I would be so busy making sure everything went right, I wouldn’t get to take part in the crochet workshop or have any time for fun.